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"I seek the Margarita," Worf says, his hand resting on the hilt of a ceremonial dritlh. "The one they call 'The Fire of the Reef.' I am told it requires a warrior's constitution."
The year is 2410. The Klingon Empire is at peace, and Worf—now an Elder Statesman and high-ranking diplomat—has finally found a challenge worthy of his warrior spirit: retirement. 2. Future Worf and the Margarita of the South P...
"Today," Worf mutters, staring out at the turquoise horizon, "is a good day to relax." "I seek the Margarita," Worf says, his hand
As the first sip of the citrus-and-tequila blend hits his tongue, Worf’s eyes widen. The acidity is sharp, the spirit is bold, and the chill of the ice is a shock to his Klingon physiology. It is a good day to drink. "Today," Worf mutters, staring out at the turquoise
The bartender doesn't flinch. He reaches for a bottle of silver liquid and a fresh, bright lime. "Salt or no salt, big guy?"
"Computer," Worf rumbles, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. "Locate the nearest source of... agave ."