Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [33]
She tried to smile, but it didn't come out right. "I don't think you've ever faced a greater challenge,
Neelix."
"I enjoy a challenge," the Talaxian told her.
Then Neelix brought something out from behind his back-something he had been holding there without her realizing it. It was a small bowl full of something noxious-looking. B'Elanna wrinkled her nose.
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" she asked.
"Blood pie," the Talaxian said-as if any explanation was necessary. "In honor of the Day of Honor."
Neelix was acting as if this were the first time they had ever discussed the Klingon holiday. It wasn't, of course.
The year before, he had tried to commemorate the Day of Honor by serving her a surprise assortment of Klingon dishes-rokeg blood pie, serpent worms, heart of targ, and the like. And she had stalked out of the mess hall, not caring to be reminded of the holiday.
So why was Neelix standing there with a smile on his face, proudly holding out the bowl of rokeg blood pie?
She narrowed her eyes. "Has Tom been talking to you?"
"Not at all," said Neelix. "I am nothing if not
persistent."
"Are you really?" the engineer asked.
"Yes," he said, setting down the bowl. "And if I'm correct, many Klingon families traditionally serve
rokeg blood pie on the Day of Honor."
"How interesting," she replied, smiling. "I appreciate the gesture, Neelix-but I've decided to ignore the Day of Honor."
The Talaxian was surprised. "Oh? But what about the ritual you prepared in the holodeck?"
B'Elanna stared at him, amazed. "You know about that?"
He shrugged.
She shook her head. "I'm going to kill Tom when I see him."
"Actually," said Neelix, "it was Ensign Kim who told me."
The lieutenant made a sound deep in her throat. "Look," she said, "I thought I had shaken the bad luck that used to dog me every year on the Day of Honor. Now, I see I was mistaken. My bad luck is back-with a vengeance.
"So no rokeg blood pie," B'Elanna said. "No examining my behavior over the last year to see if I measure up to Klingon standards of honor. Let's just forget the Day of Honor ever existed, all right?"
She was serious. She hoped her look told him so.
Neelix swept the bowl of rokeg blood pie off the table. "Understood," he responded cheerfully.
The Talaxian started away from the table, then stopped himself. He turned back to her. "Lieutenant," he said, "without prying into the cause of the, er, black cloud that's hanging over you, may I suggest something-based on my observations of you over the months we've served on Voyager together?"
"Go right ahead," B'Elanna told him.
Neelix pulled out a chair and sat down with her. "It seems to me," he said, "you have a bit of a temper ...
that you try to keep reined in, but sometimes all those
feelings build up in you until you explode at someone."
She frowned. "I'd say that about sums it up."
"Well," the Talaxian went on, "I'm offering to be a pressure valve."
B'Elanna tilted her head. "A what?"
"A pressure valve," he repeated. "You may use me to blow off steam. When you're angry or feeling stressed, come see me. Call me names. Insult me."
"Neelix," she said.
"Even question my parentage," he told her. "Give me a tongue-lashing like you've never given anyone before. I promise I won't take it personally. And," he said, leaning closer to her, "you won't have to keep things bottled up inside anymore."
The engineer regarded him fondly. Then she reached out and covered his hand with hers.
"That's probably the nicest offer I've gotten in a long time. Thank you, Neelix. You're awfully sweet. But I'm not sure I could do that to you."
He looked back at her with what was obviously genuine affection. "Well," he said, "I'm here if you need me. Remember that."
Rising from his chair, he started off. B'Elanna watched him go, touched by his concern for her.
"Neelix?" she said.
He stopped and turned back to her. "Yes?"
"About this Day of Honor program," the engineer said. "Do you think I should go through with it?"
The