Moonshine And Music

Posted on Apr 20, 2020 @ 6:38pm by Captain Kassandra Thytos
Edited on on Apr 20, 2020 @ 6:39pm

Mission: Last Days of Empire

"Moonshine and music"

(Cont. "Breaking the news to Harrad-Tor")

*******************************
Location: USS PHOENIX
Stardate: 2.20.0419.2048
Scene: Kane's quarters


Kane was brooding and practicing on his uillean pipes and was halfway through The Ladies’ Pantalettes when his playing was joined by a musical chiming. Kane stopped and looked around, wondering where the noise was coming from. He saw nothing amiss and began to play again, when the chiming came again, more insistently, he ignored it, but then his communicator squawked and Kassandra’s sharp voice issued forth.

[[Open the damn door, Sir. I can hear ya in there.]]

Ah. That was what the noise was. No wonder he couldn’t identify it. It had been a very long time since someone had actually come to his quarters for a visit. He considered ignoring Kassandra since he wasn’t much in the mood to interact with anyone but quickly discarded the idea. Kassandra was stubborn and he wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to wait her out if she wanted to talk to him. He went to the door and tapped the panel next to it intending to make it a short conversation by holding it in his doorway. She was too fast for him however, and as the door slid open she ducked under his outstretched arm and into his sitting room before he had time to object. As she halted in the middle and turned to look at him an eyebrow raised. She appeared disinterested by her surroundings but Kane suspected from the glimmer of nanites under her skin that she was scrutinizing every inch of his quarters with her sensor nets.

“Did I interrupt ya?” She said, an insincere politeness in her voice. He sighed inwardly. Whatever she wanted, it wasn’t going to be quick.

“As a matter of fact, I am busy playing some music on my uillean pipes-” he began, only to be interrupted by a derisive snort from Kassandra.

“Sir, I might just be an uncultured jarhead, but I know what music is and *that* was not music by any species’ definition of the word.” Kane was almost insulted by her frankness, but he knew it was probably an honest assessment of his skills. “So what were you playin’?”

“The Lady’s Pantalettes,” Kane said, and immediately regretted it as he saw Kassandra’s mouth twitch as though she was swallowing back a thousand smart alec comments. After a moment she gave a theatrical grimace to convey the sheer willpower she was exercising on his behalf. “Right, anyway. What exactly are you doing here?”

“Ah, right.” She reached into one of the thousand pockets on cargo pants and produced a large unlabelled bottle of an electric green substance along with two glasses made out of antique shell casings. She looked up a shrewd expression on her face. “I figured that you’d be needin’ a stiff drink right about now. Was I wrong?”

Kane let out a long sigh. She wasn’t wrong.

“Come on Captain. You an’ I both know you ain’t goin’ to visit Eve, an’ I’m an awesome drinkin’ buddy.” Kassandra sunk down into one of his chairs and plonked her feet onto his coffee table looking mildly smug. Kane winced at that, and nudged her feet off as he passed her to sit down on his couch. “An’ if you happen t’ feel like talkin’ once the liquor starts to melt that iron rod you got u- in your backbone, well, I’m a pretty good listener for all that I’m a pretty loud talker.”

They stared at each other, rock and immovable object. Reaching one hand out, Kassandra grabbed the bottle, twisted it open, and poured it into one of the glasses, her eyes never leaving Kane’s. She shoved the glass into Kane’s hand, and raised one eyebrow in question.

“Fine. But only because I could use a drink. What is this swill?”

“Sherman’s Planet Moonshine, made a’ triticale, a course. Flavored with a special blend a’ herbs and spices. What herbs an’ spices, I don’t know. Closely guarded secret of the McGuffin boys.”

“You can’t be serious.” Kane wouldn’t put it past her to wind him up for the fun of it.

“Dead serious.” Kassandra picked her glass up and sniffed the chartreuse liquid experimentally. Kane followed suit. Besides the tang of the brass cup, it smelled of a mix of smoke, grass clippings, something floral, with a side of turpentine. Certainly not the most questionable thing he’d ever drank, but it was near the top.

“Is this even legal?” He raised a quizzical eyebrow. Kassandra looked a little guilty.

“Probably? Or at least, it’s not illegal to drink.”

Kane grunted and tossed it back. The liquid burned, and the fumes went up his nose. It tasted vile.

“Jesus, it should be illegal,” he spluttered.

“Please tell me you don’t drink yer whiskey like that,” Kassandra said, sounding as aghast as if he’d just pissed on her leg.

“Of course not, they’d kick me out of Ireland if I drank it like that,” Kane replied.

“Well drink it like a whiskey, you philistine! Just because it’s called moonshine doesn’t mean it’s plonk undeservin’ of respect!” She said primly, and poured him another glass, before taking a sip of her glass.

Kane took an experimental sip, letting the liquid pool under his tongue, and exhaled to rid his mouth of the alcoholic vapors. Once the burning stopped, he rolled the liquid around his tongue. Now he was getting the sweetness of the grains, and aromatics of the herbs, and a little punch of spice. It still wasn’t a scratch on a good bottle of well aged Jameson, and it definitely wasn’t a beginner’s drink, but it was drinkable. He swallowed, then exhaled. The aftertaste was like breathing in a clover field on a hot summer’s day.

“See? But I suppose even if it was completely irredeemable overproof hooch, you’re probably needin’ somethin’ right about to get the taste of dealin’ with the Romulans outta yer mouth.” The prompt was what passed for subtlety for Kassandra.

“Ah, so you don’t approve?” Kane stared at her over the rim of the cup.

“Ain’t my place to approve or disapprove.” Kassandra shrugged elaborately. “That situation back there was the epitome of a rock and a hard place. You had to make a decision where no one was going to be particularly happy about it, least of all yourself, but you did it, and you did what you felt was in the Federation’s best interest, and if the spooks at Intel want to cause a fuss, well, I’ll back you up.”

“So you think I made the right choice?” Kane asked, surprising himself. Kassandra looked up sharply, but didn’t say anything. The silence stretched out into awkwardness before Kassandra’s mouth twisted.

“I think that you did what had to be done. The Romulans are an Empire, ready to step foot on the galactic stage. The Orions and the Klingons are little more than wannabes. Course it’s in the Federation’s interest to look to the wolves rather than the midges,” she said finally.

“That wasn’t a yes,” Kane observed.

“You get wicked when you drink,” Kassandra observed. “An’ as I said, ain’t my place to approve or disapprove.”

“You’re a woman of opinions, you aren’t asking me to believe you don’t have one here, surely?” Kane leaned on the arm rest.

“An’ I recall you not havin’ much interest in said opinions before,” Kassandra responded dryly. “Why is it different now?”

“Indulge me. Chalk it up to this abominable witches’ brew.”

“Fine. My opinion is that given a choice between the Klingons and the Romulans, I would have much rather you had chosen the Klingons. The Romulans are all smiles and friendly overtures, but they’ll stab you in the back as soon as you relax. The Klingons have the good grace to at least stab you in the face.” She set her glass down. “But I ain’t exactly neutral in this, either, if I’m honest. It’s in Sherman Planet’s best interest that we keep the Klingons close. They’re one of the first planets that are gonna get hit if conflict starts. So of course, I’d rather you had dealt with the Klingons. An’ that’s why I ain’t the one making decisions, an’ I’m glad for it. Do I think that you probably made the best tactical decision? Yes. Do I think that that’s what needed to be done, includin’ blowin’ up the Satet? Also yes. Am I happy about your decision? No. I really ain’t. But again, I don’t gotta be. Are *you* happy with your decision?”

Kane considered that for a moment. “Yes, or at least, I think it’s what had to happen.”

“Well then, don’t give two shits about what I think, an’ if anyone gives you any guff, punch ‘em in the nose, and tell them to get stuffed.” She paused, then grinned. “Well, maybe not the punchin’ part.” She considered for a moment, then added: “And you prolly shouldn’t tell anyone who outranks you to get stuffed either.”

“Wherever would I be without your words of wisdom?” Kane said dryly.

“Laugh all you want, but right now I’ve still managed to survive longer n’ you have in this galaxy,” Kass said tartly. She topped up his glass with the neon green moonshine and stood up with an impish grin and a wink. “Now, this is gettin’ dangerously close to a heart to heart, an’ I don’t really wanna know about your mommy issues, plus I gotta be up at the buttcrack of dawn to take some whippersnappers down a peg. So you go ahead an’ enjoy the rest of that glass. You know where ta find me ta return it. Don’t sit up an’ brood over how everythin’ went down. Night sir.”

“Good night Major.” He raised his glass to her as she headed to the front door. She stopped for a moment in the door, then turned back.

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe don’t play those ill pipes of yours? Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were bein’ murdered.” She ducked out the door and clattered down the hall.

* * * * *

NRPG: Underwhelming, but a post!

Alix Fowler
Writing for:
Kassandra Thytos
Music critic
USS PHOENIX