Everything was blurry.   Worf blinked his eyes, and soon his vision cleared to reveal a Klingon peering down into his face.   Worf tried to get up, but found he was paralyzed, unable to turn even his head.   The Klingon spoke, but Worf heard nothing.   Soon, an older Klingon came into his field of vision.   It was then that Worf remembered he was on Kronos.

     The younger Klingon set a hypo-spray to Worf's temple.   He felt a pins-and-needles sensation begin to slowly crawl around in his head, quickly turning into a hammering pain as a loud roar burst open his eardrums.   Worf tried to cry out, but as he opened his mouth, a mere whimper emerged.   The elder was speaking, but all he heard was a roaring, a roaring...

     "...--vinced you to become a sympathizer?"
     "Your questions must have yes or no for an answer," the younger stated.
     "Primitive!", the elder growled back at him.   "Are you, Worf, Son of Mogh, a Civilist sympathizer?"
     As if a reflex, Worf's mouth formed the word, and in a long, drawn whisper, he shouted, "Noooooo!"
     "Satisfied?", the elder challenged the other Klingon.   "Now bring him to!"

     As soon as the hypo-spray was removed from his neck, Worf felt sensation painfully returning to his limbs.   When he tried to move, he found he was strapped down to the table.
     "And remove his restraints!", the elder ordered.
     "What is the meaning of this?   Who are you?", Worf demanded.
     "These are very troubled times, my friend.   I am Tegra, minister of the High Council," the elder replied as he moved away, "and one cannot be too careful, especially with one who fraternizes with conspirators."
     "Conspirators?"   Worf swung off the table to find two armed Klingons flanking Tegra.   He gestured towards the table, "Have our fears caused us to assume the dishonorable ways of Romulans, then?"
     "Worf, hear me out first, and you will understand why I spared you this way.   What business do you have with Droq?"
     Worf answered, "Droq! What have you done with him?"
     "Done?", Tegra turned to Worf with a puzzled expression.   "I've done nothing with this..." spitting to the side, "...Civilist sympathizer.   Now I know from your confession under sedation that you do not support the Civilists.   So, what is your business with Droq, then?"
     Worf grew confused, and leaned back on the table.   "Wait a minute! Droq, a...?   Why would he lie?"
     "That we're hoping you can tell us," Tegra said as he walked nearer to Worf, "since he obviously summoned you across thousands of light years for some subversive reason.   What did he tell you about his involvement with the Civilist Movement?"

     Thoughts of Droq's request to speak against the Civilist Movement flooded Worf's mind.   Droq had warned that some on the High Council were Civilist sympathizers.   Could Droq himself be one of them?   If he was, then...
     Tegra drew close to Worf and spoke forcefully.   "Are you even aware that Droq is a Civilist sympathizer?"
     "Not possible!", Worf responded with confusion.   "He wanted me--" Worf cut himself short.
     Tegra jumped on his words.   "Wanted what?"
     Worf hesitated.   "I will say nothing more."
     "Are you aware," Tegra continued, "of Droq's intents to force democratic elections on the High Council?   He has become a mere political opportunist, looking to abscond the power of the Council, not according to Klingon honor or tradition.   No, instead he intends to pose as the Councilmember who sympathizes with Civilist ideals..."
     Worf came face-to-face with Tegra.   "I will say nothing more until I speak with Droq myself.   I will determine if these allegations are true, and for your sake..."
     "Spare me your threats!," Tegra hissed.   "Come with me now, and I'll show you where the betrayer of The High Council has disappeared to!"