Star Trek Here We Stand

by heavyneos

Part of my B5 SI story: Q asks David to help out the Enterprise as Temporal Cold War Shenanigans threaten to derail the launch of the NX-01 and jeopardise the formation of the Federation. David now Horatio must get the NX program back on track or risk the future that Gene Roddenberry dreamed may become a dystopian nightmare.

24. Interlude

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Star Trek Enterprise

Here We Stand

Chapter 24:

Xindi Interlude

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(A Brief note, I do not own Star Trek or its associated products. Also please forgive any grammar and spelling errors I am Dyslexic and even with a spell checker it is difficult for me to see them.)

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Deep in the heart of Xindi space, on a world unknown to man, a dark and foreboding fortress stood sentinel amidst a raging storm. The planet was a place of perpetual storms, its skies shrouded by swirling black clouds that unleashed torrents of rain and crackling lightning. The ocean below churned violently, its waves crashing against jagged rocks with a relentless fury.

Perched atop a mountain of these treacherous rocks, the fortress loomed like a dark spike piercing the heavens. It was constructed from a stone so black it seemed to absorb the very light around it, rendering the structure almost invisible in the stormy gloom. The walls, sharp and angular, jutted upward, defying the raging elements that lashed against them.

The fortress was a monolith battered nearly continuously by the harsh rain, driven by howling winds, which battered the stone incessantly, but the fortress stood resolute, an unyielding sentinel amid the whirling chaos. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, mingling with the salty tang of the ocean, creating an oppressive atmosphere that weighed heavily on the senses.

The fortress was a relic of a bygone era, that had witnessed countless ages pass, its purpose long forgotten by all but a few. Yet, despite its ancient origins, it remained a testament to the mysteries that still lingered in the unexplored corners of the galaxy.

Roomers said that the creators of the fortress were the enigmatic Iconian's the long-vanished race of seemingly godlike people that had, in less than a year, completely vanished as if they had never been. Their galaxy-spanning empire vanished in the sands of time and their vast wealth of technology with them.

Within its dark cold confines stood a solitary figure that from a distance looked to be a man but as lighting shattered the clouds its light illuminated his scale-green skin revealing that he was anything but a man. His hateful eyes glowed an eerie green as another bolt shattered the sky a sharp-toothed sneer tore across his face.

His skin was a sickly, scale-green, glistening like a serpent's under the harsh light. It was textured with patterns that seemed to shift and writhe with each movement, as though alive. His eyes, burning with an eerie green glow, were filled with an unnatural hatred, a deep-seated malevolence that seemed to radiate from within him. They scanned the horizon, taking in the storm's fury with a mix of disdain and satisfaction.

As another bolt of lightning cracked through the sky, the light revealed more of his twisted features—a sharp, angular face, with ridges along his brow and temples that gave him a distinctly reptilian appearance.

His sneer, jagged and cruel, exposed rows of razor-sharp teeth, perfectly suited for tearing flesh. It was a sneer not of mirth but of contempt, a reflection of the darkness that festered in his soul.

The storm raged on, but he remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on some distant point in the chaos, as if he could see beyond the tempest, into the very heart of the galaxy's secrets.

But in truth, the creature was lost in his own thoughts. General Dolim, as he was known, harboured a deep-seated hatred for this planet. The oppressive moisture in the air, a byproduct of the Aquatics' specific terraforming technologies and their aquatic biology, clung to everything. The constant dampness seeped into his scaled skin, making him feel perpetually uncomfortable and on edge. The air, thick and heavy with humidity, felt like a constant assault on his senses.

Dolim's distaste for the planet was palpable, a simmering resentment that had grown with each passing moment he spent there. If it weren't for the Sphere Builders' summons, he would have gladly ignored the call, dismissing the entire affair as beneath his concern. The idea of sending a subordinate in his place had crossed his mind more than once. But the Sphere Builders were not to be trifled with, and their influence was too great to dismiss lightly. Their plans, their vision, required his presence, and for that reason alone, he had answered their call.

The fortress, with its ancient walls and dark history, only served to amplify his displeasure. It was a relic of a bygone era, much like the planet itself— once a place of power, certainly, but also a place steeped in the kind of mysticism and archaic practices that history and tradition were shacked to, that Dolim found tedious.

He preferred the precision and ruthlessness of war, the clarity of a battlefield where strength and cunning determined the outcome. Here, in this dreary, rain-soaked outpost, there was only waiting and the murky politics of his allies.

Dolim's thoughts churned with impatience. The Sphere Builders had better have a compelling reason for dragging him to this miserable world. He clenched his sharp teeth, the sneer on his face deepening as his irritation grew. The storm outside raged on, a fitting backdrop for his brooding mood, as he awaited whatever purpose had brought him here.

The island that the ancient fortress sat on was now used as the landing platform for the non-aquatic Xindi, originally it sat on the highest point on the planet the tallest mountain on a dead baron world.

Now that world had become the domain of the Xindi-Aquatics, transformed by their terraforming technologies into an aquatic paradise. It was a gift from the Sphere Builders, a testament to the power of the Aquatics, though in General Dolim's opinion, it was a hollow one. The Aquatics, with all their size and brute strength, lacked the true killer instinct, the relentless drive that defined his own kind. The Reptilians were the true war masters of the Xindi—merciless, cunning, and born to dominate.

It was always the Reptilians who were summoned when the Sphere Builders needed military might. Not the Aquatics with their slow deliberation, not the Arboreals with their cautious diplomacy, not the Insectoids with their hive mentality, and certainly not the hated Primates, who fancied themselves leaders but lacked the backbone for real combat. The Reptilians had been the ones called upon to commit the darkest deeds, like when the Sphere Builders had demanded the extermination of the Avian race. The Reptilians had carried out that order with precision and without hesitation.

Now, as the call for war came once more, Dolim seethed with anger that the Sphere Builders had convened the full Xindi Council for a matter he believed his Reptilians could handle alone. The humans were just another race of primates, weak and easily dispatched. The Reptilians had been slaughtering them for generations, even before their planet had shattered. They were a pestilence, no different from the primates that had once plagued his own kind, and had the Sphere Builders not demanded a halt, the Reptilians would have continued the slaughter without pause.

Yet, here they were, the entire council summoned for what should have been a straightforward military campaign. It galled him to no end that the others would have a say in what should be a Reptilian affair. The Aquatics with their ponderous movements, the Arboreals with their pacifism, the Insectoids with their alien mindset, and the Primates, whose very existence he despised—all would weigh in on a matter that only the Reptilians truly understood. War was in their blood, their very nature, and the thought that these others would dilute the purity of their purpose filled Dolim with a barely contained fury.

As he stood in the ancient fortress, the storm raging outside, he couldn't help but let his thoughts linger on the past—the glorious days when the Reptilians had been unleashed to do what they did best. Now, with the Sphere Builders' plans unfolding, he longed for the time when his kind would once again lead the charge, crushing all who stood in their way. He only hoped that this council meeting would end quickly, so the real work could begin.

Dolim was pulled from his brooding thoughts by the synthesized chime of bells, signalling an arrival at his door. The sound, artificial and grating to his ears, immediately soured his mood further. He slowly turned his entire body to face the door, his ornate armour restricting the movement of his neck. The heavy plates, designed for both protection and intimidation, made even the simplest motions a deliberate effort.

The door irised open with mechanical precision, resembling the lens of a camera focusing on a target. Standing in the doorway was the wide, towering form of a Xindi-Arboreal. The Arboreal had to duck slightly to enter, its bulk filling the room with a presence that Dolim found both repugnant and unnecessary. The Arboreals, with their large frames and soft, contemplative natures, were an anathema to everything Dolim valued. He couldn't suppress the sneer of disgust that curled his lip as he watched the creature enter.

"General Dolim, the council chamber is ready," the Arboreal intoned, its voice deep and resonant. It then bowed slightly at the waist, a gesture Dolim found patronizing and weak.

"About time," Dolim growled, his voice a low rumble, akin to the sound of a powerful engine just before it roars to life. Without waiting for the Arboreal to move aside, Dolim strode toward the door, his movements heavy and purposeful. He brushed past the larger creature without a second glance, making it stumble slightly as it tried to step back and follow in Dolim's wake.

Dolim's eyes narrowed as he moved down the corridor, his mind already on the impending meeting. He could feel the Arboreal's presence looming behind him, a constant reminder of the council's insistence on involving the other Xindi species in what he saw as a purely Reptilian matter. The Arboreals, with their soft words and deliberations, were nothing more than dead weight in his eyes.

As he marched toward the council chamber, he steeled himself for what he knew would be a tedious and infuriating session, where the strong would be held back by the weak, and the decisive would be shackled by the indecisive. But he would endure it, for now. The Sphere Builders had their reasons, and Dolim, despite his disdain, would play along—until the time came to do what needed to be done.

Dolim stepped into the elevator, his irritation spiking as he noticed the Arboreal following him in. He had hoped the lumbering creature would be too slow to catch up, sparing him the discomfort of sharing such a confined space. But as the elevator doors slid shut, trapping him with the overpowering musk of the Arboreal, Dolim clenched his jaw in silent frustration. The smell was as nauseating as it was offensive, a constant reminder of how repugnant he found the other Xindi species, especially this one.

The elevator descended swiftly, taking them deeper into the heart of the fortress, down to the council chamber. Dolim's thoughts remained focused on the task ahead, but the presence of the Arboreal gnawed at him, an unwelcome distraction in an already infuriating situation.

The elevator doors opened with a soft hiss, and Dolim stepped out, his boots striking the polished floor with a resonant thud. The council chamber was an imposing space, designed to reflect the power and authority of the Xindi leadership.

The room was a hexagon, with a half-hexagon table at its centre, arranged so that it faced a large, spherical window. The window provided a panoramic view of the ocean, five thousand feet below the surface, where the weight of the water pressed down with an almost palpable force.

Beyond the central window, the vast expanse of the Aquatic City of Undertow stretched out in all directions. The city, the third largest on the planet, was a marvel of engineering and adaptation, a sprawling metropolis that housed tens of millions of Aquatics. The humanoid and more fish-like races of their species coexisted in this submerged world, thriving in the depths where light barely reached. The other windows around the chamber offered additional glimpses of the city, showcasing its bioluminescent towers and the flowing currents that served as its streets.

Despite the grandeur of the scene, Dolim felt no awe or appreciation. The city was a testament to Aquatic power, but to him, it was a symbol of everything he despised about this planet and its inhabitants. The Reptiles were the true masters of war, the ones who had proven themselves time and again in battle. Yet here he was, forced to negotiate and cooperate with those he considered inferior.

As Dolim moved toward his seat at the table, he noticed the other council members filtering in. Each species of the Xindi was represented, from the Arboreals to the Insectoids, and of course, the Primates. His lip curled at the sight of them, but he maintained his composure. This meeting was a necessary evil, a step toward a goal that only he and his Reptilian kin could truly understand. And when the time came, they would show the others what true power looked like.

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The tension in the council chamber was palpable, a heavy undercurrent that flowed beneath the formalities and protocols. Every member of the Xindi Council was acutely aware of the Reptiles' seething disdain for the other species, particularly the Primates. This animosity had festered for generations, a bitter legacy of their shared history.

As General Dolim took his seat, his cold, reptilian eyes scanned the room with thinly veiled contempt. The Primates, always so smug in their self-assurance, were seated directly across from him. Their leader, the Primate Councilman, caught Dolim's gaze and smiled—a deliberate, toothy grin that displayed his omnivorous teeth. It was a small act of defiance, one that he knew would needle at Dolim, and he took a quiet pleasure in it.

Dolim's lip curled slightly, a subtle reaction that betrayed his irritation. He despised the Primates, with their cunning and adaptability, traits that had allowed them to be formidable adversaries in the past. Despite Dolim's unwavering belief in the superiority of his own kind, he could not deny the bitter truth: the Primates had always been a thorn in the Reptiles' side.

The wars between the Xindi species, fought long before their world was shattered, had been brutal and relentless. The Reptiles, with their singular focus on war and conquest, had believed themselves unstoppable. And yet, the Primates had proven time and again to be their equals on the battlefield.

While the Reptiles excelled in pure military might, the Primates had countered with strategy, adaptability, and a versatility that allowed them to shift tactics as needed. It was this versatility that had enabled the Primates to match the Reptiles blow for blow, trading territory with a precision that was almost rhythmic, like the ticking of a clock.

The council members were well aware of this history. The Primates' ability to hold their own against the Reptiles had earned them a grudging respect, even if Dolim himself would never admit it. The Primates were not just warriors; they were diplomats, scientists, and engineers. They could turn their hands to any task, excelling in all without becoming over-specialized. This adaptability was their greatest strength, a quality that had allowed them to survive—and even thrive—against the relentless aggression of the Reptiles.

As the council session began, the Primate Councilman leaned back in his chair, his smile lingering as he listened to the proceedings. He knew that Dolim's hatred was rooted in fear as much as it was in disdain. The Reptiles prided themselves on their martial prowess, but deep down, they knew that they were not invincible. The Primates had always been there to remind them of that uncomfortable truth, their presence a constant check on Reptilian arrogance.

For now, the fragile alliance between the Xindi species was, forged out of necessity in the face of greater threats and survival. But the old tensions never truly disappeared. They simmered beneath the surface, a reminder of the blood-soaked history that had shaped them all. And in this chamber, where decisions that would affect the fate of their entire species were made, those old hatreds were never far from the surface.

Dolim's eyes remained fixed on the Primate councilman, burning with barely concealed hatred. His hand twitched involuntarily as if already feeling the sensation of his claws tightening around the Primate's throat. The image of choking the life out of the dark-skinned primate played out vividly in his mind, satisfying a deep-seated rage that simmered just beneath the surface.

He could almost hear the satisfying crunch of bones breaking under his grip, the sound of breath struggling to escape the Primates' lungs. It would be so easy, so natural, to lunge across the table and tear the life from his smug adversary. If only his blaster hadn't been confiscated upon landing, he would have settled this right here and now. He could imagine it clearly: the high-pitched whine of the blaster charging to full power, the bright flash of energy as it lanced out, and the slow, satisfying disintegration of the councilman's body. The Primate's self-assured grin would melt away in agony, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.

But here, in this council chamber, such an action was impossible. He was bound by the constraints of this fragile alliance, forced to endure the presence of those he despised. The Reptiles had always been warriors, not politicians, and the patience required for these endless discussions grated against every instinct in his body. The Primate's smile was a constant reminder of everything he loathed—of the wars that had not been won, of the conquests that had been denied.

Dolim's claws flexed, his muscles tensing with the effort of restraint. He could feel the weight of his ornate armour, a physical reminder of the role he was forced to play in this council. It was a mockery of his true purpose. Diplomacy was a weapon he had never mastered, one that his species had never needed until the world had shattered and the Xindi had been forced to unite against common threats. Now, he was shackled by these political games, his true power held in check by protocol and necessity.

But the hatred remained, festering within him. One day, he vowed silently, one day the constraints would be lifted, and he would be free to act on his true nature. The Primates and all the other lesser Xindi would learn to fear the Reptiles once more. Until that day came, he would endure, biding his time, waiting for the moment when the order would come, and he could finally unleash the fury that boiled within him.

Then a shimmering light ignited in the centre of the room seemed to pulse with a life of its own, casting a silver glow that danced and spiralled like ethereal butterflies. The council members watched in a mixture of awe and apprehension as the bright light coalesced into the translucent form of a Sphere Builder.

The Sphere Builder was a vision of eerie beauty, its form adorned in a body suit of deep brown, intricately detailed with golden leaf filigree that seemed to grow like ivy across its surface. Its skin was a bleached bone colour, an almost ghostly contrast that highlighted the warmly glowing amethyst eyes.

As it spoke, its voice wove through the room like a hauntingly beautiful melody, carrying a mesmerising effect that seemed to enrapture everyone present. The voice was soothing, almost harp-like, weaving an enchantment over the council members, making every word sound like a precious gift.

"Greetings, councilmen," the Sphere Builder intoned, its voice ringing with an almost magical quality that filled the room. "I wish I could say that I come bearing good news, but alas, I cannot."

The declaration had the immediate effect of stirring the council into agitation. The members, who had been spellbound by the Sphere Builder's voice, now shifted restlessly, their displeasure growing evident. The Sphere Builder's smile was enigmatic, knowing its influence was complete and its message delivered with the desired impact.

"How can we be of service?" asked the Arboreal council member, its pupils dilated with an intensity akin to a predator detecting its prey. The Arboreal's tone was laced with a mix of curiosity and eagerness, clearly under the thrall of the Sphere Builder's enchantment.

"The Humans are advancing their fleet too quickly," the Sphere Builder replied, its voice tinged with a sadness that seemed almost genuine. "We believe that they mean to strike first against you."

The Sphere Builder's eyes danced with a faint glimmer of amusement as it watched the reaction of the council. Its words were calculated, designed to inflame tensions, and stir fears. As it had anticipated, the news caused a ripple of alarm and anger among the council members.

General Dolim, unable to contain his fury any longer, shot to his feet. The movement was abrupt and charged with raw emotion, a stark contrast to the Sphere Builder's composed demeanour. Dolim's rage was palpable, his claws extending as if to physically tear the Sphere Builder's sorrows apart. His hatred for the Primates and his frustration with the political machinations were now channelled into a boiling rage directed at this latest development.

The Sphere Builder, ever the master of manipulation, allowed itself a brief moment of satisfaction having set the stage for what came next.

Dolim's fury was directed at the Primate Councilman.

"This is your fault, Dagon!" he roared, his voice echoing with a menacing growl. "Had the Reptiles been in charge of the weapon's construction, we would have eliminated the humans by now!"

Dagon, with a calmness that seemed almost practised, responded with a dismissive tone.

"Cease your posturing, Dolim. Your empty boasting and emotional outbursts only serve to highlight why we were chosen over you." His words were sharp, a deliberate jab at Dolim's volatile nature.

The tension in the room was palpable as Dolim's claws clenched and unclenched. His growl of frustration was barely restrained as he sank back into his chair, his rage simmering just beneath the surface.

"The weapon would have been finished ahead of schedule, Sphere Builder," Dagon said, his voice low and accusatorial, "Had the Insectoids managed to end the raiding of our supply lines."

The council's attention shifted to the Insectoid representative, a human-sized, grasshopper-like creature. It responded with a series of clicks and pings in its native language, its mandibles clicking in frustration.

The Insectoid gestured wildly as it spoke, its movements conveying its irritation and helplessness.

"Our swarms have been unable to locate these raiders," it said. "They vanish from sight and sensors as soon as our defence fleet arrives. They do not stand and fight. The Queens have been birthing more soldiers to expand our forces, but even we need time to train them."

The Sphere Builder's presence seemed to pulse with an almost palpable energy as it absorbed the tension and discord in the room. Dolim's disdain was evident, his belief in brute force overriding any diplomatic or strategic considerations.

"I don't see why we need the weapon at all," Dolim said, his voice dripping with disdain. "I can have an attack fleet ready to go in a week."

The Sphere Builder's amethyst eyes flared with a sudden, intense light, the room seeming to tremble slightly under the force of its command.

"No!" it commanded, its voice ringing with an almost mystical power. "The humans have powerful allies that will come to their aid should a conventional attack occur." Its voice washed over them weaving amongst them like a spell. "we need a singular decisive strike to scare their allies away so we can then finish them all." The room fell into a tense silence, each council member absorbing the gravity of the Sphere Builder's words. The looming threat of human allies, combined with the Sphere Builder's insistence on the need for the weapon, cast a shadow over the council's discussions. The Reptiles' readiness for war, the Insectoids' struggles with raiders, and the Primate's smugness all seemed inconsequential compared to the growing storm of interstellar conflict.

The Aquatic Councilman, enveloped in its tank of swirling water, spoke with a voice that resonated through the chamber speakers.

"What about the Prototype?" it inquired, its tone carrying a hint of both hope and calculation. The question drew the attention of all present, shifting the focus to the Aquatic's tank. "If the weapon is unready, the Prototype could be used as a means to strike at their capital city, cutting off their leadership long enough for us to complete and deploy the weapon."

The Sphere Builder's response was a knowing smile, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling satisfaction. It floated gracefully above the council, its form undulating with an otherworldly grace.

"Then we have a solution to our issue," it said, its voice imbued with an almost bewitching cadence. The Sphere Builder's presence seemed to weave around the council members, binding their decision with an air of inevitability and dark enchantment.

"It will take a week to get the Prototype up and running," the Primate Councilman, Dagon, announced "And another week to reach Earth. But it can be done."

Dolim's patience had worn thin. He shot a furious glare at Dagon, his irritation palpable.

"A week! Why a week?" he demanded, his voice a growling snarl.

Dagon's composure remained unshaken as he explained,

"The crystals in the main weapon have been removed, as has its main power core. They were taken out for storage. It will take that long to properly recalibrate and reinstall them."

The explanation was met with Dolim's frustrated growl. The Reptile General's anger was a physical presence in the room, but he remained silent, his claws twitching as he wrestled with his irritation. The delay was an inconvenience he could not afford, but the Sphere Builder's influence and the council's decision left him with no option but to accept the timeline.

Dolim's sneer deepened, his disdain palpable.

"Very well," he said, his voice dripping with contempt. "One week. But if you are late"—his voice took on a dangerous edge—"I will personally take control of the construction and deployment of the weapon."

The Arboreal Councilman responded with an unwavering tone,

"The weapon is a joint project. No single Xindi race has sole control. We all decided to create it, and each one of us bears responsibility for its deployment." His voice carried a note of unity and solemnity. "We as a single people agreed—no decision has been so unanimously supported since the tragic loss of our Avian brothers." Dolim scoffed at the Arboreal's emotional appeal, his eyes flashing with irritation. "The loss of the Avians in the Shattering was a unifying clause to ensure that no Xindi race would ever face extinction at the hands of external forces again."

A sharp screech cut through the tension as the Insectoid Councilman, its exoskeleton shimmering under the chamber lights, chimed in.

"The humans are that external force. Not since the scattering has, we faced such an existential threat."

The Sphere Builder's presence, though not directly involved in the exchange, seemed to relish the discord, its eyes gleaming with an almost imperceptible satisfaction as the council's internal conflict unfolded. The chamber was a cauldron of emotions and agendas, each faction pushing its narrative while the Sphere Builder's influence subtly guided the proceedings.

The Sphere Builder's voice wove through the chamber, a hypnotic blend of reassurance and control. "So, we have agreed," it said softly, almost seductively, its voice like a velvet caress that seemed to calm the discord. "One week and the human race will no longer threaten the Xindi ever again."

The words hung in the air, a promise and a threat wrapped in the Sphere Builder's enigmatic assurance. Its glowing amethyst eyes flickered with a knowing light as if the outcome was already a foregone conclusion. The council members, caught in the thrall of the Sphere Builder's influence, nodded in reluctant agreement. The decision was made, and the gravity of their unified commitment settled heavily upon them.

Dolim, still seething with suppressed rage, offered no further challenge. His mind raced with thoughts of what might be, but he knew that defiance was futile at this juncture. The Sphere Builder's command had sealed their course, and the Xindi council united in purpose if not in spirit, prepared to follow through with the plan that would reshape the fate of their galaxy.

"Then let us call this meeting of the Xindi Council adjourned," the Sphere Builder declared, its voice echoing with a finality that brooked no further debate. As it spoke, the shimmering silver light intensified, enveloping the Sphere Builder's ethereal form in a radiant glow.

In an instant, the form of the Sphere Builder began to dissipate, the light swirling and coalescing before vanishing as abruptly as it had appeared. The room was left in the wake of its departure, the subtle hum of the chamber's machinery the only sound that remained.

The council members, their emotions ranging from relief to frustration, slowly began to rise from their seats. The sense of unity enforced by the Sphere Builder's presence lingered, but the undercurrents of dissent and personal agendas were already resurfacing. Each council member knew that the real work was just beginning, and the path ahead would be fraught with challenges and political manoeuvring as they set about fulfilling the Sphere Builder's directive.

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On a distant world, far removed from the tumultuous politics of the Xindi Council, Degra, the genius scientist, stood alone in his lab, the weight of the universe heavy upon his shoulders. The lab's sterile lights cast long shadows across the walls, highlighting the intricate machinery and holographic displays that surrounded him. His hands, usually steady and precise, trembled as he reviewed the data and schematics that had become his life's work.

The decisions made by the council loomed over him like a dark cloud. The promise of a weapon to end the threat posed by humans was a powerful one, but it came with immense risks. Degra's mind was now a battleground of doubt and fear.

He found himself questioning the very foundation of his faith in the Sphere Builders. The same beings who had guided and shepherded the Xindi now dictated the path of their future. What if their vision was flawed? What if their plan was not the salvation, they claimed it to be, but a grave mistake that would lead to untold suffering?

Degra paced the room, his thoughts a swirling vortex of apprehension. He could not ignore the gnawing feeling that perhaps the Sphere Builders were wrong, that the path they had set might lead to disaster rather than victory. The weight of potential consequences pressed down upon him—consequences that could not only affect the Xindi but ripple across the quadrant.

As he gazed out of the lab's viewport into the vast expanse of space, Degra's mind raced with conflicting thoughts. He prayed fervently for the Sphere Builders to be correct, for the sake of his people and for the sake of his own conscience. The burden of responsibility was almost too much to bear, and the hope that their actions would indeed bring about a resolution, rather than further chaos, was all he could cling to in his darkest moments.

(AN)

I had a little help from a friend with this one :)