Emboldened by the resounding success of their mission to Mikros, the Mechari returned to their scouting with renewed zeal, investigating numerous worlds considered statistically optimal for incubating powerful prospective allies.
Pheydra herself had chanced to be in an adjacent system when probes notified her of the primitive but intelligent Chua of Bezgelor. Her interval of covert study confirmed that in addition to their unbridled deviousness, the rather dubious-looking creatures displayed an uncanny talent for mechanical engineering. Concluding that a species unconstrained by moral considerations had obvious strategic possibilities (and fascinated by their inventively bizarre reproduction cycle), she transmitted her findings and announced intentions to open communications.
With what she deemed the optimal fanfare, she made her presence known to their most powerful tribe, requested an audience with what she estimated from his bone coronet to be the incumbent chieftain, and presented him with crude and simple tokens of Dominion technology. Nothing fusion-powered of course, merely items sufficient to teach them the fundamentals of physics and, presuming they survived said lessons, to nudge them slowly but inexorably towards metallurgy.
Appearing profoundly moved, the chieftain reciprocated by presenting the new benefactors with a gift-wrapped parcel of fronds, accompanied by repeated pleas that they delay fully savoring its contents until back aboard their ship.
Consequently, it was only after liftoff that the box's occupant, an especially tumescent Bezgeloran tar-beetle, promptly exploded upon exposure to light per its ancient defense mechanism, coating all Mechari present in corrosive black ooze that required months of corrective drilling and acid-baths to remove.
Overriding her enraged envoys' suggestions to exterminate the entire populace, Pheydra reluctantly ordered departure. The trip to Bezgelor had been a waste. Superior candidates awaited everywhere. Ones requiring surely less...maintenance.