Fetch The Constable Me Arse

Posted on Wed Mar 25th, 2020 @ 10:57am by Captain Enalia Telvan & Lieutenant Commander Mnhei'sahe Dox & Ensign Fiona O'Dell
Edited on on Wed Mar 25th, 2020 @ 11:16am

Mission: Back Down the Long Ladder
Location: Mariposa, Township of Dunwich
Timeline: 2397

Mariposa: Now

"THE FOOK D'YE MEAN YUIR NOT COOMIN?!?"

Currently throwing a tirade in the office of the constabulary in the town of Dunwich, Duncan O'Dell, recently self-declared 'Laird of the O'Dell clan' was having a bad day that kept getting worse. And as Duncan tended to do in such times, he was not suffering quietly. "Yuir the bloody constable! Tis your bluiddy joab! Now get offa yuir arse, get yuir bluiddy nightstick or whaivvir it is we issue ye and get oop to me house to throw these people offa me property before I round up a band of stout lads an-'"

"Ohhhhh,. noow hold on 'ere joost a tetch, Dooncan. D'ya know joost who 'tis in yuir hoose reet noow?" the constable puffed his pipe gently, savoring the tobacco's cherry flavor blend he preferred. "That's Enalia fookin Telvan in yuir hoose. Ye have innnny idea who she is a'tall?"

"Pooshy loudmouthed woman who dinna know her place wi' teats the size'a me fist from bluiddy Staaarfleet, that's who! And she brought a whore, an ogre and a pair of hobgoblins with her!" Duncan continued his agitated pacing, the wide broad paunchy barfly's pate glistening with sweat. "So throw 'em the fook oota me house!"

"Here," the constable slid the keyboard tray out from under his desk and tapped a few keys, and above his desk a video presentation holographically projected. "Watch this afore ye say innything else ye might nae live ta regret, y'ken?"

As the holographics lit up, a massive snowglobe of a space station panned in, zipping past more than two dozen ships ranging from modified Miranda class cruisers to Trill system patrol craft to Mughi class cargo carriers to zoom in towards one of the top stories of the silver castle that acted as the central pillar of the station that seemed to dwarf almost any Federation starbase.

When it finished panning in through a window, it settled on the image of the woman that was currently sitting in Duncan's house, wielding a sword one-handed and wearing a white and platinum military-style suit holding off a dozen Gorn and Naussican pirates with relative ease. With a wink at the camera, in one smooth motion, she sheathed her sword, pulled out a pair of antique phase pistols, and fired pulses in sweeping arcs at each of the people she was facing, not missing a single person.

When she was done, she holstered her pistols and stepped up to the camera with a smile so bright, it literally sparkled. "Hi, I'm Queen Enalia Telvan of the newly reformed Artan Empire. Are you being bothered by pirates? Is the Syndicate pestering you? Did your crops fail and you need food to survive the winter? Do you need medical assistance due to infighting with your family? Because of our policy of almost unconditionally helping people and assisting people with their freedoms, we can help! Please contact your nearest Artan representative at one of the subspace frequencies listed below. We'll strive to come to an amicable agreement with whatever or whomever you're having issues with."

As Enalia in the holo was talking, she had walked out of the combat arena and into a lavish lounge filled with ornate teacups, hand-carved furniture, thousands of paper books, and what looked like a fireplace the size of a warp core. "And if we can't come to an arrangement with your harasser..." Here she paused and picked up the freshly butchered heart of a targ served to her on a silver platter by a maid, squeezing it until it exploded all over her. "Well... Let's just say they won't be harassing you anymore." As the video transitioned to a series of sponsor logos and contact information, plus something about no live animals being harmed in the recording of this holo, her smile hadn't faded, even though her face had been splattered with targ blood, which only made her look a bit more sinister.

"That's... bloody horrible. Who the fook are the Artan..." Duncan began, as the constable tapped another key and a news article with starmaps, fleet numbers and data popped up.

"S'a fookin... wait, they've got stellar territory, they're an actual space power?" Duncan bellowed in disbelief. "And that madwoman with the heart there, that's-"

Another two keys tapped, and the dual image appeared of the blood-spattered pirate queen, side by side with the Starfleet captain in her official photo. Both were easily recognizable as the same woman.

"Boot... th'fook's she doin in Starfleet? The fook's she doin' in mah den?!?"

Puffing serenely at his pipe, the constable laid out the facts. "Yeh had yuir faather cremated within hours of his death, and the man weren't burnt afore ye had the ring on yuir finger and declarin yuirself laird. Then the will canna be found. Then ye start callin yuir relatives ta tell 'em the news, and ye banished seven people."

"Eleven. I told Fetgie and his entire ratfaced lot they were ne'er ta darken me door agin," Duncan corrected. "Alreet, so Ah may have been a wee bit rash in a few 'a my decisions. But how does that suddenly rate a bluiddy starship captained by Bloody fookin Mary a'the stars ta come draggin her menagerie inta me den?"

"Ye could try taaalkin ta the padre what called 'em, Fadder Kelly Dooncan Doyle Walsh O'Reilly the Tird," the constable explained. "Boot witht he quickness this came on? I think they bribed the padre inta goin along with it joost to have an excuse. Boot the thing is, if t'were the case. the padre'd nivvir confess to it. Because," Tapping a key, the image of the bloody queen popped up holographically above his desk again.

"What'd I ivvir do to deserve sooch piss luck," Duncan grumbled.

"Did ye nae hear me the first time, potato ears? Yeh had yer faather cremated wi'in hours of his death..."