I Had A Plan For That
Posted on Jul 08, 2019 @ 5:05am by Iphigenia Bonviva
Edited on on Jul 08, 2019 @ 5:05am
Mission: Last Days of Empire
“I Had A Plan For That”
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Penny: I always tear up when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes.
Sheldon: Tears seem appropriate. Enlargement of the heart muscle, or hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, is a serious disease which can lead to congestive heart failure.
--From “The Big Bang Theory”
=/\=
Location: USS PHOENIX
Stardate: [2.19]0707.2232
Scene: The Vulgar Tribble
“I had a plan for that, Aunt Iphie.”
Iphie Bonviva glared at the youngest anklebiter from her sister’s spawns and folded her arms. “Ben,” she said with a tone that would have intimidated Calvin and Hobbes but clearly not any of the Bonviva-hyphenated offspring, “I don’t care what “plans” you think you had. You cannot just walk up to Kass and declare your plans for galaxy-wide Tribble domination.”
Ben, slurping down a large frosty concoction widened his blue eyes knowing that most adults still found him on the slight edge of precious. “It’s saving the Tribbles, not galaxy-wide Tribble domination.”
“You say “bat-lay”, I say “bat-leth”,” Iphie shrugged as she wiped down the counters.
“No one says, “bat-lay”,” Ben replied.
Turning to the other anklebiter, the chef/bartender was going to say one thing and then noticed a heinous crime. The sullen teenager had her black boots propped up on a newly cleaned table. called out. “Yo,” Iphie yelled over to Dahlia. “Feet off my table.”
Dahlia barely lifted up her eyelashes to try a withering golden glare at her aunt. Anymore effort -- such as words or removing the aforementioned feet -- were not even worth an effort from the teenager.
“Yeah, I know you heard me. *Remove*. *Your*. *Feet*. *From*. *MY*. *Table*,” Iphie glared as she marched over to her niece.
Dahlia continued her glare as she sipped her fruit water, and furthermore slipped on some kind of earpiece into each ear, indicating she was done with the conversation.
Marching over to her niece, Iphie yanked the earbuds out of Dahlia’s ears. “Listen, if you’re going to ignore me, then put the music on,” she pointed out. “I am *not* the person you’re pissed at. And I am *not* the person you’re at war with. Ergo, I am not the person who you put your stanky feet up on a damn clean table. And girlfriend, there are far better ways to get your stepfather’s attention than sticking your appendages on tables.”
Dahlia, doing her best not to be interested, yanked back her earphones. “And how would you know?”
“I infuriated your mother long before you were a twinkle in their over-ambitious eyes,” Iphie pointed out. “So give me some credit.”
Dahlia considered Iphie for the space for a few moments. “Oohh-kay,” she said drawing out the word for as long as she could. The Bolian/Bajoran/Human teenager nibbled on her lower lip and said, “And you’re with me--”
“I’m catching up,” Iphie tried to explain. Waving her hands around she said, “With *both* of you.”
The teenager nodded along at that, as one would with a slightly imbalanced person. “Uh-huh. *Both* of us you say.” Pausing for a moment she asked, “Aunt Iphie? Where’s Ben?”
Iphie turned to her left, expecting to find him still on the stool slurping on the virgin blue raspberry daiquiri. Virgin blue raspberry daiquiri was still there, chair was spinning...but there was no Ben. “Son of biscuit eater, where is that child,” Iphie muttered. Looking over to the Bynares who regularly worked in the Vulgar Tribble, she called out, “Yo, Calvin and Hobbes, where is Ben?”
Calvin, sporting a fabulous tuxedo t-shirt with blue jeans and bright pink clogs, spoke up first, “01010111 01100101 00100000 01100100 01101111 01101110 00100111 01110100 00100000 01101011 01101110 01101111 01110111 00100000 01110111 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110011 01101000 01101111 01110010.”
Hobbes, complimenting Calvin’s choices by wearing a pink denim shirt, black tuxedo pants and Mary Jane shoes, continued on the train of thought, “01110100 00100000 01101111 01101110 01100101 00100000 01101001 01110011 00101100 00100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 00100000 01101000 01100001 01100100 00100000 01101000 01101001 01101101.”
Iphie glared at her associates. “I had him? What do you mean I had him? He’s my nephew, not a souffle.”
Just as Iphie, Calvin and Hobbes were going to continue this conversation (much to Dahlia’s amusement), they heard from behind them:
“I really think I need to go down to the surface. More people need to understand about protecting the Tribbles. And as the Founder and President of “Save The Tribble Society” I feel I should go there to do that. Sir. Captain.”
“Dudes, do we have popcorn?” Dahlia stage-whispered to Calvin and Hobbes as she kept her feet propped up on the table while leaning back.
Iphie ignored the urge to slap her forehead as she turned around. Seeing the utterly not-amused face of one Cap’n Homie (aka Michael Turlogh Kane) facing an unusually serious Ben Bonviva-Crichton, Iphie moved forward. While it was nigh impossible to judge things from Cap’n Homie’s face alone, she got the feeling the CO had been there for awhile and had been watching the family drama unfold long before Ben decided to approach him. “Cap’n Homie, you’re here for your tea and bacon sammiches.” Placing an arm under his elbow she tried to guide him towards the bar.
“What are you doing, Chef Bonviva?” Michael Kane asked firmly.
Iphie rolled her gray eyes. “Cap’n Homie, either you can wait at the bar while I grab your meal, which I would have delivered to you like I normally do. Or you can stand here and discuss the “Save the Tribble Society” with Ben.” Trying to move him again she said, “Ugh, I’ve handled drunk Kazons who were more graceful.”
Michael Kane simply raised an eyebrow at Iphie Bonviva. Iphie countered with her own raised eyebrow. “Yay, we can both raise an eyebrow,” she said.
The CO was about to reassert himself as, well, just that; the *Commanding Officer* of this ship. Tugging his uniform top (a clear sign that he was ready to be very official), Kane’s eyes drifted to the other side of the Vulgar Tribble. It was just over two years ago that he had his first, and to date, only civil conversation with the children’s mother; a woman he had known for well over a decade. It had been a meandering conversation but one comment struck him now:
“My children primarily still live with me, but if they *had* to they could come here, right? If they couldn’t live with me, that is.”
It was a nakedly personal plea from a woman who was known to be political, something that struck Kane then as it did now as he remembered it, much to his dismay. Mostly because Ambassador Xana Bonviva (Dahlia and Ben’s mother) did not make personal pleas (and certainly not to him). The universe could be a small place; it was not a secret now that Xana was terminally ill; the rumor mill was that she didn’t have much time left in this galaxy. If Jake Crichton, as her ex-husband knew how much time she had left, then he hadn’t confided that to Kane. Looking at the table where they had their last conversation, Michael wondered if Xana knew two years ago of her diagnosis and that was the impetus for her clearing the way for Dahlia and Ben to come aboard the PHOENIX.
Kane looked again at Ben and Dahlia. He wasn’t a Counselor; but it didn’t take a psychology degree to figure out that a young boy trying to save Tribbles and a teenage girl angry at the universe were clearly trying to work through some rather large issues. However, he also knew he wasn’t the one to help them. “As Commanding Officer, Ben, my primary responsibility is to ensure all members of the USS PHOENIX, including civilians such as you and your sister, remain safe. That is why I cannot allow you to go to the surface.” Pausing for a moment he added, “Even if it is for...philanthropic measures.”
“Okay,” Ben sighed. Realizing he wasn’t going to get anywhere else the young boy went back to his frosty beverage.
Iphie suddenly appeared again at Kane’s elbow, this time with a thermos of what he guessed was tea and a wrapped parcel. “Cap’n Homie won’t come to the Chef, the Chef will come to Cap’n Homie.”
“Yes, that is usually how this works. Thank you,” he pointed out as he accepted the parcels. With that Kane turned and walked towards the exit. It was only as he was just about to leave did he remember something else. Stopping he turned back around and called
out. “Chef Bonviva?”
“Oh Cap’n Homie,” Iphie parried back as she stopped setting up service for the next meal to look up.
Kane resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her antics and continued on with his thought. “We have a new CMO, Dr. Allison Samson.”
Iphie perked up at that as she went leaping over the bar and then dashing across the Vulgar Tribble in a move that Kane didn’t know the Chef was possible making. “Cap’n Homie! Why don’t you ever start with these things? What’s she like? What’s her favorite food? Favorite drink? Why didn’t you tell me this earlier -- I should have stocked up on more things if I knew.”
“She is a highly trained and skilled doctor,” Kane replied coolly.
Iphie now did slap her forehead. “You know that isn’t what I meant. Cap’n Homie, you know what your problem is?”
“This conversation I’ve let go on for too long?”
“Well two things, that furrowed brow you’ve let develop into a permanent ridge in between your eyebrows. And you need to unwind. I’m thinking...Delta Quadrant Games. No? What about Beta Quadrant Arts Night?” Iphie wondered. Perking up she said, “Thanks for approving
it.”
“I’m leaving now,” Kane muttered as he turned to leave. “Goodbye Chef Bonviva and I didn’t approve your appreciation night.”
“Bye Cap’n Homie,” Iphie waved. “And you didn’t say “no” so you approved it!”
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NRPG: It’s been awhile since people have heard from Iphie...and that she’s had a chat with our CO. The Appreciation Night (TBD) won’t happen until next R&R so no worries. There’s lots of fun with the mission first ;-)
Fun fact: I use a English to Binary translator for Calvin and Hobbes (because I am that geeky) which can be found here
https://lingojam.com/EnglishtoBinary
Jerome: I hope I did right by Kane. It’s been a while since I’ve written for Kane and Iphie together :) The scene where Kane remembers Xana asking for the kids to come aboard is from a JP you and I did 2 years ago called “New Points of View” (which I only found because I couldn’t remember what kind of sandwiches Kane liked lol)
Shauna: Welcome aboard. There’s no urgency to writing for Iphie. She’s the resident Chef/Bartender for our Ten Forward (aka The Vulgar Tribble).
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Sarah Albertini-Bond
Iphie Bonviva
Chef/Bartender
The Vulgar Tribble
