SPOCK: Interesting, Captain. Passers-by are carrying, I believe, firearms.(They are approached by a man with a disguised EMH in neat suits with machine guns.)KALO: (in a brown suit) Okay, you three, let's see you petrify.SPOCK: Sir, would you mind explaining that statement, please?KALO: I want to see you turn to stone. Put your hands over your head, or you ain't going to have no headto put your hands over.(They are deprived of their phasers and communicators.)KALO: What's this?KIRK: That's a weapon. Be careful with that.KALO: A heater, huh? Hey, the boss will love that. (puts it in his pocket)KIRK: Look, we were asked to come down here by Mister Oxmyx. He saidKALO: I know what he said, bud. He said some of the boys would meet you. Okay, we're meeting you.MCCOY: Well, those firearms are not necessary.KALO: You trying to make trouble?MCCOY: Who, me?KALO: Don't give me those baby blue eyes.MCCOY: What?KALO: I don't go for that innocent routine.SPOCK: Sir, does everyone here carry firearms?KALO: I never heard such stupid questions in my life.EMH: Come on, let¶s go.KALO: All right. Get moving. Down the street.(Just then a car comes hurtling around the corner. Everyone dives for cover, and gunfire rings out. TheEMH gets shot. Kalo returns fire as the car speeds away.)KALO: Krako's getting more gall all the time .KIRK: Is this how you greet all your guests?KALO: It happens, pal.MCCOY: That man's dead back there.KALO: Yeah? We ain't playing for peanuts. What's the matter, you guys never saw a hit before?SPOCK: Sir, there are several questions I would like to ask.KALO: Ask the boss. I don't know nothing. Get moving.(They leave the crowd to deal with the deceased.)MCCOY: This is the contamination you're looking for, Jim.KIRK: Yes, but the Horizon crew wasn't composed of cold-blooded killers. They didn't report this culture inthis state, either. What happened?WOMAN: Hey, Kalo. Hey, when's the boss going to do something about the crummy street lights aroundhere, eh? A girl ain't safe.WOMAN 2: And how about the laundry pickup? We ain't had a truck by in three weeks.KALO: Write him a letter.WOMAN 2: I did. He sent it back with postage due.WOMAN: Listen, we pay our percentages. We're entitled to a little service for our money.KALO: Get lost, will ya? Some people got nothing to do but complain.KIRK: Is this the way your citizens do business, their right of petition?KALO: They pay their percentages and the boss takes care of them.(KALO leads KIRK, SPOCK, and MCOY away. The EMH fizzles in.)EMH: Doctor to the Flyer. One to beam up.
(The guards, one Kazon, are sitting at a makeshift table playing cards whilst the landing party sit onvarious barrels and crates. The camera zooms in on the guard while this conversation continues.)MCCOY: One book on the gangs of Chicago did all this. It's amazing.