Fancy Tunes

Posted on Thu Sep 17th, 2026 @ 5:23am by Chief Engineer Michael Burnstein & Kaelan & Mykaia Kylo-Zahn

Mission: Veils
Location: Lounge
4579 words - 9.2 OF Standard Post Measure

The conversation had continued after the toast, but when the doctor excused herself for a necessity break, an empty gap seemed to hang open, and so making a quick social calculation, T'Ango decided now was the time to push for singing as she sensed the proposal would have further stressed the tightly wound doctor. This way she might be drawn in, at least to watch the fun when she came back, or she'd have a chance to nope out without having to deal with Kaelan saying anything. Or, adding into the calculation her lover's normal reluctance to sing in public, there might be an opportunity for him to speak with Reynolds and clear the air of whatever had her freaked out about their visit. After all, he was good at listening and helping. When she'd been closed off and just looking for an honorable way to die in action, he'd found a way to just ...be there and become a sort of human-shaped life preserver.

So after taking the last sip of her drink and licking the cream from her whiskers, she set the glass down and smiled. "I think it's time for some songs. Kaelan, I don't know how much you know about Dosadi, but we love music - we play it aboard our ships, even in combat. In fact when I first met Burnie and found out he had music blasting on earbuds under his hearing protection at the shooting range, I knew he was my kind of people."

"Right back at you," Burnie said, tipping his glass toward her with a grin.

"Yes. And every social gathering involves singing!" She cast a sidelong grin at Gunnar. "Pay no attention to that put on dread in this one's expression. When he was stationed on Dosad, he joined right in."

"When everyone else was singing," Gunnar amended. "I do like music, I was even in a choral group back home. I just don't care for soloing."

"But you have a good voice. And you said you would," T'Ango insisted, turning Big Kitty Eyes on him.

Gunnar shook his head, but more at himself since he knew he was going to fold. At least he could choose a song that would get him out of performing more than a line. With a small 'you asked for it' smile he began singing in a light tenor, "Soft kitty, warm kitty -"

T'Ango's tail swung up and bapped him on the head. "Not that one."

Gunnar laughed. "That's what you get for using the kitty eyes. I sang. If you want me to get up and do karaoke, I'm going to need another drink or three."

"Fine." She threw a mock pout at him, then turned to Kaelan with a bright smile. "Do Denobulans sing too? You seem like someone who would enjoy a song fest."

"Oh, do we ever!" Kaelan declared with instant, unadulterated delight as he leaned back and rested his forearms against the table. "Music is woven into the very bedrock of Denobulan history. In the ancient days, before we emerged fully into the sunlight, our ancestors lived within Denobula's colossal subterranean cave systems. Out in those pitch-black, twisting caverns, sight was a luxury, but sound was survival. The elders at the central hearth would sing long, polyphonic melodies—partly to serve as an acoustic beacon so family members could navigate their way back through the dark, but equally as an open invitation. If a lost traveler or a weary stranger heard a song reverberating off the rock walls, they knew they there was a sanctuary within reach where warmth and safety awaited them."

He beamed at T'Ango, warming to his topic theatrical gravitas. "Because acoustic resonance across vast underground chasms a broad spectrum of frequencies, Denobulan singing evolved into a style somewhat reminiscent of Terran yodeling—a rapid, multi-octave modulation designed to carry for kilometers. Naturally, given that our hearth gatherings lasted several standard weeks, our songs are built for endurance and involve a lot of polyphony by multiple vocalists at once. Take one of my absolute favorites, a classic folk ballad titled 'The Seven Moons of Xantheer.' It clocks in at a comparatively brisk forty-two verses, featuring several rather demanding polyphonic yodeling movements in the second part alone."

Kaelan paused, a twinkle of self-deprecating humor in his eyes. "Regrettably, despite our boundless enthusiasm, Denobulan vocal arts have never quite achieved mainstream galactic acclaim. It turns out that the particular harmonic frequencies required for high-velocity subterranean navigation have a well-documented tendency to induce acute auditory migraines in roughly seventy-three percent of other humanoid species. The Denobulan Fine Arts Committee has had, in fact, a standing petition with  Starfleet Medical for the last one hundred and fifty years—requesting the development of a temporary neurological dampener so off-worlders might enjoy our cultural heritage without suffering severe acoustic nausea. Yet every single time, Starfleet Medical politely responds that they have 'more pressing interstellar health priorities' to attend to. Do they not understand that music is medicine for the soul?"

He chuckled warmly, casting a playful, inquiring look toward the small stage and its vintage microphone. "Though I assure you, if the group is feeling brave—and I have another White Cardassian or two—I would be delighted to perform verses fourteen to twenty. It is the dramatic counterpoint, where the second moon sets, and it only requires a modest amounts of vocal reverberation!"

"I'd rather avoid having to completely refit the accoustic holofield," Kaia quipped, having appeared to collect the recent round of empty glasses without making any obvious sounds of approach. Curtis twitted her about it, the ability to get from one point to the other in complete silence but, having known no difference all her life and rarely been called out for it in the past, Mykaia had arrived at the conclusion that it was just a Risian thing. Right now, another cultural gift came in the form of a ridiculous amount of prior experience with the kind of things people sang after they'd had a few.

She paused to direct a look at Kaelan that was, at its most basic intent, inclined to convey an accusatory you're-not-telling-the-whole-story.

"The engineer in the room might like some forewarning too before you start stress-testing the emitters," she added dryly, arching her eyebrows as she neatly stacked the last of the glasses onto her tray. "Or shall I just log it now as an 'unanticipated Denobulan harmonic surge' and save us all the paperwork later?"

Kaia paused a beat and then the faintest hint of a smirk betrayed her.

"Ideally, if you're about to attempt multi-octave subterranean navigation acoustics in a room calibrated for casual Terran karaoke, I'd at least like the opportunity to reinforce the resonance buffers first."

Kaelan placed a hand flat over his chest in a gesture of profound, mock-offended dismay, his brow ridges arching dramatically.

"Mykaia, my dear, you wound me!" he proclaimed. "Where, pray tell, has that glorious Risian appreciation for uninhibited joy and sensory celebration gone? Or..." He paused, his dark eyes narrowing as he leaned in slightly, "...is this hesitation perhaps still a lingering afterthought owing to what happened during Cultural Appreciation Week? I assure you that the majority of the biosecurity complaints were withdrawn!"

He let out a hearty, self-amused chuckle before turning his gaze across the table toward the ship's Chief Engineer.

"In any event, I would never dream of subjecting our fine vessel's internal systems to unmitigated acoustic stress without proper technical oversight," Kaelan added. “What say you, Burnie? Must I reign in my acoustic vigor for the structural safety of the lounge and those in attendance?"

The engineer rubbed his chin, eyes rotated upward as though reading equations in his head. While he had no interest in hearing the kind of vocal stylings Kaelen was describing, the problem intrigued him. "Structurally the lounge itself would be fine. I mean, I could set off a sound grenade in here, or a real one," a slight grin twitched at his lips, "and the structure would contain it with no superficial damage." Seeing widened eyes, he quickly added. "Not that I'd want to test that. While the structure would be fine, there would be serious damage to a lot of the internals. Even with just a sound grenade, you'd mess up the acoustic system, not to mention losing a lot of good booze to shattered bottles. And well, there'd be bleeding earsdrums at least for the people inside."

"At least," T'Ango echoed. Her ears had flattened back at the idea.

"Yeah, despite your love using flash-bangs," Burnie cast a teasing grin at his friend, "I doubt you'd enjoy it." He cast an only partly joking look at Kaelen. "Hacking of a marine with claws, would probably not be a great idea. Which isn't to say there aren't solutions," he went on, warming to technical challenge in typical fashion of an engineer oblivious to social considerations while focusing on an interesting problem. "For instance, there are specialty containment force shields for absorbing only specific ranges of energy. And ultimately sound and harmonics are energy. So with a bit of work, some testing, I could rig you a personal containment shield so you could sing a whole Denobulan opera and nothing that would damage anyone or anything else would come through."

T'Ango's ears flipped forward, her own in combat engineering background engaged. "Oh, I bet you could make it self-sustaining too. like that..." she paused; the issue he'd solved with that was to her knowledge still classified, "...one you rigged convert the energy it absorbed to energy reinforcing the field."

"Exactly!" Burnie beamed a smile, which then went a little sideways as he considered further. "Of course, in that case we weren't worried about damage to what was being contained. I'm not sure what the conversion would do to the sonics inside - it might ruin the whole experience for the singer, and while I assume Denobulan eardrums are pretty robust, even if we just contain them, I'd want to know actual limits to be sure the field didn't amplify the sonic frequencies it contained beyond what you could take. Not to mention internal organs. I'm no doctor, but I know from weapons design that any wave amplified enough can really mess up soft tissue... " His gaze returned to the Denobulan in question. "But if you want to pursue it when we both have time later on, I'm willing. Plus, if the field could be modified to open directionally that might make a cool anti-boarder application."

Kaelan blinked, his brow ridges shifting through a rapid series of amused, incredulous ripples before he let out a rich, booming laugh. He raised both hands in a gesture of lighthearted surrender.

"My word, Burnie!" Kaelan exclaimed, his eyes dancing with delight. "Only an engineer could take a completely innocent inquiry regarding an ancient folk ballad and, in under two minutes, seamlessly pivot to sound grenades, internal organ trauma, and specialized anti-boarder military tech!"

He cast a playful, sideways glance towards Dr. Reynolds, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "As vastly compelling as the scientific curiosity of an experimental sonic containment field might be, I fear our dear doctor would not particularly appreciate the sudden spike in her workload. Furthermore, I would vastly prefer not to earn a permanent ban from Mykaia’s establishment before the evening has gained full swing."

He chuckled softly, leaning back against the red leatherette booth with a contented sigh. "So, in the interest of interstellar diplomacy, intact eardrums, and remaining on speaking terms with our Chief Medical Officer, I suppose I shall exercise supreme restraint and restrict myself to far blander—yet infinitely safer—auditory selections tonight. Who is up for a duet?"

"I'm always up for singing," T'Ango volunteered with an enthusiastic grin. "What kind of non-eardrum-rupturing music do you like? My people love ballads - ours a little like earth Celtic ones, but I love all sorts of folk, blues, Klingon power ballads, and there's always earth rock anthems." Saying the last she cast a glance at Burnie, tail twitching.

The engineer grinned back, doing a finger-gun shot on target gesture at her. "You may be right."

T'Ango laughed, chorusing the next line with him. "I may be crazy!" Then they jumped to their favorite verse.

"I've been stranded in the combat zone
I flew through the Neutral Zone alone
Even rode my hovercycle in the rain
And you told me not to drive
But I made it home alive
So you said that only proves that I'm insane!

You may be right
I may be crazy
But it just may be a lunatic you're looking for
Turn out the light
Don't try to save me
You may be wrong for all I know
But you may be right!"

They flashed smiles at each other, recalling past duets on that one, before breaking down laughing.

"So," T'Ango said once she's recovered from a fit of laughter. "What do you want to sing, Kaelen?"

Kaelan clapped his hands together with delighted, rhythmic enthusiasm as their spontaneous duet wrapped up, his brow ridges contracted in high approval.

"Magnificent! Simply sublime!" he declared, beaming at both T'Ango and Burnie. "A classic Terran anthem of unrepentant, joyous eccentricity—performed with such vibrant acoustic conviction!"

As T'Ango turned the question back to him, Kaelan briefly looked at the ceiling, a sudden, inspired epiphany illuminating his features. His dark eyes sparkled with renewed vigor as he tapped a finger thoughtfully against the side of his glass.

"You know, listening to the two of you, a realization has just struck me. A duet is a fine enterprise, yes—but why restrict our musical ambitions to a mere pair?"

He made a sweeping gesture across the entire lounge, his eyes clearly betraying the fact that he considered this the most marvelous idea.

"If we are to take that stage, we require an ensemble piece! Something with driving rhythm, undeniable spirit, and a glorious, infectious celebration of exuberant personal expression!" Kaelan’s smile broadened into a triumphant grin. "I propose a classic piece from twentieth-century Terran musical theater... the title track from Hair!"

He looked between them, thoroughly delighted with his own selection. "It features rhythmic call-and-response dynamics, ample opportunity for harmonic improvisation, and a thematic tribute to uninhibited individuality! Burnie can hold the baseline, T'Ango and I can trade the verses, and Gunnar—given your choral background—your tenor would be absolute perfection on the harmonic chorus! What say you, my friends? Shall we rally the lounge for a proper ensemble revival? We may even motivate others to join our efforts!"

Burnie was tapping his wristpadd, looking for lyrics - he vaguely recalled the musical from one of his mom's history collections, and thought he'd heard that there'd been revival updated for modern times somewhere around the Dominion War, but couldn't remember the title track specifically.

Noting his distraction, and having only slightly better recall of the revival, T'Ango jumped in to answer. "But I'm the only one here with a body fully covered with luxurious hair," she declared with a joking grin, standing and spreading her arms to display her smooth blonde fur. "though Gunnar..." she looked at his seat, which appeared to have suddenly emptied, "...and he's gone." Spotting him at the bar with the doctor, her tail swished thoughtfully. "Though maybe we can entice them both back, or at least get a line of chorus out of them, if you can get the whole place to join in."

"Now, do not speak too soon, my dear T'Ango!" Kaelan chimed in, a finger raised in playful admonition.

With a grand, theatrical flourish of his hands, Kaelan unfastened the top toggle of his tailored diplomatic tunic and parted the fabric, revealing a truly magnificent, remarkably dense thicket of plush chest hair. It looked for all the world as though someone had taken a high-pile bathroom rug and crossed it with an even thicker, luxurious wool carpet, the applied a generous amount of hairspray to attain maximum volume while retaining a healthy sheen.

"Denobulan biology is exceptionally well-endowed in the dermal ornamentation department, I assure you! So you see, between your exquisite coat and my own modest contribution, we already have fifty percent of the visual aesthetic satisfied!"

He adjusted his tunic to reveal the maximum amount of chest hair that decorum allowed given the current level of collective inebriation, turning his gaze towards the less enthusiastic part of the ensemble had sought shelter.

"And as for our tactical retreaters... a chorus of this magnitude is entirely magnetic. No force in the sector will keep them from joining us on stage. Burnie, hit the beat!"

"Alrighty then," Burnie said, entering the selection and fluffing already his habitually messy hair. A moment later the opening chords sounded.

T'Ango and Burnie both got up, taking positions on the karaoke stage, but T'Ango gestured to Kaelen's chest, whispering with a teasing grin, "I think the opening 'hairy guy' lines are for you."

Kaelan accepted the cue to stand in for Claude with a sweeping, courtly bow, practically glowing under the vintage stage lights. As the bassline built into its unmistakable, driving 1960s groove, he strode to center stage, unbuttoning two more toggles on his tunic to display his lush, velvety chest carpet in all its high-volume glory.

”She asks me why
I’m just a hairy guy
I'm hairy noon and night
Hair that's a fright
I'm hairy high and low
Don't ask me why”

Striking a smoldering, theatrical pose usually reserved for mid-century Earth pop icons, he ran a hand through the deep thicket of his chest hair rather than his scalp, running his fingers through the dense pile with hypnotic, slow-motion sensuality, only to then continue the motion fluidly to point at Burnie and T’Ango to cue them in for the Berger part.

"Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here, baby, there, mama
Everywhere, daddy, daddy"

As Burnie and T'Ango traded the rhythm lines and vocal calls behind him, Kaelan took two steps forward, rhythmically running his hands along his sternum, accentuating every swell of the music with a subtle, hips-swiveling bounce.

“A home for fleas
A hive for bees
A nest for birds
There ain't no words
For the beauty, the splendor, the wonder of my
Hair”

He didn't stay anchored to the stage for long. Driven by the uninhibited spirit of the anthem, Kaelan lightly hopped off the low wooden platform with surprising agility for a man of his stature, gliding over to the polished mahogany counter. With a fluid, "Coyote Ugly"-inspired sweep of his arm, he stepped directly onto the bar top—taking care not to disturb a single drink—and began a broad, confident strut right down the length of the counter.

”They'll be gaga at the go-go when they see me in my toga
My toga made of blonde, brilliantined, biblical hair
My hair like Jesus wore it
Hallelujah, I adore it
Hallelujah, Mary loved her son
Why don't my mother love me?”

As he glided along the synthetic wood, Kaelan bent low to strike a theatrical pose over a table of startled patrons, running a hand through his chest thicket and winking down at them to draw them into the melody. He offered Mykaia a suave, synchronized shoulders-and-hips shake as he passed the taps, gesturing for the surrounding crew to join in as the song built toward its triumphant, swelling chorus. By the time the beat reached its crescendo, half the lounge was clapping to the cadence, completely caught up in the unapologetic celebration of natural splendor.

”Hair
Flow it
Show it
Long as God can grow it, my Hair
Flow it
Show it
Long as God can grow it, my
Hair
Flow it
Show it
Long as God can grow it, my
Hair”


As the song ended Burnie and T'Ango high-fived, laughing out loud.

"That was something!" Burnie gasped with laughter, leaning over to recover his breath.

"It was," T'Ango agreed, watching as Kaelen hopped off the bar. The response to 'Hair' had gotten her competitive nature going. "Which means we have to top it." Her tail swished, thinking. "Let's do 'The Time Warp'," she grinned at him, "again!"

The engineer's brows rose. "From 'Rocky Horror'? You do remember that Q made us do that? And that he made me Frankie?"

"Yes," T'Ango's grin grew, eyes sliding briefly to the bar where a blonde head was ducked down with a hand shielding his face, before returning full force back at Burnie. "And you were Fabulous!"

"And Gunnar was the Monster," Burnie said, having caught where her eyes had darted. "You want to send a message: join in or the songs will get worse."

She looked up innocently, tail swishing lightly. "Maybe..." She turned kitty eyes on him. "Please? He needs to stop being so serious and have some fun. Besides, it's so cute when he blushes."

Burnie laughed. Gunnar was a friend, but so was T'Ango, and far be it from him to derail however this fit into their weird romance. "Okay, I'm in." He found the song and queued it up. "Hey, Kaelen, we're doing the Time Warp!" he called.

Kaelan’s face illuminated with absolute, unadulterated ecstasy at the mention of the cult classic. "The Time Warp?!" he exclaimed, quickly adjusting his tunic just to keep his chest thicket tastefully framed. "Count me in!"

Both T'Ango and Burnie turned the backs to the room. As the music began, Burnie half turned. ""It's astounding! Time is fleeting!" He turned fully. "Madness... takes its toll! But listen closely..."

"Not for very much longer..." T'Ango purred, turning and sliding up next to him.

"I've got to... keep control!" Burnie lifted his hands then threw himself into a wild dance step, singing,

"I remember!! Doing the Time Warp!
Drinking those moments when
The blackness would hit me"

T'Ango joined him, singing, "And the void would be calling..."

They spun toward each other and putting their palms together and sliding them up to elbows together, ending with their hands over their heads.

"Let's do the Time Warp again
Let's do the Time Warp again!"

Burnie grinned, speaking the next line to the audience in the lounge. "It's just a jump to the left."

They hopped left in unison. Kaelan, taking his cue with grand enthusiasm, executed an exaggerated hop to the left that nearly carried him into an adjacent booth, his hands thrown skyward.

"Then a step the riiiiighhtt!" they sang, sliding the step.

"Put your hands on your hips..." Burnie explained in announcer vioce, demonstrating.

"And put your knees in tiiiggghht!" they continued together, dancing the moves. "It's the pelvic thruuusst that really drives you insaaanneee!" T'Ango moved a finger pointing at Burnie's head in a circular motion as they and Kaelen and a number of the patrons joined in the chorus.

Kaelan threw himself into the pelvic thrust with uninhibited vigor, his brow ridges undulating in rhythmic harmony with the bassline as he led a cluster of cheering patrons through the movement like a bare chested drill sergeant.

"Let's do the Time Warp again
Let's do the Time Warp again!"

Stepping forward, T'Ango ran hands sensuously down her body and spinning across the stage to gracefully walk across the tops of unoccupied chairs as she sang,

"It's so dreamy
Oh fantasy free me
So you can't see me
No not at all
In another dimension
With voyeuristic intension
Well secluded
I'll see all" She widened her eyes, looking straight toward Gunnar, who was shaking his head but smiling.

"With a bit of a mind flip," Burnie sang, tossing his head as he pranced into the middle of the lounge.

"You're into the time slip," T'Ango sang, joining him.

"And nothing can ever be the same," Burnie continued, in an eerie tone.

T'Ango sprang onto the bar. "You're spaced out on sensation"

"Like you're under sedation!" The engineer wailed, doing air guitar, before they and even more of the crowd chorused

"Let's do the Time Warp again
Let's do the Time Warp again"

As the crowd roared through the chorus once more, Kaelan turned on his heel to strike a grand, hands-on-hips pose toward the lounge’s main entryway—only for his theatrical expression to freeze instantly.

Framed in the doorway stood a familiar figure who had clearly just stepped in seeking a quiet drink: Amariah. The scoundrel’s dark hair was slightly windblown, and for one brief, agonizing second, her dark eyes locked right onto Kaelan's in the middle of his flamboyant dance step.

Her nose ridges contracted in sudden, startled recognition. Before Kaelan could even blink, Amariah executed a swift about-face turn on her heel and vanished back out into the dimly lit corridor of the Mary Rose.

Kaelan’s jaw slackened in complete incredulity. Amariah? Here? Aboard this ship?!

Sitting primly on the top of the bar, T'Ango crossed one leg over the other and struck a pose, singing the lines from the character Q had once made her play, but this time clearly enjoying it.

"Well I was walking down the street just a having a think
When a snake of a guy gave me an evil wink
He shook-a me up, he took me by surprise
He had a pick-up truck and the devil's eyes"

She slid off and sashayed over to Gunnar, putting her face right up to his.

"He stared at me and I felt a change
Time meant nothing, never would again"

As he broke down laughing, she grabbed his hand, whispering, "If you won't sing, you can at least dance."
With a nod to Evelyn, and a slight eyeroll signaling concession in the game of avoiding performance, he rose and spun her as they danced to the center, singing,

"Let's do the Timewarp again
Let's do the Timewarp again

It's just a jump to the left
And then a step to the right"

While T'Ango successfully dragged Gunnar onto the floor to the delight and applause of the entire lounge, Kaelan rapidly recalibrated. Refusing to break into a full sprint—lest his eyes had played tricks on him or he cause an unnecessary panic over what might be a mere double—he offered Burnie a swift diplomatic bow and tapped Mykaia on the bar counter.

"My deepest apologies, my friends—it seems a matter of pressing personal curiosity requires my immediate attention." Kaelan murmured hastily over the thunderous music, not waiting for a response.

Lengthening his stride into a swift, purposeful march, he slipped past the dancing patrons and out the lounge doors in hot pursuit of the elusive Bajoran.

"With your hands on your hips
You bring your knees in tiiight
But it's the pelvic thruuusst
That really drives you insaaane

Let's do the Time Warp again
Let's do the Time Warp again!"

At the last chorus, they collapsed into their chairs, laughing.

T'Ango looked around with a big grin. "So, Kaelan-" She turned the other way, and then spun around, looking. "...and he's scampered. He's a great singer, but kind of ...what's the earth term?"

"Meshugenah," Burnie suggested.

"Furðufugl," Gunnar offered.

"Yeah, 'odd duck'," T'Ango said translating 'strange bird' to the Standard phrase she'd been looking for. "But he was a lot of fun. And that number was fun." She grinned at Gunnar. "Got you to stop hiding out at the bar."


to be continued....