He noted that there was only one other Klingon aboard the Terran Passenger Cruiser bound for Kronos, and that she was seated in the rear of the cabin, a vantage point from which she was able to watch his every move.   She had boarded where he did, at Mars Junction, and had disembarked at the same stopover stations along the way.   Or at least it seemed that way.

     "I'm getting so overly paranoid!", Alexander thought.   "She's probably just an exchange student on her way home to Kronos."

     Alexander had his Stellar Travel Pass altered by his best friend and fellow student at Oxford University, Terry, who claimed the pass was fabricated from some of the most indestructible materials known to the Federation.   Terry was studying Cyborganics, and took great pleasure in being able to crack the Federation's isotopic encryption mechanisms.   The credentials Alexander now carried identified him as P'rak, a Cross-cultural Attache' for the Ferengi Interplanetary-trade Bureau, traveling on a business visa from Earth to Kronos.   In other words, he was posing as an errand boy.

     Alexander's thoughts drifted to his grandmother, wondering if he should have told her of this jaunt into the heart of the Klingon Empire.   But Helena Rozhenko would only have worried, and badgered him not to go, and who knows?, probably think she was doing him a favor by informing the authorities--or worse, his father!--of his departure.   Since this was to be nothing more than a two-week fact-finding mission, Alexander saw no reason to upset her by telling her of it.   That left only three people who knew he was taking this trip:   himself, Terry, and his Cultural Studies professor, Dr. Moki Trang.   "The fewer the people who know, the more successful the trip will be," Trang told him.

     Alexander recalled the first time he heard Dr. Trang lecture three years earlier.   The topic sounded so dreary: "Cycles in Humanoid Cultural Experiences".   He expected he was going to have to do all he could in order to stay awake, especially when Trang couldn't get the holo-projector to work.   But to the surprise of the entire audience, the human was riveting.   Afterwards the students all agreed that holo-images would only have detracted from the doctor's lecture.

     Trang's opening words were branded into Alexander's memory:   "Human culture dotes on war, Vulcan on emotion, Romulan on anarchy, and Klingon on gentility."   He remembered the snickering that peppered the lecture hall in the pause following that statement, everyone thinking the doctor was making a joke.   But the room quieted as Trang stepped around from the podium and sat on the edge of the speaker's platform--sat and peered, it seemed, into each face one by one.   Alexander fondly recalled the doctor's smiling eyes engaging his own, the dawning of realization tickling his thoughts, that his shame and disdain for the militaristic bent of his people was -- honorable!

     It was under Trang's tutelage that Alexander found inspiration and encouragement to explore his feelings, develop his ideas, flesh out his convictions about "The Klingon Way".   The professor helped him hone his thoughts to a singular statement:   "The Klingon Empire will inevitably self-destruct unless it abandons its idolization of the warrior mentality."

     But it was Trang who also had secretly published Alexander's writings under the pen name Kosh, Son of Kronos.   When the professor originally suggested Alexander publish his first treatise, "The Way of the Artisan", Alexander stood adamantly against it.   On one level, he didn't want his works subjected to public scrutiny, especially considering that Klingon scrutiny often involved bloodshed.   But on a deeper, unspoken level, he feared lest he be the cause of even more disappointment, or "dishonor", to his estranged father.   Great was his surprise when, upon perusing a copy of The Klinshai Gazette (required reading under Dr. Trang), Alexander came across a Klingon rebuttal to "The Way of the Artisan".   For months, he was outraged that his mentor would take such liberties without consulting or informing him.   But as usual, Dr. Trang's reasoning prevailed, and since that time three more of Kosh's expositions were published, these with Alexander's consent.

     Alexander turned to check on the female Klingon seated behind him.   Her seat was empty.   "Probably just gone to the fresher," he thought.   "Funny, I should have seen her pass by..."
     Shaking off his nervousness, he lifted a stylus to his datapad, and added to his latest thesis:   "Museums are replete with relics of conquest-minded civilizations whose demises can be traced to their love of aggression and conquest.   In fact, the Klingon Empire is already an anomaly amongst these cultures for having lasted as long as it has.   In recent history alone, portents are mounting, signs are ominous.   Consider the Praxis fallout, the Khitomer massacre, the Narendra incident, the failed invasion of Cardassia..."

     Alexander put the stylus to his cheek, and let his thoughts wander again.   Lately he was feeling the frustrations of trying to be two different people:   Alexander the student, who enjoyed a good game of Paresi Squares just like anyone else his age; and Kosh, Son of Kronos, whose prophetic words were rumored to be inspiring people to sow seeds of revolution throughout the Klingon Empire.   He so wanted to reveal himself, Alexander Rozhenko, as the true founder of the Klingon Civilist Movement.   But Trang was right.   That would surely mean his death was imminent.   For already, boasts from would-be champions of "The Klingon Way" were becoming more frequent, promising to seek out and silence this Kosh 'patoq'.

     Alexander smiled sadly.   "How crazy it all seems, out here in space, thousands of light years from home.   And as if it wasn't bad enough trying to be two people, now I have to juggle being three -- Alexander, Kosh, and P'rak!"  

    "Excuse me, you are civilian P'rak?", the cabin steward's approach caught Alexander off guard.
     "Yes?", he responded cautiously.
     "Secured communication for you in Holo-Booth Two in the forward cabin.   Will you receive a comlink from the Ferengi Interplanetary-trade Bureau?"
     Alexander froze.
     The steward continued, "It's simple, sir, follow me please?"

     The trip forward through several passenger cabins was nothing short of torturous for Alexander.   He could only assume he had been found out, that they learned P'rak was not his real name, and now he would be interrogated by Federation authorities.   Would his scholarship be in jeopardy?   Had his family been informed?   Would Terry and Dr. Trang be implicated?   And worst of all, had they also discovered that he was Civilist Kosh?

     They came to the spacious, three-story Forward Cabin.   There was a circular food and beverage bar in the center of the cabin, surrounded by tables of noisy, congregating creatures.   Some kind of ensemble filled the room with a cacophony that somebody, somewhere in the universe considered to be "music".   Half-way through the room, Alexander saw the Klingon girl seated at the bar.   His knees started to give out, and he reflexively grabbed the back of what he thought was a chair in order to steady himself.
     "Ey, uda gabba?", a gruff voice thundered in Alexander's translator as the "chair" reeled around to face him.   The flight steward grabbed Alexander's arm.
     "Just this way, sir, please?"

     They approached a door which had "Holo-Booth 2" scrawled on it in Ferengese and Klingonese, and Alexander felt certain this was his interrogation chamber.   Before he had time to reconsider going in, the steward had him seated and shut alone in the dimly lit booth.   He heard a voice which reiterated the Klingonese holo-message floating in space before him:   "Please unsheathe your Stellar Travel Pass for authorization scanning."   He drew the flimsy pass out of an inside vest pocket as a violet beam scanned from somewhere beyond the holo-image.
     "Authorization confirmed.   Will you accept the charges for a communication from the Ferengi Interplanetary-trade Bureau?   Please state yes or no."
     Alexander teetered on refusing.
     "Please state yes or no."
     "Loq", he mumbled.
     "Link established.   This transmission terminates when the booth's door is opened.   Thank you for using Universal Holophone and Holograph."

     The man's voice came through before his image. "Hello, P'rak?"
     Alexander sputtered, "Please, sir, let me expl--"
     Just then the speaker's image appeared before him, and Alexander's eyes grew large as a life-sized hologram of his friend Terry, grinning ear to ear, came into focus.
     "I--could--kill--you!", Alexander glared.
     "Now what kind of greeting is that from someone who preaches Klingons should forsake their violent ways?", Terry teased.   "Had you going there for a minute, huh?"
     "What in the galaxy are you doing?   I can't afford this comlink!", Alexander protested.
     "Relax, this one's on the Ferengi Interplanetary-trade Bureau, and by the time they realize it, P'rak won't exist anymore.   Now settle down, and listen.   I have some disturbing news to tell you..."