“The sensors were right.  15 of them have been partially or fully converted to Vorethi-bot.  Ten of them are dead – both the machinery and the human have no life signs.  We’re working to identify them.”

Captain Wren Walton stood behind Commander Park at the main science station in The Vestibule at the rear of the Perseverance bridge.  The leader of the Hazard team was on the screen above the console, his face protected behind his environmental suit.  They had made it to sickbay and the science lab.  It was a macabre scene of blood, metal, and flesh.  Walton asked, “The remaining five?”  She dreaded the answer.

“Three are conscious.  It’s awful, Captain.  They’re confused, angry, and sad – all at the same time.  We’ve done what we can to calm them and give them some rest from everything that’s going on inside them.  We don’t have the equipment here to properly attempt to separate them from the Vorethi-bot pieces.”

“Understood.  What connection do they have to Vorethi-bots?”  Park was working at her console, attempting to determine what the various signals flying around them were and what they were doing.  Much like the Borg’s connection to the Collective, it had to be here somewhere she reasoned.

Walton could see the conflicting feelings on the officer’s face.  Hazard Teams trained to deal with the unimaginable. This mission was pushing at the boundaries of that training.  “It’s interesting.  They keep repeating ‘it’s gone’ and reaching out to find it.  Based on what the survivors are able to remember – at some point in the last few hours the connection was cut.  It’s been hard for them to watch their friends go through this, sir.  I don’t think the Vorethi-bots intend to bring them back to the fold.  It feels like they’re being exiled.”

Wren asked, “Best guess, Lieutenant – do we have a chance at saving them?”  She felt her heart drop as she spoke the question.  The reality of the scenario was getting harder to understand.  Who would do such things to their own people?  It was a harsh reminder of the darkness that held court in human and alien hearts.

“It’s possible for some.  Others are too far gone, Captain.  We’re making notes as we continue to scan and catalogue the damage.  You’re going to need extra hands in sickbay once we clear them for transport.  The Runyon’s operational – we’ve been able to separate all of the Vorethi-bot attachments and equipment.  They weren’t familiar with our systems  – made a mess of things.  Our engineering officer is building a list of the minimums we’ll need to get her operational and underway.  It’s going to take some time to get main engineering functional – they hit it the hardest.”

Walton replied with a curt nod, “We’ll start the preparations on this side.”

“They are rogue experimental units.”  The Deputy Master of the Blood Guild stood in the well of the Guild Master’s Association Hall of Parliament.  The seats of the major guild masters, their deputies, and officers were in an expanding circle that covered the expansive floor.  Beyond them, seats for the minor guilds surrounded them with elevated seating, much like a theater.  Each row went up a level until it reached near the high ceiling.  Desks with consoles and microphones adorned each seat.  Each guild’s symbol was on the top back of the chair.  The room was empty, aside from the gathered group.  Chief Premier Gooren, Captain Peter Crawford, and Lieutenant Grace Albright stood opposite the representatives from the Blood Guild, who had begun their discussion by denying culpability.

Crawford handed over a PADD.  “Our teams are working on the survivors from the Runyon. The scans, imaging, and data are in direct conflict with your claim.  We’re working to identify where the Vorethi-bots originated in the asteroid field.  Your guild knows exactly what happened out there.”  He kept telling himself that he was practicing his patience. He was the captain of a diplomatic starship.  This was supposed to be his speciality.

The Vorethi sneered, his attitude clear. “That is a considerable accusation, Captain Crawford.  You will need the evidence to back this up.”  A huff.  “You do not.”

Peter glanced at Chief Premier Gooren, who shook his head as he replied, “Accusing a guild, even a minor one, requires evidence that is incontrovertible and undeniable. He is right – it is the way of our laws and our work.”

Crawford turned to the Blood Guild deputy, his tone tightening.  “You are stalling.  Know inevitably we will find the evidence you’re asking for.  You will have to answer for it.”  He turned his attention to the Chief Premier.  “We formally request audience permits so we can observe the Gathering of the Masters.” Between him, Albright, and their diplomatic team, they quickly studied the available documentation and passively sought information over the communication and information networks.

A quiet smile passed across the chief premier’s lips, but only the Starfleet crew caught it.  Gooren’s eyes seemed brighter.  He turned to the representatives of the Blood Guild.  “I have sole power over such requests.  I grant it.”  They stared at him and looked as if they were going to object.  Instead, they scurried away, muttering about the indignity of it all.  He turned to Crawford and his crew. “The meeting will begin within the hour.  You have permission from the major guild houses to be in the immediate area outside of the Hall of Parliament.  Tread carefully.  Ask cautiously.  This is all I can advise. A good day’s work to you.”  The Vorethi turned on his heels and walked steadfastly up the aisle and out into the brightly lit corridors that circled the hall.

Albright searched the room, her tricorder beeping at intervals.  “I wouldn’t speak openly here.  Lots of interference coming from the microphones and plenty of other networks and systems I can’t quantify, never mind qualify.  We need to move.”

“We’re secure.”  Grace Albright had found an alcove across the way from the hall that was behind a large rock structure.  She pulled out her PADD.  “Sending the deputy master was an odd choice, Captain.”  The list of the various guildmasters had been provided with photos.  Scrolling through, she looked for anything out ordinary or that might have given a clue why they’d sent the lower-ranked officer.

Crawford paced around the small alcove.  “It’s all political. As little power as the Chief Premier has, the guilds have most of it.  The problem is – between the major and minor houses nobody seems to want to find common ground in the center.”

Grace turned to respond but gasped in surprise as part of the rock faded away, revealing the annoyed face of the Chief Premier, who motioned for both of them to come through.  Cautiously, they stepped through the arch and into a small room with consoles, screens and a few chairs around a table in the center.  He smiled, as much as a Vorethi could smile.  “Welcome to the Vorethi Underground.”