Day of Honor - Michael Jan Friedman [39]
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. "I believe I mentioned that I'm a physician. It's my job to preserve life, not to destroy it."
"You mock me?" said the Klingon, his hands turning into fists.
"Not at all," the Doctor told him warily.
Moklor regarded him with suspicion. "What of your enemies?" he asked. "Have they been worthy of a warrior's attention?"
The Doctor frowned. "No offense, but I don't think you've been listening very closely. I'm a physician. I heal people when they're sick. I have no enemies ...
unless, of course, you're speaking of the diseases I fight. But even then, it would be less than accurate to say-,,
"You fight diseases?" the interrogator asked.
The Doctor paused. "That's one of my functions, yes.
"Deadly diseases?"
Once again, the Doctor could answer only one way. "Yes. Deadly ones."
"And you destroy them?"
The Doctor saw where Moklor was going with this.
"As a matter of fact, I do. But I don't use a weapon."
The interrogator shrugged. "Weapons come in many forms. The important thing is that you confront your enemies and kill them. Now, how many of these diseases have you destroyed?"
The Doctor considered the question. "I don't know. Dozens? Hundreds?"
"Hundreds?" Moklor echoed. "And all by your hand?" He grinned. "Now that is a tale of honor worth the telling."
The Doctor had always thought so. And here, apparently, was someone willing to listen to it. In fact, it seemed to be the interrogator's job to listen to such accounts.
The Doctor was tempted to describe his victories over all manner of malady and bodily injury in protracted detail. However, it occurred to him that he still didn't know what this program was about.
"If you don't mind my asking," he told Moklor, "just what are we doing here? What's the function of an interrogator?"
The Klingon snorted. "An interrogator determines a warrior's worthiness on the Day of Honor."
"Ah," said the Doctor. Now he understood.
He had heard about the Day of Honor. It was a Klingon holiday established a century earlier, when a Starfleet captain by the name of Kirk helped rescue a planet full of Klingons.
Until then, Klingons had recognized honor only in one another. From that point on, they made it their business to celebrate honor in other species as welleven if those species were their enemies.
It brought up an interesting question. Since the first time the Doctor materialized on Voyager, he had been experimenting with the various traits and trappings of humanity, trying to find a combination that would define and even enhance his personality.
However, he had overlooked the value of embracing a holiday-or perhaps several of them. And yet, holidays seemed to have a valued place in the lives of the crew. Perhaps they might enrich his existence as well.
The more the Doctor thought about it, the more inclined he was to adopt a ritual celebration. The question was ... which one?
The Day of Honor? He didn't think so. As interesting as his dialogue with Moklor had been, he didn't feel particularly moved by it. Then again, that was understandable. Klingon virtues were an acquired taste.
Some other holiday, then. The Bajoran Gratitude Festival, for instance. Or Cinco de Mayo, which Ensign Andujar had described in great detail. Or perhaps the Bolian Feast of Nineteen Sublime Pleasures.
There were so many. Clearly, in order to make an intelligent choice, he would have to embark on a rigorous schedule of experimentation. Only then could he find the celebration best suited to him.
Luckily, the Doctor boasted the expertise of the Federation's greatest scientists. No one could be better equipped to assess each holiday on its respective merits.
"Let us proceed," said Moklor. His gaze hardened. "A warrior must endure great hardship.