Gliding into the Vorethi system, the USS Perseverance trailed behind the larger Ambassador-class Franklin D. Roosevelt.  On the bridge of the Pathfinder-class starship, Captain Wren Walton had returned to the center chair.  Her fingers drummed on the arm, nervous energy flitting across her body.  The sudden drop of The Shroud had blown open the Shackleton Expanse.  Countless systems with expansive civilizations were suddenly open to contact with faster speeds.  Walton willed her fingers to stop.  She turned her head to her science chief. “Lieutenant Wallaker?”

“No trace of the Runyon.  It will take us some time to sort through the soup of signals.”  Hazel Wallaker shook her head.  The Vorethi system was an active one with a wide assortment of ships, transports, and more.  The data points would need cataloguing, defining, and detailing.  She, along with the rest of the senior staff, had spent the time in transit from Montana Station studying the intel reports on the Voreth system.  What was in the reports was limited, limited by the various Romulan and Klingon contacts who had interacted with the system.  Hazel wasn’t just concerned with the validity of the reports.  She worried about the omissions, and her captain and executive officer had expressed their concern.

Walton’s eyes remained tight, her face a placid wall.  “Keep at it.  Let’s hope Peter is having better luck with his diplomatic introduction.”

“You are Federation.  We have heard of you throughout the years.”

Standing on the bridge of the Franklin D. Roosevelt, Captain Peter Crawford felt everything from nerves to thrills and back again as he faced Gooren, the Voreth Premier.  He leveled his voice, shifting his face to feel and look more open.  “I am Captain Peter Crawford of the Federation Starship Franklin D. Roosevelt.  We’re here to meet with you and discuss how best to get to know you.”

“You have come at a most…interesting time.  The Shroud has fallen.”  Gooren explained the changes it had brought – the abrupt change in warp speed capabilities and the slow unraveling of the Voreth culture that was alarming many.  “We are facing an identity crisis, Captain Crawford.  It is important that you know this as the interactions you will have will seem fraught with complications that will not make sense.”

Crawford watched the reflective black eyes of the Voreth Chief Premier, wondering what to read and what to ignore in his stilted body language.  The limited data they had did not include that data.  He felt a pang of annoyance.  As much as the Romulans and Klingons talked about cooperation, the old history dynamics were still asserting themselves.  Trust was a commodity still in short supply among so-called friends, he mused.

Peter asked, “We understand there is a guild structure within the Voreth culture.  Where do we begin our conversation?”  The initial notes on the structure had been convoluted and maddening.  Understanding them had taken several meetings over several days.

Gooren’s face grimaced, as best as Crawford could read.  “Our Premier of Economy and Guilds is the one you will need to start with.  He has a council of representatives from the various guilds.  I will send you the details of him and the council.”  The Voreth paused as he tapped at an unseen console.  His eyes darted back up to face Crawford.  He seemed to consider his words.  He spoke, his cadence slower.  “I feel I must warn you further about the identity crisis I spoke of earlier.  There is growing unrest among the population about the choices we will make with The Shroud no longer protecting us.  We have received overtures from the Romulans and the Klingons.  I trust neither of them to have our best interests at heart.  The Central Government of Voreth and the Guilds have not met to discuss these messages…that meeting will come within the week.”

Crawford frowned when Gooren stopped abruptly.  He’d expected some kind of overture, or a request to be at the table for the discussions.  Instead, the Voreth stared back at him with reflective black eyes, his pale-grey skin reflecting in the lights.  Crawford asked, “Would you like to have a Starfleet representative made available to you and the Central Government to assist?”

The blinking intensified for a moment before Gooren answered, “It would be inadvisable for me or members of my government to be seen accommodating or going beyond the expected diplomatic engagement with Starfleet.  The guilds are always watching, Captain Crawford.  You are welcome to schedule a formal meeting with my office with a published agenda.”

Peter swore the Voreth Chief Premier winked at him.  He considered the man’s words.  It had been specific.  Very specific.  This was going to test their diplomatic skills to the limit, he suspected.  He replied, “We will do that, Chief Premier Gooren.  We look forward to the transmission of your data.”

“It is as you say, Captain Crawford.  A good day’s work to you.”  The channel closed.

Peter turned to the bridge crew.  “Thoughts?”

Lieutenant Grace Albright turned away from the diplomatic station, her eyes curious.  “He meant it about the guilds always watching.  Communications has been monitoring several suspected spy networks in the sector.  Tactical has marked at least ten ships that are unusually high powered and staying relatively close to us since our arrival in the system.  He doesn’t seem afraid, but he’s worried about us.”

Crawford nodded.  Albright had settled into the XO role.  He had been waiting for a mission to test her diplomatic acumen.  Now she was going to have to prove herself.  “I think we should take the offer of a meeting.  Ensign Markell, work with Albright to create a public agenda.  Make it believable, but not specific enough to warrant the truth.  He’s asking for a meeting, but I don’t think it’ll be what we’re expecting.”

A beep echoed from the helm station and then several more.  Lieutenant Saffron Helsing frowned as the report clarified.  “Captain, long-range sensors have a Klingon vessel on intercept course with the Voreth system – it is not one of ours.  The house designation is unknown.  I’ll need to ‌do some work to identify.”

Crawford grumbled as he turned to face her.  It was never boring.  “Time to intercept?”

“Four to five days – depending on speed.  Sensors have determined it to be a K’t’inga class.”

Peter felt his heart rate pick up speed.  He had known the Klingons had an eye on this part of the Shackleton Expanse.  They were moving up their timeline, it seemed.  “Alert Gooren.  Signal the Zephyr with an update.  We might need our friend J’Klast in play sooner than expected.  He’ll be happy.”

Albright chuckled, “I think our definition of happy and his are different, Captain.”

Crawford shrugged, “Long as he’s happy to help us, I’ll take it.”