Admiral Schaefa Hansenforn had, in her long life, endured many things that would make others flinch and flee in horror. She had seen things that made even hardened Cerberus Agents retch and divulge their latest meal unto the ground. As much as many tried to think that the darkest corners of the Federation were the most shining towers in other nations, she knew of the depravity that festers underneath a society that tries to raise all it can find to the greatest heights they can be brought.
It takes desperate and perverse minds to seek out those forces banished by faith, flamer, and fury. It takes far more than mere insophoncy and cruel intellect to thrive when shepherding eyes are cast over worlds entire with the aid of sacred Hymnals and faithful priests chanting of the coming of the Dawn.
When the lowest refuse a daemons offer, the daemons do not starve.
They are fed.
In that war, Schaefa Hansenforn had fought with faith and flamer, seeking to bring light into the dark, only to all too often find the night devouring the flames instead.
It had taught her patience. It had demanded competence. It had required planning.
She learned to wait for hours and days for the right moment, as a second of rushed action could undo years of hard work.
She learned from the past mistakes of those who came before her and the mistakes she committed with speed and zeal.
It taught her how to plan for everything without making her plans constrict each other into nooses and strangle those that followed them.
And yet, standing before Princess El'aliar, her patience, professionalism, and knowledge of what would happen were she to act on her feelings were sorely tested by the same Princess continued into her third hour of berating the Federation, her armed forces, the Star Navy, and the sacrifices of billions of sentients across the entire Sector as they fought against the Cults and Sect seeking to bring them all down.
Some of her criticism was...valid, if only by dint of the same mistakes having already been known and in the process of being corrected.
Other aspects...not so much.
Did she expect the Glimmering Federation to keep up daily observation of not one but two Daemonworlds with 64 scouts taxed while keeping their eyes fixated on the movements of troops and ships?
Yes.
Did she think that the Federation's Celestial Choir was the only redeeming feature of her people and the only reason they held despite all the evidence for the bravery and heroism of her people?
Yes.
Was she also very easy to manipulate into divulging more information than she likely intended to give during her tirade?
Yes...yes, she was.
Things were...less rosy than hoped for. But they weren't as bad as feared.
The Symphosium was capable of countering the psychic arts of the Celestial Choir, capable of utilizing their depraved tricks and guile to beckon and warp the minds of soldiers and crew into their service without constant, and even for her taste excessive, reinforcements of their faith and minds.
But they were bound by the forges they commandeered and used to forge the ships and arms they sent against the Grove and Authority. They had centuries to prepare for this conflict, edged on by the Followers of the Feathered Cog (a hidden cult seeped throughout the entire Storlar Sector that Craftworld Lyl'eltharum's ships and Seers were busy hunting down and exterminating for the last three decades) and supplied with information their oracles and diviners created. Something that would become far less accurate if the reports from Cradle Station were accurate and the newly developed Songs were as effective as expected.
The Cult of the Gore-Sworn Duelists had entered an alliance with the Sect of the Fecund Maggot, and both had re-focused their arms away from each other to focus on the Federation and Duchy, respectively. The Duelists still held their Pacts in reserve for a specific, if unknown, purpose, the ability to outright deny any ranged weapon from making an impact a devastating card to play if done at a time when the various counter-measures the Federation had developed could not be deployed. In contrast, the secret of the Maggot was found "merely" in the bio-ships of the threat they managed to capture from the threat long prophesized by the Star Child. These..."Tyranids" were a plague upon the galaxy, seeking out worlds with biomass to eat, assimilating it into more of themselves, before repeating the process ad infinitum, like an organic grey goo scenario. That the Maggots had even managed to do what they did was seen as very troubling by the Princess, especially as something like that should have, in her words, "warranted the Shit-Eater-Lord to focus its vile attention upon their rotten corpses-in-the-making," yet...didn't do so. What that meant was up for speculation neither of them had time for.
As it stood, the rate at which the Maggots created new ships was accelerating, and they had to act now. If they waited for new fleets to come online, the frontlines would be overwhelmed within the decade, and by then, they would be, according to her, fighting a desperate retreat and evacuation rather than a glorious campaign of cleansing.
And the Princess demanded 55 ships of the Federation to ensure such would not come to pass.
"No more than 5 can be of your battleships," she said, staring at Admiral Schaefa like a particularly dim-witted child barely capable of grasping the concept of the spoken word. "Any more, and the powers of those assigned to the task force cannot keep them hidden, and the entire mission will fail."
"What?" Schaefa asked, momentarily stunned at the sheer arrogant idea that the Eldar could just appear in the Federation's heartlands and make demands of them to lend ships at the drop of a hat. Then she put aside her first instinct on account of the gargantuan mobile planetoid the Princess had arrived with, which was under her command, and focused on important matters. "Why 55? Why do you think we do not have the means to hide our ships? What mission are you even proposing for us to cooperate on? What forces are they to expect? What ships are you sending with them? And what guarantee can you give that these ships will return once the mission is complete?" There was a smoldering heat within her tongue, and one that caused the face of the Princess to go from "snobby and dismissive" to "annoyed and affronted" in a heartbeat, her guards at the end of the room stiffening ever so imperceptibly just as her own did.
"You shall have to bother the Farseer Circle with your first question. I do not know, nor do I desire to know their twisted and future-sight-driven logic. And you really cannot understand the mission I seek to fulfill? Mon'keighs..." she breathed out lightly, focusing her eyes away for but a moment, something that Schaefa was certain was the Eldar equivalent of an eye-roll. "To destroy Festerspire in its entirety. We have the means to do so, but the Sect has managed to devise a fine-tuned version of their locusts to eat away the materials our ships are made out of at a rate that would destroy any ships we send before they could ever use these means. Why do you think we have allowed such a threat to exist for so long after we were certain you could not defend the Exodite Worlds?" Sneering, that was the only way to describe her face, even if shrouded in polite faces and politer manners. "And while your people may have some...trifling skill in bringing forth the Great Oceans less-malignant forces and bend them to your will, none of your Choirs are capable of sustaining months of continued use of their powers without the heart of a Daemonworld noticing the use of psychic arts. The choice of ships is also, largely, irrelevant, unless you seek their hale return. In that case, I recommend preparing against a foe that will board and swarm with many weak vessels, though the five battleships will bear the brunt of the attacks. To them, I shall lend you a host of warriors each, five thousand strong, to defend the vessels and bring the mission to fruition. Do these answers satisfy your curiosity?"
Teeth barely avoided being ground on each other. "Barely," Admiral Schaefa spoke and began to ask more questions yet.
Which ships do you send?
(6-Hour Moratorium)
[] (Write-In)