Shah'prin hooked a taloned nail into the fabric chair-arm beneath his fingers. It was his only sign of agitation. A Khynah Captain never showed doubt. If he did, he would not live to be Captain for long. The only thing that kept a Captain in power, was the willingness of others to follow him. A Captain who made poor decisions, who could bring no spoils to his crew, or a man who showed weakness of any kind, would soon be left without allies. He would soon after be dead.

The Khynah life was hard. Their world, Den'a, sharpened them from birth to a bright obsidian edge. A twist of the universe's whim had set their world between three major powers of the Alpha Quadrant. The Cardassians, Romulans, and the United Federation of Planets surrounded them, swallowing all available resources within reach, and suffocating any chance at growth for Den'a. For centuries these major powers continued to divide the universe amongst themselves, as if no others had a right to its bounties. Den'a struggled to survive.

The instinct for survival was bred into each and every Khynah generation. Raised in a cretch, infants struggled with litter mates for food and attention. The mortality rate among infants was incredibly high, but those who lived were the stongest. Those who emerged from the teffin, the cretches, were then rigorously tested, trained, end weeded out. Intelligence was valued as highly as physical strength, but not alone. A child that was intelligent but physically weak, would be culled as quickly as one who had a robust body but retarded. Their people could not allow an individual to survive who might pass on genetic traits that would weaken their whole society.

One of Shah'prin's litter-mates had been born with a club foot. His quick mind and reflexes had sustained him in the teffin, but in the corass'la, the field of test, he had been marked for cull. Shah'prin himself had been given the task of defeating him in mortal combat. If he had failed, they both would have died. Years later Shah'prin was Captain of a ship of the Khynah. By strength, intelligence, and will he had won his right to lead his people to victory.

The coldness of space was as welcome to the Khynah as the flowing volcanic plains of Den'a. It was harsh, unforgiving, and indifferent. The stars were their brothers who would watch them take from the universe the things they deserved. Anyone weak would suffer the fate of the weak- oblivion. Anyone stronger than they, would become a target for the Khynah to prove themselves against. If the Khynah died in the process, so be it. That was the destiny of the weak, and the Khynah accepted that as elementally as they expressed it. The universe did its own culling of the strong and the weak.

"Aht'la Shah'prin," Ferrith, one of his sub-chiefs respectfully addressed him. "I have chosen a worthy target to baptize our eprrsi."

An eprrsi was the fine-edged knife given to candidates that would fight in the corass'la. Once stained with the blood of an opponent, the knife would be given a name by its user and forever more be worn at his side, his closest friend throughout his life. Since Sha'prin's ship and crew were both untried in battle, their ship was as yet un-named; an eprrsi, sharp and waiting to be christened. Today, they would earn not only the prizes of victory, but a name for their ship.

Shah'prin gave his attention to the man in front of him. The man stood straight and proud, looking him in the eye with difference but without fear. One degree less respect, or an atom of fear, and Shah'prin would have killed him.

"The United Federation," the man spat the words with disdain, "has an orbiting station near the space they call the 'neutral zone'. Many ships pass here, supplying the station and re-supplying their own stores. If we attack it, they will send a Starship, the ships they are so proud of, that we have heard so much about. A worthy test, Aht'la."

"A Starship," Shah'prin fingered a long braid that was knotted with a decorative pebble at the end. "A worthy challenge indeed." Ferrith looked pleased at his Captain's approval of his selection. "Our eprrsi will become a nho'sa keffrah." Both men smiled at the play in words; nho'sa keffrah, brother slayer. Their brothers the stars, would watch them slay a ship claiming to bear their spirit. "Set course."

Ferrith acknowledged the order with a sharp jerk of his chin. A dozen short braids, each tied with a small token of victory, shook together, rattling his compliance. The atmosphere of the bridge tightened in expectation as the pilot and navigator set course for the nutrahl zho'n. They would lay a trap for a Federation Starship and sharpen their blades.