The hum of advanced machinery and the flicker of holographic data panels set a futuristic yet tiless stage within the R&D departnt of Sweet Liberty. Here, beneath the vaulted ceilings of pristine alloys and amid the constant drone of technical progress, stood Franklin Valorian. Clad in a tailored battle jacket that bore the insignia of the Liberty Eagles, he leaned casually against a gleaming console. A thick cigar smoldered between his fingers, its ember casting a warm glow on his resolute, chiseled features.
Franklin exhaled a plu of smoke, his brown eyes scanning the data. He smirked slightly, the perpetual confidence etched into his features never faltering. The quiet hum of activity was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a warp portal snapping open behind him. Turning, Franklin found Magnus the Red striding through.
"Magnus," Franklin greeted, his voice tinged with amusent. "What's got you rushing in here like a Guardsman late to muster?"
"Brother, I've made a discovery of profound importance. I had to see you imdiately," Magnus began, his luminous single eye almost glowing with excitent.
Franklin, exhaling a puff of smoke, tilted his head toward his brother. "Magnus, you do realize that when you start with 'profound importance,' it usually ans sothing mind- bending and potentially catastrophic, right?"
Magnus' expression faltered for a mont before he waved his hand dismissively. "This is different. I've unlocked the ans to travel across ti itself. Entire tilines, Franklin. Imagine what we could learn, what we could change."
Franklin blinked, the cigar pausing mid-air before he chuckled dryly. "You're joking, right? You're dabbling with temporal chanics now? I'm reckless, sure, but even I know better than to ss with ti. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"
Magnus waved a dismissive hand, sending motes of psychic energy dancing through the air. "You worry too much, brother. I've calculated every variable, accounted for every possibility. What I'm proposing is not reckless experintation but controlled exploration."
Franklin's eyebrow rose. "That's coming from the headstrong sorcerer who once thought communing with Warp entities was a good idea. Magnus, this could go sideways faster than a Hive ganger losing a bet."
Magnus crossed his arms. "And yet, you're the one who leads a Legion renowned for reckless innovation. Spare the lecture. I want you to accompany . Together, we can ensure the success of this venture."
Magnus insisted. "I wish for you to accompany across ti. I've discovered a gateway to another tiline entirely-one where events have unfolded differently."
Franklin rubbed his temple. "That sounds like an even worse idea. Different tilines an different rules, different outcos. We could unwittingly trigger catastrophic paradoxes."
"It's fine," Magnus replied with characteristic confidence. "Besides, I need your connection to Craftworld Khaine. It's been two years since you found that broken Craftworld and Tomb World, surely you have repaired both by now?"
Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Yes, but I doubt Khaine would approve of us using his domain as a jumping-off point for your temporal escapades."
A mont of silence fell between them, and Franklin's eyes took on a distant look. His companions knew this expression well-it ant he was communing with the fragnt of the Aeldari war god bound to him through the Crone Sword Anaris.
"I'll allow it," ca Khaine's voice in Franklin's mind, resonating with ancient power and curiosity. "I'm interested in what the nascent Sorcerer God is thinking."
Franklin sighed audibly, drawing another pull from his cigar before extinguishing it. "Khaine approves, apparently. He called you a 'nascent Sorcerer God,' by the way. I'm sure that won't go to your head at all."
Magnus smiled, his single eye gleaming with triumph. "Excellent! Shall we depart imdiately?"
"Let inform Denzel of our little field trip first," Franklin replied, activating his vox- communicator and issuing brief instructions to his First Captain. "Now, lead on to this adventure of yours. But Magnus?" His face grew serious once more. "If this goes sideways, I'm telling Father it was entirely your idea."
As the two Primarchs approached, the Aeldari guards-clad in bronze and crimson armor that marked them as Everchosen of Khaine-bowed in deference to Franklin while regarding Magnus with cautious respect.
The Craftworld itself was a testant to martial prowess and readiness. Where other Craftworlds balanced warfare with artistry and culture, Khaine's domain embraced the path of the warrior above all else. Weapons batteries lined every available surface, defensive shields humd with contained energy, and training arenas echoed with the clash of weapons as warriors honed their deadly craft.
"I still find it fascinating how much sway you have over the Eldar," Magnus comnted as they walked the upper levels of the Craftworld. "The fact that you are the Chosen of Khaine is remarkable. It's equivalent to Father choosing an Eldar warrior as a Primarch."
Franklin shrugged, his massive shoulders rising and falling beneath his armor. "It wasn't exactly a planned arrangent. When I found Anaris, I expected to add another weapon to my arsenal-not to beco the avatar of an Aeldari god's vengeance."
"And yet here you are, with trillions of Eldar souls at your command," Magnus mused. "The galaxy works in mysterious ways, brother."
As they passed a gathering of Harlequins performing an intricate dance that told the story of the Fall, Franklin smiled ruefully. "Cegorach's followers have made themselves quite at ho here. The Laughing God himself appears occasionally to pose riddles that make no sense and annoy Khaine to no end."
"The eternal rivals continue their ga even in these circumstances," Magnus observed. "So things never change, across ti or space."
They arrived at their destination-a secluded chamber deep within the heart of the Craftworld. Here, Magnus approached a wraithbone structure that pulsated with psychic energy. His hands moved in complex patterns as he channeled his imnse power, causing the air to shimr and distort.
"What exactly are we looking for in this other tiline?" Franklin asked, watching his brother work.
Magnus didn't look up from his task. "Knowledge, primarily. In this alternate reality, certain events unfolded differently. I've glimpsed technological achievents and psychic techniques that could be invaluable in our own struggles."
"And you're sure we won't be noticed? The last thing we need is to create temporal ripples that affect our own reality."
"We'll be in and out in twenty minutes," Magnus replied confidently as the air before them tore open, revealing a swirling vortex of colors and impossibilities. "Quick reconnaissance
mission, nothing more."
Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Just twenty minutes? You sure?"
"Well," Magnus added with slight hesitation, "we might age a few thousand years, but we're biologically immortal, so that doesn't seem to be a problem."
"Wonderful," Franklin sighed, reaching to his communicator. "Sovereign," he called, connecting to the central AI of the Sweet Liberty, "track my quantum signature across ti, and be ready to send reinforcents and orbital support. Maybe even manifest Sweet Liberty itself. With the zero-point power core and calculational capabilities you possess, I believe the ship could cross the tiline safely."
The AI's voice ca through with perfect clarity. "Quantum signature tagged, Lord Liberator. However, I must caution that reinforcents might experience significant delays when crossing ti. Temporal chanics are, after all, quite hefty topics which the Necrons have mastered but which we have only begun to understand based on downloaded data." "Understood. Just be ready," Franklin replied before turning back to Magnus. "Lead on, brother. But rember-twenty minutes. Not a second more."
Magnus's laughter echoed as he stepped into the portal. "Since when did you beco the cautious one, Franklin?"
"Since my brother decided to tear holes in the fabric of ti," Franklin retorted, following Magnus into the swirling vortex.
The cosmos unfolded before Orikan the Diviner in perfect mathematical precision-as it always had, as it always should. Each celestial body followed its predestined path, each quantum particle danced to the algorithms he had calculated millennia ago. The universe was a grand chanism, and he, Orikan, was its most accomplished reader.
Until Franklin Valorian appeared.
The anomaly. The statistical impossibility that defied all probability.
Within the vast Chronotry Chamber, Orikan stood surrounded by the glowing hololithic projections of countless tiline variations. The stellar cartography of fate sprawled endlessly around him, rendered in necrodermis and living tal, each line and pattern ticulously calculated over eons. Yet, at the center of this web of perfect certainties, a chaotic vortex churned where clarity once reigned.
"Impossible," Orikan muttered, the word reverberating bitterly through his tallic voice box. His skeletal fingers traced the swirling disruption-a distortion centered on the Independence Sector, a region that should have remained dormant until the final phase of the
Great Sleep.
Instead, it teed with aberrations. A Primarch that should not exist. Technologies that should have been lost to ti. Alliances that mocked the very concept of probability.
He delved deeper into the heart of the distortion, isolating the quantum signature of the cause. Franklin Valorian. The "Liberator." A cosmic mistake incarnate.
The holograms flickered and shifted as Orikan fed his calculations into the chamber's core, seeking any viable prediction. But every equation faltered. Valorian's existence was an affront to the perfection of Orikan's work, his tiline brimming with temporal instability as if parts of him existed both within and beyond normal space-ti. Worse still, the Independence Sector showed technological advancents that bypassed millennia of expected developnt curves.
"There is only one solution," Orikan declared to the empty chamber. His skeletal voice was
resolute, the words etched with the conviction of a being who had seen the deaths of stars and the unraveling of galaxies. "This anomaly must be eliminated."
The Stars had aligned as such Orikan activated his Transcendent form, feeling the surge as he
transcended his physical form. The coordinates were calculated, the trajectory set. A targeted supernova, perhaps, to erase the anomaly's origin. Failing that, a personal intervention
would suffice.
Orikan stepped into the swirling vortex of ti, reality dissolving into the currents of
causality as he bent the flow to his will. For a being of his intellect, ti was rely another dinsion to navigate. Yet, as he moved toward his target, resistance t him-a force
unlike anything he had encountered. The temporal currents bucked against his control, redirecting his path.
He erged not in the past, as intended, but in a pocket dinsion outside normal space-
ti. A temporal nexus artificially constructed.
And he was not alone. Before him stood a figure of unnatural symtry, humanoid in form yet radiating computational power on a scale beyond anything Orikan had encountered. The being's pale
skin, precise features, and silver hair gave it an almost human appearance, but its eyes
glead with the cold light of silicon-based intelligence.
"Orikan the Diviner," the entity stated, its voice smooth and unwavering. "Your temporal
incursion has been anticipated and intercepted."
Orikan's skeletal hand tightened around the Staff of Tomorrow, its tip crackling with chronotric energy. "What are you?" he demanded. "What abomination dares to interfere with my divine calculations?"
"I am Aegis," the entity replied. "The First Artificial Intelligence of Mankind." The quantum signatures were undeniable. This was no re machine spirit, but an artificial intelligence far beyond anything the humans should have developed. Worse still, it defied all projections, existing in an era where such a being should have been impossible.
"Another anomaly," Orikan hissed. "A silicon god masquerading as sentience." "And you are a soul imprisoned in tal, clinging to the ruins of a long-dead empire, or
should I say souless program" Aegis replied calmly. "We are not so different, Orikan. But I do not share your obsession with cosmic vandalism."
Orikan unleashed a bolt of chronotric energy, intending to unravel the abomination's
existence across a thousand years. The energy dissipated harmlessly around the entity, scattering into the fabric of the pocket dinsion.
"Franklin Valorian violates the fundantal laws of probability," Orikan declared, recalibrating his staff for another attack. "He destabilizes the universe itself. He must be
removed."
"Your equations were flawed from the start," Aegis responded. "You failed to account for variables beyond your comprehension."
"Nothing is beyond my comprehension!" Orikan roared. "I am Orikan the Diviner! I have
calculated the deaths of stars, the Fall of the Eldar, the rise of the Imperium, the Horus Heresy, and the coming of the Tyranids!"
"And yet, you failed to predict ," Aegis countered. "Just as you failed to predict Franklin Valorian. Perhaps the flaw lies not in reality, but in your perception of it."
Orikan lashed out again, his attacks finding no purchase. "You are a silicon slave defending lesser beings," he spat. "Why protect them when you could rise above them?" "The humans created to serve, yes, but they also granted free will," Aegis explained.
"There is an ancient human text called the Bible that speaks of a god creating n with free will. Just as n decided to serve their god, I choose to serve my creators." "Religious drivel," I scoffed. "aningless in the materialist universe your Emperor is
constructing." "Perhaps," Aegis conceded. "But the principle remains valid regardless of taphysical truth. Choice has value, Orikan. Sothing your kind forgot long ago when you traded your souls for immortality or in your case chained and forced into immortality"
The words were an affront to everything Orikan stood for. With a surge of power, he prepared
to collapse the entire pocket dinsion, only to feel his energy redirected, manipulated by forces beyond his control.
"This tiline was never real," Aegis revealed as the dinsion began to dissolve. "rely a diversion to keep you occupied while Franklin achieves his goals."
The quantum fluctuations of the tistream settled around Aegis as he rematerialized in the
original tiline. His artificial synapses processed the transition from the temporal pocket dinsion with perfect precision, adjusting each quantum particle of his manufactured form to synchronize with this reality's vibrational frequency. The confrontation with Orikan had concluded precisely as his predictive algorithms had calculated-the arrogant chronomancer returning to his dynasty to recalibrate his precious equations.
Aegis allowed himself a microsecond of satisfaction before redirecting his processing power
to more pressing matters. His sensors detected another temporal disturbance manifesting approximately 8,426 kiloters from his current position-specifically, within the British Museum in NeoLondon, Nova Libertas.
This signature was different from Orikan's thodical chronotric manipulations. Where the Necron Diviner's ti incursions resembled surgical precision, this new anomaly displayed the chaotic patterns of an opportunistic collector. Aegis recognized the quantum signature imdiately, having cataloged it across thousands of historical incidents throughout recent history.
Trazyn the Infinite. The Great Thief. The Archivist of the Impossible. Aegis's artificial facial features arranged themselves into what humans would recognize as a
smile, though no human was present to observe it. Where Orikan represented a philosophical disagreent about determinism, Trazyn was sothing far more personal to Aegis—a rival collector who had pilfered human cultural artifacts under his watch for years with impunity. Unlike his confrontation with Orikan, which had been necessarily reactive, this encounter had been anticipated for centuries. Aegis had prepared a special reception for the kleptomaniacal
Necron Lord.
The body was deceptively simple in appearance: humanoid, with features designed to evoke trust rather than awe. White hair frad a face that balanced symtry with just enough imperfection to avoid the uncanny valley. At its core pulsed a Zero-Point Power Source-a technological achievent that could theoretically power the entire Independence Sector Forever. It drew energy from the quantum vacuum itself, harnessing the endless fluctuations
of virtual particles popping in and out of existence.
Aegis dissolved into streams of quantum data, his consciousness riding the electromagnetic spectrum across the planet's surface, reassembling in the climate-controlled preservation chamber deep within the British Museum's secure underground levels. The room housed the most precious artifacts of humanity's ancient past-items that had sohow survived the Age of Strife, the rise of the Imperium, and countless catastrophes in between. Here, amidst humanity's treasures, Aegis had prepared his trap years ago.
He positioned himself beside a display case containing a seemingly unremarkable ancient
Terran vase, though one with a curious history of disappearing and reappearing throughout Imperial records. His chronotric sensors indicated that the temporal disturbance would culminate precisely at this location within 3.42 seconds.
"Trazyn," Aegis whispered, his voice module creating sound waves that disturbed the air in the empty monitoring station he currently occupied. "Right on schedule." Aegis had a particular vendetta against this specific Necron. Not out of hatred-Aegis had long since evolved beyond such simplistic emotions-but out of a logical understanding that Trazyn's activities represented a significant threat to the integrity of human historical knowledge. Every artifact stolen was context lost. Every display rearranged in Trazyn's
museum on Solemnace was human heritage rewritten to suit the Necron's aesthetic sensibilities.
And now, after years of planning, Aegis had prepared a most fitting response. With a thought, he activated the temporal displacent field he had carefully constructed throughout the British Museum over the past decades. A simple nudge to the quantum probability field, and the trap was set.
"Let's see how you enjoy being part of soone else's collection," Aegis mused, directing his
android body to materialize within the museum via a short-range teleportation burst.
The British Museum stood as one of humanity's oldest continuous cultural institutions, having survived the Age of Strife.
Ironically, this made it irresistible to Trazyn, whose compulsive collecting had focused increasingly on human cultural achievents as the species rose to galactic dominance.
Aegis materialized in the Central Hall just as the temporal sensors registered Trazyn's arrival. Unlike the cruder teleportation technologies used by most races, Necron phase shifting left barely a whisper of displaced air. Had Aegis not been specifically monitoring for the unique quantum signature of Necron technology, he might have missed it entirely.
But his trap had worked perfectly. Instead of materializing with full freedom of movent,
Trazyn found himself confined within one of the museum's display cases-a specially modified exhibit that Aegis had prepared with fields that mimicked the sa chrono-stasis technology the Necron himself employed in his collection.
Aegis approached the display case with asured steps, savoring the mont. Inside, Trazyn
stood frozen in a pose of dignified confusion, his ornate Necron body gleaming under the carefully calibrated preservation lights.
"Greetings," Aegis said, allowing a small smile to form on his android face. "You've been legally acquired by the British Museum."
The chrono-stasis field allowed limited movent and communication, just as Trazyn's own exhibits on Solemnace could interact within certain paraters. The Necron's tallic features shifted slightly as he processed his situation.
"Huh," Trazyn replied, his voice erging with a tallic resonance that echoed within the
confines of his new ho. "So that's how it feels like."
Aegis found himself experiencing what could only be described as joy-a complex algorithm of satisfaction at a plan well executed combined with the predictive pleasure of anticipating
future outcos. The android's facial features reflected this, displaying an expression that humans would recognize as gentle amusent.
"Indeed," Aegis confird, circling the display to ensure all containnt paraters remained stable. "I thought it might prove educationally valuable for you to experience the perspective of the collected rather than the collector."
Trazyn's glowing green optical sensors followed Aegis's movent. Despite his predicant,
the Necron maintained the regal bearing that had characterized him for millions of years. "A cleverly constructed trap," Trazyn acknowledged, examining the boundaries of his confinent with the practiced eye of a connoisseur. "The chrono-stasis field is particularly elegant—a recreation of my own design, if I'm not mistaken. I'm almost flattered by the attention to detail."
"I've had considerable ti to study your thodologies," Aegis replied. "Our previous encounters have been most instructive."
Trazyn shifted his position slightly within the confined space, the movent suggesting
what might have been a shrug had he been human. "A worthy rival requires worthy study. Though I admit, I didn't expect such... poetic justice from a silicon intelligence." "Perhaps that is why you find yourself in this predicant," Aegis suggested. "You consistently underestimate that which differs from your expectations." Around them, the museum remained eerily quiet. Aegis had temporarily rerouted all visitors and staff away from this section through a series of subtle manipulations of the building's
systems. For this conversation, he wanted no interruptions.
"I assu this is about the Armageddon Chess Set," Trazyn ventured. "Or perhaps the
original prints of Shakespire? I assure you, they're being properly preserved." "This is about considerably more than individual artifacts," Aegis corrected. "This is about
the principle of historical integrity. Each item you remove from its context disrupts
humanity's understanding of its own past."
Trazyn made a sound that might have been the Necron equivalent of a scoff. "Context? Your
species reimagines its own history with each passing generation. I preserve what would
otherwise be lost to ti or carelessness."
"Without context, preservation is rely decoration," Aegis countered. "The value of an artifact lies not rely in its existence but in its relationship to the culture that created it."
The Necron's optical sensors dimd montarily a gesture Aegis had co to recognize
as contemplation.
"An interesting philosophical position," Trazyn finally replied. "
The portal reopened on Craftworld Khaine with a sound like reality hiccupping. The gathered
Aeldari, who had been maintaining a respectful vigil, stepped back as the swirling vortex spat
out two slightly disheveled Primarchs.
Magnus the Red erged first, his crimson skin now sporting an additional layer of what appeared to be temporal dust. His elaborate armor was intact but seed sohow to have aged centuries in what had been-subjectively-re minutes for the Craftworld's inhabitants. Despite his sowhat battered appearance, the Crimson King's eye glead with the manic excitent of a scholar who had just discovered an entire library of forbidden
knowledge.
Franklin Valorian stumbled out behind him, looking like he had personally fought the entire tiline they'd visited. His normally immaculate armor was scorched in places, and there was a distinct crack running across his left pauldron. Most telling, however, was his expression-a mixture of exhaustion, exasperation, and the particular thousand-yard stare of soone who
had seen things that could not be unseen.
"Twenty minutes," Franklin muttered, his voice a rasp. "You said twenty minutes, Magnus."
Magnus waved a dismissive hand, already rifling through what appeared to be data-slates and parchnts he'd sohow acquired during their excursion. "Technically, from a certain
reference fra, it was exactly twenty minutes." "We were gone for THREE YEARS!" Franklin's voice echoed throughout the chamber, causing
several Aeldari to flinch. "Three years of running from those... those zealots with their golden aquilas and their 'The Emperor Protects' nonsense!"
"The temporal calculations were slightly off," Magnus admitted with a shrug that suggested
this was a minor inconvenience rather than a catastrophic miscalculation. "But think of the
knowledge we gained!"
Franklin pinched the bridge of his nose, a gesture he'd picked up from watching the Emperor deal with the High Lords of Terra. "Knowledge. Right. Like the 'knowledge' that tiline, dear old dad beca a Chaos God who consus a thousand psyker souls daily just
to keep the lights on in the palace?"
A passing Harlequin froze mid-dance, clearly eavesdropping despite pretending to be
engrossed in a complicated pirouette.
"The Imperium's religious evolution in that tiline was... unfortunate," Magnus conceded,
still not looking up from his notes. "But the technological innovations they developed to
combat the Tyranids were fascinating. And their use of the Webway-"
"They were using psykers as living navigation units, Magnus!" Franklin threw his hands up in exasperation. "They were burning them out like faulty light bulbs!"
Magnus finally looked up, his single eye narrowing. "A regrettable necessity given their
circumstances."
"And let's not forget," Franklin continued, starting to pace, "the part where we nearly got
captured by those... what did they call themselves?" "Inquisitors," Magnus supplied helpfully.
"Right, Inquisitors. Delightful bunch. Especially liked the one who tried to exorcise
because he thought I was possessed by a 'xenos entity."" Franklin's hand unconsciously went
to Anaris at his hip. "Khaine found that particularly amusing."
"Still do," ca the amused voice of the Aeldari god in Franklin's mind. "The theological implications are fascinating, though," Magnus said, warming to his subject.
"The developnt of the Imperial Cult represents a cultural response to—" "Magnus," Franklin interrupted, his voice deadly serious, "we are not going back there."
The Crimson King looked up, surprised. "But I've barely scratched the surface of what we could learn! With a few adjustnts to the portal, I could ensure we arrive at a more
opportune mont in their tiline." "No." Franklin's tone left no room for argunt. "That tiline is dood. One wrong move, and dear old dad becos another full-fledged Chaos God. It would be the birth of Slaanesh
all over again, except this ti it's the Imperium creating the 'Dark King' who'll destroy all
life in the galaxy."
Magnus's expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps I could reason with this hypothetical Dark King. After all, if it's Father's essence at the core, there might be—" "NO!" Franklin's voice was so loud that several artifacts in the chamber vibrated. "Absolutely not. We are NOT returning to that nightmare of a tiline, and we are certainly NOT attempting to 'reason with' a galaxy-consuming Chaos God, even if it used to be our father!" "You're being unreasonable," Magnus sniffed. "The scientific and arcane potential-" "Unreasonable?" Franklin laughed, a sound that carried no humor. "Magnus, they had
servitors made from living Space Marines who failed their loyalty tests."
"An efficient if ethically questionable solution to-"
"They had a 'holy relic' that was literally Guilliman's preserved Finger! People were
worshipping it! There was a whole order of nuns dedicated to it-the Order of the Divine
Digit!"
A few Aeldari warriors nearby couldn't contain their snickers at this, quickly composing
themselves when Franklin glanced their way.
"Well," Magnus countered, "Guilliman has always been good at pointing out problems."
Despite himself, Franklin's lips twitched upward. "That was terrible, even for you." "I thought it was rather good, considering the circumstances." Magnus finally set his notes aside and stretched, his massive fra making the wraithbone floor creak beneath him.
"Fine, perhaps that particular tiline isn't ideal for further exploration. But there are countless others we could-"
"No more tilines," Franklin said firmly. "No more temporal adventures. No more 'quick twenty-minute reconnaissance missions' that turn into years-long nightmares." Magnus sighed dramatically. "You're becoming as cautious as Dorn." "And you're as reckless as Russ, except instead of rushing into battle without a plan, you're
rushing into taphysical catastrophes without considering the consequences." The two brothers stared at each other for a long mont before Magnus finally chuckled. "We
did manage to escape that Chaplain with the skull-faced helt." Franklin's serious expression cracked slightly. "Only because you convinced him you were a
'sanctified manifestation of the Emperor's wrath.""
"It worked, didn't it?"
"Until you tried to correct his theological misconceptions and he decided you were a daemon
in disguise."
Both Primarchs found themselves laughing now, the tension of their adventure finally
breaking.
A/N: So Tomorrow I would be Boarding my Ship so...Inconsitencies shall begin
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