Captain's Log, supplemental:

I allowed the Klingons to finish the ceremony. This was a mistake.

Before I could retreat, several Klingons linked arms around me in what I can only describe as an aggressively friendly display of camaraderie. A large cup of Blood Wine was placed in my hand, and I was informed that participation was no longer optional. I was then instructed to sing.

Loudly.

The ceremonial songs continued well into the wee hours of the night. Lyrics were repeated. Verses were argued over. Someone declared my second verse "surprisingly honorable." I am not sure if that was a compliment or a threat.

At some point, a Tribble escaped containment and began multiplying again. I lost track after twelve. Possibly more. And yes, Donald, they ended up in the server room. Ever try to get fur out of a processor cooling fan?

The ceremony has finally concluded. Honor has been reaffirmed, friendships have been forged, and I am reasonably certain I will never hear that song again without flinching.

This concludes my away mission.

I will be returning to normal duties shortly, assuming my voice comes back, the Blood Wine headache subsides, and the Tribbles are successfully relocated to somewhere that is not critical to ship operations.

Qapla'
RR