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Vralk’s father had raised him to be a better Klingon than one who simply stood by and let such deterioration of values go unchallenged—unlike Toq and Rodek. And Vralk knew that there simply had to be others who supported him. Lokor, for one. He was a Housemate of Vralk’s, so he knew—

“Vralk! I will speak to you!”

The deep voice that halted Vralk in the corridor was Lokor himself, the chief of security for the Gorkon. Vralk had always admired Lokor growing up.

“It is good to see you, Lokor, but I am late for my shift, and—”

“Then be late.”

Finally, Vralk realized just how furious Lokor was. His black eyes smoldered, his long, elaborately braided hair seemed to cover his head in a black flame, and all his teeth were bared. If it were anyone else, Vralk would fear that he’d be challenged. “What is it, cousin?”

Lokor spit. “Cousin—pfagh! You are no cousin of mine, you are an idiotic petaQ of a child!”

Vralk found his mouth falling open in shock. “I—I don’t understand!”

“What kind of idiotic things are you saying to the rest of the bridge crew, boy?”

“I—”

Lokor leaned in close. Vralk could smell the raktajino and gagh on his breath, and he imagined he could hear the blood roaring in Lokor’s veins. “I just had a talk with Lieutenant Rodek. He wanted to know if there was dissatisfaction with Captain Klag in the ranks. If there was concern about having a man such as him in command and having a female as his first.”

Vralk let out a breath in relief. “I assume you told him the truth, cousin.” He turned to continue walking toward the bridge, assuming Lokor would accompany him. “You of all people know that this kind of perversion has to be stopped before—”

His words were interrupted by Lokor’s meaty hand punching him in the back. Vralk stumbled forward onto the deck. Lokor then picked him up and slammed him into the bulkhead.

“I—I don’t understand,” Vralk managed to cough out. It was suddenly very difficult to breathe. “You—you grew up with—with Grunnil just as—as I did! You’re the only thing that has made assignment to this cesspool tolerable!”

“In that case,” Lokor said—and now he was smiling, but it was a smile that filled Vralk with tremendous dread—”this cesspool is about to get much much worse.” He leaned in close, his arm pressing Vralk against the bulkhead, making it even more difficult to breathe. “Understand something, Vralk. You’re only still alive right now because of me. And the only way you’re going to stay alive is to—”

Vralk knew where this was going. “Betray Grunnil’s teachings?” He couldn’t believe that a Klingon was saying these words to him.

“No, toDSaH—the only way for you to stay alive is to get off this ship as fast as you can. Trust me, you will find no allies to rally to Grunnil’s antique causes here. You’re in the real world now, boy, and it’s time you acted like it. Trust me—keep your head down, your mouth shut, and I will see to it that you are transferred before your hearts become targets for d’k tahg practice.”

With that, Lokor stood up straight, relieving the pressure from Vralk’s chest. However, since that was also all that was holding him up against the bulkhead, he fell to the deck.

“This is the only warning you’ll get, boy. And do not expect being part of my House to protect you any further.”

Lokor walked back down the corridor the way he had come. Vralk coughed once and struggled to his feet.

As he now ran to the turbolift, he thought, This place is worse than I imagined. My work is cut out for me….

No, I cannot afford to be the idiot Lokor thinks me to be. I am in no position to effect change—yet. I must be patient. He entered the turbolift. I shall take that transfer, and work my way up the ranks. Eventually, I will be able to show everyone what it truly means to be Klingon.

Kira was having a strange dream.

She was walking all over Deep Space 9, but it had been abandoned. Yet every once in a while, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone familiar. First there was her father. Then Commander Vaughn. Then Kai Opaka. Then Quark. That led her to run into