Day of Honor Omnibus by Michael Jan Friedman

Author:Michael Jan Friedman [Friedman, Michael Jan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction; American, Anthologies (Multiple Authors), Star Trek Fiction, Klingon Saga, Space Opera, Fiction, Science Fiction, General, Media Tie-In
ISBN: 9780671028138
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 1999-03-01T05:16:19+00:00

The largest of them stepped forward. “Qapla’! I

am Moklor the Interrogator. What warrior goes there?”

“I’m not a warrior,” the Doctor answered. “I’m a physician.”

Moklor looked at him askance. “What is your name?” he insisted.

The Doctor sighed. “I haven’t selected a name yet. In the meantime, you may refer to me as the Emergency Medical Hologram.”

The Klingon didn’t seem pleased with that option. He cast glances left and right at his underlings.

“Or,” the hologram suggested, “you may call me the Doctor.”

Moklor didn’t seem thrilled with that option either. However, he appeared to accept it. “Have you come to have your honor challenged?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

“My … honor?” the Doctor repeated.

“Your honor!” the interrogator thundered. The word echoed throughout the cave as if it had been shouted by a chorus.

“Er … yes,” said the Doctor, seeing no harm in agreement. “Of course I have. Why not?”

“Are you willing to see the ceremony through to the end?” Moklor asked.

“That all depends.”

“On what does it depend?” the interrogator asked him.

“On how long it takes. I’ve alotted myself an hour for recreatiormo more than that. Anything beyond an hour and I’ll have to take a rain check.”

Moklor’s brow furrowed. “A rayn’chek?”

“In other words,” the Doctor explained, “I’ll have

to continue the ceremony another time. Now, then … what’s involved, exactly?”

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.

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