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Character Quirks

Posted on Sun Sep 6th, 2015 @ 1:06pm by Lieutenant Lixor Nabohn
Edited on on Sun Sep 6th, 2015 @ 6:49pm

Mission: The Perfect Hunter
Timeline: After "Backlash"

ON:

Kanoa Tiamet had been many things throughout his life. Despite appearing about thirty human years in age, he had actually lived for half a century. He had been born to an occupied people, served as support staff to the Elasian paramilitary Timariot, fought for his people's freedom as a rebel, and accepted the label of traitor when he could no longer participate in the KDM's targeting of civilians. He had been a broken child, a collaborating adolescent, a noble youth, and now a solitary man. Something he had never been, however, was a fan of Starfleet. The large Molai strolled down the ship's corridor with these thoughts weighing heavily on his mind, while he flipped the comm badge repeatedly into the air like a coin.

"Trying a new form of communication," Lixor asked as he watched the man. Lixor gave a faint mischievous smile as the metallic object went up and down in repetitive motion.

"Nay. An experiment, perhaps," Kanoa replied as he stopped to address Lixor. He swiped the comm badge out of the air and made a show of flipping it over twice on his palm. "It occurred to me a meritorious question whether this Starfleet badge speaks out of both sides, much as the officers of that same institution seem prone to speaking from both sides of their mouths at the same time. And yet," he said as he studied the man, "perchance I spoke too soon, and must instead answer your query in the affirmative. For indeed, my erstwhile test appears to have resulted in new communication, as I stand here speaking to a stranger, blue in both Starfleet's hierarchical coding of laborers and in pigmentation. In both cases, your color puts me at ease, for I have never found grievance with neither scientists nor Bolians."

The science officer furrowed his brow, "what exactly is the snake oil you're selling," he chuckled, "you sound like a politician."

"Do I?" Kanoa shrugged. "A quirk of the universal translator, I would wager. I speak such words as flow with ease from my mind, as do all my people. That your politicians might speak so speaks better of your leaders than I have ever thought them. And what of you, Lieutenant Bolian? What wish or myth has been sold to you that brings you to this cursed vessel?"

Lixor chuckled, "I had my choices," he offered, "not good ones but they were choices."

"Ah," the Molai man nodded in understanding, "that situation I know well, though this predicament of the lesser of evils is often mystery to children of the Federation. What world do you hail from? The frontier, I will presume?"

"Close," he stated, "I hail from a rather lovely backwater of the federation known as Baldaron IV. You may have heard of the," Lixor added a bit of lilt as he spoke the rest, "delightful place."

Kanoa bowed his head slightly. "With apologies, I must admit I have not heard tale of Baldaron IV, yet sarcasm and some measure of anger does drip from your words as sap from an amber-bearing tree. Rare is it that I hear citizens of the Federation speak of their homeworlds as 'bacekwater,' as such a descriptor does rather damper the shine of the Federation's supposed utopia. Was your upbringing therefore filled with such suffering as most in this space find fantastical?"

"I really didn't expect you to know about it," Lixor stated a bit sarcastically, "the Federation's version of what happened is far different than what I experienced."

"Of such dynamic I am too familiar. My ears are open. Do tell your side, for I will believe a Bolian Baldoronian's word over that of any Starfleet admiral."

It was about all Lixor could do to keep from laughing at the man who talked as if he was a character in a children's book. "Baldaron IV," he began gaining a look of frustration as his mind went back to the events that precipitated his joining the fleet, "was a failed Federation colony." He stopped there trying to gauge how much he should tell the man, "It was an experience you would have had to have lived to understand."

"Failed colonies are a matter with which I have a lifetime more experience than anyone should every have. As with you, I spent my youth in such a place, though I suspect the word 'colony' is here used with divergent meaning. Nonetheless, trust that I understand more than most your comrades aboard this vessel. I am recently castaway upon your ship, and left no choice but to join your not-so-merry band of travelers," Kanoa explained, placing the Starfleet comm badge back in place on his chest, "so it behooves me to know and be known in this manner."

"Cast away," the blue man questioned letting his eyebrows furrow, "I take it you are here because some other means of transportation wasn't available?"

"Aye," Kanoa nodded. "I had a small interceptor for many years, it was and is my only home. Quite recently I was involuntarily relieved of its possession." He paused and turned his head slightly, as if checking to see if he was being monitored. "It would be advantageous to my welcome that I exercise caution before revealing that which others prefer kept hidden. Suffice to say, my presence here is not coincidental with the absence of a regular passenger of this voyage."

"And who is that," Lixor questioned, "I'm not actually aware of any individual unaccounted for from the crew."

Kanoa gave an apologetic shrug. "The answer is not mine to give, lest I find myself yet again on the cozier side of the Brig. A question you may choose to pose to a higher power, perhaps a Commander, a Commodore, or a Computer."

The scientist was finding the man interesting but at the same time extremely dangerous. His choice of verbiage, his mannerism all set off warning bells he couldn't ignore. "So if you are stranded here," he began questioning, "why is it you are having to earn your keep?"

"We Molai are many things, but never are we louts," Kanoa replied with an edge to his voice. It was a stereotype that Elasians held about his people, that they were backwards primitives who were not productively exploiting their home system, and though the bounty hunter had no reason to believe that Lixor was speaking from a belief in the speciesist trope, the suggestion was one he had borne his entire life and his defensiveness kicked in. "I have not sailed the galaxy in search of a handout," he further explained.

The scientists eyebrows raised, "Look I just asked a question," he said hear the tone of the man's voice, "wasn't trying to imply anything." Lixor shook his head, "I'm sorry if I offended you but I think I better get back to work."

"No offense taken," Kanoa said with a disarming smile, a quick change of weather from his prior grimace. "No rest for the weary," he quoted, "or is it no rest for the wicked?" He laughed. "Well-met, Lieutenant Bolian. Return to your labors, and I shall return to my pursuit of chance."

Lixor nodded and turned to leave. He tilted his head thinking his last chance meeting with Kona was bazaar to to say the least. If anything he was pleased to be on his way rather than puzzling over the peculiarities of the man.

As the two parted, the Kanoa removed his comm badge again and resumed flipping in the air like a coin, and continued to meander down the corridor.

 

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