The away team gathered around Stitch in the final laboratory of the facility, poised to uncover even darker truths about the Founders and their insidious history.
A terminal flickered to life, displaying the documented file.
"Research Report - 8532.38
Our scouts have returned from the wormhole expedition. The solid races on the other side are primitive and unremarkable, save for one. They are called the 'Klingons' and show a singular talent for violence—one that rivals our own Jem'Hadar. Left unchecked, these savage creatures could become dangerous enemies. While the Klingons are too willful to subjugate, their genetic material could produce viable cohorts for the Jem'Hadar... or perhaps replacements.
We have begun development of a new Cadre Species designation, Fek'ihri, using 'Demons' from Klingon folklore for inspiration. As with the Jem'Hadar, we have bound them to our service with the White. We will test them in combat against the Klingons themselves."
A collective gasp rippled through the team.
"I can't believe it… they did it?" Alia whispered in shock and horror. "The Founders... they created the Fek'ihri."
Anzyl's voice was a mixture of revulsion and grim relief. "This is it. This is exactly what we've spent the last several months searching for."
Stitch sighed, their eyes fixed on the scrolling text. "There's more..."
"Research Report, Supplemental Entry - 8671.71 (Dominion Reckoning)
Somehow, the Fek'ihri have broken the hold of the White and turned on their rightful masters. Most of our research team has been liquidated. Intelligence suggests a union between the Fek'ihri and a Klingon warlord known as Molor. Perhaps this will lead to a state of mutually assured destruction on Qo'noS. One can only hope."
Alia shook her head. "I don't know who the worse monster is—the Fek'ihri or the Founders. The creation, or the creators."
"Indeed," Anzyl agreed. "Genetically manipulate the perfect killing machine only to lose control of them, despite the use of Ketracel-white." He paced the small room, piecing it together. "Based on everything we've seen, it seems they were designed to be ruthless savages. When they broke free, their 'freedom' was paid for with insanity. They became the very monsters they were modeled after."
Eroga stood motionless, her gaze fixed on the screen. "Made and designed from the demons of our lore, only to become those demons themselves." She clenched her fists. "A dark paradox."
Stitch tapped the console. "This looks like the last log, sir. It's labeled 'Final Entry.'"
Anzyl nodded, waiting to see how the record of this nightmare ended.
"Research Report - 9076.23 (Final Entry)
I am weary. Soon I will return to the Great Link, and I will be glad to be rid of this place. The Burrowers have emerged again; the Fek'ihri are unshackled and abandoned to their own insanity. We can barely control either. The Jem'Hadar were able to divert both onslaughts, but at great cost. Fortunately, rather than a counter-attack, both pests went through the wormhole to seek easier prey.
Our agents in the other quadrants report that the assault by both vermin species is sweeping, reaching as far as Qo'noS. Hopefully, they will devour each other on that wretched planet. The Burrowers will eventually return to dormancy, though it appears some of their forces intend to remain in the other quadrants for a long-term goal: galactic devastation.
As for the demons of the Fek'ihri, who knows their goal. We gave them their ships, their technology, and the means to be a devastating force, only for them to turn on us and slip from our grip. I am shutting this wretched station down to minimal levels, locking it up, and forgetting it ever existed."
Veirik spoke in disgust. "Those spineless sacs of goo... they steered the Hur'q and Fek'ihri toward the other quadrants just to make them someone else's problem?"
"Yes," Anzyl replied, visibly incensed. "They knew what they had created. They knew the Hur'q and Fek'ihri were becoming a blight, and instead of cleaning up their own mess, they used them to expand the Dominion for centuries. And when the Hur'q re-emerged, they pleaded for Alliance help while leaving the Fek'ihri to ravage the galaxy. The arrogance is staggering."
"Sir, look..." Tey'un pointed to a secondary console where ship schematics were rapidly cycling. "I've located the original designs. These are the blueprints for the vessels the Fek'ihri use today."
Veirik joined him. "I was wondering how savages became space-worthy. The Founders gave them the keys to the kingdom."
Anzyl snapped back into command mode. "We need to get this data to the Alliance. All of it. Download everything—the logs, the schematics, even the corrupted files. There has to be something here the Alliance can use to end this."
Alia suddenly looked at her tricorder, her expression shifting. "Anzyl, I'm picking up a massive power spike on a lower deck."
"I'm seeing it too," Stitch added, their fingers flying over the terminal. "Systems are cycling all over the facility. Something is waking up down there."
Anzyl nodded sharply. "Alia, Zide'mok, Stitch—you're with me. Tey'un, Veirik, stay here and finish the download." He tapped his combadge as he marched towards the exit, "All other away teams, grab what you can and return to the Nexus immediately! Let's move!"