Canopus Station
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A King In Tense Only

Posted on Sun Apr 12th, 2020 @ 10:27pm by Bar'soon'fo'da'gree'nars & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang & Senior Chief Petty Officer Sharona Deluna

Mission: S2:2: Best Laid Plans
Location: Canopus Station, Medina Level, Storage Bay 3.
Timeline: MD1: 14:30

Bar'soon of his vast title was last known to the Stations Civilian Monitoring Program in his assigned quarters, a cargo bay in the Medina's behind the scenes levels. Here the glamour of design gave way for brutal and honest utilitarianism. Most of the equipment in these maintenance corridors were still in their shrink wrap ready for installation or had such coverings ripped open and were...missing. Some just had a few ODN lines torn out, whereas others had their entire contents removed.

The door to Storage Bay 3 had been defaced by more of the vacuum solvent used for exterior ship hull markings.

Em-Bar-See.

The sound of work going on behind the door were evident, as well as the shouting cries that haunted the dreams of two Canopus staffers.

They had found the lair of Bar'soon'fo'da'gree'nars, Third of his Title, holder of the lightning throne, guardian of the sacred skulls of Antiok and ruler of the world of Shishimi and all its celestial companions.

Aimee entered in front of the others with her arms crossed over her chest, still resisting the temptation to simply eject the Captain out of the nearest airlock like she wanted to when he gave her this assignment. "Bar'soon The Peeping Tom with a ridiculously long title...?" She called out while looking around before finally locating him. "We seem to have need of you," She came to a stop so that someone else could explain.

An Orion woman peeked out from a slot in the door, her green eyes scanning the assembled personnel. "Do you have an appointment to see His Imperial Majesty, Bar'soon'fo'da'gree'nars, Third of his Title, holder of the lightning throne, guardian of the sacred skulls of Antiok and ruler of the world of Shishimi and all its celestial companions?" She asked.

"OoooH! Who is it?" An unmistakable voice said from the other side of the door, and the other side of the Orion manning the door slot. "Get down from there! I want to see! I want to peep upon them! To see them with my own eyes!"

"Get...stop...no!" The woman stepped away from the hole and a bashing sound as if a boot were impacting with a head. "Let. Go. Of. My. Leg!"

"But you said I couldn't grab anything to climb up you from above the waist! Curse and confound your cunning wordplay!" Bar'soons voice shouted, with an ever-increasing muffled sound as though he were chewing on rocks.

Meilin stepped forward as the ranking officer. "I am Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang. If we might prevail upon your time, we would be most grateful."

Aimee smirked as she crossed her arms over her chest. Letting Commander Jiang handle the situation was a brilliant idea because the less she had to talk to Bar'soon the Insane and his Orion friend was easy for her. "This ought to be good." She thought to herself and fell completely silent.

Another sickening crunch and a thud was heard, then the Orion woman looked out the window. "I'm sorry. His Imperial Majesty, Bar'soon'fo'da'gree'nars, Third of his Title, holder of the lightning throne, guardian of the sacred skulls of Antiok and ruler of the world of Shishimi and all its celestial companions is indisposed at the moment. May I take a message?"

Inclining her head to eavesdrop on what was taking place on the other side of the door, Meilin first cleared her throat and then spoke with loud enunciation as if a court herald. "Please tell His Imperial Majesty that three nubile petitioners have come to entreat his favor -- Chief Sharona Deluna, Lieutenant Aimee Paulsen, and I remain Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang. We would be most grateful for the imposition upon His Majesty's demesne." She intentionally left out Theylan. It appeared that like all petty tyrants, this Bar'soon held a vice which could be exploited. Theylan would be a damper on that vice, but if presented later as her retainer, he would be rightly ignored--at least until the right time.

An expletive erupted from Sharona's lips the moment Jiang offered her up as a nubile petitioner and she slapped her combadge. "Computer, transport protocol Bar'Nope!" she ordered and disappeared into a shimmer of transporter particles.

Aimee hears herself being referred to as nubile and took one quick look, "Well I guess the metaphorical shoe fits," She muttered inaudibly under her breath. Then Sharona initiated some obscure transporter protocol. "I saw that coming somehow," She said slightly louder. Aimee lowered her hands beside her hips, and then placed them behind her back. "Captain Ingram isn't going to like Sharona doing that..." She said then looked towards Bar'soon.

"Bar'soon the long title," Aimee said talking a little louder, "If you talk to the Commander and I, then I'll tell you how to get Senior Chief Deluna to fall madly and helplessly in love with you." She suggested.

Meilin kicked Aimee's foot. "Tease everything," she hissed in a scolding whisper, "but promise nothing."

"Let...them in..." came a voice that sounded like wounded pride and broken glass. "I want to see the merchandise..."

"Your wish, Majesty," Daihnaa said. "Although one of them with pointed ears and white hair seems to have transported out."

With that, the cargo bay door began to laboriously open as if something had been done to it.

"But I was going to sing my apology song!"

Bar'soon said this from the floor, where he was pocketing the teeth that had, assuredly, 'fallen out by accident' when the door was shut. He stood back up and brushed off his paper jumpsuit as his front teeth popped back into place. Along with the orbital of his right eye.

"Welcome, one and all, to my Em-Bar-See!" He said proudly and gestured grandly for those without to come within. As had been given to him, way back in the early heady days of his and Sharona's surprised courtship, Cargo Bay 3 on the Medina Level was quite spacious. Designed to support the storefronts and business now being slowly swallowed by the Rish enclaves more business-minded members.

Though there was much less space now that someone had, somehow, gotten most of an escape pod into it.

Of course you needed to know what to look for. The padded lounge seating had the five-point restraining harnesses that would help keep the corpse, if not the body, from flying around during re-entry. The hanging drapes that glittered and danced in the light were from the parachutes, the back up of all backups, and even had the words 'CANO-EP-049-A' still stencilled on them. Other bits and piece's made up the rest of the dismantled, gutted escape pod.

Which, if you looked at it in just the right way, might even look like a bar. Or a suite. Or a Sweet baby Jesus.

"You like?" Bar'soon asked, eyes big as he held his hands together like a toddler showing off his first stick figure murder scene. "I made it myself! I mean I had some help, I'm not of the working class you know. Oh, and have you met Daihnaa? She's my majordomo! Or is that majordominatrix, you see there was a language file I was reading called 'Latin'. The language of love from the Americas, that's a planet by the way. I'm very smart."

He waved a hand to crash coach sofas set before one single chair, raised up on a packing crate: the throne.

"What His Majesty said," Daihnaa said. She was attired in what could only be half described as a bikini and a nearly transparent purple bloused top and white bottom from where she now lounged against two empty container pods with a bioplast sheet set over top of them which doubled for a bar.

With a wave of an arm, she pointed at a sign held above the makeshift throne that said "No Yo Mama Jokes" in over a hundred languages with multiple spelling and grammar errors, which looked hand written in several different colors, all of which created an eyesore.

Bar'soon hopped onto his thrown, and lounged in a most regal style.

"Come forth, and your Liege will grant you an audience," he grinned and then pointed at himself. "And I mean me, by the way."

Meilin stepped forward and bowed at the waist with her hands folded together as she recited a parodical litany drawn from her people's ancient past.

"Lord of Countless Years, Son of Heaven, Rightful Yellow Ruler of All Realms, Immortal Jade Dragon of the Forbidden Purple Domain, humble greetings to honored-you from lowly-us." She touched the ground once with her knees, then promptly rose to her feet. "We entreat dispensation of your renowned favor and seek your incomparable wisdom. Grant us, we pray, a small boon from the great wealth of your vast knowledge."

Aimee resisted the overwhelming urge to roll her eyes at the Commander when she heard the words spoken, "That's it Commander encourage the Bar'soon person to think themselves better than they already are... Perhaps I should have warned the Commander about the narcissistic behavior of Bar'soon?" She thought to herself while placing her hands behind her back.

"AH! Do you hear that? Oh it is like a symphony to the ears!" he squeaked delightedly, and then tossed his long lobed ears over the other shoulder. He then leaned forward, hand in his palms, and looked at Meilin with the clever eyes of a Lemur admiring his reflection in the eyes of a tiger. "You know, back on Shishimi I had someone just like you. She knew all the good words, she could make anything pop and sing! It was the saddest day for me when she handed in her resignation, took three days to read."

He leaned back and sighed.

"Its how she was able to escape you know, by the time I finished her final sonnet she was clear across the border and into the arms of my brother Bar'foon," he spat the name. "Ungrateful swine kept her on as a Mime, a MIME!...The affrontery of Bar'foon knows no limits! He was always doing that when we were younger, taking things that belonged to me when I'd thrown them at him. Though to be fair, he looked rather dashing in an eye patch. Do you think I could look stunning in an eye patch?"

"Eyepatches denote a lack of vision," Meilin replied without so much as a snicker. "Such accouterments would be suitable for one of the Myriad, perhaps, but not for Your Imperial Majesty."

For a split second...someone else sat in the ejection seat throne in the court of a fool. Someone shrewd, with the clever animal cunning of a born survivor and expert manipulator. Bar'soon narrowed his eyes, a smile on his lips but nowhere else.

"What an interesting turn of phrase you have..." he said coolly before the cloud vanished and the sun reappeared. "but where are my manners! Sit, sit one and all and I will provide you with a drink! Alas, I am only allowed to dispense water, but the replicator still thinks that I am on the Basic Necessity Registration. "But I can make it hot or cold, name your poison!"

"Nothing for me thanks," Aimee said and waved her hand in front of her before lowering it and placing it back where it had initially been. She also remained standing because she was both disturbed and amused. So much psychological information was being provided to her in the conversation that she was steadily becoming slightly more interested.

Meilin noted the mercurial shift of disposition and smiled. "Hot, please. Your hospitality exceeds your means, as is with all great rulers. Have you the benefit of being a retainer in another's court or does your hospitable instinct come by you naturally?"

"Oh one picks up a few things from the days in court. And now that my court is...diminished," he leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Though in my wandering years with Abborax I did play host to many of his gatherings. We Shishimi are master craftsman in that regard, highly sought after. And I the deposed royal that I am, well a bargain. Every planetfall a new chance to show the universe what I can do, and smooth over any transgressions that might ruffle the silvery locks of the Myriad."

Bingo. Evidently this Abborax was even more haughty and arrogant than Bar'soon was. That could be of use.

"Regale us, O Lord of Lords and Grand Duke of Heaven, with your triumph over this lesser monarch Abborax," Meilin said with her eyes lowered. "Bestow upon us the grace of your wisdom and how you settled his affairs and ultimately bested him, and let us bask in praise of your noble deeds."

"Oh I do like this one, could we clone her? I would so much like a clone of her!" Bar'soon said, clapping his hands.

Aimee realized that she wanted to barf now more than ever, but resisted by swallowing hard. "A deal is a deal Bar'soon," Aimee finally had broken her silence beyond her earlier remark about not wanting anything to eat or drink. "Tell us what you know about Abborax, and I will inform you the secret to Sharona's heart and how to capture it for your own... Metaphorically speaking of course."

"He was a sociopath. Most of the Myriad tend to showcase some form of the compulsion given their 'higher state of being', makes them terrible bores. Some take a pleasure in their work, others focus on the greater ideas their new perspective provides. It's why they were set into houses. The House of Moth's was Abboraxs house, within which he was a minor lord. Bio engineers, crafters of flesh and purveyors of spices of the mind," Bar'soon said. "Huum, I remember one event I aided in hosting: it was a Conclave, a meeting of Myriad. All of them met in a single star system, a thousand days and nights of experiences, revels and stories. Quite the challenge. One of the Myriad, Jalix, one of his associates broke with form and tried to do something foolish. In response, Jalix asked for aid in providing the being with the means to fight for his life. Abborax provided a fencer wasp hive, nasty creatures. As large as a blimp child, with razor-sharp leg's that can cut a man in two."

He shook his head.

"The needless waste of it all. The poor fellow took out the first wasp, but then the cage released two, and then three after that. Once there's blood in the air, a fencer wasp is a terror," Bar'soon said. "No pageantry, only scolding Jalix for being such a poor guest to bring such an unruly fellow into their midst. They were more worried about their individual standing at the Conclave. But their loyalty to the High Executor is above all. She might be the only one of them they all fear."

"Did you meet the High Executor?" Meilin asked softly. This was valuable information, indeed, and she did not want to break the spell of the Shishimi's narration.

"No," Bar'soon said, his fingers tapping against each other previously. "And I am thankful I did not. A Myriad is not someone to take lightly, their ire something quite frightful when arranged. Why I saw Abborax during our escape defeat an attack by one of his guests by placing her in temporal stasis, and then ripping the bar she was using as a weapon clear of her hands. The fact of removing the object from time dilation nearly tore her hands apart. And he did it on a whim. Imagine a being like that, and who might put genuine fear into them."

"Indeed," Meilin said. Perhaps that fear would somehow prove useful to Starfleet's advantage. "And, pray, tell us how you defeated Abborax and came to be among us."

"MY FINEST MOMENT!!"

He was up on the chair now, one arm holding the high back of the ejection seat, the other stretched out.

"You see, there I was! The cowering minion I had just saved from servitude, the few companions I had made along the way! We'd just made passage through the Whisper Gate, the Traverser right on my heels! Abborax was there, all of him, mocking our attempt! Ever the brave liege, I put my self before the down trod-"

(Footnote: In the year 2430 when Bar'soon autobiographical one-man broadway epic toured the Alpha Quadrant, 'They Couldn't Have Done It Without Me!', the only newspaper to report on it was the Dallas Tribune. The quote goes; A three-act farce three acts too long.)


"And I held out my hand! Like this! Abborax was ready to throw the Trespasser into the sun! When in fear of me he froze in place, those glowing eyes vanishing! I scared him right out of his proxie!" Bar'soon jumped from the chair and landed behind the three of them. "This calls for a celebration! Water! Hot and cold! Let my largesse know no bounds!!"

"Water it is, Boss...er, Your Majesty," Daihnaa said and turned to the replicator. "Water. Hot. One glass. Water, cold, two glasses."

The replicator made its tinkling sound and three glasses appeared. She took them and set them on the board. "Drink up."

At that moment, by fate, design or a pissed off Transporter Chief, Sharona materialized right on Bar'soon's lap.

"By all the seven gods and their severed limbs! Its a sign!" Bar'soon cried, and stood up, catapulting Sharona off his lap as he held out his arms, eyes tightly closed, his face a tortured knot of concentration. "Bring me my mothers immolated bones oh spirit of the shimmering air!"

If appearing in Bar'soon's lap wasn't enough of a surprise to Sharona, getting suddenly catapulted out of that lap was even more so. However, crashing into an Orion woman and going down in a pile of lips was completely surprising.

If Sharona was surprised, Daihnaa wasn't. It didn't mean she was prepared to have a woman suddenly thrown at her by her Liege. She went down like she'd been poleaxed and hit her head against one of the empty barrels. Fortunately, she'd been hit harder.

She growled and tossed the flailing Selevian off of her and grabbed for the board that held the one hot water and two cold ones for leverage. That didn't work out too well and the three glasses of water, both hot and cold, went flying. With a disgruntled sound, Daihnaa sat down muttered something untranslatable in Orion.

There were many words that Theylan could give to this little meeting... or was it a soiree... or whatever passed for hospitality.

Chief among them was farce. He had half a good mind to put Bar’soon’s head to the tip of his favourite assault rifle and blast him just for sake of good taste. Little tin pot dictators or even those whom presumed themselves so reminded the Andorian too much of Cardassians. All pompous and arrogance.

Not that one could tell as the cerulean skinned Andorian merely stood behind Meilin, watching the scene with a dead pan tone and seemingly to the world to be quietly wondering just why he was had been requested for this little activity. The Andorian sighed, and gently moved to his phaser’s holster, quietly checking to see that it was on level one just in case someone proved just that deft to pluck it and start shooting. The utterance of the Orion actually made him think of a certain redheaded Orion for years ago.

Aimee couldn't believe her eyes, one moment Bar'soon was talking his strange little head off and in the next there was Sharona again. Though, she didn't remain on his lap for long because she had went sprawling before crashing into the strange Orion woman. Aimee had her head slightly tilted to one side, "Well then..." She muttered under her breath before quickly getting to the side of Sharona.

She lacked a tricorder, but did give the woman a quick look over, "Nothing appears to be broken," She remarked. "Though, I don't believe beaming directly onto Bar'soon's lap was the best idea." Aimee was being overly sarcastic with her tone before looking back over her shoulder towards the strange creature on his strange throne. She was clearly undecided on whether or not she believed his story, but Aimee was most certainly leaning towards the not part...

"So...how does this work? Do I have to say something? Offer up something?" Bar'soon asked, still holding out his arms for the burning bones of his mother. "I can assure you I'll deliver all sixty feet of my brother Bar'foon's small intestines to this god of shimmering air if they will deliver what I seek? I might even throw in his eyes!"

Deciding she had heard enough, Meilin rose to her feet and summarily dismissed herself. "Thank you, Your Majesty. That will be all." Her terse tone of voice could have been very well dismissing him, if she was to stick around for a rebuttal. The witless Shishimi had given her a lead, and she intended to pursue it.

"Come, Lieutenant," she coolly said to Theylan. "Play time is over."

"Feel free to come back!!" Bar'soon said from his throne, waving. "Bring your friends next time!!"

Aimee had stood up and assisted Sharona to her feet, "Ah yes well," She turned and looked at Bar'soon, "A deal is a deal... The secret to unlocking Sharona's heart is..." She looked through the corner of her eye towards Sharona, "You owe me so much for this..." Aimee cleared her throat, "The secret to her heart is to go away... Far away and never return because well distance makes the heart grow fonder and eventually she will come looking for you."

Aimee then shot Sharona a look that said to go with it before she had followed the Commander out of the cargo bay.

Sharona came to her feet with the help of the diminutive counselor and nodded to Bar'soon. "It's true," she said. "The farther you are away, the more my love will grow."

"That...is so touching. But don't you see? We come from different stars, different heavens! Messier 4, the Sphere, my home! And you, from the starry swirly thing....how much further apart could we have been?" Bar'soon said, placing a hand over his heart on the second try. "Fear not, for the Ballard of our love will be something sung by minstrels across Messier 4! For I have been seeking out such a man to write my autobiography! I am told his name is Towers? Or Building? Something pointy and tall."

As Theylan and Meilin made their exit, the Andorian gently leaned forward from his position at the flank and slightly back of the Commander to come within whisper distance of the young woman. "I wouldn't be adverse to shooting him, Commander." The words leaving the lips of the Andorian's rather deadpan tone, though any semblance of his good humour well negated by the presences of his hand naught but millimetres from the hand of his Type II.

 

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