“The Blood Guild and the Klingons have been in discussions for at least the last six months, if not more.”  Fleet Captain Fontana reported as he handed the PADD over to an annoyed Captain J’Klast.  The decoded and translated messages had borne a treasure trove of intelligence data.  None of it had been positive. “They’ve exchanged plans and results from their several rounds of biomedical engineering with the Vorethi-bots.”  They were sitting around the oval table in one of the many diplomatic conference rooms in the suites that were onboard the Zephyr.   He continued, “We decoded and translated a significant portion of the latest rounds of messages.  There are plans and discussions about what to do with the rebuilt and re-energized Constructor and ongoing plots to use the minor guilds as pawns to further destabilize the Vorethi Guild system and the central government.”

J’Klast accepted a plate of assorted brunch items from the hospitality staff, sampling them while he scrolled through the information on the PADD.  “Some of our factions and houses have a long history of exploiting species – the more desperate the target, the better it is for us.”  He took a long drink from the cup filled with bubbling brown liquid.  “This is not news.  It is important background.  While you were decoding messages, I was working my network.  The minor house is trying to boost its prestige, honor, and renown by partnering with the Blood Guild.  They are especially hungry for new weapons and gaining access to mining platforms so they can operate separately and above the others.”

Geronimo accepted the returned PADD.  “We both know they don’t care about the Blood Guild.  They want access to everything they’ve created over the last fifty years.  The bonus will be the asteroid network that’s currently in the hands of The Constructor.”

The Klingon captain nodded as he downed a serving of eggs and bacon.  “This group has become desperate in the last few months.  They won’t stop at the Blood Guild, and they know the Vorethi cannot defend themselves against a larger alien invasion.  You’ve seen the Vorethi’s industrial infrastructure.  It is a thing of mechanized beauty.  The number of ships they could build out of this would give them an edge in the Klingon political machine.”

Geronimo sat back as J’Klast worked his way through the meal with ferocity.  They were approaching a nightmare scenario where all three sides could end up bleeding.  They had sent over the files from Klothos with additional details about the ships, captains, and crews.  The situation did not improve with more information.  It got worse.  In just under a week, the situation in Vorethi space had gone from possible to damn near impossible.

Fontana asked, “Are you prepared to fire on them?”  He answered the glowering look that was J’Klast’s reply with, “I have to ask.  I can leave nothing to chance.”

The glowering lessened just enough for the Klingon captain to reply.  “If the roles were reversed, I would have had to ask you the same thing.  That would be an amusing story to play out.”  He chuckled at the absurdity of the idea.  J’Klast got around to his answer.  “I am affiliated with you, Fleet Captain Fontana.  I am bound to you, your ships, and your crew.  I am also bound to honor, to pride, and to being an honest warrior who does not take pleasure in the pain of those beneath me.  The Vorethi are not a worthy opponent to these weak-willed warriors in name only.  I do not wish to allow a coward to restore his honor with a false victory.”

The Starfleet officer replied with a tight nod.  “I don’t look forward to the day when we stumble upon a worthwhile opponent.  I’d hate to have to kill you.”  He gave a wry smile at the end.

J’Klast snapped his head to stare at Fontana and caught the man’s intended smile.  He leaned it, an equally wry smile at hand.  “I’d hate to let you try, Fleet Captain.”  He stood laughing loudly and deeply as he tossed the last of his brunch into his mouth.  His laugh carried him to the door, out into the corridor, and out of sight.

Fontana sat back, and waited as Captain Peter Crawford and Lieutenant Grace Albright joined him from where they had stood in the shadows, observing.  He looked up as they sat down across the table.  “I’m glad he likes our food and, by proxy, us.”

Crawford slipped over his PADD.  “The Shadowclaw is moving lazily towards the asteroid field.  We’ve detected signals and readings that might indicate a Blood Guild outpost or station deeper inside, but still a distance from The Constructor.”  He added, “We think a significant portion of the Blood Guild’s Parliament representation is aboard.”

Fontana scoffed, “I have to wonder how long this Klingon group will play nice with the Vorethi they’ve tractored their ship to.  And how long will it take before they threaten, blackmail and take control?”

Albright answered, “We’re seeing some of that in the Blood Guild’s territory outside of the home planet.  Sensors have detected active transporters over the last few hours from the K’t’inga-class Whisperblade. The news networks and communication channels from that location went silent an hour ago.  We’re working with the Chief Premier.  They’ve been able to stabilize the major guilds.  The minor guilds are still having a rough go of it with protests.  Some of it’s gotten violent.”

Fontana tapped at his PADD.  “Have they asked for our help?”  The moment the Vorethi asked for help with their own domestic security, he knew things would only get worse.  The chaos a Starfleet Security operation would inspire gave him pause even to consider how to respond to it if it came to it.

Albright replied, “No, and Gooren has made it clear to his team and the guilds that they have to work together to keep things together while we take the lead in dealing with the Klingon mess.”

Geronimo stood. “Have Perseverance and Klothos shadow the Bird of Prey from a distance.  Have Walton draw up a plan for a passive shuttle operation if we need to get close.”

Albright pushed back from the table as Crawford did the same.  She asked, “Do I suggest she have her Hazard Team on standby?”

Fontana had been walking towards the door, but stopped.  They had been inching closer to open conflict as the mission had unfolded with each step.  The risks they had taken had been significant, and he didn’t expect any of that to slow down.  “Make it an order.  Put us and the Franklin D. Roosevelt on standby as well.  If we’re going to poke the bear with a plasma rod, we might as well be ready for all possibilities.”

As the door closed behind Fontana, Albright turned to Crawford. “That’s going to be a very angry bear.”

Crawford chuckled darkly as he led them out of the conference room, “At least the bear isn’t the Borg.  I’ll take an angry Klingon or Vorethi any day of the week.”