The Human Federation.
On Earth, at the border between what was once Eurasia, now stood the Federation's capital.
Millennia ago, this land had been a desolate region, shaped by climate, nations, and wars. But after sweeping environmental transformations, it had become the political and economic heart of humanity.
From this place, thousands of colony worlds across the stars were governed.
The most striking structure here was a colossal metal tower, more than five kilometers tall, its surface gleaming pure white. At its summit flew a massive blue banner, sixty meters long and wide, woven from special material resistant even to laser bombardment. It marked the tower as the supreme seat of authority.
At the tower's center, within a secure chamber, the Federation's highest officials sat in grim silence as Fleet Commander Ryan delivered his report.
When he finished, the Federation President studied the dossier in his hand, then spoke first:
"If barely a dozen of their warships could crush both our fleet and the Huain's so effortlessly, tell me — do you believe humanity has any means to defend itself against them?"
Ryan hesitated. His words would wound morale, but honesty demanded it.
"…It would be very difficult. Survival would depend almost entirely on luck. The disparity is such that courage, discipline, or sheer sacrifice cannot make up for it. The truth is, we know far too little of this universe."
"Take one example: the alien named Glaichuser spoke arrogantly of his people as the Children of the Old Ones. That title must carry weight, yet we don't even know who or what the Old Ones were… And beyond that, we've made another discovery."
He tapped at the virtual display, enlarging fragments of battle footage. Twelve stills appeared, each showing one of the Aeldari ships in detail.
Zoomed thousands of times, the hulls revealed intricate carvings and ornamentation. Every vessel bore unique modifications.
Ryan continued:
"According to analysis from Strategic Command and the central AI, these are highly individualized alterations. Their designs differ greatly, suggesting they are not standardized military models. It is far more likely that these ships are custom refits — perhaps even civilian in origin. In other words, the force that defeated us may not have been a formal Aeldari military fleet at all… but merely a band of privateers."
A heavy silence followed.
The officials first looked startled, then pensive. The conclusion was humiliating, yet the evidence was undeniable.
The enemy had shown none of the discipline of a regular army. Their words and tactics during the battle had carried more the tone of mockery than strategy, as if they were toying with prey rather than engaging in war.
Acknowledging this was bitter, but unavoidable.
After all, whether crushed by an elite army or by glorified raiders, the result was the same: total defeat.
The President tapped his fingers on the table, then asked:
"Do we know why they suddenly withdrew?"
Ryan shook his head.
"I can't say for certain. But after discussion, our conclusion is that something unexpected must have drawn them away. Hunters don't abandon their quarry without reason."
The President frowned, about to press further, when the red light on his wrist communicator began flashing urgently, accompanied by rapid vibrations.
Only the highest security alerts used that signal. His face darkened.
"Could it be… the Aeldari fleet has returned?"
The thought hit him like a hammer. For an instant, he felt all was lost. Against such enemies, there could be no resistance.
But when he read the incoming message, he relaxed slightly — only slightly.
After a long pause, he addressed the chamber in a complicated tone:
"According to reconnaissance reports… the Huain homeworld and their fleets have been annihilated. Their surviving population is being transported in batches by the Aeldari to unknown locations. Analysis suggests they are being taken as slaves."
That was why his heart had eased: the disaster had struck the Huain, not humanity — at least, not yet.
But his words left the room heavy with dread.
Ryan felt it most sharply. Having fought the Huain for years, he understood their strength better than anyone.
Though weaker than humanity overall, if they had truly chosen mutual annihilation, the Federation's best hope would have been a pyrrhic victory, with ruinous losses.
That was why the Federation had never pressed them too hard, even when the war tilted in their favor.
And now, in a matter of mere days, that bitter rival — their adversary of decades — was gone.
Ryan's emotions were complex.
"Then what do we do? Should we… offer the Aeldari goodwill?" one official asked hesitantly.
The suggestion carried no pride, but the truth was clear: when under another's roof, one must bow their head.
Even Ryan did not object. His mouth opened, then closed. Silence was consent.
The chamber accepted it without further debate. Face could be sacrificed, if it meant survival.
The President exhaled a long sigh.
"Very well. Then, General Ryan, I must trouble you to personally console the families of those soldiers lost to the Aeldari."
At that, Ryan's jaw tightened. His face twitched, but at last he forced himself to nod stiffly.
"…Yes."
As a soldier, he felt it was the deepest humiliation of his life. But circumstances gave him no choice.
_____
T/N:
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