"I didn't think Tyranids were capable of photosynthesis."
Yuki found the idea somewhat absurd. He had never heard of such a thing, yet in the context of their evolution, it felt perfectly logical. As the pinnacle of biological adaptation, a simple process like photosynthesis should be well within their grasp.
"The photosynthesis I perform isn't quite like the one you remember from Earth. Ours can even synthesize organic matter directly from inorganic compounds," Yuno said, sitting atop a massive cluster of flowers.
"Isn't photosynthesis on Earth also about synthesizing organic matter from inorganic substances?"
"Eh? Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's different from Earth's regardless! Hmm, if I had to explain it simply, it's basically turning rocks into meat."
"That's a bit too broken, isn't it? Even the local sci-fi writers back home wouldn't dare write something that overpowered."
Yuno shot him a glare. "The only downside is the efficiency. It's incredibly low. It would probably take about ten thousand years of this to equal the biomass gained from consuming a single planet."
"That is indeed slow."
"But the fleet has nothing better to do right now anyway. Instead of going into full hibernation, we might as well whip up some snacks along the way."
"Why are you always thinking about eating?"
"I am the Great Devourer. Why do you think I'm always thinking about eating?"
Yuki reached out instinctively to stroke Yuno's hair. It was exceptionally smooth, and he always found it hard to pull his hand away. Yuno, in turn, leaned against him like a cat, nuzzling into his side.
In truth, Yuno could actually transform into a "cat-girl." There was a period when, after discovering Yuki's particular interest in that aesthetic, she had grown cat ears and a tail for herself. At other times, she would take on the more conventional, monstrous appearance of a Tyranid to play with him. Sometimes, she remained in a half-human, half-insectoid form. No matter which form she chose, Yuki remained deeply captivated.
"Yuno, do you think... in the future, we'll forget all of this?"
"What are you talking about? How could we forget?"
"No, Yuno, our focus is limited. At least mine is. The more I experience with you, the deeper my love grows, but the specific events might start to blur. In the distant future, I might only remember that I was once a gang boss, that I traded blows with Huron, or that I had disputes with Khorne and Slaanesh. But the finer details might vanish."
"Is that what you call a limitation? If that day ever comes and you forget, I'll remember everything and tell the stories back to you."
"That sounds wonderful." Yuki's lips curled into a slight smile. He had received the answer he was looking for.
"But why bring this up so suddenly? We've only been together for thirty years. There are three hundred, three thousand, thirty thousand years and then eternity ahead of us. It's not time to worry about that yet."
"Because I'm looking forward to it," Yuki said slowly.
"Looking forward to what? Forgetting?"
"Yes. I'm waiting for the day when you tell me about our past and scold me for having such a poor memory. Then I can say: 'Even though I've forgotten so many things, I still haven't forgotten how to love you.'"
"That's such a corny pick-up line."
"Try to control your ears first before they turn any redder."
Yuno covered her burning ears with her hands, her face gradually flushing a deep crimson. "Honestly... you know I have no experience with this, yet you still tease me."
"It's because you're so cute."
Yuki lay back on the vibrant green grass. The Hive bio-ships floated in orbit above them. This place felt like their own private little kingdom. "This feels a lot like the Tiamet fleet," he mused.
...
Death.
The concept was not foreign to Alma. Her kin and her peers always practiced their arts under the long shadow of mortality. She could not afford to show fear of death, for any intense emotion might draw the attention of the malevolent entities within the Warp.
"Alma, have you finished your farewell?" a close friend asked.
"Yes. It is done."
"Do not grieve. She has simply returned to the Craftworld. Her soul remains within the Infinity Circuit, protecting us from within the Spirit Stone."
"I understand. Sleep well, Mother. I hope we never have to wake you again."
Alma watched as her mother's Spirit Stone was placed into the Infinity Circuit, shielded by the Craftworld from the predations of the Warp. This was the finest end an Asuryani could hope for. Death was merely the beginning of another long struggle. And new life... was simply new pain.
With the brief funeral concluded, Alma did not return to her quarters. She had already prepared her War Mask.
"Are you certain you wish to join this operation? The Elders have granted you a leave of absence. They... worry that your grief might trigger certain emotions."
"No," Alma replied. "If I let this feeling fester in my heart, it will only bring me more suffering. Let me vent my emotions upon the Path of the Warrior. Only by controlling it can I advance further."
"If you are so insistent, I will say no more."
"What is the objective?"
"We have discovered a fertile planet. The prophecies indicate that an entity capable of destroying us resides there. We must investigate and eliminate the threat."
"Understood."
Entering the Shrine of Khaine, the Aeldari warriors participating in the mission cast sympathetic glances toward Alma, including the Exarch. On a Craftworld, everyone knew one another; they shared in each other's sorrow and joy, constantly reminding one another not to let these emotions be consumed by the Warp.
The warriors took up their War Masks, crafted under the guidance of the Exarchs. These masks created a secondary persona, sealing away the bloody memories and raw emotions of combat. Even the most gentle and kind Aeldari maiden, upon donning the War Mask, would transform into a cold-blooded killer. And the warrior who acted as the avatar of Khaine on the battlefield would forget the carnage once the mask was removed.
"Praise the name of Khaine. May he grant us strength and protect you in this trial."
After a brief and somber ceremony, the warriors donned their masks. A Warlock would lead the operation. The warriors boarded their transports; they would enter the strange planet via aircraft and then use jetbikes and other mobile units for reconnaissance.
What exactly could threaten the existence of an Aeldari Craftworld? The prophecies of the Seer Council had never been wrong. If they wanted to prevent the destruction of their home, they had to sever the threat before it could take root.
Alma had already been superseded by the persona of her War Mask. The grief of losing her mother had vanished, replaced entirely by the cold fury of Khaine. Learning how to resist the allure of the bloody-handed god and avoid being lost forever on the Path of the Warrior was a mandatory lesson for them all.
Looking down at the vibrant planet and the strange, massive rocks floating in orbit, every warrior knew this world was twisted. Once the source of the threat was located, the Craftworld would deploy its true main force to annihilate it.
The Craftworld Aeldari had always fought for survival in this universe. In the past, the present, and the future—it remained the same.