Worf pauses. He remembers the teachings of Kahless. "A warrior does not hide from the salt of the earth. I will take it with a heavy rim. And... the small umbrella. But make it . Like the blood of my enemies."

He approaches a small shack built from driftwood and salvaged shuttlecraft panels. Behind the bar stands an old man with a salt-and-pepper beard.

The bartender doesn't flinch. He reaches for a bottle of silver liquid and a fresh, bright lime. "Salt or no salt, big guy?"