We have been wounded too long.
For centuries, we have been torn apart, divided, at odds with our own people and our own heritage. The recent events have not worsened this; they have only thrown the problem into sharper relief. The wound remains, as it always has.
We called it the Sundering, and it is a good word, a true word. It is the wound that does not heal, the loss that is always felt. Like the phantom feeling of a missing limb.
We have tried to assuage that pain, to fill the gap, and each stopgap has proved worse than the last. The Klingons were faithless allies and untrustworthy enemies. The Remans - ah, those sad twisted mockeries of ourselves! And, after the treachery that cost us our second home, the attempts at alliances then... shabby dealings with the Hirogen, and now an effort to make us partners with the Elachi under the yoke of the Iconians...
It is not fitting. We are Rihannsu, we do not serve.
As for the rag-tag rabble of Mol'Rihan, their partnership with the vile Remans, their efforts to treat even-handedly with Klingons and Federation alike... they are not worthy even of my contempt.
The wound must be healed, and there is only one way to do that. We are Rihannsu, we do not depend on the charity of others. What we need, we take.
The time has come to heal the wound. On our terms, in our way.
The time has come to take back what is ours.
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