It's good to be home

by jacquisup

So this is going to take place during the episodes after The First Duty and my sequel to it. I redid Journey's End a little to continue the episodes. 4/24/20

21. Birthright

STAR TREK: THE NEXT GENERATION

"Birthright"

"Captain's Log, Stardate 46578.4. The Enterprise has arrived at Station Deep Space Nine, where we will assist in the reconstruction of the Bajoran aqueduct systems damaged during the Cardassian occupation." Picard said.

Picard and Beverly came out of an airlock and began walking down the street, past the storefronts and activity. Picard was carrying a briefcase; Beverly had a medical kit. Mid-conversation.

"I should be finished with the water contaminant analysis in a few hours. Then I'm going to try one of the Holosuites." Beverly said. "I hear they've got a relaxation program here from Alture Seven. First you get bathed in a protein bath... and then a cloud of chromal vapor carries you into a meditation chamber... You should try it."

Picard sighed at the thought.

"I'm afraid I won't have the time. I'll be too busy discussing the finer points of water management with ten Bajoran bureaucrats." he said. "And they won't be carrying me on chromal vapor..."

Beverly smiled and they entered the turbolift.

Worf and Geordi were at the replimat moving away from the wall of replicators, having just made identical plates of food.

"What is this?" Worf asked looking at the food.

"Pasta al fiorella - you'll love it." Geordi said and they sit down. "I'd like to take a look at those Ktarian antiques... I hear there's a twenty-first century plasma coil - in perfect condition."

"First we eat... then we shop."

An alien was watching Worf from across the street. He slowly started to make his way toward the Replimat.

Data, Riker, various N.D.s at the bridge were at their positions. A small warning alarm sounded on Data's console.

"Commander - I am reading a minor power drain in the Starboard EPS conduits." Data said off console.

"What's causing it?" Riker asked.

"The problem is originating in Sickbay. There has been an unauthorized access into the computer's bio-imaging systems." Data said while he worked.

Riker was not overly concerned.

"You'd better check it out." he said.

"Aye sir."

Data stood and headed for the Turbolift...

Jilin Basher was at sickbay by himself, working on a tech device - a large, battered-looking cylinder. The device had been connected to a medical console with a small cable.

Data entered RS and reacted to the sight of this strange man in Sickbay.

"Excuse me. Do you have authorization to work in this area?" Data asked Bashir." he said to Bashir.

Bashir glanced at Data, missing the question, completely absorbed in his work. He waved Data over.

"Come here... come here... I need a hand with this field generator..." Bashir said.

Data walked over. Bashir touched a control on the cylinder, then indicated a medical console.

"See if you can boost the power output to sixty-five percent." Bashir continued.

Data looked at the cylinder.

"I am sorry. Use of Sickbay equipment is limited to the ship's medical personnel." he said.

Bashir turned to Data and offered him a hand.

"Doctor Julian Bashir - Chief Medical officer, Deep Space Nine." he said. "And you are Commander...?" he started off Data's pips

"Data."

They shook hands. Bashir reacted to the name.

"Commander Data... the synthetic lifeform?"

"Yes."

Bashir smiled, delighted and shook Data's hand with renewed vigor.

"An honor to meet you, sir. I've heard so much about you..." he said. "You must have a fascinating perspective on bio-cybernetic research. I'd be delighted if we could discuss the subject sometime..."

Bashir's charm caught Data off guard.

"I would be happy to do so. However, I must ask you to stop your experiment." Data said.

"Yes, of course... you're right. I realize I should have asked before using your Sickbay." Bashir said disconnecting the cylinder from the console. "It would've taken me days to analyze this device with the computer I have on DS Nine..."

Data eyed the cylinder.

"What type of device is it?" he asked.

"It was discovered in the Gamma Quadrant. I think it may be some kind of medical instrument."

Data examined the cylinder.

"It appears to employ beam inputs."

Bashir nodded.

"I'm hoping it's a medical scanner. I want to use your computers to find out how it works."

"I suggest we go to Engineering and begin with a full circuit pathway diagnostic."

Bashir smiled at the invitation.

"Splendid."

Data lifted the cylinder. As they headed for the door, Bashir eyed Data with genuine curiosity.

"I must admit, Commander... I didn't think you'd be so... personable."

Data gave him a look.

At promenade Geordi and Worf were sitting at the table. Geordi's plate was still full and pushed away from him. Worf ate with enthusiasm.

"I'll have to talk to Chief O'Brien about the replicators." Geordi said. "I don't know how you can keep eating it..." "It tastes like... liquid polymer."

Worf's plate was almost empty.

"Delicious." he said.

Geordi pushed his plate away, stood.

"I think I'll try the kiosk on the other side of the Promenade. It looked like they've got real food." he said.

Worf nodded. Geordi walked off down the Promenade. A minute went by as Worf ate.

"Klingon... you are the Starfleet Klingon." Shrek said.

Worf looked toward the voice and saw Shrek, he was standing near Worf's table.

"Yes... I am Lieutenant Worf." Worf said.

"Worf... son of Mogh?"

Worf eyed him warily.

"What of it?"

Shrek sat down at the table. He leaned in close to Worf, spoke in a low voice - manipulative but articulate.

"I am Jaglom Shrek. A man with information to sell."

"You have no information I could want."

"I wouldn't be so sure..."

Worf was growing annoyed and stood to go.

"It is about your father... Mogh." Shrek said quickly.

Worf stopped, stiffened and turned to Shrek.

"My father died twenty-five years ago at Khitomer." Worf said.

Shrek fixed him with a look.

"That is what you believe..." he said. "What if I told you... he is still alive?"

"My father is dead." he said.

"He's not. I know where he is."

"How is that possible?"

Shrek leaned back in his chair, eyed Worf shrewdly.

"I expect to be paid for my information. Perhaps we can negotiate an exchange. The location of your father, for fifty bars of -"

Worf's temper flared and he grabbed Shrek by the shirt.

"Tell me what you know." Worf said hard.

Shrek was shaken, but determined to make a deal.

"Not all of the Klingons at Khitomer were killed during the massacre. Many were captured by the Romulans... and placed in a prison camp on a remote planet..." he said. "Your father was among them."

"Where is this planet?"

"Not far from here... I can give you the location... for a price."

Worf considered. He grew angry.

"A Klingon would rather die than be taken prisoner. I should kill you for spreading lies about my family." he said. "My father was killed defending Khitomer." he said adamant.

Then he let go of Shrek, and storms off down the Promenade.

Later at the bridge Riker, Deanna, Wesley and N.D.s were at their positions. Worf was standing at tactical, looking agitated. A security N.D. entered from a Turbolift and crossed to Worf. He handed Worf a PADD and turns to go. Worf reads it.

"Ensign Lopez." Worf said.

The N.D. turned to Worf.

"This duty roster is unacceptable. The assignments must be listed in order of priority. Prepare it again." he snapped.

The hapless N.D. took the PADD and stared down at it, confused by the harsh command.

"I will expect it no later than oh nine hundred hours. Understood?"

"Jeez Worf, calm down. He just got here last month. You weren't that bad with me when I first got here as an acting ensign or full ensign right before I went to the academy." Wesley said.

The N.D. nodded, cowed, and quickly headed for a Turbolift. Worf continued working. Riker walked up behind Worf at Tactical.

"Worf, I'll need that rendezvous schedule sent over to Commander Rudman on the Merrimac as soon as you -" Riker said.

"I am aware of your request, Commander." Worf said cutting him off.

Riker reacted to Worf's abruptness, a little taken aback.

"Lieutenant... are you alright?" he asked.

Worf calmed himself knowing he's made a mistake. He's on edge, and it shows.

"I am... fine, sir." he said. "I will send the schedule... Excuse me, sir..."

Then he headed for a Turbolift and left. As Riker and Deanna exchanged a concerned look.

Later Worf was at his quarters dressed in his workout uniform, practicing his martial arts. His motions were slow and deliberate at first, as he tried to clear his mind... calming himself...

Gradually, it became clear that he was having trouble concentrating. His actions grew sharper and faster - more violent with emotion. Finally, his anger flares and he yelled out, smashing his arm down onto a table, shattering it into several pieces.

He stood there a moment, breathless, staring at it. The door chimed..

"Enter." he said.

The door opened and Deanna came in, took in the scene and saw the broken table.

"Did the table do something wrong?" she asked.

Worf was agitated.

"No..."

"I'm glad you weren't that hard on Ensign Lopez."

"He made a mistake. The duty roster was inaccurate."

"Would you like to talk about what's bothering you... or would you like to break some more furniture?" she said right back at him.

Worf glanced at the broken table and managed to calm down a little. He took a breath.

"Today on the Promenade... I was approached by a Yridian. He knew who I was... and tried to sell me information about... Mogh." he said.

"Your father?"

Worf nodded grimly.

"He claimed that my father is alive... being held in a Romulan prison camp."

"My god... could it be true?"

Worf began to move about the room, restless, his emotions stirring once again.

"A Klingon would never allow himself to be captured. A warrior fights to the death." he said. "If my father were alive... it would dishonor his sons and their sons for three generations..." he continued. "Even Alexander would bear the burden of guilt."

"So you're willing to ignore the possibility... because you're concerned about dishonor?"

Worf's anger rushed to the surface.

"My father is dead - the Yridian is selling lies!"

Deanna stared at him, unruffled.

"If you're so sure of that... why are you still upset?" she said.

Worf didn't have an answer.

"Worf... you can't deny the possibility just because you don't want it to be true." she continued.

Worf was silent, fuming, struggling with his feelings about the situation. Deanna could sense that this wasn't going anywhere. She tried to comfort him.

"If you want to talk about this... you know where to find me."

Deanna turned and left. Worf was left to stare at the broken table, her words still hanging in the air.

Data, Bashir, Wesley and Geordi were at the engineering examining the battered cylinder seen earlier. Data indicated several input ports on the cylinder.

"If we transfer twenty megajoules of energy from the dilithium chamber into the plasma inputs, it should be enough to activate the device." Data said.

Geordi nodded.

"Sounds like it's worth a try." he said. "You three can start by connecting the coil to the chamber. I'll configure the energy transfer..."

"Right." Bashir said.

Data, Wesley and Bashir moved to the warp core. They began to connect a fiber optic cable to the cylinder.

"Data... may I ask you a personal question?" Bashir said as they worked.

"Certainly." Data said.

"Does your hair grow?"

Data thought a moment, taken aback by the question.

Wesley looked at him confused.

"I can control the rate of my follicle replenishment. However, I have not yet had a reason to modify the length of my hair." he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious..." Bashir said and finished connecting the cable to the cylinder. "Power conduits ready..."

Data connected the other end of the cable to the dilithium chamber. Bashir opened a panel on the side of the cylinder and started to make adjustments to the circuitry. Data knelt beside him to assist.

They worked for a moment... then Bashir glanced at Data. Something about his face caught his attention. He moved closer, staring directly at his nose. Data took note.

"Is there something wrong, Doctor?" he asked.

"You're breathing..."

"Yes. I do have a functional respiration system. However, its purpose is to maintain the thermal control of my internal systems. I am, in fact, capable of functioning for extended periods in a vacuum."

Bashir nodded, fascinated. He reached over and felt Data's wrist.

"And you have a pulse..."

"My circulatory system not only produces bio-chemical lubricants, but regulates micro-hydraulic power."

Bashir looked impressed. They worked for a moment.

"Most people are usually interested in my extraordinary abilities. How fast I can compute, my memory capacity, how long I will live." Data said intrigued. "But no one has ever asked me if my hair can grow, or noticed that I can breathe."

Bashir smiled.

"Your creator went to a lot of trouble to make you seem human... I find that fascinating." he said.

Data considered. Geordi completed his work at the console.

"We're ready to begin the transfer." Geordi said.

Data completed the last connection on the cylinder.

"The power connections are complete."

"I'll monitor the coil's saturation rate. Will you keep an eye on the transient power response?" Bashir said to Data.

"Of course."

Wesley picked up a nearby tricorder and pointed it toward the cylinder.

"We're ready, Geordi." he said.

"Initiating energy transfer..." Geordi said working.

There was a humming noise from the warp core - then the cylinder's lights came alive, blinking.

"Power levels are holding steady..." Bashir said off cylinder panel.

"Transient response is normal." Wesley said off tricorder.

Suddenly, the cylinder's lights began to pulse faster. Bashir looked concerned.

"Hold on... I'm picking up a power surge..." he said. "Reduce the transfer rate..."

Geordi worked the console.

"Reducing rate by... twenty percent." he said.

Without warning, a tendril of energy arced out from the coil and directly onto Wesley's tricorder. He bent down in time but then it hit Data and his body crackled with blue light and he was jolted backwards onto the floor.

As he fell to the floor Geordi, Wesley and Bashir could be heard talking, alarmed.

"Geordi - shut it down!" Bashir said.

"His net's been overloaded -" Geordi said.

Their voices grew distant... then faded away into total silence. Data's eyes were closed.

He was now lying on the floor in the corridor. He got to his feet, glanced around, startled at the change in setting. He began walking down the corridor. The hall was empty and totally silent. There was an eerie and surreal quality as in a dream.

Data kept walking, until a metallic banging sound was heard echoing in the corridor, cutting through the silence - like metal on metal. He stopped, listened a moment, then turned down a different corridor, following the sound.

Data was walking along another corridor. He saw something ahead of him and slowed down at the sight.

A blacksmith in full blacksmith attire, was sitting on a small bench in the middle of the corridor, a few feet away from Data. The man was pounding on a steel anvil with a hammer. His head was turned down, his face obscured.

Data approached the man, curious then stopped at the man, stared down at him.

The blacksmith looked up at him it was Doctor Noonian Soong.

Data reacted to the sight.

Data opened his eyes. He was in engineering still lying on the floor - but a panel on the side of his head was now open. Geordi and Wesley were working on the circuitry within. Bashir stood nearby, watching anxiously. Data sat up and glanced around the room.

"Data, are you alright?" Bashir asked.

"I believe so." he said. "What happened?"

"A plasma shock overloaded your positronic net. You were down for a good thirty seconds." Wesley said.

Data thought a moment.

"That cannot be correct." he said. "I have a memory record for that period of time. I can recall a series of images."

Data tilted his head, perplexed then looks at Geordi and Wesley.

"I saw Doctor Soong... my father." he continued.

---

A few hours later Data was running an internal self-diagnostic. A panel on his head was open. Geordi was scanning Data's circuitry with a diagnostic instrument and Wesley was on the bridge. Bashir looked on, concerned.

"I can't find anything wrong with your positronic sub-processors... or with your controllers..." Geordi said and shut off the instrument.

"No sign of a residual energy fluctuation... cascade overload..."

"My internal diagnostic indicates that my memory systems are functioning within normal parameters." Data said. "For the forty-seven seconds that I was inactive, there is no record of any cognitive activity."

"There's no doubt about it, Data - you were completely shut down."

A minute as they tried to make sense out of the strange situation.

"Maybe you had some kind of random power fluctuation... and it accessed one of your memory files." Wesley said.

"That is not possible. The image I saw was of Doctor Soong as a young man. I encountered him only much later in his life." Data said perplexed. "There does not appear to be a rational explanation for my experience."

They considered. Finally, Geordi closed the panel on Data's head.

"I'll take a look at the diagnostic log again..." Geordi said. "In the meantime, we'd better disconnect that medical device..."

Geordi moved to a console across the room. Bashir, Wesley and Data crossed to the dilithium chamber and began to disconnect the cylinder from the core.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way..." Bashir said casually.

"What do you mean?" Data said.

"Maybe you had a dream... or a hallucination..."

"I am not capable of either of those functions."

"But you can't account for what happened today... can you?"

"At present, I cannot."

Bashir picked up the cylinder, turned to Data.

"Maybe you should approach this from a more... human standpoint. You're right that machines can't have hallucinations..." he said. "But then again... most machines can't grow hair."

Data and Wesley looked at him.

Worf wa0s at Ten Forward sitting alone by the windows, a drink on the table. His back was turned to everyone in the room. He was lost in thought, reflecting on the day's events.

As Data entered and scanned the room he saw Worf and headed for his table. He slowed down as he got closer, not sure how to approach the inpenetrable-looking Worf.

He opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, then turned to go.

Worf saw him.

"Wait." Worf said and Data stopped and Worf turned. "What is it, Commander?"

"I am sorry to bother you. But I have a question of a personal nature. Do you have a moment?" Data asked.

Worf wasn't in the mood for this.

"A moment." he said.

Worf gestured to a chair and Data sat down.

"I have heard you mention that you once experienced a vision."

"Yes... when I was young... my adoptive parents arranged for me to partake in the Rite of MajQa."

"I understand it involves deep meditation inside the lava caves of No'Mat. Prolonged exposure to the heat induces a hallucinatory effect."

Worf thought for a moment then remembered his experience.

"I spent six days in the lava caves. For five days I saw nothing. Then, on the sixth day, as I was preparing to leave the caves... Kahless came to me." he said.

"Kahless. The entity you invoke during the Klingon Death Ritual?"

Worf nodded.

"When he appeared before me... he told me that I would do what no Klingon had ever done."

Data considered.

"You did become the first Klingon in Starfleet." he said.

"Yes. It is as he said."

There was a minute as Worf remembered the event. He looked at Data.

"Why are you asking me about this?" Worf asked.

"I have recently had an unexplained experience, which might be described as a "vision"."

Worf leaned forward, fascinated.

"What happened?" he asked.

"An accident in Engineering shut down my cognitive functions for a short period of time. And yet, I seemed to remain conscious." Data said. "I saw my father."

Worf reacted - the image stroke a chord in him.

"You are fortunate. That is a powerful vision." he said.

"If it was a vision, I am not sure how to proceed."

"You must find its meaning."

Data gave him a quizzical look.

Worf contemplated.

"If it has anything to do with your father, you must learn all you can about it." he explained. "In the Klingon MajQa ritual, there is nothing more important than receiving a revelation about your father."

As Worf gave advice to Data, he suddenly realized he's talking to himself as well.

"Your father is part of you... always. Learning about him tells you about yourself..." he continued. "That is why, no matter where he is... or what he's done... you must find him."

Data looked puzzled.

"But I am not looking for my father."

Worf looked at him.

"Yes, of course..." he said.

Worf's next words were meant just as much for him, as they were for Data.

"Do not stop until you have the answer." he continued.

Data thought for a minute.

"Thank you, Worf."

Worf nodded. Data stood and headed for the door. Worf took a breath... stared out the window and looked into space reflecting.

Later Worf was walking past the storefronts, searching through the crowd. He glanced upward and saw Shrek on the upper level. He headed for the stairs with intent where Shrek was standing, munching on a snack, his eyes sweeping the crowd as though on constant alert. Suddenly he sensed something behind him, turned and saw Worf standing there, staring at him. He stepped back, startled.

"Lieutenant Worf... you have reconsidered..." he said.

"Yes. I wish to go to the Romulan prison camp." Worf said.

Shrek smiled.

"Excellent. I can provide you with the coordinates..."

"No. You will take me there."

Shrek reacted.

"That is impossible. I have no means of transportation -"

Worf stepped toward him, menacing.

"I checked the station records. You have a vessel capable of warp speed."

"I do not... have the time... I have other business..." Shrek said stammering.

Without warning, Worf grabbed him by the shirt and pinned him against the railing. Shrek glanced nervously at the promenade below.

"What is the real reason you do not want to take me? Is it because what you have said is not true?" Worf asked.

Shrek hesitated, nervous and came clean.

"The camp is located on the edge of Romulan space. It is a dangerous journey..."

"Dangerous..." Worf said. "It would be more dangerous for you to refuse."

Shrek was cowed.

"Very well... But I will require full payment in advance..."

"I will pay you after."

"But -"

Worf pushed him a little further off the railing.

"Yes... yes, of course. After." Shrek said quckly.

Worf moved close to him, face-to-face.

"And if you are lying... if there is no prison camp..." he said. "I will kill you."

Worf released him, turned and walked away.

---

Shrek and Worf were on the shuttlecraft at the controls. Worf was dressed in dark camouflage clothing. They were studying a console monitor that showed a blurry, grainy graphic of a jungle and the surrounding terrain like a reconnaissance photo.

"The Romulan guards have a detection perimeter. It will be necessary to transport you to the surface thirty kilometers from the prison camp." Shrek said.

Worf eyed the graphic.

"The foliage is very dense. It will take me approximately twelve hours to reach the camp." he said. "I will have to travel during the night."

"That would be unwise. This is not an empty jungle. There are many predators."

"I am prepared." Worf said confident.

"Very well. But I would recommend that you look up from time to time. The arboreal needle snake likes to attack from above."

Worf shot him a look. Shrek worked the console.

"I will provide you with a map of the camp..." he said.

Worf watched Shrek for a moment, curious.

"How did you learn of this camp?" he asked.

"That is not important for you to know."

"Why have you not informed the Klingon government of this place?"

"I sell information... I do not give it away."

Worf grew angry.

"You withhold this information... for profit." he accused.

Shrek bristled at the accusation then he fixed Worf with a cold look.

"I have my reasons, Mister Worf."

"What reason could you have for letting these people suffer?"

A tense minute. Shrek opts not to answer, turned back to the console.

"We will arrive in the Carraya Sector in approximately three hours. I suggest you get some rest."

Worf eyed him a minute, then stood and moved to work at the rear of the shuttle.

Picard was at the ready room at his desk, studying a computer terminal. The door chimed.

"Come." he said.

Then Data entered.

"Yes, Mister Data?" Picard said.

"I am sorry to disturb you, sir." he said.

"Not at all. I'm just studying the intricacies of Bajoran aqueduct management..." Picard said. "I could use an interruption about now. Please, sit down." he said lightly.

Data sat.

"I require your advice. I have come to an impasse regarding my recent unexplained experience.

Picard leaned forward, intrigued he's heard about the incident.

"Oh yes... of course... your "vision" of Doctor Soong. How's your investigation coming along?"

"I have analyzed over four thousand different religious and philosophical systems, as well as over two hundred psychological schools of thought in an effort to understand what happened."

"What have you found?"

"I have been unable to find a single interpretation of the images I saw during the time I was shut down." Data said. "The image of a hammer, for instance, could have many different meanings. Klingon culture views the hammer as a symbol of power. However, the Taqua tribe of Nagor views it as an icon of hearth and home. The Feregni see it as a sign of sexual prowess."

Picard considered.

"I'm curious. Why are you looking at all these other cultures?" he asked..

"The interpretation of visions and other metaphysical experiences are almost always culturally derived." Data said. "And I have no culture of my own."

"Yes you do. You are a culture of one. And that's no less valid than a culture of one billion." Picard said and stood, began to walk around the room, compelled by Data's mystery. "Perhaps the key to understanding your experience is to stop looking into other sources for meaning..." he continued. "You wouldn't look at Michaelangelo's David... or Symnay's Tomb... and ask "what does this mean to other people?" The real question is, "what does it mean to you?""

Data considered this.

"Explore the image, Data. Let it capture your imagination. Focus on it... spend some time with it... and see where it takes you. Let it inspire you." Picard said with emphasis.

Data nodded then stood, driven by Picard's words.

"I believe I understand, sir. Thank you." he said.

"Good luck, Data."

Then Data left. Picard smiled after him for a moment then his face fell as he turned to the comparatively mundane matters on his terminal.

Data entered his quarters and walked to his desk. He sat down and began to contemplate the day's events. His cat, Spot, hopped up onto his lap. Data pet her a moment, absorbed in thought.

He got an idea. He glanced across the room, toward a canvas which sat on an easel. He eyed it a moment, then stood and crossed to it. He picked up a paint brush. A long moment went by as he considered the blank canvas... letting his thoughts form and took shape. Then he dipped the brush into a palette of oiled and began to paint.

After a minute, he stopped to eye what he's done so far... satisfied, he continued to paint... faster... and faster.

It's the beginning of a blacksmith at an anvil. As he painted, faster, now at android speed.

A small, moonlit clearing in a dense tropical forest. From out of the foliage, Worf and Shrek appeared. Worf was in his dark clothing, a backpack strapped to his back. Shrek looked nervous. He took a step forward, eyeing the area then pointed the way.

"The camp is in a Southeasterly direction. After approximately ten kilometers, you will reach the edge of the sulfur canyons. Look for a riverbank - follow it until you reach the camp." Shrek said.

Worf nodded and peered into the dark forest. Shrek handed him a small device.

"This is a homing device. It will allow you to find my ship when I return. I will not be landing in the same location." he said.

"When will you be back?" Worf asked.

"Fifty hours." Shrek said. "Do not be late."

Shrek turned and walked away. Worf watched as he disappeared into the trees. Then he turned and peered into the direction of the prison camp. A long minute as he considered the dense and mysterious jungle. He took a few steps forward.

From somewhere in the distance, the screech of a wild animal was heard. Worf hesitated, listening... silence again, except for the gentle rustling of the trees.

Worf nervously looked above him... just checking for needle snakes... then tightened the backpack, steeled himself, then began to walk through the forest.

---

Worf was moving through the trees, covered with mud and brush - he's been travelling for many hours, and it's beginning to show. He stopped at a tree, leaned against it to take a rest... took off his backpack and pulled out a container of water. He took a long, thirsty drink. A quiet moment as he catches his breath.

Somewhere in the distance, the sound of splashing water could be heard. Worf froze at the sound, listened... then quietly put on his backpack and made his way through the jungle toward the noise of Worf moving through the jungle, following the splashing sound. The noise grew louder as he got closer... closer... until he stopped and parted the trees... peers out and reacted to something he saw.

A pond in the jungle. Splashing around in the water was a young and beautiful Klingon woman. She was nude, and oblivious to Worf's presence, enjoying her bath.

Worf stepped back slightly and watched in silence... curious about the woman... surprised at the sight of her.

Ba'El rinsed herself a few more times, luxuriating in the water. Then she began to make her way toward the shore. As she emerges from the water...

Worf moved back into the jungle so he can't be seen. Ba'el could be glimpsed in the background, partially obscured by trees, as she came out of the water and slipped into a loose-fitting robe.

Worf accidentally brushed against a branch - it made a slight cracking sound.

Ba'el stopped at the noise and glanced around, startled.

"Who's there?" he asked.

Worf remains motionless, silent. Ba'el pulled the robe against her body, covering herself. She took a step toward the trees.

"Toq... is that you?" she asked.

No answer. She peered hard into the dark forest - and could make out a shape behind the trees. She reacted, annoyed.

"I can see you..." she said. "I hope you're enjoying yourself." she said wry.

She took a step toward the trees.

Worf wasn't sure what to do. He watched as the Klingon woman made her way toward him closer.

"Toq, I swear I will hang you by your..." Ba'El said.

She pulled aside the branches and saw Worf. She gaspped, stumbling backward, alarmed at the sight of him.

Worf went after her, tried to calm her down.

"Stop, please..." he said.

She stopped at the edge of the pond, shaken.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I have come to help you..."

She stared at him, confused.

"Help me...?"

"Yes..." he said. "How did you get out of the camp? Does anyone know you are gone?"

"Yes... I come here often..."

Worf moved to her, urgent.

"You must lead me to the camp." he said.

She studied his face, amazed.

"You are Klingon... Where have you come from?" she asked.

"That does not matter. I am here to take you home."

"Home... this is my home..." she said confused.

Before Worf could respond, a noise was heard. Someone was approaching. Worf reacted, startled.

"It is important that you tell no one you saw me." he said quickly.

Ba'el wasn't sure what to make of him or what he said. But she nodded anyway, intrigued with him.

Worf quickly hid amongst the trees.

Romulan guard appeared from within the jungle and walked up to Ba'el. The Romulan said something to her, but his words were not clear. Ba'el nodded, grim-faced, and the two of them continued walking through the trees.

Worf watched them, tense. Then he began to move after them with Klingon stealth and speed.

Data was at his quarters on a paint brush sweeping across a canvas, quickly laying down bold strokes of color.

The painting portrayed a bird. Only Data's hand could be seen, working on the painting.

The door chimed.

"Enter." he said.

Then Geordi entered.

"Data, where have you been? We were supposed to..." he said trailing off, amazed at what he saw. "Data... what are you doing?"

There were at least ten paintings of various shapes and sized spread around the room, many on easels, others hung where there was available space. Geordi ventured into the cramped area and gazed at the various paintings. Some of the paintings were complete; others were works in progress. All of the images were variations on a single theme images derived from Data's "vision."

Many paintings showed various angles of a blacksmith, his face obscured, working at an anvil. Others portray a bird's wing, full views and details of feathers. One shows a blue sky, with a flock of birds visible flying information. The image of smoke was prevalent, as well as other details from the vision: The bucket. An Enterprise corridor. An anvil. A hammer. A hand. A piece of glowing hot metal.

Data was standing between two canvases, a brush in each hand, working on two paintings at once. One painting showed a plume of smoke rising out of the bucket; the other was a rough sketch of what appeared to be his father's face. Data wore an artist's smock, which was colorfully splattered with paint.

"I am painting." Data said.

"I can see that..." Geordi said and tried to take it all in. "How long have you been at this?"

"I have created twenty-three individual illustrations over the past six hours, twenty-seven minutes." Data said. "I believe you could say - I have been "inspired."

"I'll say..."

"I have done as Captain Picard suggested: I have tried to explore the images."

"Has it helped?"

"I am not sure." Data said then stopped painting and moved amongst the maze of paintings and Geordi followed. "I began by painting the image of the blacksmith. Then the anvil. The hammer. Doctor Soong's face." he said painting.

Then he stopped at a painting of a bucket, out of which a plume of smoke was blasting upward. Strange, violent.

"The thought then occurred to me that I should paint - smoke." he continued.

Geordi reacted.

"Smoke... why smoke?" he asked.

"I cannot explain it. It was not an image I saw during my vision."

Geordi contemplated the painting.

"Well... you have the smoke coming out of a bucket of water. Blacksmiths sometimes used water to cool the metal. Maybe that's why you painted it..." he said.

"Perhaps." Data said and moved to another painting, the image of a bird's wing. "After I painted smoke, it occurred to me to paint - a bird's wing."

Then he gestured to various paintings

"I then drew an entire bird. A flock of birds flying in formation. An individual feather." he said. "If the image of a bird is related to my vision, I do not understand how." he continued. "I am left with more of a mystery than ever."

Data considered, laid down his paint brush. He had come to a decision.

"Geordi, I would like to recreate the experiment which caused my initial shut down."

Geordi reacted not liking the idea.

"What for?" he asked.

"I do not know how much longer my vision would have continued, had I not been reactivated."

"Your neural net was almost fused by that plasma shock. I don't think it's such a good idea to try it again..." Geordi said dubious.

"I am aware of the risks involved. But I can see no other way to investigate my experience." Data said. "Will you help me?"

Geordi considered not liking the idea, but wanted to help his friend.

"Okay... I'll get Doctor Bashir."

"And I will prepare the power transfer."

Geordi nodded and left. Data turned to a painting of a bird.

A few hours later Bashir was at the engineering, setting up the plasma coil cylinder seen earlier. He was connecting the optical cable from the cylinder to the dilithium chamber.

Data was sitting on a chair near the chamber. A panel on his head was open, and an optical cable lead from his head to a console. Geordi was making a final adjustment to his circuitry.

"We're going to monitor every subsystem in your positronic net. If I see any neural pathways overload beyond sixty-five percent... I'm shutting down the experiment." Geordi said to Data.

"Agreed." Data said.

Bashir finished connecting the cable from the cylinder to the dilithium chamber.

"We're ready." he said.

Geordi took a breath, then moved to a console.

"Initiating energy transfer..." he said.

The sequence of events were exactly as they were before; but now the attitudes were markedly different: everybody knew what was about to happen. Geordi and Bashir took a few steps away from Data, keeping a safe distance.

"Get ready, Data..." he continued.

Data picked up a tricorder and made a few adjustments. He then pointed it at the cylinder, as he did the last time.

There was a humming noise from the warp core then the cylinder's lights began to blink rapidly.

"Power levels are rising..." Bashir said off cylinder panel.

The humming noise intensified. Data braced himself.

"Should be any second now..." Geordi said.

And it happened: A tricorder of energy arcs out from the coil and directly onto Data's tricorder. Data's body cracked with blue light and he was jolted backward as he fell back into the chair. Geordi and Bashir could be heard talking, but their voices grew distant, then faded away into total silence. Data's eyes were closed.

Data began walking down the hall. It was empty and silent. There was an eerie and surreal quality to the scene, as in a dream.

Data kept walking, until a metallic banging sound was heard echoing in the corridor, cutting through the silence. He stopped, listened a moment, then turned down a different corridor, following the sound.

Data was walking along. He saw something ahead of him... slowed down at the sight of a blacksmith in full blacksmith attire, was sitting on a small bench in the middle of the corridor, a few feet away from Data. The man is pounding on a steel anvil with a hammer. His head was turned down, his face was obscured.

Data approached the man curious. He knows this is the blacksmith from his original "vision." He stopped at the man, stared down at him and looked up at Data, it is Doctor Noonian Soong.

Data reacted to the sight. He looked down at the anvil... as the hammer moved away to reveal what wasn't a piece of metal but a delicate bird's wing.

The blacksmith/doctor Soong stared at Data a moment, then picked up the bird's wing with a pair of metal tongs and dunk the wing into a bucket. Smoke bursted up out of the bucket.

Data stepped back from the smoke. Then the smoke cleared away to reveal Soong was gone. The bucket was also missing in its place is a live bird. He stared at the bird, confused.

Suddenly, the bird flew away and off down the corridor. Data watched it go.

"That bird did not appear in my original experience. This vision is different." he said to himself.

"Of course it's different." soong said.

Data turned toward the voice. In the blink of an eye, everything changed.

Data was now standing on the Bridge. It was empty, except for the potted plant from his room, and a few of his recent paintings, which hang on various walls of the Bridge. His cat, Spot, was sleeping in the Captain's chair.

Doctor Soong was standing in front of him. There was a whimsical quality to Soong.

"It's never the same. Always changing. Unpredictable. It doesn't make sense..." Soong continued.

Soong began to move about the room and the sound of a flock of birds was heard rushing overhead. Data looked up, but saw nothing.

"Father, what is happening?" he asked Soong.

"I don't know, Data. What is happening?"

Data glanced around.

"We are on the Bridge of the Enterprise. My cat is present, and my potted plant, and my paintings." he said.

Soong looked pleased.

"A wonderful beginning. Still a little grounded in the mundane, but showing promise..." he said.

Data looked puzzled.

"I do not understand." he said.

Soong moved toward Data. The sound of the blacksmith's hammer pounding on metal could be heard with each step that he takes. Surreal.

"You're not supposed to. No man should know where his dreams come from. It spoils the mystery... the fun." Soong said and reached out a hand Then touched Data's face and smiled. "I'm proud of you, son. I wasn't sure you'd ever develop the cognitive abilities to make it this far..." he continued. "But if you're here... if you can see me... it means you've crossed the threshold from being a collection of circuits and subprocessors... and have started a wonderful journey."

"What type of journey?"

In the blink of an eye, it all changed and was now on the Bridge lying on the bed, startled by the change in setting. Soong was standing beside the bed. The sound of birds singing could be heard.

Data looked around, startled by the change in setting.

"Think of it as an empty sky." Soong continued.

Then he began to pull up the bed covers, as if tucking in a small child. Data considered his words.

"I do not understand." he said.

Soong gently closed Data's eyes.

"Shhh... just dream, Data... dream..." he said gently then leaned in close to Data and whispers into his ear. "You are the bird."

Data opened his eyes, suddenly understanding what it all means he began to regain consciousness now at engineering. Geordi and Bashir were standing nearby.

---

Data and Bashir were walking along, mid-conversation. Data was clearly back to normal again conscious and safe.

"The images I saw during the time I was shut down were generated by a series of previously dormant circuits in my neural net." Data said. "I believe Doctor Soong incorporated those circuits into my base programming, intending them to be activated when I reached a certain level of development."

"But the plasma shock activated them prematurely..." Bashir said onto the idea.

"That is correct."

They walked for a minute.

"I'm curious... now that those circuits are active... what do you intend to do with them?" Bashir asked.

"I plan to shut down my cognitive functions for a brief period of time each day." Data said. "I hope to generate new internal visions."

"It sounds like you're talking about dreaming..."

"An accurate analogy."

Bashir found this fascinating.

"Remarkable... This is just the kind of thing that could get me published in the Starfleet Cybernetics Journal..." he said. "Would you mind if I authored a paper about all this?"

"Of course not."

They reached a Turbolift. Bashir turned to him and smiled.

"Thank you, Data." he said. "And... sweet dreams."

Bashir entered the Turbolift and the doors slide shut.

The prison compound security wall that surrounded the perimeter of the prison camp. A hand clamped down from the outside of the wall and grabbed hold of the edge... then a second hand appeared. A moment later, Worf's head became visible as he hoisted himself up and peered into the camp.

A couple of small barracks were visible, a meeting hall and a small garden area. The architecture was 24th Century, but was clearly a little rough around the edges.

Two Klingons middle-aged, dressed in simple tunics round a corner and walked across the camp. Worf watched them carefully, trying to ascertain the situation. The two Klingons round another corner and disappear into the center of the camp.

Worf pulled himself up onto the wall, tried to get a better view of the camp. firelight could be seen flickering on a barrack wall and faint voices could be heard. It was clear that people are gathering somewhere nearby.

The faint strained of a haunting Klingon Aria can also be heard. Although the voice was weathered and a little past its prime, it carried great feeling, and Worf was momentarily caught up by it.

Two Romulan guards were suddenly round a corner. Worf immediately dropped his head below the wall's edge to avoid being seen. He waited a tense moment before pulling himself up again. He glanced around to make sure the coast is clear, then he pulled himself over the wall and dropped to the ground inside the camp.

Worf was inside the compound. He stayed close to the wall a moment, silent and alert. Then he quickly ran to the shadows afforded by a barrack wall, and flattened himself against it. He looked around the corner toward the center of the compound.

A half-dozen Klingons dressed in the tunics were gathered around a large camp fire, listening to the gentle aria being sung by an elderly looking Klingon, L'Kor.

"van'aj javDIch Qong DIr Sa'VIch ghIH yot quelI'Pa qevas HoH Qa... " L'kor sang. "teblaw'nghu mughato'Du ylja'Qo' ylja'Qo' ylja'Qo'..."

L'Kor trailed off, ending the lullaby. The crackle of the fire a moment. Then L'Kor stood to go. He parted the crowd as he left the central square and made his way across the camp. Worf watched him as he entered the meeting hall.

At the meeting room tables were located here and there, with accompanying chairs.

L'Kor walked across the room, past a shadowy corner.

Without warning, Worf jumped out from behind the darkness and grabbed L'Kor, clamping a hand over his mouth.

L'Kor yelled out in surprise, but his voice was muffled.

Worf dragged the struggling Klingon back into the shadows, where they can't be seen. L'Kor continued to thrash about, tried to call out.

"Quiet! I am a friend." Worf whispered harshly.

A minute goes by... then L'Kor stopped struggling. Worf removed his hand from L'Kor's mouth. L'Kor stared at him, stunned by the sight.

"Who... who are you?" he asked.

Worf released his grip on L'Kor, who turned to face him. They stared at one another... tense...

"I am Worf... son of Mogh." he said.

L'Kor's eye widen.

"Why have you come here?" he asked.

Worf took an anxious step toward him.

"I have come to find my father. Is he alive? Is he here?" he asked.

L'Kor's expression darkened...

"Your father... fell at Khitomer." he said.

Worf reacted to the news - turned away. It's a shock. Deep down, he wanted to believe his father was alive... made the journey to find him... and now - disappointment.

"Did he... die in battle?" he asked.

L'Kor nodded.

"He was fortunate."

Worf eyed him.

"You were captured..."

L'Kor nodded, uncomfortable speaking of the matter.

"During the battle, many Klingons were taken prisoner. We fought our captors... but we failed..."

Worf was angered by what has been done to them.

"The Romulans robbed you of your right to die with honor."

As if the memory were too much to bear, L'Kor nodded grimly. Worf took action - spoke quickly, urgent.

"There is little time. How many Klingons are being held here?"

L'Kor hesitated.

"Seventy-three..."

"How many Romulans guard the camp?"

L'Kor wasn't sure how to respond so he tried to stall.

"Worf... there are... things you do not understand..."

"What do you mean?"

"I must... speak with the Elders." L'Kor said haltingn then moved to the door and opened it... peers outside. "ghoS!" he summoned. (Come!)

He turned back to Worf... moved to him... eyeing his face... remembering.

"I knew your father well, Worf..."

L'Kor allowed himself to become lost in the memory.

"And I remember you... a boy... barely able to lift a Bat'telth..." he continued. "Once... your father insisted we take you on the ritual hunt. You were so eager, you tried to take the beast with your bare hands... it mauled your arm..."

Worf instinctively touched his arm, remembering.

"Yes... I still have the scar..." he said and studied L'Kor's face. "I remember you now..."

A moment between them. Then L'Kor turned away, his face graven.

"You should not have come here, Worf."

Worf reacted.

"I do not understand." he said.

"You should not have come." L'kor said with sadness.

Suddenly, three older Klingon's, two Elders and Gi'ral, a female - entered. They stopped at the sight of Worf, stunned by his presence.

"Who is this?" Gi'ral asked.

Worf stepped forward.

"I am Worf... son of Mogh. I have come to help you escape." he said.

The Elders exchanged an uncertain glance.

"He does not know." L'Kor said to the others.

Gi'ral was alarmed at the situation.

"He must leave at once..." she said.

"No. It is too late for that. He would bring others..."

L'Kor gestured to Worf.

"vang ghaH!" he commanded.

(Take him!)

Without hesitation, the two Elders moved toward Worf in a threatening manner. Worf reacted, making a quick move toward the side door to get away - but was grabbed by L'Kor.

A quick struggle until two of the Elders also seized Worf... and they dragged him to a chair and pin him down.

Worf could hardly believe his eyes. Here were his fellow Klingons, who he thought to be prisoners but their actions were utterly inexplicable. It's a chilling predicament, and Worf never stopped resisting.

L'Kor looked down at Worf, his expression hard and threatening.

"We are not leaving here. And neither are you." he said.

---

L'Kor and the other Klingons had taken Worf back toward the center of the meeting room; the Romulan Guards remained near the door.

"We cannot leave this place." L'Kor said.

Worf could think of only one reason why.

"Are you afraid to die escaping?" Worf asked.

L'Kor fixed him with a cold look.

"We are dead, Worf. We died at Khitomer."

Worf looked at them for an explanation.

"We were captured. It was worse than death." Gi'ral said.

"Why did you allow it to happen?" Worf asked.

Gi'Ral was angered by what Worf's question implied.

"We had no choice!" she said. "We were defending an outpost on the perimeter... the Romulans took out our shields... their next blast rendered us unconscious... when we awoke... we were prisoners... unarmed and shackled." she explained.

Worf reacted almost viscerally to this humiliation.

"We were interrogated for three months. We tried to starve ourselves... but they kept us alive." L'kor said.

"The Romulan Commander - Tokath- thought he was being kind." Gi'ral said.

"The Romulans hoped to trade our lives for territorial concessions. But the Klingon High Council refused to negotiate." he said. "They would not acknowledge their warriors had been taken prisoner."

"When it was clear that we would be of no use to them, Tokath offered to let us go."

"But we knew that our families believed we had fallen in battle. We did not wish to return and dishonor them."

"We asked Tokath to let us stay. He took pity on us."

Worf took all this in.

"I understand your desire to preserve your families' honor. But what of your own? There is no honor in remaining prisoners." he said.

"We lost our honor when we were captured. It does not matter what happens to us." L'kor sad.

"All that matters is that our families are not dishonored." Gi'ral said.

One of the Elders had been going through Worf's backpack and stepped forward to give L'Kor something he found, it was Worf's combadge.

"This is Starfleet... where did you get it?" L'kor asked Worf.

"I am a Starfleet officer." he said.

Several of the Klingons laughed out loud at this assertion.

"Much has changed since Khitomer." Worf said.

L'Kor looked at Worf and saw that he's telling the truth.

"It does not matter. The world outside these walls no longer exists for us. We do not speak of it." L'kor said.

"You should try to forget that world as well." Gi'ral said.

L'Kor regarded Worf sadly.

"Why did you come here, Worf? If you had found your father... you would have found only dishonor." L'kor said.

"If he had been captured as you were, if I had found him here... I would be glad to see him. There would be no room in my heart for shame." Worf said.

L'Kor took this in, his expression unreadable.

"Much has changed since Khitomer. I can only hope that if my son came here... he would be Klingon enough to kill me." he said.

With this, L'Kor turned and left the room.

Worf was sitting alone on a bench to one side of the compound, surveying it. He looked around at the activity in the compound a man was gardening; a group of young people run and play a game; three men played a game with dice.

People go about their business, occasionally casting surreptitious glanced at the stranger in their midst. Every time Worf's eye met someone else's, they seemed to turn away and return to what they were doing.

This place was more a village than a prison, flowers were planted near the well tended barracks; the wall that once served to pen prisoners was still there, but the gate was left open and people come and went at will.

While there were several generations of Klingons in the camp, the only Romulans were the middle-aged guards who had been at this post for the last twenty years. Worf was the first person they've had to guard in a long time and they had to remind themselves to keep an eye on him and not be distracted by the goings on in the camp.

Worf stood and began to walk the perimeter of the compound wall, eyeing possible avenues of escape. The Guards kept a watchful eye.

Worf's path took him past a young man tending a vegetable patch at one end of the compound. The young man, TOQ, looked up from his hoeing, but when he saw it's Worf he resumed his work as if he had no interest in the stranger.

Worf was about to continue his reconnoitering when he noticed what Toq was using to hoe the ground, a elaborately carved Klingon battle spear.

Without hesitation, Worf marched toward him and snatched it from his hand.

"This is a Gin'tak spear." he said.

"What of it?" Toq said reaching for it.

Worf was outraged.

"Have your parents taught you nothing? This is used for battle - not for tilling soil." he said.

"We have no need for weapons here. The war is far away."

"What war?"

"The war our parents came here to escape."

Worf realized that the young people hadn't been told everything.

"That war... has been over for years." he said.

Toq looked at him skeptically, and snatched the spear back from him Worf didn't resist.

"I'm not interested in what you have to say, Klingon. I have work to do."

He turned away and resumed his hoeing. Worf watched him for a moment, then walked away, dismayed by the young man's total ignorance of his culture.

He looked over at the Romulan Guards and saw that they had been watching the whole thing. They seemed a bit on edge, as if uncertain how to react to the stranger's behavior. Worf decided to play it cool so as not to provoke them. He returned to where he was sitting before.

After a moment, Worf looked up and saw that Ba'El, was looking at him. She was the first person in the camp to hold his gaze, and Worf returned it without realizing it... suddenly they both became embarrassed and looked away.

After a minute, she approached him.

"Hello again, Worf." Ba'el said.

Worf acknowledged with a curt nod.

"They say you're going to stay here with us." he continued.

Worf realized she too hasn't been told everything.

"Not by choice." he said.

"Aren't you happy to escape the war?"

Worf looked at her, beginning to realize the extent of the lie they've been told.

"The war..."

"Yes... we've heard the stories all our lives. How people are slaughtered in terrible battles... forced to fight, whether they want to or not. That's why our parents came here - to make a safe home... a place where they could raise their children in peace." Ba'el said. "I should think you'd be relieved to get away from the fighting. You're safe here."

"A place can be safe - and still be a prison. Where I come from, people are free to come and go as they choose."

Ba'el thought he's misread the situation.

"So are we." he said.

Worf regarded the young woman.

"Tell your Father you would like to leave. Tell him you want to visit the Klingon home world. See what he says."

Ba'el looked at him, considered. There was something almost defensive in her voice when she replied.

"Why would I want to go there? It's dangerous."

"Not any longer."

Suddenly Gi'ral called out to her daughter from across the compound.

"Ba'el! Come here!" she said.

Ba'el and Worf looked up and saw Gi'ral heading toward them.

"Yes, mother." he said. "You are not allowed to leave the compound?" he asked Worf.

Worf shook his head no and she stood.

"Then I suppose I won't be seeing you at the pond again." Ba'el said flirting.

Worf looked away uncomfortably and she smiled and moved toward her mother.

"I told you not to speak with him." Gi'ral said in a harsh whisper.

"I'm sorry, mother." Ba'el said.

With a last glance back at Worf, Ba'el crossed away with her Mother.

After a moment, two faint beeps were heard. Worf touched the transporter hidden in his hem, then stood and crossed toward his quarters.

Worf entered his quarters and took out the transporter Shrek gave him. It was flashing, indicating that Shrek's shuttle had returned.

Worf hid the transporter again and considered his options. He crossed to the light control panel and inspected it. He pried it off the wall with his fingers in order to get at the circuity inside. He removed a piece of circuitry and began to reconfigure it.

The sound of approaching footsteps prompted him to close the panel and moved to his bunk.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter." Wolf said.

The door swung open to reveal a middle-aged Romulan standing there. It was Tokath, the officer mentioned by Gi'ral and L'Kor.

"I am Tokath." Tokath said.

Worf reacted to the name, but said nothing.

"I can return later if I am disturbing you...?"

Worf fixed him with a look.

"It is a strange thing when a jailer concerns himself with his prisoner's comfort." he said.

Tokath smiled.

"Mine is a strange prison."

"You robbed the Klingons of who they were. You dishonored them."

"By not slitting their throats when we found them unconscious?" Tokath said challenging.

"I don't expect you to understand. You are a Romulan."

"You're just like L'Kor was twenty years ago. Proud and angry. He hated me; all the Klingons did. And I had no love for them - I won't deny it." Tokath said. "When I informed the High Command that the Klingons wanted to remain here... I was told that unless I stayed to oversee them myself, they would be killed." he said. "My decision ended my military career."

"Why did you do it?"

Tokath regarded him for a minute.

"I don't expect you to understand. You're a Klingon."

Worf stared at him, perplexed by this complicated man.

"But I do expect you to understand this: we've put aside the old hatreds. Here, Romulans and Klingons live in peace. I won't allow you to destroy what we have." he continued.

"Do not deceive yourself. These people are not happy here. I see sadness in their eyes."

"That's not what I see when I look in my wife's eyes."

Worf looked up sharply. Tokath regarded him solemnly.

"I married a Klingon."

Worf reacted.

"So you see, when I warn you not to disrupt our lives here, I'm not speaking just as a jailer... but as a man protecting his family." he said and fixed Worf with a look. "Do not test my tolerance."

He turned on his heel and left, leaving Worf still reeling from his revelation.

A Klingon woman put an empty container in a storage barrel set against the compound wall.

Worf saw her, then looked over to see if the guards were looking at him. He ambled his way toward the barrel as if heading in no particular direction.

When he's near it, he checked to make sure he wasn't being watched and tossed the circuitry he took from the light panel into the barrel.

He crossed over to where Ba'el was sitting with a woman who was rocking her child to sleep in her arms. Ba'el was softly signing a lullaby in Klingon.

Worf recognized the words as being the same as the aria L'Kor sang the first night. As before, there was something about the way it was being sung that made him frown slightly.

"Bagh Da tuHmoh. ChojaH Duh rHo. ylja'Qo' ylja'Qo' ylja'Qo van'aj javDIch Qong DIr Sa'VIch ghIH yot quelI'Pa qevas HoH Qa." Ba'el sang.

She looked up when he approached and smiled as she finished the gentle melody, the child was asleep.

"Do you know what that song means?" Worf asked.

"No. I just like the melody." Ba'el said.

Worf was disturbed to hear this. Suddenly there was an explosion in the barrel. Everyone rushed toward it to see what was happening except Worf. He backed away until he's near the wall, then turned and began to climb it.

Ba'el looked back to see where Worf was, and caught a glimpse of him as he skipped over the wall. Her heart leaped to her throat but she said nothing, he was gone.

Suddenly one of the Romulans spied Worf and tripped a warning Klaxon.

Worf made his way through it at a run. He reacted to the sound of the klaxon and hurried away.

As the Romulan guards pushed through the same area of vegetation Worf just passed, they were only moments behind him.

Worf glanced back over his shoulder and changed direction.

As his pursuers craned their heads to try and catch a glimpse of their quarry through the foliage.

Worf came to the pond where he saw Ba'el and splashed his way through it, then up the other side and away as they came to the pond. Some went around, some through.

Worf hid in some fronds. Two booted figures pass within feet of him as they searched for him. When they're gone, he stealed away in another direction.

They caught sight of him through a break in the foliage and resumed their chase.

Worf came to a clearing and saw a figure standing on the other side, it was Shrek, the alien who brought him to the planet. Through the foliage, we catch a glimmer of his shuttle's hull.

Shrek waved Worf to come toward him. Suddenly a look of concern crossed his features.

Worf reacted to the change of expression on Shrek's face, too late. Suddenly he was tackled to the ground by a figure that lunges into the frame.

Shrek took a last look back at Worf and disappeared into the foliage.

Worf was on the ground, wrestling with whoever tackled him. He managed to throw the figure off him and was stunned to discover that it was Toq, the young Klingon who was tending the garden.

Worf reacted to the discovery that he was being chased by his own kind. Before he could do anything the Romulan guards came crashing through the brush brandishing weapons.

He was caught.

---

"Captain's Log, Stardate 46580.1. The Yridian vessel Lieutenant Worf boarded at Deep Space Nine has failed to arrive for our scheduled rendezvous. It is now twelve hours overdue." Picard said.

Picard entered the bridge from his Ready Room. Riker, Data, Deanna and various N.D's were at their posts.

"Still no sign of them on long range scanners, sir." Riker said.

Picard looked concerned.

"Contact DS Nine - find out what they know about this Yridian trader." he said.

Riker moved toward an Aft station.

"Hopefully he filed a flight plan before he left the station." he said.

Picard nodded.

"That's the only chance we have of finding Worf."

Picard settled into his chair next to Deanna.

"When Worf asked for leave... I had the feeling he was hoping none of it was true: that his father was dead, that he hadn't been captured." he said.

"I think part of him was hoping that. But another part of him wanted more than anything to find his father." Deanna said.

"I'm sure that's true." he said. "But if Mogh... or any other Klingon... had been held prisoner for twenty years... would they want to be found?"

Deanna acknowledged his point.

Tokath entered the meeting hall. L'Kor was with Worf, who was seated. The tension in the room was palpable. Toq and a Romulan guard stand off to the side, weapons in hand.

"I have alerted the Romulan border patrols to be on the lookout for a Yridian ship." Tokath said.

"If it escapes... others will learn that we're here." L'kor said.

"I've ordered surveillance stepped up. If there are more intruders, we'll stop them."

Tokath signaled the guards. Toq and the Romulan stepped forward. The Romulan aimed his weapon at Worf's head so that he won't resist, and Toq grabbed Worf's arm and pulled his sleeve up.

Tokath pulled a HYPO type device from his pocket.

"We haven't had to use one of these in a long time." he said and held the device to Worf's skin and administered an injection. "It implants a small boridium pellet under the skin... we can use its energy signature to track you."

Worf looked down at his arm with a grim expression. L'Kor regarded him, his face almost sympathetic.

"In time, you will grow accustomed to life here." L'kor said.

Worf looked at him with undisguised distaste.

"Never." he said.

Tokath realized the intransigent Klingon will not accept his captivity easily.

"He is one of yours. Deal with him however you like." Tokath said to L'Kor. "But I warn you... if he becomes a disruption, I will not be so tolerant."

L'Kor nodded and Tokath turned and left. L'Kor turned to Worf and regarded him with a steely expression.

"Toq... you will guard him." L'kor said and the youth stepped forward. "He is free to move around inside the compound. But make certain he does not cause trouble." he said indicating Worf.

L'Kor and the Romulan guard turn away and left. Worf and Toq sized each other up. Toq was pleased to be trusted with this assignment and intended to be vigilant.

Worf came around a corner into the space between two barracks. He smashed a fist against a barrack wall in frustration. Realizing he had to get hold of himself, he took a deep breath and straightened his spine. He held two fingers together and passed them down along the length of his torso, this was the first movement of the Mok'bara.

He began to do the forms of the ritual exercise - deliberate and controlled, centering himself as they began to notice what the stranger was doing. Several teenaged Klingons watched Worf in fascination. Ba'el came to see what they were looking at, as did Toq.

Ba'el decided to approach Worf.

"What are you doing?" Ba'el asked.

Worf leaned into a forward thrust and held the position.

"The Mok'bara..." Worf said. "The forms clear the mind... and center the body."

Then he stood and pivoted into a new position, moving his arm in front of him in a controlled arc. Ba'el tried to mimic the movement. Worf saw her awkward attempt and did it again for her.

"No. Like this..." he said.

She tried again, better this time. Ba'el looked at him, intrigued. He did another movement, slowly a second time for her benefit. She mimicked it, and Worf noticed two young men at a distance, trying the forms themselves. After a hesitant glance at each other, they crossed over to him.

Behind them, Toq looked on... concerned.

"This is the Mok'bara... a great warrior called Kahless invented the forms when he went to the underworld in search of his father. Kahless showed him the forms, and his father was able to remember his body and return to the world of the living." Worf said to the gather young people.

The young people looked on in fascination.

"First you must learn to breathe... stand up... as tall as you can..."

They did as he said.

Toq decided Worf shouldn't be doing this and began to cross toward him.

Worf corrected one of the young men.

"Take a wider stance."

Suddenly Toq was behind Worf and reached to grab him by the shoulder.

"You must stop -" Toq said.

But before he knew what was happening, Worf had grabbed him by the arm and flipped him over so that he was holding him from behind. It happened so fast Toq couldn't even resist.

"The forms are the basis for Klingon combat. You would be wise to learn them." Worf said then stood Toq up and let him go. "I will teach you. Join us."

Toq straightened his tunic and glared at Worf.

"We'll see what L'Kor thinks of this." he said.

He stomped away in anger. Worf looked after him, then turned back to the others.

"Again... take your stance..." he said.

A redress of Worf's quarters, though these were cluttered with the trappings of a family's everyday life. Ba'el stuck her head in the door.

"Mother?" Ba'el said and got no answer. "She's not here. Come in..."

Ba'el lead Worf inside. She took him to a corner and pulled a cloth off a large chest.

"This is what I wanted to show you." she said then opened the chest and Worf saw that it was packed with Klingon artifacts. "I don't know why, but I'm not supposed to look at these things." she continued then reached inside and pulled out an armored breastplate. "They're Klingon, aren't they?"

"Yes..."

"I thought you might be able to tell me about them."

"This is a warrior's armor." he said pointing to the breastplate.

Then he pulled out a ceremonial dagger, inspected it.

"And this is the D'k tahg..." he started then brushed at some rust on the blade. "It should not be allowed to rust like this..."

Ba'el reached inside and pulled out a beautiful amulet hanging on a chain.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she asked.

She put it around her neck. Worf leaned in to look at the design of the amulet he and Ba'el were very close, their heads almost touching.

"That is a Jinaq... it is given to a daughter when she comes of age, old enough to take a mate."

Ba'el blushed and looked down. Worf realized and was suddenly uncomfortable as well.

"Ba'el!" Gi'ral said.

"Mother -" she said.

Gi'ral entered and saw Ba'el wearing the amulet.

"Take that off at once."

Ba'el stood and took the necklace off.

"Go." Gi'ral said to Worf.

"Why is she forbidden to know what these things are?" Worf asked.

"They do not matter here. Go."

Ba'el gestured that he should comply. Worf contained his frustration and left.

Worf was recounting a Klingon myth around the campfire. His listeners were mostly young people, including Ba'el, their faced in rapt attention as he told the story. An old Klingon woman sat nearby, listening and nodding. Toq sat further away, smirking to himself at the parts of the story he finds less than credible.

"... Kahless held his father's lifeless body in his arms. He could not believe what his brother had done. Then his brother threw their father's sword into the sea, saying that if he could not possess it, neither would Kahless. That was the last time the brothers would speak." he said.

L'kor was standing in the shadows, listening with some concern.

"What happened to the sword?" Ba'el said.

"Kahless looked into the ocean and wept, for the sword was all he had left of his father... and the sea filled with his tears and flooded beyond the shore." Worf said.

Toq scoffed to himself.

"The people begged Kahless to stop his weeping, and he did... and walked into the water to find the lost sword." he continued. "He searched and searched the murky ocean bottom, holding his breath for three days and three nights..."

This was too much for Toq.

"That is impossible!" he huffed out loud.

Worf fixed him with a look.

"For you, perhaps. Not for Kahless. He was a great warrior." he said.

"You're making it up."

"These are our stories. They tell us who we are."

The old woman nodded to herself. Suddenly L'Kor's voice rang out.

"It is late. It is time to sleep."

The young people grumbled a little but stood to go. Ba'el gave Worf a long look as she left. L'Kor stands there until the young people are all gone... his eyed locked on Worf's. They face off. At last, L'Kor turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Worf approached the door to his quarters.

"Worf..." Ba'el said and emerged from the shadows. "You never answered my question."

Worf didn't know what she meant. There was a smile in her voice.

"Did Kahless find his father's sword?" she asked.

"Yes. He found it."

She moved closer.

"The stories you tell... are they true?"

"I have studied them all my life... and find new truths in them every time."

Around them, the camp was asleep. They were alone in the moonlight.

"Kahless... did he ever take a mate?" Ba'el asked.

"That is... another story." Worf said.

"Tell me..."

She moved very close to him. Worf couldn't resist his attraction to her. He closed his eyes leaned in close, took her scent in the Klingon manner then nuzzles her neck, relishing the smell of her skin.

He reached up to touch her hair, the side of her head then he pulled her hair back off her ears and was stunned to see that they were pointed like a Romulan's... He reacted viscerally, pulled away and stared at her, uncomprehending.

"You are... Romulan." he said.

Ba'el didn't understand his reaction. She looks at him, confused and hurt.

---

Worf had moved away from Ba'el, didn't face her. She walked toward him, perplexed by his attitude.

"Tokath is my father. I thought you knew that." Ba'el said.

Worf couldn't even get his mind around it.

"How could your mother... mate with a... Romulan?" he asked.

Ba'el was equally unable to understand Worf's attitude.

"Why shouldn't she?"

"It is... an obscenity."

Ba'el's face fell, stunned by the intensity of his feelings.

"What are you saying? They love each other..."

"Romulans are treacherous... deceitful... they are without honor."

"My father is a good man. He is kind, and generous... there is nothing dishonorable about him."

"He was part of a cowardly attack on Khitomer... thousands of Klingons were massacred - many of them women and children."

She stared at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. My father came here to escape the wars. He would never kill anyone."

Worf turned on her, impatient with the lies.

"Ask him. Ask your mother. Tell them you want to know the truth."

Their eyes locked for a moment; hers in a moment of uncertainty... a realization that they have taken a step that can never be taken back, a wish that they could regain the romantic feelings that had threatened to overwhelm them just a few moments ago. But Worf's eyes were cold. She turned and left without another word.

Picard entered the bridge from the Ready Room and joined Riker and Geordi at an Aft Science station.

"What is it, Number One?" Picard asked.

"We just received the Yridian's flight plan from Deep Space Nine." Riker said.

"He gets around... he's been to three different systems in the past week - he could have left Worf at any of them." Geordi said.

Picard frowned; he was hoping for better evidence.

"Are any of these systems near Romulan space?" he asked

"Two of them. The Nequencia and the Carraya systems." Geordi said.

Picard considered.

"Let's head for the closer one."

"Aye, sir." Riker said.

Riker moved away. Picard and Geordi shared a look of concern for their missing friend.

Ba'el was tidying at her family quarters up somewhat aimlessly, lost in thought. There was a knock at the door. She opened it and saw Worf standing there. She didn't let him in.

"What do you want?" she asked tightly.

"I... I am sorry if I upset you." Worf said.

Ba'el's face softened at the apology. She moved away from the door, tacitly agreeing to hear him out. Worf came in.

"I was surprised... I became angry. But I do not blame you. You cannot help being what you are." he said.

She stared at him, sensing that this apology might be somewhat qualified.

"There's nothing wrong with what I am." she said.

Worf tried to explain.

"What I mean is... it is not your fault."

"What? Being born? I'm sorry if that offends you."

Worf stopped at this, tried to grapple with it.

"No, I..."

In his frustration, he fell back on what he knows.

"It is hard to explain. Klingons and Romulans are blood enemies - we have been for centuries..."

"Not here. Here we live in peace."

"But I do not live here."

She moved toward him, making a personal appeal.

"Worf... before you knew... you were attracted to me."

Worf couldn't deny it.

"Can't you leave the hatred behind, too? Can't you accept me... as I am?"

Worf stared at her, torn, he knew the rightness of what she says.

"I don't know."

Ba'el was crushed. She turned and ran into another room. Worf stared after her for a moment and then turned to leave. He saw Gi'ral standing there, eyes burning into him.

"What have you done to her?" she asked.

"You are responsible. She is what she is because of you." he said. "Lying down with a Romulan." he said in disgust.

"Who are you to judge me?"

She spoke quietly, but there was an inner intensity that burnt from her.

"My husband died at Khitomer. We had left a son on the Home World... five years old. The first year I was here I thought I would die from the pain of knowing I'd never see him again." she said then moved away, pacing as she talks. "Not a day goes by that I don't think of him, wonder about him. But I will never know who he is. I gave him up - because I loved him too much to dishonor him."

"I understand your sacrifice. And I respect it. But to mate with a Romulan - this I do not understand."

"By the second year, I had stopped weeping for my son. There were days when I could even laugh... and I began to look around me and realize that this would be my world forever." she said. "I looked at Tokath... our captor. I saw that he was a kind man... and a lonely one." she continued. "And I knew that he was looking at me, as well."

She moved toward him, eyes drilling into him.

"In the third year I decided to give up hatred... and loneliness. I am not ashamed of that decision, and I won't be judged for it." she said. "Leave this house. You've done enough harm."

Worf stared at her for a moment, conflicted and silent. Then he turned and left. Gi'ral stared after him, determined to protect her nest.

Later Worf came out from the quarters. He looked around the compound and his eye was caught by something familiar about a game a group of young people were playing.

They were rolling a hoop along the ground with some sticks, playing some kind of goal-scoring game with it.

Worf's attention was caught by the brightly colored bands along the shafts of the sticks and the rim of the hoop.

He crossed toward the players and picked up an unused stick. He rolled a hoop along the ground and launched the spear at it, sending it straight through the hole in its center and into the ground.

"Ka'la!" he said.

The young people looked at him, astonished by the feat and intrigued by Worf's ritual-like words. Toq, however, was annoyed.

"That's not how you play this game." Toq said. annoyed.

"The Qa'vak is not a game - it hones the skills of the hunt."

"The hunt?" Toq said mockingly.

He looked around at his fellows with amusement.

"We have replicators here."

"Klingons do not hunt because they need food. The hunt is a ritual that reminds us of where we come from."

"I know where I come from. Right here."

Worf eyed the defiant youth. He held up the hoop.

"It is a difficult skill to master. Perhaps you are too young."

Toq rose to the challenge.

"Throw it."

Toq stood ready and Worf threw the hoop along the ground. Toq launched his spear at the hoop but its flight was haphazard and it missed by several yards. Toq frowned but Worf spared him humiliation by being encouraging.

"Your arm is strong. But it needs practice. Hold your other arm like this..." Worf said. "... and aim along it." he said and demonstrated.

He gestured to his abdomen. Toq grabbed another spear from a nearby boy, and Worf gestured to the boy who had scrambled to retrieve the hoop.

"Throw."

This time, Toq's aim was better and he managed to strike the hoop with a glancing blow, deflecting its trajectory.

"Ka'la!" Worf said.

Toq allowed a small smile, pleased in spite of himself. Worf nodded approvingly.

"You learn quickly. Perhaps it is time to put your skills to the test."

"What do you mean?"

"Come. I will teach you how to hunt."

"You're not allowed to leave the compound."

Worf turned and started heading for the meeting hall.

"They won't allow it."

"I think they will."

At the meeting hall Torkath laughed at the preposterousness of the request.

"Hunting? Have you lost your mind?" Tokath said.

"The boy could come with me." Worf said.

Tokath and L'Kor exchanged glances.

"I cannot sit in the compound like an old man. I must practice my skills."

"We can't let you out. You've already tried to escape once." L'kor said.

"I give you my word as a warrior. I will not try to escape."

Tokath dismissed this and turned away.

"Leave us. We have work to do." he said.

But Worf was still looking at L'Kor, awaiting his decision.

"Tokath... He gave his word." L'kor said.

Tokath looked at his friend, surprised.

"Are you seriously suggesting we open the gates and let him wander free... with only a boy as his guard?" he asked.

Toq bristled a bit at that.

"Twenty-three years ago I gave you my word. In all this time, have I ever broken it?" L'kor said.

Tokath looked at Worf, shrugged.

"I told you he was yours to deal with. If you want to take this risk, the responsibility is yours."

L'Kor nodded, turned to Toq.

"You will go with him. Take a weapon. If he breaks his word and tries to escape... kill him."

---

Toq was following Worf spear; Toq had a disruptor. Worf was completely involved in tracking his game and took no notice of Toq's uneasiness.

Worf suddenly plunged into some bushes; alarmed, Toq followed, disruptor drawn and aimed at Worf.

"Stop!" Toq said.

Worf turned to him, calm and curious, and stared at him for a minute. Then he realized Toq thought he was trying to get away.

"Kahless was condemned to die by the tyrant Molor, who was angered that Kahless had incited the people against him. The night before his execution, Kahless asked that he be allowed to go out into the night and say farewell to the moon and the stars... for he knew that in the netherworld, he would not see them again." Worf said and looked at Toq.

"Kahless gave his word that he would come back, and Molor let him go."

"That was foolish."

"The next day at dawn, Kahless returned... and was put to death."

Toq was amazed by the story.

"He could have saved himself."

"He had given his word. Molor understood what that meant. Just as L'Kor did."

Toq understood, looked down, almost ashamed to have doubted Worf.

"Come."

He lead Toq away.

The sun indicated the passage of time.

Worf and Toq moved with great stealth into a small clearing. All their attention was focused on the brush ahead of them, as if their quarry were just beyond it.

Worf stopped moving and sniffed the air. They spoke in whispers.

"He is there. But the wind has shifted. We must wait." he gestured.

"Why? We're so close."

"Never approach your prey from upwind; the breeze will carry your scent."

Toq nodded that he understood. Worf caught the scent again.

"The wind is shifting again."

Toq tried to catch the scent as well. He didn't, and got frustrated.

"I don't smell anything."

"He is there."

"How can you -"

Toq stopped in mid-sentence as he caught the scent for the first time. He's amazed at this seemingly new ability.

"Yes... I can smell it."

Worf nodded approvingly.

"Remember the scent. More than anything else, it will guide you."

"It's strong. I can't believe I couldn't smell it before."

"Let it work its way into your blood."

Toq felt himself being swept up in the moment.

"I can feel my heart pounding."

"Yes. This is the moment where life and death meet."

Toq looked at Worf, his eyes shining.

"This is who we are. Warriors." Worf said.

Toq looked at Worf, grateful for what he has shared.

"I was never taught that..." he said.

"There is much you were never taught."

There was a sudden rustling in the brush, and Worf's senses quicken. He gestured for silence, then moved forward. Toq stared after him for a minute, struck by what Worf has said.

At the meeting room Klingons and Romulans have gathered to eat. Tokath sat with the Klingon Elders at the head of the table, Gi'ral and Ba'el sit nearby. Over the years, the Klingons have learned to eat with less boisterousness than was typical.

Tokath was eating with relish, but L'Kor was picking at his food; he was concerned about Worf and Toq's continued absence. Tokath realized this.

"Aren't you hungry, L'Kor?" he asked. "Or are you upset because your prisoner hasn't returned?"

"I should not have sent the boy with him. If he's been hurt -"

"Don't worry, my friend. They'll be back... after all, a warrior keeps his word. Isn't that so?"

The sarcasm was so mild as to go unnoticed, but L'Kor noticed. He stirred his food some more. Ba'el regarded the two men... decided to ask a risky question.

"Father... if I wanted to visit Romulus, or the Klingon Home world - would I be allowed to go?" she asked.

A silence fell over the table. Tokath and Gi'ral exchanged a look.

Suddenly, Worf and Toq burst into the room. Toq had the skinned carcass of a dead animal slung over his shoulder. He smiled broadly at the stunned diners.

"Ka'la!" Toq said then swung the carcass off his shoulder and slapped it onto the center of the table. "Tonight we eat well."

Tokath stood, his voice icy.

"Get that off my table." he said.

All eyes turned to see how Toq will react. He looked at Tokath, his face unreadable.

"You do not kill an animal unless you intend to eat it." Toq said.

"Get rid of it." Tokath said firm.

Toq and Tokath faced off.

"I intend to, Tokath." Toq said and looked around the room. "But not until it's cooked.

He broke into a broad smile. Several of the older Klingons recognized this very Klingon brand of humor and break into a hearty, table pounding laugh.

"Today I learned the ritual hunt. But that is not all I learned. I discovered that warrior's blood runs in my veins."

He looked over the assembled group, who watch him, riveted.

"I do not know how or why, but we have forgotten ourselves. Our stories are not told, our songs are not sung." he said. "Tonight as we came home, we sang a song of victory - a song known to me only as a lullaby. But it is a warrior's song." he said gesturing to Worf.

He spoke the first two lines.

"Bagh Da tuHmoh... fire streaks the heavens. ChojaH Duh rHo... battle has begun."

He repeated them, this time pounding out an accompanying beat on the table with his fist.

"Bagh Da tuHmoh. ChojaH Duh rHo. ylja'Qo' ylja'Qo' ylja'Qo"

As he moved into the second stanza, Worf and a few others began to pound out the same rhythm.

"van'aj javDIch Qong DIr Sa'VIch ghIH yot quelI'Pa qevas HoH Qa"

As voices around the room began to join in, the lullaby we've heard before became a rousing marching song, a song of battle intended to quicken the blood. Tokath and L'Kor shared a look of concern. The Romulan looked over at his daughter and saw that she too has joined in.

"Ba'el!" Tokath said.

But she didn't hear.

"teblaw'nghu mughato'Du ylja'Qo ylja'Qo! ylja'Qo!" everyone sang.

They began to repeat it a second time. Tokath looked over to L'Kor and was disturbed to see that he was absently mouthing along, without even realizing it.

He looked to Gi'Ral for support, and though she was not singing, he saw that her eyes were shining, that she was moved by the words.

Worf and Toq stood at the end of the table, leading the song. Tokath's eyes catch Worf's and their gazed lock. Tokath's look carried a warning. But Worf continued to lead the song.

---

Later the room had been cleared; only Worf and Tokath remain, facing off. Tokath regarding Worf solemnly for a minute, then paced away from him, musing, troubled.

"Well, Worf... you've had quite an effect on the young people." Tokath said.

Worf's eyes bore into Tokath. He sensed this is the ultimate confrontation between the two.

"I have done nothing more than show them what they are." he said.

"No. You have shown them what you want them to be." Tokath said then moved close to Worf. "Tell me this: do you know of any place, any time in history that Klingons and Romulans have lived together in peace?"

Worf was silent; he had no answer.

"We have despised each other... fought each other... for centuries."

He paused, eyeing Worf.

"Except here. On this remote planet... Romulans and Klingons live together in harmony." he said. "No government, no leader, has ever done what I have done here."

"It is a worthy achievement to bring peace between enemies." Worf said. "But the cost of that peace may be too high."

"Higher than endless war?"

"The people here have lost the sense of who they are. They have lost their heritage."

"In what way? A few stories not told... a few songs not sung... not a great loss, when compared to our living in peace."

Tokath's argument was logical, intellectual. But Worf's perspective was something deeply, passionately felt.

"Those are our rituals... they define us. They tell us what we came from... what our children will grow to be. Without traditions, we have no identity - we have no pride." he said.

Tokath made a scoffing sound.

"Klingon pride. Is it really so valuable? Or is it just a tired habit..."

Worf moved toward Tokath, eyes burning.

"Today Toq went with me on the ritual hunt... I saw what happened to him when he caught the scent of his prey on the wind... for the first time in his life, he felt powerful... that's what he has been denied by living here... that's what you have tried to take away from him." Worf said. "For you, perhaps that is enough. The young people may want more."

Tokath turned on him, intensity rising in him.

"More? What more is there than what they have here? Would you really suggest they go into a universe where some would hate them - simply because of who they are? Those traditions and rituals you cherish so much would not allow them to remain friends with Romulans." Tokath said then moved closer, eyes locked on Worf. "Enough of this. We could talk all night and not convince the other." he said. "I offer you a choice. Live with us... as one of us..."

"Or?"

"Or I will have you put to death."

"Then that is what you will have to do."

"Worf, consider this carefully -"

"That death will be honorable. The young people will see what it is to die as a Klingon."

Tokath looked at Worf, seeing the resolve in his eyes and knows he has no choice.

Later Worf was alone at his quarters, doing the forms of the Mok'bara... preparing to meet death.

Then there was a knock at the door.

"Enter."

The door opened and a Romulan guard let Ba'el in.

"Thank you." Ba'el said to the guards.

The guard left, and Worf and Ba'el faced each other for a silent beat. Then, she withdraws the HYPO device they used to implant the tracking pellet.

"I will remove the tracking device. You can go over the wall and hide in the jungle."

She moved toward him, but he caught her wrist and stopped her.

"Why are you doing this?" Worf asked.

She hesitated, not meeting his eye.

"My father is wrong." she said. "No matter how I might feel about you, you don't deserve to die."

He held her wrist until she looked up at him.

"I am not going to run away, Ba'el."

She stared at him in disbelief.

"They will kill you."

"Yes. But they will not defeat me."

Ba'el shook her head.

"I don't understand you."

He dropped her wrist, gathered his thoughts.

"A Klingon does not run from his battles."

"Is that really the lesson you want us to learn?" she asked. "You've taught us a great deal... awakened something in us that we didn't know existed..." she said. "But I don't understand what we can learn from your death."

"Then you don't yet understand what it is to be Klingon."

She moved toward him... mind grappling with ideas and issues she's never encountered in her sheltered existence... but sensing one small core of truth in the confusion.

"Worf... in spite of everything that's happened, I sense that you still care for me. Am I wrong?" Ba'el said.

Worf hesitated. This was a difficult issue for him to confront the one about which he was most conflicted. He was silent. She moved closer.

"It's so easy for you to talk of being a warrior... of honor and death... is it so hard to speak of love?"

He turned away from her. She lifted a hand to his shoulder.

"Worf... please..."

He finally turned to her, spoke with great difficulty.

"I... would not have thought it possible to love a Romulan..."

"But you do...?"

"Yes."

She threw her arms around him.

"If you have come that far... can't you take the next step? Can't you stay here with us... with me?"

A torturous question; Worf agonized. There was no right answer.

"If there were a way... I would take you with me..." Worf said.

She smiled wanly at him.

"If there's anything I've learned from you... from your reaction to me... it's that I have no place out there. Other Klingons won't accept me for what I am."

Worf stared at her; she had clarified the issue.

"And if I stay here... these Klingons will not accept me for what I am."

Impasse. Ba'el turned away, anguish bringing her to anger.

"Why did you come here? We were happy... we didn't know there was anything missing from our lives..."

"Ba'el..."

She turned suddenly and rushed impetuously into his arms. She kissed him ardently and he held her tightly. Then she pulled away.

"Good-bye, Worf." she said and ran from the room.

Everyone in the camp was gathered in the central square. They waited, talking quietly among themselves.

Worf was brought from his quarters by two Romulans. When he emerged, the crowd fell silent. This was not a bloodthirsty mob, but a group of people doing what they believe was best for the community, whatever their personal feelings might be for the condemned man.

As he was led toward the compound wall, Worf was brought past Tokath and the Elders. The Romulan's face was steely, but L'Kor couldn't meet Worf's eyes.

As Worf passed Ba'el, their eyes met and he saw that hers were full of tears.

The Romulans stood Worf against the compound wall and moved back toward the crowd, which stood away at some distance in a semi-circle.

Worf stood tall; there was no fear in his eyes. Tokath stepped forward and spoke in a voice loud enough for all to hear, trying to head off the possibility that Worf be seen as a martyr.

"I know there are those among you who may question what I'm about to do. And you would not be wrong to do so." Tokath said and walked slowly among the crowd, addressing them as friends.

"I have questioned myself... I have spent the night considering my decision, challenging myself to justify whether it is right."

He hesitated, eyes sweeping the group.

"And I have reached the conclusion that it is absolutely necessary to put this man to death."

He moved closer to the group of people. They listened intently.

"We have all shared an extraordinary passage... from being enemies... to becoming a family."

He approached a Klingon woman, put his hand on her shoulder.

"Turla, you were midwife when my daughter was born... she might have died if it had not been for you."

He moved to a Romulan man who held his arm in an awkward position.

"Sentith... you wrestled with a wild morag... to save a Klingon child."

He moved to a Klingon man.

"I stood at your side when you married, Ba'ktor." he said. "And wept with you when she fell ill and died."

He gestured around the crowd.

"Every one of you could tell similar stories... of things we have shared... in love and in sorrow."

He walked back toward Worf.

"What we have built together... would be destroyed by this man. And I cannot let that happen." he said. "I give you one last chance to accept our way of life." he said to Worf.

Worf stared fiercely at him.

"Your words are eloquent, Tokath. But the truth is that I am being executed because I brought something dangerous to your young people: knowledge." he said then paused to let this sink in. "Knowledge of their origins. Knowledge of the real reasons you are here in this camp. The truth is a threat to you..."

"Enough." Tokath said. "Stand ready." he said to the Romulans.

The guards upholster their disruptors. Ba'el looked at Tokath, stricken, devastated.

"Father... please..." she said.

But Tokath ignored her plea.

"Raise your weapons." he said.

They do. Suddenly a voice rang out from across the compound.

"Ki'tow!" Toq said.

(Stop!)

Toq emerged from a barrack dressed in full battle regalia. He was wearing the armor from the chest that Ba'el showed Worf.

Toq started over to where Worf was standing against the wall. Tokath eyed him with barely controlled rage. Toq spoke out in a loud, clear voice.

"If you kill him... you will have to kill me, too." he said and stood next to Worf.

"Step aside, Toq." Tokath said.

"Worf would rather die than accept this way of life." Toq said and fixed his eyes on Tokath's. "And so would I."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I want to leave... as do many others. You will have to kill us to keep us here."

"You see, Tokath? It's already too late." Worf said.

Tokath reacted to this... he felt it even more necessary to maintain his position and go through with the execution.

"I am warning you - move aside now."

But Toq stood there defiantly. Tokath knew that if he backed down on this, he's lost. He turned to the Romulans.

"Stand ready."

The Romulans turned toward Worf and Toq. L'Kor looked at Tokath and saw the determination in his eyes. He turned and pleaded to Toq.

"Toq. Move away..." L'kor said.

But Toq just stood there. L'Kor turned to Worf, hoping to appeal to him.

"He will listen to you. Tell him..." L'kor said.

"He has the right to make his choice." Worf said.

L'Kor looked to Tokath, his eyes beseeching. But Tokath was determined.

"Raise your weapons." Tokath said.

The Romulans raised their weapons.

"Take aim -"

But suddenly L'Kor moved forward and stood in front of Toq. Before Tokath could reply, another Klingon moved in to stand next to L'Kor. And one by one, the people made their choice, moving to take their place in front of Worf and Toq. Tokath was shaken and outraged.

He took out his own disruptor, trained it on the group. But, as he does... Ba'el moved forward and stood in front of the group, holding her father's look unblinking.

"Ba'el..." Tokath said aghast.

Gi'ral came forward, gently lowered her husband's hand.

"Tokath... long ago, when your captives asked to stay here... we hoped not to dishonor our children on the Home World. But perhaps, over the years, we lost sight of the children we raised here." she said. "This is our prison. It should not be theirs."

The threat of violence faded and is replaced by a sense of overwhelming sadness.

There was a long minute. Then Tokath turned to Worf and, almost imperceptibly, nodded. Worf turned to the young people.

"Years ago, your parents made a great sacrifice for the sake of their families. Today they do so again. For that, we must honor them."

A few murmurs of appreciation.

"You must promise them - that you will never reveal their secret. No one must know of this place."

Parents and young people talked.

Toq hurried to Worf.

"There's a supply ship due in a few days. They will take us..." Toq said.

Toq rattled on, but Worf's attention was focused on Ba'el standing at a distance, her parents on either side of her, staring at Worf. Their eyes locked together.

"When they arrive, Tokath will explain to them. We'll be able to start a new life..."

The sounds of the camp faded and then Ba'el looked down, turned and walked away. Her mother and father followed her.

"Captain's Log, Stardate 46581.5. We have scanned the planets of the Nequencia system and found no evidence of a Romulan prison camp. We are now enroute to the Carraya system, closer to Romulan space." Picard said.

Picard, Riker, Data and various N.D's were on the bridge. Data responded to something on his monitor.

"Captain, we are receiving a subspace message. It is a Romulan signal, text only." Data said. "It is from Lieutenant Worf. He is aboard a Romulan scout ship." he continued surprised.

Picard stood and moved toward him.

"He is requesting a rendezvous."

"Input the coordinates and change course." Picard said.

Picard turned back to Riker and they shared a smile of relief.

At the transporter room Picard, Beverly and a Transporter Chief were at the control console. A group of young Klingons was being led out the door by an N.D.. We heard the sound of materialization where Worf, Toq, and two young Klingons were on the platform. Beverly scanned them.

"They seem fine. We'll be giving them all thorough checkups in Sickbay." Beverly said.

"Thank you, Doctor." Picard said.

Worf stepped off and moved toward Picard; Beverly took the others out.

Picard regarded Worf, a smile on his face.

"Welcome home, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir."

"Picard to Bridge. Signal the Romulan ship that we have the last group on board." Picard said to com.

"Aye, sir." Riker said on com.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"I see you found what you were looking for, Mister Worf."

"No, sir. There was no prison camp."

Picard reacted, hearing a tone in Worf's voice. Worf took a breath.

"Those young people are survivors... of a vessel that crashed in the Carraya system four years ago." Worf said and looked Picard right in the eye. "No one survived Khitomer."

Picard knew full well what Worf was saying. They held a look.

"I understand, Mister Worf." Picard said.

He gestured toward the door, and the two men started toward it.