The universe of Star Trek and all related intellectual material is the property of Paramount. Some of us like to play in that universe and let our imagination run wild writing more stories. This is one of those stories.
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Rel Ch'Thoor-Ukh, formerly Rel Ch'Killek sat at a small dining table in a food catering place inside the main hall, looking at the hustle and bustle of the space station. The waiter came by to pick up his empty plate and Rel inclined an antenna at him in silent recognition. The waiter responded with the agreed upon antennae signal. Everything was falling into place. It wouldn't be much longer.
Rel went back to observing the flow of people hurrying in all directions under the colony's main dome, circled by the living complexes of the close to 2,000 people who resided there. Now that Andoria was part of the Federation, Andorians were no longer the only species living full-time on the colony and the population easily reached over 4,000 on any given day, what with it being the last outpost on a brisk trade route, before the ships had to traverse millions of miles of empty space. The fortunes of the outpost had multiplied a hundredfold, and the colony was a sizable source of revenues for the Andorian Empire. More grist for his mill.
A Vulcan merchant walked by, obviously on his way to the Vulcan compound, an impressive five-story building at a remove from the concentric circle of other residential dwellings. Rel sneered as he watched him go by, observing the merchant until he was just a figure in front of the compound, glaring at his silhouette as he waited by the doorlift then put his hand on the palmreader and entered the lift reserved for Vulcan citizens. In spite of their renowned telepathic abilities the man hadn't pick up on the hatred and contempt that Rel was not even bothering to hide as he glowered at him.
A weak race, needing special oh-my-god-I'm-cold accommodations because their blood couldn't handle the vivifying cool of other worlds. Their weakness expressed in their focus on being comfortable, with reserved spaces where they could hide their secret dealings in an unhealthy heat under the guise that it was difficult to constantly deal with the emotional turmoil of other species. Well, if it was that difficult, perhaps they should stay on their own planet. But then, that wouldn't work very well for his plans, would it? Rel smiled, a small cruel smile, amused by the contradiction inherent in wanting the Vulcans gone when he needed them for the next part of his plan.
His cold eyes examined the infrastructure of the dome before turning to the windowless enormous operations complex at its end. That was where monstrously large equipment created air to complement the rarified outside oxygen before mammoth-sized ventilation equipment forced it into the duct system that allowed the entire colony to breathe and conduct business as if they were on their homeworld. The surface of Sterth Vega, without being outright deadly, was barely livable, barren of vegetation or animal life under a dying sun hardly strong enough to light the surrounding darkness to a vague grey during the day.
Rel mentally reviewed the blueprints of the operations complex, the storage and meeting rooms on the floors around the machinery, the fortress-like solidity with only one ground-level means of access to minimize the risk of accident, intentional or not. Most of the space was occupied by equipment, there was only a small crew operating the complex at all times, the rest of the operations personnel was out in the dome and residential spaces, maintaining the ductwork and taking care of the relay stations positioned at each residential building.
He avoided looking at the other fortress-like building whose shape could be seen behind the operations building, but only from a certain angle. The ubiquitous security cameras would note that a single Andorian male in the eating section was showing an interest in the armory, when he shouldn't even have been aware it was an armory. But Rel knew many things about the armory and the underground tunnel connecting it to the operations complex, and it was an integral part of his plan. The operations complex and the armory were the heart and brain of the outpost. The only thing he perhaps didn't know was what kind of weapons exactly were housed in the squat building, too large to be holding only rifles and guns for the meager security force.
His antennae went up in annoyance at the thought. The security detail for the base was woefully inadequate. Andoria of old would never have sanctioned such a lackadaisical approach to security. There would be an army of squadrons marching up and down the multi-level outpost, making sure everyone knew the hand of Andoria ruled the colony at all times and keeping things in order. The Empress was a fool, thinking that just because the outpost was a haven of good behavior, with everyone having business to mind and minding their business, she could relax the security protocols. She was going to learn that one must remain hyper-vigilant, for times of peace was when war was being prepared.
But he was waxing poetic. He pushed his chair away from the eating table, getting up and stretching into a leisurely stretch, taking pleasure at feeling his muscles tight against the all-black leather outfit like those favored by Andorians of old. Another couple of Vulcans walked by, a woman and her child, also going in the direction of the Vulcan complex and he glared at them with all the animosity and contempt he could muster, daring them to read his thoughts and turn around. He was glad they didn't, he might have assaulted the bitch and her cur, and that might have derailed his plans.
Their plans. He was but the glorious captain of a vanguard group who was going to stop this madness and would be remembered in Andoria's history as the ones who brought their illustrious civilization back on track. He imagined the children learning about them in communal schools, their name and ideology being discussed in teaching groups as an ideal to uphold and as a way of life.
He left the restaurant and started on his rounds, going behind the buildings and storefronts, watching the activity from the sidelines, rechecking the location of the distributed ventilation equipment, the supplies storage areas, everything and anything related to the infrastructure and the smooth operation of Sterth Vega III. He already knew the whole layout like the back of his hand but still it was good to walk in what was soon to be his kingdom. He saw the handful of operation workers idling by the turbolift to the Vulcan residential complex and nodded his recognition. Not yet, but soon. Very soon.
They had to strike fast, like a fist sucker punches someone in the gut. That was their name, after all, Thoor-Ukh, the Fist of Ice, the name that they had all chosen as their Clan name, severing familial and tribe relationships and setting out to find others who shared their ideals, who would be willing to sacrifice family and life in order to see Andoria come back as in all its glory and finally trample Vulcan into nothingness and wipe it off their soles like so much azhoor. He trembled with rage whenever he thought about what the Empress had done, Andoria's joining the United Federation of Planets, as if Andoria had to be granted admission when it should hold its head high and the rest of the galaxy bow to it. Andoria admitted as an equal of Vulcan, the thought alone threw him into irrepressible anger.
All of them, the hundred strong of the Thoor-Ukh clan, felt just as he felt. And they would no longer be protesting alone in the dark, unseen and ignored by the vast majority of Andorians. They would soon come out on the world stage. They would, as few as they were, inflict damages out of all proportion and punish the Empress for her misguided actions. The Federation would take heed and listen, all the while going into its death throes. And Vulcan would be brought to heel. And when they saw how they were bringing pride back to Andoria, more and more followers would join them, eager to establish a new order.
He could hardly wait.
The time had come.