“Everybody has a lot of feelings and thoughts on the subject.”  Fleet Captain Geronimo Fontana was on the screen of the USS Perseverance, his face telling much of the tale.  “We’re tracking disturbances across Vorethi society – fear, vindication, and anger.  They’ve called an emergency meeting of the guilds slated for later today.”

Captain Wren Walton sat in the center chair on the bridge. Commander Park’s report, along with the details from Lieutenant Jordan Reid, had been illuminating and alarming.  She’d expected the worst from the Blood Guild, but they’d outdone her expectations.  Fontana wasn’t exaggerating.  The implications and impact of the decision made by J’Klast were just beginning to unfold.  Walton replied, “I’m guessing you’re tasking Peter and Grace with the meeting?”

“You would be correct.  You’re on inspection duty – the Vorethi have marked the formerly secret station off limits to everyone – including the Blood Guild.  They’re asking us to open a formal investigation.  Given our brief history in this sector, they seem to believe us to be unbiased operators.  That’s what most of them feel.  Others have their own theories and conspiracy theories, but none of them have taken hold.”  He paused and accepted a PADD from off screen. As he read it, a frown crossed his face and held, eventually deepening.  Fontana held it up as he revealed, “We’ve had some new intel – several key scientists and representatives have left the minor guilds.  Reports are of 2-3 from each, and it’s got some of the major guilds, along with the central government spooked.”

Walton sat up, alarmed.  “Do we have names?”  To her right, Commander Park snapped her head up from the console, eyes wide.

Fontana shifted in his seat, clearly annoyed.  “We do and we don’t.  We’ve got our communications team working on it, but the Blood Guild has stepped up their encryption game.  Watch your back out there, Captain Walton.”

“Picking up biological readings, but no life signs.” Lieutenant Hazel Wallaker sat at the science station, working through the sensor reports from the now-destroyed Blood Guild station.  “The Klothar followed the standard scuttle process.  Lots of wreckage, debris and remains.  We’ll need to process it all carefully.  Working up a quarantine process now.”

Walton paced the bridge as the Perseverance drifted in a near orbit of the wrecked station.  The initial readings were encouraging, but she was taking no chances.  Park and Reid had seen only as much as Chuki and his Vorethi scientists had allowed.  Wren suspected there were more secrets deeper in the station.  Her current fear was that, as complete a job as the Klothar had done, some secrets might have survived.  She slowed to a stop near the main viewscreen.  “Prepare probes to do some advance work for us.  Have the mapping module installed.”

Park tapped on her console, making the adjustments.  “The data we received back from our tricorders suggested there were further levels down below and further inside the asteroid.  Our science team is still parsing out the details – plenty of confusing readings.”

Walton loped back to her chair and ordered, “Launch probes and ready the shuttles for scan work.”  She quietly hoped their investigation would pass without incident.

“I return, injured, burned, but alive.” The scarred face of Soner flickered on the screen at the communications station on the USS Franklin D. Roosevelt.  “I may be without a guild, but I come back to you now to turn the tide against the interlopers.  Dragr’al and I have spoken, and he has my full support for his continued integration within the Blood Guild.  I am a witness to the destruction of the station, and I am a witness to the barbaric nature of this so-called Captain J’Klast.  I ask you to grant me a guild home and the space to speak so that I may speak the truth of what has happened.”

Peter Crawford stood behind Ensign Merlin Markell at communications, observing the wide-beam message.  He asked, “That went everywhere and anywhere, I’m assuming?”

Markell was working to track the message backwards, his eyes searching the screen for the relevant data.  “Ten minutes ago.  The computer says it’s Soner, based on our profile of him.  Nailing down the exact location of transmission is presenting a challenge.  Even as an exile, he seems to know where to bounce the signal to keep his current location secret.”  He worked the console further.  “We’re detecting a rise in Blood Guild signals and channels.”

Peter leaned back against the railing.  “They’ll take him back.  He’s a pariah now.  The narrative that’s driving them will be much easier to write now that he survived and can lie about what happened.”  He turned to Lieutenant Grace Albright at the rear of the bridge. “What are our chances of proving him wrong?”

Albright was working at the console, her mind ahead of the current situation.  “In the short term – deny, deny, deny.  Long term, if the Perseverance can find evidence, surveillance footage, anything that discounts or disproves any of the things he’s saying.”  She shook her head as her console beeped.  “There’s been a request from the Vorethi to inspect and investigate the Klothar.”  She didn’t even skip a beat.  “That’s a terrible idea.”

Peter chuckled darkly.  “It is, but it may be one of the few ways to slow the narrative race down.  Having them board and inspect the ship will at least help keep most Vorethi feeling like we’re not trying to hide anything.”

She replied, “You have any ideas on how to sell this to J’Klast, never mind his crew?”

His smile waned.  “That’s a work in progress.”

“You are right; this is a terrible idea.”  J’Klast sat in his ready room, a full feast before him.  Crawford was on the screen, having just explained the plan.  He took a meaty morsel and downed it, relishing the taste.  “We have received several communications calling us heroes for removing such a dangerous element in Vorethi space.  Many of these messages thank us.”  He took a deep draw from his goblet.  “The Blood Guild, however…is not so friendly.”

Crawford replied with a nod. “I’ve read those dispatches. Pretty powerful language.”

J’Klast guffawed.  “My mother had stronger language than these bastard whelps.  Using words like, ‘foreign attacker’ and ‘using Starfleet as cover’ is amusing and bland.  That is just another Tuesday.  It is, as you would say, old news.”

“The Blood Guild might use you as a scapegoat.  And not just the Blood Guild.  If this thing swings their way, others will follow.”  Crawford looked as uncomfortable as he sounded as he finished his warning.

J’Klast answered, his voice exasperated. “I wish I enjoyed being the villain of this story.  But this politicking is tiring.”

“And yet, we still have to play the game if we want to find the better ending to this story.  I’m not willing to let bitterness get in the way.”  Crawford’s eyes bored into the screen, and the message was clear.

J’Klast chuckled, “Bitterness is just one of my many qualities, Captain Crawford.  You will need to assign some Starfleet security to complete this inspection – my crew will not enjoy this.”

Crawford sighed in thanks.  “I’ll start the party.”  The channel closed, and the screen blanked.  

J’Klast grumbled, “Not my idea of a party.  Vorethi bastards.”