The Federation’s foray into the region had happened seemingly without warning, followed by notifications of more recent, pronounced incursions into the area by more of its ilk. Of course, it was the latter occasions that had brought the most concern. As part of this series of overt actions, the humans and their allies had established a permanent presence in the sector. A mammoth space station, its size surpassing even the largest deep-space outposts of the Tholian military, now stood watch over Federation activities in the region.
And what was the nature of those activities?
Even before the advent of the space station, Federation vessels had been dispatched throughout the sector. Long-range sensor telemetry as well as reports from civilian merchant ships traveling within the region offered accounts of colonies and smaller settlements taking root on a host of worlds. If the information Hirskene had reviewed about the Federation’s supposed primary interests were true, then their motivation to extend the boundaries of their territory rivaled even that of the Assembly.
Though a young organization, the Federation was composed of species from numerous planets, most notably the Vulcans, who had been journeying across space for uncounted generations. Still, one of their prominent member worlds, the inhabitants of which called themselves “humans,” had in addition to their proclivity for expansion displayed an unnatural desire for making peaceful contact with anyone they might encounter during their travels. Since leaving the confines of their home planet, the humans had introduced themselves to a number of other spacefaring races, some of whom had proven to be enthusiastic about the overture.
The Assembly, of course, was not so welcoming.
While stories of Tholian exploration of the galaxy dated back to the earliest recorded history, Hirskene, like most of his brethren, always had harbored an intrinsic distrust of the aliens with whom he had been forced to interact. For the most part, the Assembly’s territorial annexing of neighboring star systems was a one-way proposition. The system being annexed usually became a servile province. Bipedal species in particular—races physiologically similar to humans, Vulcans, and other Federation members—had proven quite useful in the lesser echelons, though naturally they remained subservient to even the lowest-ranking members of Tholian society.
That did not mean Hirskene had to be content with their presence.
And so it was with the humans and their compatriots. Encounters with them had been infrequent since that initial contact, but each instance had been only a stark reminder of why they were to be avoided. Their aggressive movements into space—areas farther away from their homeworld and ever closer to territory claimed by the Assembly—had caused no small amount of unease. So far as the Ruling Conclave was concerned, the Federation was not to be trusted, particularly now. Something had attracted the humans and their allies to this part of space, something that necessitated abandoning their customary methods of expansion in favor of a more aggressive strategy. What had brought them here with such speed and fervor?
Hirskene suspected it had something to do with the mysterious phenomenon that had afflicted him—and every known Tholian—several cycles ago. Everyone had been gripped by an almost identical fear: a primordial sensation that coursed through the Lattice and forced its way into their minds, to the very core of their beings. This thought-pulse, while defying identification or explanation, led all who had experienced it to the same conclusions. The pulse originated somewhere in the Shedai Sector, and it must be destroyed.
How the Federation factored into that, Hirskene did not know. Perhaps their very incursion into this remote, mysterious region had prompted this violation of the Lattice? That might explain the sense of anger experienced by Hirskene and other Tholians linked within the Lattice at that dreadful moment, one that lingered long after the thought-pulse itself had faded. If that was the case, then the Federation’s continued presence in the sector—to say nothing of their ongoing efforts to push farther into the area—surely would continue to provoke whatever it was that had been…
… awakened.
Until this very moment, Hirskene had never considered the incident in just that way—but the notion now made perfect sense to him. The presence that had forced itself upon the Lattice and encroached upon his people’s most sacrosanct form of harmonious unity now felt to him as though it were a slumbering giant, one roused insolently from its sleep by the thoughtless, arrogant actions of those who knew not what they violated. And now, the giant sought restitution for this trespass, a demand it would not allow to be denied.
A reckoning, Hirskene feared, was at hand.
Even if the Federation is the cause,Yeskene reminded him, they are but one problem.His second-in-command and most trusted friend of course referred to the other party that had expressed an unabashed interest in the Shedai Sector: the Klingons.
Having decided that the Federation’s interest in the region must have something to do with acquiring an advantage in the ongoing political and military stalemate that currently existed between the two powers, the Klingon Empire had wasted no time dispatching ships of its own. From what Hirskene knew of Klingon practices when it came to usurping other planets, their tenacity rivaled even that of the Assembly. Those caught up in such action would find life to be unpleasant at best.
There already had been a few minor skirmishes with the Klingons as Tholian forces were dispatched into the region in a bid to counter the empire’s stratagem. Were the Ruling Conclave to decide that more overt action was necessary to stave off the aggressions of both the Federation and the Klingons—or even to undertake a bold, concerted effort to drive both parties out of the Shedai Sector—the only outcome Hirskene could foresee involved war with both powers.
If such challenges do await us,he wondered, can we truly be victorious?
“Commander,” Hirskene heard, the interrogative wrapped in stark scarlet as Yeskene allowed his concern to be discerned. Only then did Hirskene realize that he had been so lost in thought that he had failed to comprehend that it was the third such time his second had called to him.
Feeling Yeskene’s concern spreading among those subordinates who had turned from their stations to look upon him, Hirskene turned his full attention to his second. “What is it?”
“The sensors, Commander,” Yeskene replied, the bright red colors currently permeating the SubLink deepening in hue as his rearmost right leg tapped absently on the deck plating while he spoke. “They are detecting an unidentified energy surge.” The tapping was an unconscious habit of his, one that Yeskene displayed during times of uncertainty but that disappeared whenever a situation worsened. Hirskene had learned to accept the nervous tic as a barometer of whatever circumstances he and his crew might find themselves facing. Hearing it was usually a sign that something unexplained might be happening, but nothing inherently dangerous.
“What is the source?” Hirskene demanded as he turned back to the subordinate operating the sensor console.
“Unknown,” the menial replied, maintaining his watch over the computer-generated graphic displays floating in the air before him. “All I am able to determine is that it is not coming from inside the ship. It is an external phenomenon.”
“Are you able to localize it?” Yeskene asked, his six legs skittering across the deck to bring him alongside Hirskene.
The subordinate nodded. “I am attempting to do so now.” The two, long fingers of his uppermost left extremity played across his console’s smooth, translucent interface panel, each tap of a control slightly altering the array of sensor displays hovering over his head. “At first, I considered the possibility that the system might be experiencing a malfunction,” the menial said, “but such is not the case. All internal and external sensors are operating within nominal parameters.”