A Dish Best Served With A Balsamic Vinaigrette

Posted on Fri Jun 26th, 2020 @ 1:07am by Bar'soon'fo'da'gree'nars & Senior Chief Petty Officer Sharona Deluna

Mission: S2:2: Best Laid Plans
Location: Canopus Station, Medina Level, Storage Bay 3.(Em'Bar'See)
Timeline: MD1: 18.00

"Can you believe it? I mean the gall? The shear affronty! The...the!...THEY ARE MINE!"

It didn't help matters that when Bar'soon said that, after having gotten up on his crash couch throne stolen from an escape pod, he said it with a stamp of his foot. He liked that so much he stamped with the other one too.

"It's just like her you know! She was always taking things from me when I was younger! My toys! My friends! My holiday proviences on the Northern Ice Caps! And I doubt very much I can melt your station with artificial global warming can I?" Bar'soon pouted...and then began to have a thought, raising a finger to voice the idea.

Daihnaa started to hide a yawn, then decided it was more worth it to let it out openly. It wasn't like Bar'soon of the Whatever and Whoever cared. "What's on your mind, Boss?" she asked casually as she went to replicate a glass of water.

"Well. I was going to ask if you knew where I could find a suitably large magnifying glass," Bar'soon said with a frown, and settled down primly onto the steps to his throne. "But then...well, I look around and I still see this station. Its metal walls. Its boring colour pallet. Why the only splash of colour in here is you and me, and even with a suitable tool I doubt we could smear either one of us around enough to cover the floor."

He clicked his fingers.

"For now, I am stuck here. But that does not mean I cannot bring some of my home here, no? I am having a thought! A glorious thought! A wonderful, melodious thought, a thought that might come out..." He stood up suddenly, his voice rising through shockingly good octaves. "IN SOOOOONG!"

"I can get you one, I think," the Orion woman said as she went and dropped bonelessly by his feet. Part of the job, she mused. However, the bets were off when he decided to sing. Well, she figured he was going to start singing.

She turned and grabbed his little toe or whatever passed for one on his foot and twisted it violently enough to let him know he was still alive even if he were in a coma.

"OW!" Bar'soon cried, and jumped as Daihnaa neatly broke his toe. He scowled down at her. "Well that does make my mind up. If I am to be here, I shall be here in a style I am accustomed to. And to gain the access needed to make the replicator do more than base matter."

He waggled his foot, and there was a click as bones snapped back into place on the affected digit.

"And for that to happen, I must become something I always feared my travels would take me. But...But I shall steel myself, for this is but the grimy, dirty, filthy opening chapter of my autobiography! 'They Could Not Have Done it Without Me!' Its a working title, but I'm open to mild to flattering criticism," Bar'soon took a steadying breath. "I must become working class. I shall turn this Em'Bar'See into the centre point of this corner of the universe about which all important matters shall orbit!"

"I'll see what I can do about the replicator, but no promises, Boss," the Orion woman said and patted his foot. "Hmm. Flattering criticism." She pondered it for a moment. "How about Ode to an Ego?"

"And plagiarise my uncle's magnum opus? Never! Beside's been in this squalor like pit of muck his legions of legal functionaries would find me and make red tape of my innards!" Bar'soon nearly shrieked. "And if you cannot make the food slot make things more than basic amenities, then we must barter with our fellow station denizens. I heard there was a band of miscreants with their own quarter of the station. The Rish? There are things I know, important things that I know, that they could know, and to which I know the price of!"

He looked down at himself, and tugged at the cheaply spun shirt he was wearing.

"Do you think space gipsies have tailors? Or do you think they go in for more haberdashery?"

"Couldn't tell you more than that they look like an human species," Daihnaa said. "Go naked. That way you can say you have nothing up your sleeves. I know a few miscreants and some assorted deviants we can go to, too."

"OH! They sound like my sort of people!" Bar'soon said with a little clap. "Once we have the vittles sorted out, we can begin to spruce this place up! And then, upon the grand opening, I will rub my cousins face into the floor so hard her eye brows will combust! Oh it will be just like my sixth birthday party!"

"I'd pay to see that," she said. "Anyhoo, Boss'Soon, what do you say we get out of here and start collecting things?"

"Thats the entrepreneurial spirit!" Bar'soon said with a heart felt sigh. "And to think, before we met, you were so lost! Now look at you! It makes me feel...feel something right here between my forth and ninth kidney!"

He sniffled, and fanned himself.

"I promised my mothers burning bones I'd not cry when seeing the working class do their business."

Daihnaa looked at him and pondered for a moment. "You regenerate, right? I know a person that would kill to get their hands on a steady supply of kidneys."

"I was voted most likely to give myself to the masses by my academy class," Bar'soon said with a smile

"Will the parts melt once they leave you, though, or explode or whatever?" she asked.

"HUum...I don't know. I don't really keep track of things when I give them away like that. I'm not clingy, you know." Bar'soon said humbly.

"Then let's find out," Daihnaa said and pulled out a positively evil looking short bladed knife that looked like it could cut a star with its molecular blade. She eyed him for a moment, then frowned. "Where's your kidneys at?"

"Oh here, there, all about really. They tend to move. Restless kidney, terrible thing. So socially awkward....why are you looking at me like some sort of glazed ham? Usually, I would find that alluring but...not from an underling. I detest workplace romances," Bar'soon said, shooing her away with one hand...and then doing so again when the look remained.

"What's ham?" she asked as she pondered one of the spots he motioned at. "And who has time for romance? That's disgusting." With that, she took a random stab into his torso and started to slice away a section to see if she could find a kidney.

"MY SAFE WORD IS PEACHES!!!!"