Star Trek: Voyager 013a: Day of Honor by Michael Jan Friedman

Author:Michael Jan Friedman [Friedman, Michael Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780671019815
Google: MeoiAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 0671019813
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1997-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

Moklor’s lip curled. “It will be a lengthy ordeal. First, you must eat from the heart of a sanctified targ.”

He gestured and one of his lackeys placed a platter in front of the Doctor. It held several lumps of bloody meat. As far as the Doctor was concerned, the sanctified targ could have had them back-with his compliments.

Still, he was inclined to be polite. “Mmm,” he said.

“They look delectable. My compliments to the chef.”

“Pak lohr!” roared the interrogator.

“Er … whatever you say,” the Doctor replied.

Picking up one of the bloody lumps, he ingested it.

Actually, it wasn’t as bad as it looked.

Moklor nodded as his underling withdrew with the platter. “The heart of a targ brings courage to the one who eats it. Next, you will drink mot’loch from the grail of Kahless.”

A moment later, the interrogator’s other helper came forward and produced a large metal cup. The Doctor took it from him and peered at the goopy brown liquid within it.

The Doctor had heard of a number of favorite Klingon beverages. Mot’loch was not one of themand now he knew why. The smell of it alone was enough to make one retch.

Moklor raised his fist for emphasis. “Drink to the glory of Kahless, the greatest warrior of all time.”

The Doctor sighed. He wasn’t looking forward to this. However, he was rather curious as to how it all would turn out.

Steeling himself, he drank. Then he returned the cup to the interrogator, who passed it on to his lackey and grinned.

“Kahless defeated his enemies on the field of battle and built a mighty empire,” he cried. Moklor eyed the Doctor. “How have you proven yourself worthy of the name Klingon?”

“Actually,” the Doctor answered, “I’m not sure I am worthy-that is, of that particular name. Of course, I am no doubt worthy of a host of other titles and honorifics.”

“It is only your worthiness as a Klingon that concerns me.” As if to reinforce his point, the interrogator pounded his chest with his fist.

“Have it your way,” said the Doctor. “But I’m still not sure how to respond to your inquiry.”

Moklor considered him. “In what ways have you demonstrated your devotion to honor this last year?”

The Doctor chuckled. “My devotion to honor?

Surely, you jest. It may interest you to know that I am an amalgam of the finest medical minds and personalities the Federation has ever known. It is absolutely impossible for me to do anything that is less than honorable.”

Moklor looked unsatisfied. “But what have you done?”

The Doctor frowned. “I see. You require a list.” He looked at the cavern’s ceiling and gathered his thoughts. “All right. One year ago to the day, I stabilized and attended an Emmonite with severe burns over most of her body. Several days later, I treated Lieutenant Torres, Ensign Kim, and several other individuals, all of whom were suffering from radiation sickness. Later on that same week, I discovered a virus which-“

“No!” bellowed Moklor, his eyes blazing red with anger. “Speak of the battles you fought! Tell me the names of those you defeated!”

The Doctor harrumphed.

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