I hope this is okay. Since I want to avoid a simple X meets Council and promptly squishes Council like an insect.
A small fleet of dark sleek vessels glided through the black seas of real space with an unnatural mist that shrouded the small fleet from outside eyes. As the flagship of the fleet was the Ifiath Of, a Torture Class Cruiser, of the Dark Eldar that bore the symbols of the Kabal of the Black Heart. It was one of the only three other cruisers in the fleet with the remaining ships all being Agony Class Frigates and Pale Class Escorts. Within this fleet held the remaining forces of Archon Tahril.
And this… this was all that was left of mighty warhost that Tahril, Archon of the Kabal of the Black Heart, commanded. He had not a ship larger than a cruiser, his former personal battleship: the Lok Ut and half the other ships that he had commanded, had been destroyed in an hot encounter with an Imperial Fleet in such chance circumstances that he was certain that it was planned. And only a third of his personal forces remained, the remainder after his failed campaign on the Kaurava system and mass desertion to other Archons within the Kabal.
After the failure in the Kaurava System, the sinister Archon's reputation and formerly great prestige had been ruined and was now in tatters. Many of those Kabalite Warriors that had not been slain by their accursed brethren's Aspect Warriors had deserted him in Commorragh, leaving him and only his most loyal of followers to face the bare wrath of Asdrubael Vect.
Tahril gingerly used an armoured finger to trace the fresh scar lines on his decaying face, Vect's reminder of why failure was not an option for an Archon of Commorragh's dominant Kabal. Explosive crimson hate boiled in his mind as he vividly recalled the condescending looks of even the slaves as Vect publically punished him before all the court and eventually all of Commorragh to see.
But he was not idiotically suicidal just yet. No… he would not let bitter emotion get the best of him and cloud his judgement. He would have his just revenge… on Vect and all that had slighted him! As he was now, he could not hope to successfully challenge the supreme overlord of Commorragh; no, he would be dead cold before he even got the chance.
First, he would have to rebuild his strength. Replenish his ranks of Kabalite Warriors and repair his broken image in Commorragh. No! He would surpass his former strength! Create a new Kabal which would eclipse the Kabal of the Black Heart in its glory! And when he was ready… he would come crashing down upon those heathens that would mock him.
Tahril slammed the jewelled goblet of exquisite wine down hard onto the rests of his throne, the broken human slave kneeling beside him didn't even flinch as he obediently took the cup and moved to refill it. The Kabalite Warriors that were stationed on guard outside his private cabin likewise had no reaction to the outburst of anger. Their Archon had been regularly releasing his pent in anger for weeks now.
But that vile bastard Vect had effectively condemned him to a slow and humiliating death; no doubt for the Surpreme Archon's twisted amusement. He was kept out of all new planned raids and most of his former regular targets had been claimed by other Archons, now far more powerful than he. With no chance to lead raids and thus restore his credibility, no new followers would join him in his current state and already he could hear traitorous whispers among his so called loyalists. If he did not have a breakthrough soon, then all his remaining allies will no doubt abandon him and he would be eventually assassinated for some other unworthy individual to take his place.
"My Lord, several vessels detected coming out of the third construct." the rusty voice of Akeizeth, shipmaster of the Ifiath Of flared out across the comms directly to him. There was only silence as a response for Tahril had deliberately closed his eyes and took deep breaths as he silently contemplated.
He had waited a long time for this… from the weeks ago when he first discovered the primitive construct and easily deciphered their use. With his intellect, he had devised a way that would see him rise back up stronger than ever. These constructs were new, never discovered before by any other Kabal in Commorragh. And this meant there was an entirely fresh primitive civilization that lay beyond it; just waiting for him to make them his prey of choice. An entire civilization's worth of slaves; that would as good as any indicator of his superior abilities. And this first encounter would be the beginning of a long and joyous hunt. Thus; when Tahril's eye lids rose back up, there was a new spark in his eyes.
"Direct a course behind them. We shall strike there. I shall be on the bridge shortly." Tahril enthusiastically pushed himself off of his throne and with newfound energy made for the door, his personal slave obediently following him. The two Kabalite Warriors both snapped to attention as he passed by their post, giving him a respectful salute less they be cruelly punished for not affording the proper respect for their leader.
Tahril made a grand show of entering the bridge of the Ifiath Of, Akeizeth deferentially passing over his shipmaster's seat over to the Archon; for a shipmaster as old as him he had learned when it was best to show subservience a long time ago. Taking no notice of his underlings, Tahril slowed his walk to the crown seat as he spotted the alien fleet.
Counting only a single destroyer and several escorts of varying size, he smiled viciously as he quickly realized how much stronger even his depleted fleet was over this paltry rabble of alien ships. He sniggered as his much mightier fleet floated undetected behind the alien fleet, the Shadowfields installed in all his vessels easily keeping the prying eyes of the aliens off of them as they moved in for the kill.
"We are in position. Awaiting your commands my lord." Akeizeth told Tahril, the aggression clear in his voice; the shipmaster was bloodthirsty and greatly desired the agony of many which would rejuvenate his body. Tahril was no different and with a mocking snigger, waved his confirmation.
There was no indications of the attack, no bright lights to trace after the innumerable Leech Torpedoes launched at the alien rabble. Designed to drain the drain ships of its power; the Leech Torpedoes did it work well as they impacted with the alien vessels. Dark lightning streaked across the alien ships as their power sources were sucked dry.
With the aliens now immobile and helpless, Tahril couldn't help but feel the powerful urge to personally go and join one of the boarding parties and let the blood of his foes rain for him as he tore through their pathetic bodies. It was tempting… very… very tempting…
But he must refrain. There were certain to be plenty of prisoners that he could amuse himself with later so he must refrain. The aliens were new to him and uncertainties could mean life or death in a battlefield; so… it was best to let his Kabalite Warriors do the dying for him first. They would be given the honours of showing him how these aliens fight so that he could understand and then outmanoeuvre the aliens later.
Admiral Kel'rak, Seventh Fleet of the Batarian Hegemony was now apprehensively sweating on the dimmed bridge of the Dreadnought that served as the flagship of the Seventh Fleet. The emergency red lights not helping his mood in the least. He would have to speak with the idiot that designed this. Despite this, his loud voice was oddly calm as he tried to regain control of the situation.
All power systems in the ship had been inexplicably powered off and the ship was now running on emergency power; only good for lighting the ship and limited communication. Communications with the rest of his fleet was cut off and he suspected they were suffering identical troubles as them. He fervently hoped that this was just a coincidence and that he could just ruin some engineer's career for screwing over an entire dreadnought. That was far less dangerous and life threatening to him and his men.
But while that fantasy tried to squirm into his beliefs, he firmly held onto reality and grimly prepared his men for boarding. This was almost certainly an unprovoked attack by someone. That these unknown enemies managed to stay undetected while they disabled his dreadnought already said much of their capabilities. That they didn't destroy outright meant they wanted something with his ship and that probably meant a boarding action.
Who these attackers were? He had no idea. No ballsy pirate group had the resources to attack a fleet and all the major mercenary groups which had the resources didn't have the courage. And the technology to disable a dreadnought, he suspected that it might be the Citadel Council. No one else had the technology to pull something like this off.
Stepping forward, he leaned over to speak over the comms and broadcast his message for the entire ship. "To all personnel on board, we are under attack and are likely to be boarded. All security teams are to report to prearranged stations and all other able personnel are to arm themselves in the armoury and help repel all boarders. I repeat: we are under threat of being boarded and all security teams are to report to prearranged stations and all other able personnel equip themselves in the armoury and help repel all boarders until further orders."
With that complete, he turned to the rest of his bridge, his subordinates looking at him expectantly for orders and leadership. "Talvosh, M'treka, Kel'mar. Stay here and maintain the me updated on everything." Kel'rak pointed out the three best officers to the task whom saluted in response. "The rest of you are with me. We're going to the armoury."
Without another word he stormed out of the bridge, a long trail of crewman hurriedly following him. Having skipped the main elevator for obvious reasons, he was half way down the stairs when the bad news finally arrived. "Sir, we are receiving reports of explosions in the hangers and corridor with the air lock."
Damnit! He had always been bad at guessing at things in his life and of all things to get right… He grimly doubled his speed to the armoury, making it there in only a few more minutes where there was already a large group of Batarians waiting to be properly equipped. Tch… probably everyone wanted a suit of armour.
"We don't have enough suits to pace around. Anyone that knows how to really fight get first priority. Everyone else; just grab a Terminator Assault Rifle or something." he briskly ordered the rabble as he shoved his way through. He was well aware that this was a tall order for many of his Batarians to take, without armour their chances of dying rose up substantially.
Still, they grudgingly obeyed and the few singled out Batarians were propelled to the forefront of the group. At the very least; now that those soldiers were wearing armour and had shields, they would also be the ones that would be taking the lead and the brunt of the fighting.
Kel'rak himself didn't bother putting on any armour, he had taken the necessary basic training but that was at least a decade ago and he doubted he was any good nowadays. Snatching a Executioner shotgun off the rack and strapping a few grenades onto him, he turned to leave and faced a mob of crewman, armed similarly to himself, awaiting further instructions.
Holding his shotgun with one hand, he used his other to split his Batarians into four groups. "You go support the security team at the Hangers. You lot; to the air lock." He directed the first two groups to their destination, not looking at them as they rushed off.
"Talvosh! Is there any new updates on the boarders?" he irritably spoke into the comms back to the bridge. They had been strangely quiet for some time now. Surely there must have been some new activity from the boarders or at least news of firefights in the ship.
"…"
His heart sank when he heard only eerie static on the other end. His brows tightened in worry as he considered what had happened. If he was lucky: then maybe the comms had finally died out and the three of them were now desperately working to re-establish communications. He was sceptical on whether his luck was that good after all this today.
"Group 3, you stay here and guard the armoury in case anyone else comes. I know there's a lot more of us than just this!" he yelled out. Moving to the lead of the last group, he directed them back the way he had come. "The rest of you are with me. We're going to check the bridge."
It was an increasing foreboding feeling that made him stop at the start of the stairs. Looking at the tight route upstairs now… made it increasingly seem like a death trap. The stairs were designed for three at a time at best and with his large group, a single grenade could probably end with them all blown to gory bits.
But this was the most direct route back up to the bridge where his three officers may or may not be dead. There were other stairs but that would include a far more extensive route which would waste far more time than he would like. His four eyes closed in concentration as he fought for an answer: the fast route which was likely a trap or the long route in which if the bridge was attacked, they would never get there in time.
Coming to what might be a fatal decision, he hefted his shotgun with a sour look on his face. "We'll go up in single file. Keep some distance between each other so if it is a death trap then at least we won't all die."
He reluctantly put himself at the forefront too, he was going to take point and be the guy that was probably going to die first. That way at least; he would be the first to suffer for his mistake and it might buy some time for the others to get back down. And if he was dead, at least he wouldn't have to worry about all this crap anymore. His soul would be long in the afterlife by then.
Kel'rak planted a firm foot on the first step, making as much noise as possible and shooting his head upwards to see if he could catch anything out of the ordinary; any indication that this was a trap. It might have just been his current paranoia but he could have sworn that something stirred in the creepy shadows above. He was tempted to try and lob a grenade up there to chase ambushers out of hiding but he didn't trust his skill enough to do so. He might end up screwing up and having the grenade falling back down to him and that might just be the dumbest thing he's ever done.
Keeping his Executioner aimed at where he thought the attackers may be, he cautiously continued upwards. He ignored the hushed whispers of his Batarians behind him and twitched his eyes as he saw something move in the shadows again. The barrel of his gun quickly went over to it and he stared down the shadows until he was certain that he was just too paranoid and was seeing things.
Finally reaching the right doorway, Kel'rak quickly hurried through it; glad to be rid of the oppressive atmosphere that had sunk deeply into the stairwell. He really was overthinking things, there was no trap and he was still alive. Maybe his luck was still holding up.
He caught the sight of a twisted black blade slicing towards his head just in time. Falling backwards, he still failed to completely avoid the lethally fast blade as it scored a long painful gash across his neck. The Batarians directly behind him, seeing their Admiral falling backwards and an alien with a blade standing over him, opened fire while other rushed up and pulled their leader out of the crossfire.
Kel'rak clawed as his wounded throat in agonizing pain. Throughout his military career: he had been shot at, bludgeoned, hit by shrapnel, stabbed and even got smashed by debris once. But none of that compared to the impossibly painful wound that was spreading torture throughout his body, inside and out.
"Get him back down!" he distinctly heard someone scream out. He felt his body being pulled back down the steps, his back painfully clanging off the metal steps. He heard… screaming… some more gunfire… the sound of a blade swishing… and then silence… dead silence.
Slowly opening his four eyes, he saw red. The original grey painted metal walls were painted with red dripping blood. A single black figure was crouched over the form of one of his subordinates: Ensign Ma-
He saw the alien twist its arm and there was a chilling scream from Ensign Mal'shar. The alien pulled a cruel dagger out and held it above the Ensign. Identifying what hung on the dagger made Kel'rak's stomach churn on the inside. His Eyes! It was taking his eyes! The only means for a soul to leave the body and rest in the afterlife.
Kal'rek must have made some noise because the alien then swiftly turned to face him, the bloodied dagger held at the ready. He didn't see her move but in the next instant; she was right on top of him and it went dark.
A wicked knife was spun up into the air; not one used for combat but rather, with its barbed blade, utilised for the glorious art of torture. Swiftly snatching it out of the air, Archon Tahril held it out for his Batarian prisoner to see, the thing chained together in such a way that he could only just move enough to struggle. Not that his toy could yet; the pathetic still hadn't awoken from unconsciousness just yet. But he could wait; he had not gotten a slave to get the poison out of this thing for nothing.
This one would be the twelve alien of today, making it an even dozen. The war scars on his face were now gone and his decaying features was restored to that of sublime perfection with the pain and agonizing torture of his previous guests. He… had not felt so good in a long, long time.
He had learned much from the primitive aliens so far. More so from that 'Codex' that the alien databases contained rather than from word of mouth via the Batarians. After so long without a plentiful raid, many of his followers were starving for agonized souls to rejuvenate themselves and who was he to stop them from partaking in the most basic of pleasures. It was this that made it difficult to interrogate any despite the prisoners numbering into the hundreds; most expired far too quickly.
And besides; there were plenty more where that came from. For there was not just a single civilization ripe for the picking; but several other primitive races that used these relays, as they call it, for their main means of transportation and travel. He especially liked the look of those Asari, perhaps they should be his next prey after he was done with the Batarians. It didn't really matter; since all of this Citadel Council will soon be his.
Or perhaps he would find them among the Batarian worlds that he intended to conquer and enslave in his name. The Batarian Hegemony was a slaver nation after all and there were certain to be some Asari among those caught in bondage. The look on their faces when their liberators turn out to be even worse than they could possibly imagine. The irony of this was not lost on him.
"W…where am I?" Tahril found himself giddy with joy as he heard the weak voice of his alien guest. Cruel excitement made him turn around all that faster as envisioned the many ways that he could entertain his guest. He was far from a bad host after all.
"Ah… Admiral Kal'rek was it? How nice to meet you in person." He jovially toyed with the ugly four-eyed thing. He circled around the his guest, revelling in the various negative emotions that shone in his many eyes as they tracked him as best as they could.
"Who… are you?" the creature gasped out, specks of blood spitting out of his mouth. Tahril cackled to himself at the presumption of the creature. Did it really think it had the right to know his name?
"Someone vastly more important than you." He cleanly stated as he plunged his twisted blade into the forehand of his guest. A wide smile broke out on his face as his guest cried out in pain as he twisted the blade around in his flesh. "But enough about myself. I wish to talk about that Hegemony of yours."
"I… won't talk… you… son of a…" whatever the crude creature was planning to say next was cut short as Tahril flickered back over to his table of assorted tools and carefully picked out a razor sharp shear. The Batarian fearfully watched as his captor brought the deadly shear over and hovered it above his forearm.
"Now there's no need to use profanities." Tahril said in a chilling calm voice as he shaved off a thin strip of the alien's skin off. He could feel the energy rejuvenating inside him as the alien painfully cried out in protest of the torment. He liked those stronger willed ones; they provided so much more entertainment. "Do you feel like talking now?"
"…"
"Could you please repeat that? I couldn't hear." Tahril politely asked the creature. He hadn't hear whatever it had whispered out to him.
"Go… Fuck yourself…" the insulting creature spat at him. Tahril could only smile all the wider in response, amused as he was with his guest's petty resistance. But in the end, it wouldn't even matter. With deliberate slowness, he sheared off another peel of skin off. His guest screamed in pain again and struggled to no avail.
"With… a… cacti!" the Batarian gasped out amidst all the pain, no doubt proud of his words. Oh… he will take his time and greatly enjoy this. First he'll peel off the skin from his arms and then he'll start surgically pulling out the flesh between his bones...
The official Batarian envoy ignored the hateful looks and disapproving glares sent their way from the masses of the Citadel commons as they travelled to their destination: the Presidium. Ambassador Mash'val stayed in the centre of his armoured bodyguards, happy to keep armed Batarians between himself and the mob of aliens who would no doubt feel no remorse gunning him down and would, in all likelihood, enjoy themselves while doing so. Relations between his people and the Citadel had always been tense and volatile over the cultural issue of legalised slavery. This had spread over to just about the rest of the galaxy and now everyone hated on the Batarians for being arrogant slaveholding bigots despite only the wealthiest of Batarian families could actually afford slaves themselves. It was thus: he was certain that it was a deliberate move by the Council to deny them a quick shuttle and force them to take a humiliating walk and endure the insufferably long elevators up to the Presidium.
That wasn't to say he couldn't understand their racial resentment, his position as ambassador afforded him more exposure to other races than most Batarians. But if they really think that Batarians should just give up slavery just like that; they were wrong. It was a deeply rooted part of their culture accepted by every facet of Batarian society. It would be like asking the Turians to give up their superior military advantage or the Salarians to come free with their STG.
Still, that did not mean that they could not compromise. They were a practical race and even his proud leaders had reluctantly accepted what needed to be done to ensure the survival of the Batarian Hegemony. The Dark Eldar were intensifying their attacks and at least half of the former grand Batarian navy were now debris.
Possessing technology and powers that, by all logic, should be impossible; the Dark Eldar always made short work of their fleets. Ground engagement were slightly more even, in that they had a chance in winning them, but with Dark Eldar naval dominance and the damn aliens not being the least shy of orbital bombardment, Batarian victories were wide and far between.
All diplomatic ventures to the Dark Eldar always ended in failure. Their demands of half the population Hegemony to be handed over to them on a silver platter was completely unreasonable. But the Hegemony could ill afford the losses they were taking against the Dark Eldar. That left only one possible option still open to them and they must take it, no matter the damage to their pride. The Citadel Council were still the most powerful force in the known galaxy and could likely protect the Hegemony against the Dark Eldar.
Mash'val's irritation and anger at the Council only grew when they finally reached the Presidium. Despite having arranged an appointment beforehand and citing that it was of the utmost importance; he was informed that 'The Council regrettably could not see him yet as they were engaged in diplomatic talks with the Hanar about their religious rights within the Citadel.' Really!? Whether those purple jellyfish get to preach about the Protheans wad more important than the Dark Eldar razing their worlds and enslaving entire planets!
It was when he was finally 'invited' to see the Council that he could finally meet the Council. Giving the Hanar ambassador an angry glare as he passed it, he found himself standing before the three high daises where the Council stood, looking down on him. Already he could see outright dislike, bordering on hate, on the Turian while there was clear look of distaste on Tevos's face. The Salarian had only an impassive face, giving away nothing. He fought hard to keep an angry scowl off his face, he hadn't even said a thing and he could already tell that the fair and just Council! …was less than well happy to see him.
"Ambassador Mash'var. What business do you have with the Council?" Councillor Valern bluntly said out loud, deciding that pleasantries were obviously wasted on the Batarian Ambassador. Yet another insult to him and the Hegemony that they could add to a long list of insults that the Citadel Council unjustly laid upon them.
"I am here, on behalf of the Batarian Hegemony, to request the additional protection of the Citadel fleets." Mash'val said with forced politeness. This was vital to the security of the Hegemony and he had been warned of the dire consequences of failure. He had no intent on receiving the 'honour' to lead a crusading fleet against the Dark Eldar, it didn't take a genius to know that was suicide against someone that fights at ridiculous speeds.
"And why would the Hegemony suddenly require our fleets?" The Asari Councillor cautiously asked for good reason. The Batarian Hegemony had always insisted that their own navy could defend their domain and had previously never allowed Citadel Fleets to patrol their territory.
"We require additional protection against the Dark Eldar." Mash'var told them the truth. He gritted his teeth in frustration when he heard a sceptical snort from the damn Turian Councillor. "We also wish to know what the Council wishes to do with the Dark Eldar."
"Ah, yes... The Dark Eldar. Some sort of Asari look alike that shoots black holes and rips open reality as FTL with the ultimate goal of conquering the galaxy. Yet no race but yours has ever caught a whiff of them." Councillor Sparatus stated, his voice filled with scepticism. And if this was not enough to mark his disbelief, his next words cemented it in. "We have dismissed this claim."
"This is ridiculous! Most of our colonies have already been taken by the Dark Eldar and they are already taken one of our core worlds!" the Batarian ambassador cried out in outrage. Not to mention the sheer number of ships they had lost. He knew that the Council had spies in Batarian space and thus they logically should know that the Dark Eldar does exist and are a threat to everyone!
"There has been no evidence of these Dark Eldar existing. It would be wasteful to send required fleets against an imaginary enemy!" Tevos tried to justify first, always the diplomat. But he paid no attention to her.
"It's because we're a nation that has legal slavery isn't it? Because we hold thousands of your races as slaves!" Mash'var accused them. He knew this, they knew this and the Hegemony knew this. And it was only because of the desperate times that the Hegemony was forced to do this.
Activating his omni tool, he keyed in the necessary commands to open the locks to pull out the important file he wanted. With only a few more presses, he sent the file to the three individuals that made up the Citadel Council. It pinged on their omni-tools in seconds, each of them taking their time reading the file and reeling back in surprise at the contents.
"Ambassador... this is..." Tevos started with a trembling voice before Mash'val cut her off again.
"The Batarian Hegemony shall return all individuals in the bondage of slavery to their respective races governments. This applies to Asari, Salarians, Turians, Hanar, Elcor, Volus, Quarian, Krogan, Vorcha and any others that do not fall in this category. In addition to this; the Hegemony shall ban the trade of slavery and shall take the necessary steps to enforce such a change under the watch of the Citadel Council." Mash'var loudly shouted with great flair, eyeing the media cameras he knew that would be filming this. This was the resort that the Hegemony
"Ambassador... I don't know what to say..." Tevos said lightly, her two colleagues still reeling from the completely surprising move by the Batarians.
"This!" He indicated to his own projection on the last measure legislature that the Hegemony had authorized. "Is on the condition that the Citadel Council aid us against the Dark Eldar."
"We… we will need to discuss this." Sparatus quickly interjected first. The other two councillors rapidly nodding their agreement to this.
"What is there to discuss? Your fleets and troops against what you call an 'imaginary enemy' that, according to you, doesn't exist. In return we will return all our slaves and even ban it!" Mash'var loudly provoked, his words getting more than a few nods from the growing crowd. There was no way they could refuse this, not when there was this much public exposure.
"Our decisions can affect the lives of trillions. We cannot make them lightly. This meeting is adjourned momentarily." Councillor Valern sternly said. Without another word, he left his dais to retire to have a personal meeting with the rest of the council. Taking his cue, the Turian and the Asari promptly followed after him, a scowling Batarian's gaze burning onto their backs.
"There's no escaping this." Tevos grimly told her colleagues in the private lounge reserved for the Council. Normally, this luxurious room was used for them to discuss private matters over a good coffee and to simply relax after a long day dealing with numerous meetings. But today; they were all sprawled across the seats; indecision on all their faces.
"He's trapped us. We can't possibly refuse this." Valern regrettably said as he reviewed the meeting with the Batarians in his head. "Their war against the Dark Eldar must be going worse than anticipated."
"Yes. I don't think anyone would have suspected they would become desperate enough to give up their 'cultural rights'." Sparatus spat out the last word. He thought he had gotten the Batarian to give up on requesting military assistance by claiming the Council had dismissed the claims of the Dark Eldar. But now it seems he was trying to trap them into either sending aid or losing their credibility; neither of which would aid the Citadel in preparing for the eventual Dark Eldar.
"How ready are we currently?" Tevos asked her fellow Councillors on the relative strengths of their nations. For the Asari Republic, the Turian Hierarchy and the Salarian Union were making desperate preparations for a war against a foe that whose technology may even surpass the Protheans.
"The Heirarchy has finished the outfitting of two new fleets and is in the process of creating a third with another four planned. Military funding is at an all-time high and we are already in the midst of retraining the old reserves." Sparatus gave out the war preparation of the Turians.
"The Union is likewise building up its forces." Valern said, giving marked less information that Sparatus did. "However, simulations between our forces and what STG has seen of the Dark Eldar are… less than stellar."
Tevos sighed deeply. "We have been likewise training more Commandos and building new dreadnoughts to expand our forces. But…" Tevos grimly looked her other two councillors in the eye. "This isn't enough…"
"We know." Sparatus grunted with dissatisfaction. He tilted his head down with restrained dark emotions as he compared the strength of the combined Citadel Council against the Dark Eldar. Considering the estimated amount of fire power that the Dark Eldar seemed to use with ease against the meagre fire power of the Council in comparison… "This is nowhere near enough."
They had banked on the Batarians being resistant enough to buy the Council much needed time to prepare. Time to develop comparable weapons and build up enough strength to withstand the Dark Eldar. With more and more STG observations coming in everyday of the Dark Eldar's overwhelming technology; the less and less likely they could catch up.
It was like the Rachni all over again, except infinitely times worse. At least with the Rachni, they were on a comparable level and could hold the line. With the Dark Eldar, their fleets would be lucky to still exist within a year. And this time; there was no Krogans to stem the tide.
And they dared not to make an overt move against the Dark Eldar yet when they were clearly not going to win. Such a move might provoke the Dark Eldar against them. So while it wasn't ethical; the Batarians had to be sacrificed for the greater good of everyone else.
It left a sick feeling in Tevos's stomach, knowing that they were condemning an entire race to death or whatever the Dark Eldar did with their prisoners. Goddess but she wished there was another way. But the Council wasn't ready and the Batarians had done much similar crimes themselves that they might even deserve their fate. That was what she used to vaguely convince herself of their cause. But then again… it didn't do much when they were already discussing the possibility of directing the Quarian Migrant Fleet in between Council Space and Batarian Space as a secondary buffer.
"How do we respond to the Batarian ambassador?" Valern said with resignation in his voice. If the Council survives this incoming disaster and he was still alive; then he would be resigning at the first possible moment.
Sparatus didn't comment because for once, he really had no idea. They were probably going to lose against the Dark Eldar now but they might pull it off if they could bring in the entire galaxy. Or they could refuse and lose the credibility with everyone on the chance that they could stand against them later. How was he meant to decide?
As before; if anyone wishes to continue on with this they're free to go ahead.
