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Kira: I'm not sure I understand. Eight thousand people, Worf. They have to die because I have to go back to the station to be treated for some condition I can't even tell I have.
WORF: Join me. There is something I wish to say. It is a great honor to know that my legacy has thrived on your world for so long. I can see the Klingon heart beats strong here.
Brota: Last year, I slew a yarbear three metres tall. Your mek'leth was my only weapon. The beast maimed me, and for a time it seemed I would die from my wounds. Now I wish I had. It would have been a warrior's death.
Brota: No. Ceasing to exist because my parents were never born? That is not a death worthy of Sto'Vo'Kor. Kill me, Worf. I have no enemies to fight, no glory to be won. Give me an honourable death.