Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [44]
Troi turned to Breck. “That’s what you were so surprised about when you came in. You were shocked that we hadn’t harmed her, yet?”
‘That is why I waited out in the hall with your other guards. We were to keep anyone from interfering,” Breck said.
Worf just stared at Breck for a moment. He could hear the blood pounding in his head, a loud sound that echoed the anger he could feel rising up from his gut. “You thought I would harm a civilian, a noncombatant?”
‘Forgive me, Ambassador, but yes, that is what I thought.”
Worf turned to Talanne. “And you came to stop us from killing the doctor?”
‘Yes.”
Worf drew a great breath of air through his nose, then let it out very, very slowly. “I am a Klingon warrior and an acting ambassador of the Federation of Planets. I am not an assassin, or a murderer of innocent bystanders!” He let the anger grow in his voice, fanning his rage with words. He wanted to scream at them all. What did they think Klingon honor meant? What did they think of the Federation? They were barbarians and thought he was.
He glanced at Troi and saw horror on her face. She was as sickened by this ludicrous situation as he was, perhaps more. it was not the thought of beating a confession out of Stasha that angered Worf but the assumption that the big bad Klingon would not be able to resist it.
‘Colonel Talanne, are you saying that we are allowed to harm people just because we think they might know something about this crime?” Troi asked.
‘How else can you be sure that they are not lying?”
Troi glanced at Worf, his eyes widened. Betan-Ka’s fifth rule: Everyone lies. “If everyone is as frightened of us as Dr. Stasha was, how will we ever question them?”
‘You make sure they are telling the truth,” Talanne said.
‘How?” Worf demanded.
‘By hurting them until you are sure they are not lying. The law says only that you cannot permanently maim or kill those you question. That is the only law in a case where one of our leaders has been killed.”
‘You are talking about torture,” Worf said. The rage was fading away to be replaced by a sort of wonderment too great for mere surprise.
‘That is the word you would use,” Talanne said. She was utterly calm about it, as if there was nothing wrong with it. “You seem shocked, Ambassador. I was under the impression that the Klingons were experts at the art of pain and extracting information.”
‘Klingons do torture when it is necessary,” Worf said, quietly, “but torturing civilians is not honorable.”
Talanne just stared at him. “You are a strange people. Or perhaps it is living among humans that has changed your attitude.”
Worf swallowed hard. These people were not listening to his words. He spoke very carefully, each word clipped and offended. “I assure you, Colonel Talanne, that all Klingons view civilian torture as distasteful. Torture is only acceptable when the person is strongly suspected of some crime, then only if they are a warrior. We do not torture nonwarriors, or innocent people.”
‘You will not torture the civilians whom you question then?” she asked.
‘No.” Anger tightened the muscles in his shoulders. But he would do nothing to prove that Klingons were the monsters the Orianians thought. It was they who were monsters.
‘Then I do not see how you will ever help Picard. Our people know no other way, Ambassador Worf. They will not help you prove the murderer of one of our leaders innocent. Think upon this, Ambassador: if you prove Picard innocent, then one of us must be guilty. None of my people will willingly help you do that.”
‘Breck is aiding us.”
‘His life is as much at stake as Picard’s.” She stepped through her bodyguards until she was nearly touching body to body with the tall Klingon. “Remember this the next time you become squeamish. None of them will help you without the incentive of pain. None of them.”
Worf glared down at her, breathing too quickly, his hands balled into fists. “I am not squeamish.”
Talanne smiled. “You are, but because you are new to our planet, and Picard came to help us, I will help you, this once.