Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
Note: This story takes place during the episode "Moist Vessel".
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Boimler to the Bone
“Okay, so maybe ‘accidentally’ spilling hot coffee onto Commander Ransom’s lap wasn’t the best idea,” Boimler sighed as he stood inside his favorite supply closet while narrating into a padd. “But it seemed like such a good way to break rules and be bad. I’m lucky Ransom didn’t throw me in the brig for assaulting a superior officer. I could have been court martialed for that!”
“I still don’t understand what I did wrong,” Boimler began to pace around the confined space. “Well okay, I know why spilling hot coffee on someone is wrong. I just can’t figure out why Commander Ransom thought it was wrong. I thought the senior staff likes it when junior officers break rules. Mariner does stuff like that to Ransom all the time! Like when she stuck him to his bridge chair with raw jumja sap or trapped him in a turbolift for six hours with Lieutenant Trainer’s pet arboreal needle snake.”
“Then again, Mariner never causes anyone any physical harm. Well, not lasting harm anyway,” Boimler thought while absently rubbing his thigh. “She mostly just kicks back and gives just enough effort to skate by while doing whatever she wants…” He suddenly paused in realization. “Wait, that’s it! That’s how Mariner got a promotion! She does what she wants, how she wants while still doing the work! She ignores proper protocol, breaks rules and just gets stuff done! That’s her secret! Well it’s my secret now! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Oh, this is gonna be great!” Boimler ended his log entry and eagerly rubbed his hands together. He strode out of the supply closet while muttering to himself maniacally. “If the senior officers thought Mariner excelled at breaking rules and flouting regs, wait till they get a load of me!”
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“That’s it, people. Keep running those diagnostics,” Lieutenant Commander Stevens said as he oversaw a maintenance crew working in the Cerritos’ Auxiliary Control Room. “The reports say none of the equipment in here was affected by the alien terraforming fluid, but it never hurts to double-check…”
“Hello, fellow crewmates!” Boimler entered the room with what he hoped was a swagger. “Ensign Boimler reporting for duty and itching to get to work!”
“Ensign Boimler?” Stevens frowned consulting a padd. “Hmmm, I don’t recall seeing your name on this shift’s duty roster.”
“Oh, it’s not,” Boimler waved. “I thought I’d just drop in and lend a hand. On the wrong shift, if you get my drift.”
“But this shift started hours ago,” Stevens pointed out.
“Oops, guess that means I broke protocol,” Boimler smirked leaning against a console. “‘Cause breaking rules in order to get things done is what I do.”
“Well, no harm Ensign. I won’t report your tardiness this time,” Stevens waved absently. “I’m sure you had other important business to attend to. It’s not like your presence here was missed anyway.”
“Oh,” Boimler’s face sank at the dismissal. “Uh, that’s…great.”
“Now that you are here, why don’t you check for any corruption of the backup security subroutines in the secondary command processor,” Stevens directed.
“Yes, sir. Right away,” Boimler quickly recovered and took a seat at the console.
“Excellent. Once that’s done we can finally move on to analyzing the main computer core…” Stevens trailed off glancing over Boimler’s shoulder. “Ensign, I told you to check the subroutines in the secondary command processor. You’re working on the subroutines in the starboard command processor.”
“Yes I am,” Boimler grinned cheekily. “The secondary command processor only deals with minor stuff like isolinear controllers and the ship’s self-destruct sequence. I figured why bother working on such dull, non-critical systems when there are more important things to focus on?”
“That still goes against my direct instructions, Ensign,” Stevens frowned at him.
“Gee, I guess it does,” Boimler smiled hopefully. “Sorry, I can’t help myself. I just need to break regs by skipping over all the boring, tedious tasks and getting to the main action.”
“I know what you mean,” Stevens nodded. “When there’s exciting maintenance work like this to be done I get a little over-enthusiastic and make simple mistakes too.”
“Exactly…wait, what?” Boimler did a double-take. “No, you don’t understand! I mixed up checking the command processors on purpose!”
“Carry on, Ensign. Keep up the good work,” Stevens waved and moved to monitor other members of the team.
“Aw,” Boimler groaned and began absently poking at his console. “Okay, no more Mister Nice Guy! Remember, superior officers like it when junior officers are bad. Let’s see how they like this!”
“Oh, Ensign. Can you run a recursive algorithm on memory block fifty-four alpha?” An engineering lieutenant came over to him. “I want to make sure there are no errors in the ship’s recreational database.”
“Eh, I’m kinda busy right now,” Boimler leaned back in his chair. “I just started a little memory purge. I’ll have to run your recursive algorithm later.”
“But a memory purge is usually done after running system algorithms and diagnostics,” The lieutenant looked at him strangely. “According to established engineering procedures, running a memory purge now could remove any signs of corrupt circuit pathways or programming anomalies.”
“Well, maybe I don’t feel like following procedure this time,” Boimler smiled folding his hands behind his head. “Right now, I feel like mixing it up and trying something new! Gotta enjoy living dangerously, ya know.”
“And you think that’s a good thing?” The lieutenant gave him a weird look.
“Is it?” Boimler asked hopefully.
“No, but it’s not bad either,” The lieutenant shrugged noncommittally. “Still, I suppose we could try it and compare the results to previous purges. We can always restore any missing computer programs from the protected archives in the main core. Hmmm, I may even write a memo about this.”
“That’s nice…WHAT?!” Boimler yelped as the lieutenant walked off. “Wait! Will you mention my name in your memo too? I’m the one who gave you the idea!”
“How’s that check on the command processor going, Ensign?” Stevens asked returning to his side.
“Oh, it’s going just fine, sir,” Boimler got a wicked gleam in his eye and quickly worked the console. “As you can see, I’m running a comprehensive test of the computer’s memory banks.”
“It looks more like you’re playing three-dimensional chess,” Stevens pointed at a display.
“Well, yeah,” Boimler grinned tapping on a panel. “What better way to make sure the computer is operating at peak efficiency…what the? Checkmate?! But I only made eight moves!”
“Okay, nice to see the main computer is running smoothly,” Stevens patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, Ensign.”
“No! Wait! That was just a fluke!” Boimler yelped quickly setting up another game. “I can do better! Watch this…agggh! Not again!”
“Okay, Ensign. We all see how great you are at testing the computer’s memory,” Stevens said patiently. “Why don’t you help Ensign Schultz run a systems diagnostic on the navigational controls.”
“Eh, I’ll do it later,” Boimler waved and whipped out his secret weapon. “It’s snack time!”
“Oooh, what’s that?” One of the enlisted engineers watched as Boimler opened a compact package.
“Tofu-kale-quinoa wraps,” Boimler grinned holding one up and taking a bite. “Mmmm, just like Mom used to make.”
“Hey, that reminds me, it’s about time we took a break,” Stevens smiled and addressed the rest of the maintenance team. “Let’s knock off early and I’ll treat you all to plates of Bajoran shrimp scampi with lemon linguine and extra cheese!”
“HUH?!” Boimler’s eyes bulged and began choking on his quinoa wrap.
“Yay!” The entire maintenance team cheered. “That’s very generous of you, sir! I’ve never had Bajoran shrimp before!”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Stevens smiled heading for the door. “I just got the replicator program for it from a friend on Deep Space Nine and it hasn’t been widely distributed throughout the rest of the ship’s database yet.”
“Gahhh!” Boimler gagged and desperately attempted to clear his throat.
“Oh, Ensign. Since you’ve already brought your own meal and reported for duty late, you can stay here and monitor Auxiliary Control for a while,” Stevens told Boimler as he led everyone else out of the room. “Just mind the store and don’t approve of any power transfer requests while I’m gone. I’ll look over any requests that come in when I get back.”
“But…but…but…” Boimler protested as everyone else left. “No! Agggh!” He banged his head on a console. “Why me? Why me?”
“Arnemann to Auxiliary Control.”
“Huh?” Boimler raised his head and pressed a button. “Uh, this is Auxiliary Control.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I know this isn’t proper protocol, but I need a favor,” The voice of one of the Cerritos’ primary child-care instructors continued. “I’m having trouble running an interactive holoprogram for my class. The recent, sudden terraforming of the ship gave all the kids a real fright and I’d hoped a group holoprogram would help calm them down.”
“I see,” Boimler said bringing up the relevant information. “What do you need?”
“Enough power to run the program, the classroom’s food replicator and adjust the environmental controls just a tad,” Arnemann reported. “The kids enjoy holoprograms more when they are most comfortable.”
“Gee, that would take about one point eight megawatts,” Boimler quickly ran some calculations. “I don’t have authority to transfer that much power at this time.”
“Please?” Arnemann pleaded over the comm. “It’s for the children.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t approve your request…” Boimler trailed off as he realized his opportunity. “…but I can let you have one point two megawatts.”
“Oh, thank you!” Arnemann could be heard smiling over the comm. “The holo-resolution might not be great, but we’ll make do. Thanks again!”
“No problem,” Boimler grinned closing the comm. “Yes! I did it! I finally did it! Whoo-hoo!” He leapt up and did a happy dance. “I finally broke the rules and ignored a direct order for the greater good all by myself! And it felt great! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
Boimler excitedly skipped about while rapidly talking to himself. “This is it! The act that will finally earn me a promotion! I can practically feel the extra pip being pinned on my collar right now! Yeah, I’m bad! I’m the man! I broke the rules, ignored protocol and I want everybody to know it!”
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice broke through his revelry. “What did you just say?”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked coming back to his senses. He looked around and saw he had skipped out into the corridor outside of Auxiliary Control. A tall, imposing bald-headed admiral stood in front of him accompanied by Commander Ransom and an aide. “Uh oh…”
“Did I hear you correctly?” Admiral Vassery fixed Boimler with a look. “Did you just admit to breaking Starfleet regulations and brag about your air-oars?”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean, I can explain!” Boimler babbled desperately. “It wasn’t what it sounded like…wait a second,” He blinked in confusion. “Are you trying to say ‘errors’?”
“I do not believe any explanation is necessary,” Vassery glared at him while ignoring the question. “You are obviously a lazy, undisciplined young man who has no respect for authority or interest in following the rules.”
“Eh?!” Boimler twitched. “But…but…”
“I can see you clearly do not deserve to be considered for promotion during your next personnel evaluation,” Vassery sniffed haughty. “You should show your superiors more respect and aim to follow their example. Why I myself am here to present two of your senior office-oars with medals and commendations. Captain Carol Freeman and…who was the other name?”
“Lieutenant Mariner, sir,” Ransom provided.
“YOU’RE GIVING MARINER A MEDAL?!” Boimler shrieked.
“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Vassery nodded. “Good office-oar, that one. At the rate she’s going she may soon earn herself another promotion.”
“EEEP!” Boimler looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
“I strongly suggest you strive to model yourself on your captain and the lieutenant Commander Ransom just mentioned,” Vassery gave Boimler a final dismissive look before turning and heading off down the corridor followed by his aide. “You could learn a lot from them about duty, discipline and going above and beyond in or-door to follow proper Starfleet protocol.”
“AAAGGGHHHHHHHHH!” Boimler screamed and began repeatedly banging his head against a bulkhead. “I CAN’T STAND IT! I JUST CAN’T STAND IT! WHY ME? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?”
“Sheesh, what a nut,” Commander Ransom walked away shaking his head. “Why can’t he be more like Mariner?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
Note: This story takes place during the episode "Moist Vessel".
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Boimler to the Bone
“Okay, so maybe ‘accidentally’ spilling hot coffee onto Commander Ransom’s lap wasn’t the best idea,” Boimler sighed as he stood inside his favorite supply closet while narrating into a padd. “But it seemed like such a good way to break rules and be bad. I’m lucky Ransom didn’t throw me in the brig for assaulting a superior officer. I could have been court martialed for that!”
“I still don’t understand what I did wrong,” Boimler began to pace around the confined space. “Well okay, I know why spilling hot coffee on someone is wrong. I just can’t figure out why Commander Ransom thought it was wrong. I thought the senior staff likes it when junior officers break rules. Mariner does stuff like that to Ransom all the time! Like when she stuck him to his bridge chair with raw jumja sap or trapped him in a turbolift for six hours with Lieutenant Trainer’s pet arboreal needle snake.”
“Then again, Mariner never causes anyone any physical harm. Well, not lasting harm anyway,” Boimler thought while absently rubbing his thigh. “She mostly just kicks back and gives just enough effort to skate by while doing whatever she wants…” He suddenly paused in realization. “Wait, that’s it! That’s how Mariner got a promotion! She does what she wants, how she wants while still doing the work! She ignores proper protocol, breaks rules and just gets stuff done! That’s her secret! Well it’s my secret now! Ha, ha, ha!”
“Oh, this is gonna be great!” Boimler ended his log entry and eagerly rubbed his hands together. He strode out of the supply closet while muttering to himself maniacally. “If the senior officers thought Mariner excelled at breaking rules and flouting regs, wait till they get a load of me!”
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“That’s it, people. Keep running those diagnostics,” Lieutenant Commander Stevens said as he oversaw a maintenance crew working in the Cerritos’ Auxiliary Control Room. “The reports say none of the equipment in here was affected by the alien terraforming fluid, but it never hurts to double-check…”
“Hello, fellow crewmates!” Boimler entered the room with what he hoped was a swagger. “Ensign Boimler reporting for duty and itching to get to work!”
“Ensign Boimler?” Stevens frowned consulting a padd. “Hmmm, I don’t recall seeing your name on this shift’s duty roster.”
“Oh, it’s not,” Boimler waved. “I thought I’d just drop in and lend a hand. On the wrong shift, if you get my drift.”
“But this shift started hours ago,” Stevens pointed out.
“Oops, guess that means I broke protocol,” Boimler smirked leaning against a console. “‘Cause breaking rules in order to get things done is what I do.”
“Well, no harm Ensign. I won’t report your tardiness this time,” Stevens waved absently. “I’m sure you had other important business to attend to. It’s not like your presence here was missed anyway.”
“Oh,” Boimler’s face sank at the dismissal. “Uh, that’s…great.”
“Now that you are here, why don’t you check for any corruption of the backup security subroutines in the secondary command processor,” Stevens directed.
“Yes, sir. Right away,” Boimler quickly recovered and took a seat at the console.
“Excellent. Once that’s done we can finally move on to analyzing the main computer core…” Stevens trailed off glancing over Boimler’s shoulder. “Ensign, I told you to check the subroutines in the secondary command processor. You’re working on the subroutines in the starboard command processor.”
“Yes I am,” Boimler grinned cheekily. “The secondary command processor only deals with minor stuff like isolinear controllers and the ship’s self-destruct sequence. I figured why bother working on such dull, non-critical systems when there are more important things to focus on?”
“That still goes against my direct instructions, Ensign,” Stevens frowned at him.
“Gee, I guess it does,” Boimler smiled hopefully. “Sorry, I can’t help myself. I just need to break regs by skipping over all the boring, tedious tasks and getting to the main action.”
“I know what you mean,” Stevens nodded. “When there’s exciting maintenance work like this to be done I get a little over-enthusiastic and make simple mistakes too.”
“Exactly…wait, what?” Boimler did a double-take. “No, you don’t understand! I mixed up checking the command processors on purpose!”
“Carry on, Ensign. Keep up the good work,” Stevens waved and moved to monitor other members of the team.
“Aw,” Boimler groaned and began absently poking at his console. “Okay, no more Mister Nice Guy! Remember, superior officers like it when junior officers are bad. Let’s see how they like this!”
“Oh, Ensign. Can you run a recursive algorithm on memory block fifty-four alpha?” An engineering lieutenant came over to him. “I want to make sure there are no errors in the ship’s recreational database.”
“Eh, I’m kinda busy right now,” Boimler leaned back in his chair. “I just started a little memory purge. I’ll have to run your recursive algorithm later.”
“But a memory purge is usually done after running system algorithms and diagnostics,” The lieutenant looked at him strangely. “According to established engineering procedures, running a memory purge now could remove any signs of corrupt circuit pathways or programming anomalies.”
“Well, maybe I don’t feel like following procedure this time,” Boimler smiled folding his hands behind his head. “Right now, I feel like mixing it up and trying something new! Gotta enjoy living dangerously, ya know.”
“And you think that’s a good thing?” The lieutenant gave him a weird look.
“Is it?” Boimler asked hopefully.
“No, but it’s not bad either,” The lieutenant shrugged noncommittally. “Still, I suppose we could try it and compare the results to previous purges. We can always restore any missing computer programs from the protected archives in the main core. Hmmm, I may even write a memo about this.”
“That’s nice…WHAT?!” Boimler yelped as the lieutenant walked off. “Wait! Will you mention my name in your memo too? I’m the one who gave you the idea!”
“How’s that check on the command processor going, Ensign?” Stevens asked returning to his side.
“Oh, it’s going just fine, sir,” Boimler got a wicked gleam in his eye and quickly worked the console. “As you can see, I’m running a comprehensive test of the computer’s memory banks.”
“It looks more like you’re playing three-dimensional chess,” Stevens pointed at a display.
“Well, yeah,” Boimler grinned tapping on a panel. “What better way to make sure the computer is operating at peak efficiency…what the? Checkmate?! But I only made eight moves!”
“Okay, nice to see the main computer is running smoothly,” Stevens patted him on the shoulder. “Good work, Ensign.”
“No! Wait! That was just a fluke!” Boimler yelped quickly setting up another game. “I can do better! Watch this…agggh! Not again!”
“Okay, Ensign. We all see how great you are at testing the computer’s memory,” Stevens said patiently. “Why don’t you help Ensign Schultz run a systems diagnostic on the navigational controls.”
“Eh, I’ll do it later,” Boimler waved and whipped out his secret weapon. “It’s snack time!”
“Oooh, what’s that?” One of the enlisted engineers watched as Boimler opened a compact package.
“Tofu-kale-quinoa wraps,” Boimler grinned holding one up and taking a bite. “Mmmm, just like Mom used to make.”
“Hey, that reminds me, it’s about time we took a break,” Stevens smiled and addressed the rest of the maintenance team. “Let’s knock off early and I’ll treat you all to plates of Bajoran shrimp scampi with lemon linguine and extra cheese!”
“HUH?!” Boimler’s eyes bulged and began choking on his quinoa wrap.
“Yay!” The entire maintenance team cheered. “That’s very generous of you, sir! I’ve never had Bajoran shrimp before!”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” Stevens smiled heading for the door. “I just got the replicator program for it from a friend on Deep Space Nine and it hasn’t been widely distributed throughout the rest of the ship’s database yet.”
“Gahhh!” Boimler gagged and desperately attempted to clear his throat.
“Oh, Ensign. Since you’ve already brought your own meal and reported for duty late, you can stay here and monitor Auxiliary Control for a while,” Stevens told Boimler as he led everyone else out of the room. “Just mind the store and don’t approve of any power transfer requests while I’m gone. I’ll look over any requests that come in when I get back.”
“But…but…but…” Boimler protested as everyone else left. “No! Agggh!” He banged his head on a console. “Why me? Why me?”
“Arnemann to Auxiliary Control.”
“Huh?” Boimler raised his head and pressed a button. “Uh, this is Auxiliary Control.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I know this isn’t proper protocol, but I need a favor,” The voice of one of the Cerritos’ primary child-care instructors continued. “I’m having trouble running an interactive holoprogram for my class. The recent, sudden terraforming of the ship gave all the kids a real fright and I’d hoped a group holoprogram would help calm them down.”
“I see,” Boimler said bringing up the relevant information. “What do you need?”
“Enough power to run the program, the classroom’s food replicator and adjust the environmental controls just a tad,” Arnemann reported. “The kids enjoy holoprograms more when they are most comfortable.”
“Gee, that would take about one point eight megawatts,” Boimler quickly ran some calculations. “I don’t have authority to transfer that much power at this time.”
“Please?” Arnemann pleaded over the comm. “It’s for the children.”
“I’m sorry, I just can’t approve your request…” Boimler trailed off as he realized his opportunity. “…but I can let you have one point two megawatts.”
“Oh, thank you!” Arnemann could be heard smiling over the comm. “The holo-resolution might not be great, but we’ll make do. Thanks again!”
“No problem,” Boimler grinned closing the comm. “Yes! I did it! I finally did it! Whoo-hoo!” He leapt up and did a happy dance. “I finally broke the rules and ignored a direct order for the greater good all by myself! And it felt great! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!”
Boimler excitedly skipped about while rapidly talking to himself. “This is it! The act that will finally earn me a promotion! I can practically feel the extra pip being pinned on my collar right now! Yeah, I’m bad! I’m the man! I broke the rules, ignored protocol and I want everybody to know it!”
“Excuse me?” An unfamiliar voice broke through his revelry. “What did you just say?”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked coming back to his senses. He looked around and saw he had skipped out into the corridor outside of Auxiliary Control. A tall, imposing bald-headed admiral stood in front of him accompanied by Commander Ransom and an aide. “Uh oh…”
“Did I hear you correctly?” Admiral Vassery fixed Boimler with a look. “Did you just admit to breaking Starfleet regulations and brag about your air-oars?”
“No! I mean, yes! I mean, I can explain!” Boimler babbled desperately. “It wasn’t what it sounded like…wait a second,” He blinked in confusion. “Are you trying to say ‘errors’?”
“I do not believe any explanation is necessary,” Vassery glared at him while ignoring the question. “You are obviously a lazy, undisciplined young man who has no respect for authority or interest in following the rules.”
“Eh?!” Boimler twitched. “But…but…”
“I can see you clearly do not deserve to be considered for promotion during your next personnel evaluation,” Vassery sniffed haughty. “You should show your superiors more respect and aim to follow their example. Why I myself am here to present two of your senior office-oars with medals and commendations. Captain Carol Freeman and…who was the other name?”
“Lieutenant Mariner, sir,” Ransom provided.
“YOU’RE GIVING MARINER A MEDAL?!” Boimler shrieked.
“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Vassery nodded. “Good office-oar, that one. At the rate she’s going she may soon earn herself another promotion.”
“EEEP!” Boimler looked like he was about to have a heart attack.
“I strongly suggest you strive to model yourself on your captain and the lieutenant Commander Ransom just mentioned,” Vassery gave Boimler a final dismissive look before turning and heading off down the corridor followed by his aide. “You could learn a lot from them about duty, discipline and going above and beyond in or-door to follow proper Starfleet protocol.”
“AAAGGGHHHHHHHHH!” Boimler screamed and began repeatedly banging his head against a bulkhead. “I CAN’T STAND IT! I JUST CAN’T STAND IT! WHY ME? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY? WHY?”
“Sheesh, what a nut,” Commander Ransom walked away shaking his head. “Why can’t he be more like Mariner?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
