Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [34]
B'Elanna sighed. "I've been thinking a lot about the
rituals my mother taught me, and they don't seem so hateful as they did when I was a child. Maybe being so far away from anything Klingon has changed me."
"It certainly can't hurt to go through with the ceremony," he told her.
She looked at him. "I don't know what effect it'll have on me. That's what's so frightening."
Neelix gave her a smile of encouragement and put his hand over hers. He didn't say anything more-but then, he didn't have to.
"All right," said B'Elanna. "Bring on the rokeg blood pie. I can do this."
The Talaxian winked at her. Returning the bowl, he stood there and watched her dig in.
The Caves of Kahless were filled with thousands of long, twisted candles and a collection of guttering torches. As B'Elanna negotiated a path among them, a tendril of fog wrapped around her like a giant snake.
She breathed in the cool, dank air. It carried a metallic scent. Like a bat'leth. Or blood.
It hardly mattered to the engineer that this was a holodeck program. It seemed real. And the farther she delved into the earth, the more real it became for her.
Tom did a good job on this, she thought. He must really have put his heart and soul into it. It made her even more certain that she had done the right thing by trying out the program.
B'Elanna wound her way from one cave to the other. Each one contained the same torches, the same candles, the same sinuous drifts of fog. But to Tom's credit, no two caves were exactly alike.
Finally, she reached the cavern she was seeking.
'lie
Three tall, muscular Klingons awaited her inside, their bare shoulders festooned with braids of their smoky, dark hair. B'Elanna approached them tentatively, not really knowing much about the ritual that would follow.
After all, she had only had a small part in the program's design. Tom had done the rest, drawing on authentic Klingon traditions.
"Qapla'! I am Moklor the Interrogator," said the tallest of the Klingons, his very tone an invitation to combat. "What warrior goes there?"
"My name's B'Elanna," she answered.
Moklot's grey eyes narrowed beneath his brow ridge. "Have you come to have your honor challenged?"
She shrugged. "I guess so, yes."
"Are you willing to see the ceremony through to the end?"
"That's the idea, isn't it? What do I do?" B'Elanna asked.
"It will be a lengthy ordeal," the interrogator told her. "First, you must eat from the heart of a sanctified tar,z."
He gestured and one of the other Klingons brought forth a platter. There were several lumps of raw, lavender-colored meat on it. The Klingon presented the platter to B'Elanna.
"Pak lohr!" bellowed Moklor.
The engineer had never been a fan of Klingon food, and rokeg blood pie was tame compared to heart of targ. Steeling herself, she picked up one of the lumps of meat and put it in her mouth. Then, with an effort, she chewed.
The interrogator nodded approvingly. "The heart of a targ brings courage to the one who eats it. Next," he said, "you will drink mot'loch from the grail of Kahless."
He gestured, and the warrior who held the platter of targ meat backed away into shadow. At the same time, another Klingon stepped forward into the light. He was carrying a large metal cup.
As he handed it to B'Elanna, she sniffed it. It didn't smell pleasant by anyone's standards.
Moklor's eyes opened wide. "Drink to the glory of Kahless, the greatest warrior of all time."
B'Elanna took the cup and swallowed back her nausea. Then she forced herself to drink the noxious concoction.
The interrogator grinned as she handed the grail back to his helper. Obviously, the engineer thought, he was getting quite a kick out of this. It was nice to see someone enjoy his job so much.
"Kahless defeated his enemies on the field of battle," Moklor intoned, "and built a mighty empire."
He regarded B'Elanna. "How have you proven yourself worthy of the name Klingon? She considered the question. Not being particularly devoted