Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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I Can Do Without You
“Well this is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” Boimler grumbled poking inside an open access panel of a run-down, non-Starfleet shuttlecraft.
“Me?” Mariner snapped kneeling next to him wielding a phase decompiler. “You’re the one who wanted to attend that Scheduling and Organization Symposium on Yulin II. I had to cash in quite a few hefty favors just so we could beam down.”
“Yeah, without permission,” Boimler pointed out. “And without our beaming down to the surface being recorded in the Cerritos’ transporter logs.”
“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining about it when you went all ga-ga during that three hour Filing seminar,” Mariner shot back. “I mean, Filing? Seriously?”
“I couldn’t resist. They had an entire presentation on the Marritza Method,” Boimler smiled dreamily. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find information about the late, great Marritza’s work?”
“I know how difficult it is to stay awake listening about it,” Mariner groaned at the memory. “And I thought command staff meetings were dull.”
“How would you know? You bailed five minutes in and spent the rest of the time at the local casino,” Boimler gave her a look. “Which resulted in us missing our transport window back to the ship and the Cerritos leaving the Yulin system without us!”
“What can I say? I was on a winning streak. You can’t blame me for that,” Mariner replied. “I would have broken the house too if that last Dabo spin had traveled just one more space …”
“I think you broke more than enough stuff during the resulting fight at the bar,” Boimler groaned. “Such as my nerves!”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Mariner defended. “The Security chief agreed I acted purely in self defense.”
“After you offered him a bribe!” Boimler snapped.
“I prefer to think of it as an anonymous donation to the local constabulary,” Mariner smirked. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before. And don’t forget, it was my remaining gambling winnings which allowed us to purchase this old, warp-capable shuttlepod from Slik’s Used Shuttles N’ Stuff.”
“Old is right. I’ve been to museums which contained better power regulators than these,” Boimler huffed as he labored to repair the shuttle’s warp drive. “Ugh, this is hopeless. We’d have better luck hailing and hitching a ride on a passing ship. That is, we would if this overpriced hunk of junk had a working long-range comm system…”
“Aw, don’t worry about it, Boims. We’ll make it back to the Cerritos,” Mariner waved. “Once we finish getting this ol’ bucket running we’ll head directly for Douglas Station, rendezvous with the Cerritos during her scheduled resupply stop and slip back onboard before anyone realizes we’ve been gone.”
“That is the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard!” Boimler exclaimed. “It has as much chance of success as all your other impulsive, seat-of-the pants plans.”
“In order words, it’s sure to work,” Mariner grinned. “Face it, Boims. What would you do without me?”
“Have less migraines, anxiety attacks and sleepless nights for one,” Boimler moaned.
“‘Course, we probably should come up with a cover story on the off-chance we bump into Commander Ransom or the captain,” Mariner mused. “Hmmm, maybe we could claim we were kidnapped by aliens and had to fight our way back…”
“Please don’t,” Boimler groaned. “We don’t need ‘lying to a superior officer’ on the list of charges at our inevitable court martial.”
“Relax, Boims. I’ll put in a good word for ya,” Mariner assured. “Don’t want to ruin your perfect record after all the hard work I’ve put in to carrying you around…”
“WHAT?!” Boimler yelped. “Are you insane?! What am I saying? You don’t carry me! If anything, I carry you!”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “Maybe in some silly, idealistic fantasy of yours, but not in the real world, pal.”
“Who are you trying to kid? You don’t fool me,” Boimler fixed her with a look. “You just use me to prop yourself up and make yourself feel important. Just like you do with Tendi and Rutherford.”
“Oh please! Only an arrogant, projecting, self-destructive narcissist would say something like that,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “Don’t forget yourself, Boims. Remember, you’re my cha’DIch.”
“Yeah, I’m the poor soul who gets tossed to the wolves and left holding the short end of the painstik every single time just to keep your precious, sanctimonious form from being touched!” Boimler snapped. “Nothing bad must ever happen to the great, all-knowing Beckett Mariner! Without me, you’re nothing but an insubordinate, rule-breaking rogue officer!”
“Without me, you’re nothing but a padd-pushing, weak-minded nobody!” Mariner shot back. “Just another ignored, forgotten face laboring in the background. The only time anyone notices you at all is when you stumble along in my spotlight.”
“More like being smothered in your shadow,” Boimler retorted. “I don’t need any of your supposed ‘help’ in order to thrive in Starfleet. I can do just fine on my own.”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “Like that will ever happen,”
“I’m the one who does all the real work whenever we’re paired up,” Boimler went on. “You just lounge around long enough to hog what little glory I manage to eek out and reap all the credit!”
“In your dreams!” Mariner laughed. “You’re the sorry hanger-on around here! Heck, I could be out doing all kinds of cool, butt-kicking Starfleet-style levels of awesome if it weren’t for you weaseling about and slowing me down,” Mariner emphatically poked a finger against Boimler’s chest. “In the premiere, you're the blooper! At the party, you're the pooper!” She mockingly wiggled her hands at him. “On the fingers, you're the glue! Say, I can do without you!”
“Oh yeah?” Boimler shouted as the pair of ensigns jumped to their feet. “On the ocean, you're the whaler! In the system, you're the failure! In the government, you’re the coup! Well!” He dismissively brushed past her. “I can do without you!”
“Ha!” Mariner grabbed Boimler’s arm and spun him around. “You can transfer to the Olympia! Titan, Hood or Merrimac! Hey!” She shouted as Boimler defiantly turned his back on her. “I'll never save a bunk for ya! Or hope for ya to come back!”
“Arrrghh!” Boimler howled pulling at his hair. “In the question, you're the ‘Why?’! In the statement, you're the lie!”
“Though I know some things are indispensable, like a starship’s crew!” Mariner got in his face. “If there's one thing I can do without, I can do without you!”
“That’ll be a first!” Boimler barked turning around and gestured at their dilapidated surroundings. “In the program, you're the error! In the balance, you’re the terror! In the universe, you're the Q!” He huffed in annoyance. “Yeah, I can do without you!”
“Wanna bet?” Mariner indicated Boimler’s smudged appearance. “In the wardrobe, you're the shroud! On a clear day, you’re the cloud! Like the Levodian flu, I can do without you!”
“You’re a bottle full of entropy!” Boimler warned. “You’re a pimple on Starfleet’s face!”
“You’re Pedantry‘s epitome!” Mariner retorted. “The appendix of your whole race!”
“In the dealings, you're the scam!” Boimler spat.
“In the phaser, you’re the jam!” Mariner shot back.
“Though I know some things are necessary, like General Order Two!” Boimler roared as he and Mariner faced off bare inches from each other. “If there's one thing I can do without, I can do without…!”
“You're a weasel!” Mariner snapped.
“You're a maverick!” Boimler shouted.
“You're a measle!” Mariner hissed.
“Pain in the neck!” Boimler yelled as he and Mariner simultaneously whipped out phasers. They pointed their weapons at each other for a moment before holstering them, crossing their arms and stubbornly turning their backs on each other. “I can do without you!”
The two ensigns determinedly stomped off in different directions before remembering they were still trapped together aboard the small, broken shuttlecraft. “Okay, maybe we do need to work with each other,” Boimler admitted returning to the open access panel. “At least until we repair the warp drive. And use each other as alibis in order to sneak back aboard the Cerritos…”
“Oh, just shut up and pass the coil spanner,” Mariner sighed.
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song “I Can Do Without You”.
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I Can Do Without You
“Well this is another fine mess you’ve gotten me into,” Boimler grumbled poking inside an open access panel of a run-down, non-Starfleet shuttlecraft.
“Me?” Mariner snapped kneeling next to him wielding a phase decompiler. “You’re the one who wanted to attend that Scheduling and Organization Symposium on Yulin II. I had to cash in quite a few hefty favors just so we could beam down.”
“Yeah, without permission,” Boimler pointed out. “And without our beaming down to the surface being recorded in the Cerritos’ transporter logs.”
“Hey, I didn’t hear you complaining about it when you went all ga-ga during that three hour Filing seminar,” Mariner shot back. “I mean, Filing? Seriously?”
“I couldn’t resist. They had an entire presentation on the Marritza Method,” Boimler smiled dreamily. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to find information about the late, great Marritza’s work?”
“I know how difficult it is to stay awake listening about it,” Mariner groaned at the memory. “And I thought command staff meetings were dull.”
“How would you know? You bailed five minutes in and spent the rest of the time at the local casino,” Boimler gave her a look. “Which resulted in us missing our transport window back to the ship and the Cerritos leaving the Yulin system without us!”
“What can I say? I was on a winning streak. You can’t blame me for that,” Mariner replied. “I would have broken the house too if that last Dabo spin had traveled just one more space …”
“I think you broke more than enough stuff during the resulting fight at the bar,” Boimler groaned. “Such as my nerves!”
“Hey, that wasn’t my fault,” Mariner defended. “The Security chief agreed I acted purely in self defense.”
“After you offered him a bribe!” Boimler snapped.
“I prefer to think of it as an anonymous donation to the local constabulary,” Mariner smirked. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before. And don’t forget, it was my remaining gambling winnings which allowed us to purchase this old, warp-capable shuttlepod from Slik’s Used Shuttles N’ Stuff.”
“Old is right. I’ve been to museums which contained better power regulators than these,” Boimler huffed as he labored to repair the shuttle’s warp drive. “Ugh, this is hopeless. We’d have better luck hailing and hitching a ride on a passing ship. That is, we would if this overpriced hunk of junk had a working long-range comm system…”
“Aw, don’t worry about it, Boims. We’ll make it back to the Cerritos,” Mariner waved. “Once we finish getting this ol’ bucket running we’ll head directly for Douglas Station, rendezvous with the Cerritos during her scheduled resupply stop and slip back onboard before anyone realizes we’ve been gone.”
“That is the most ridiculous plan I’ve ever heard!” Boimler exclaimed. “It has as much chance of success as all your other impulsive, seat-of-the pants plans.”
“In order words, it’s sure to work,” Mariner grinned. “Face it, Boims. What would you do without me?”
“Have less migraines, anxiety attacks and sleepless nights for one,” Boimler moaned.
“‘Course, we probably should come up with a cover story on the off-chance we bump into Commander Ransom or the captain,” Mariner mused. “Hmmm, maybe we could claim we were kidnapped by aliens and had to fight our way back…”
“Please don’t,” Boimler groaned. “We don’t need ‘lying to a superior officer’ on the list of charges at our inevitable court martial.”
“Relax, Boims. I’ll put in a good word for ya,” Mariner assured. “Don’t want to ruin your perfect record after all the hard work I’ve put in to carrying you around…”
“WHAT?!” Boimler yelped. “Are you insane?! What am I saying? You don’t carry me! If anything, I carry you!”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “Maybe in some silly, idealistic fantasy of yours, but not in the real world, pal.”
“Who are you trying to kid? You don’t fool me,” Boimler fixed her with a look. “You just use me to prop yourself up and make yourself feel important. Just like you do with Tendi and Rutherford.”
“Oh please! Only an arrogant, projecting, self-destructive narcissist would say something like that,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “Don’t forget yourself, Boims. Remember, you’re my cha’DIch.”
“Yeah, I’m the poor soul who gets tossed to the wolves and left holding the short end of the painstik every single time just to keep your precious, sanctimonious form from being touched!” Boimler snapped. “Nothing bad must ever happen to the great, all-knowing Beckett Mariner! Without me, you’re nothing but an insubordinate, rule-breaking rogue officer!”
“Without me, you’re nothing but a padd-pushing, weak-minded nobody!” Mariner shot back. “Just another ignored, forgotten face laboring in the background. The only time anyone notices you at all is when you stumble along in my spotlight.”
“More like being smothered in your shadow,” Boimler retorted. “I don’t need any of your supposed ‘help’ in order to thrive in Starfleet. I can do just fine on my own.”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “Like that will ever happen,”
“I’m the one who does all the real work whenever we’re paired up,” Boimler went on. “You just lounge around long enough to hog what little glory I manage to eek out and reap all the credit!”
“In your dreams!” Mariner laughed. “You’re the sorry hanger-on around here! Heck, I could be out doing all kinds of cool, butt-kicking Starfleet-style levels of awesome if it weren’t for you weaseling about and slowing me down,” Mariner emphatically poked a finger against Boimler’s chest. “In the premiere, you're the blooper! At the party, you're the pooper!” She mockingly wiggled her hands at him. “On the fingers, you're the glue! Say, I can do without you!”
“Oh yeah?” Boimler shouted as the pair of ensigns jumped to their feet. “On the ocean, you're the whaler! In the system, you're the failure! In the government, you’re the coup! Well!” He dismissively brushed past her. “I can do without you!”
“Ha!” Mariner grabbed Boimler’s arm and spun him around. “You can transfer to the Olympia! Titan, Hood or Merrimac! Hey!” She shouted as Boimler defiantly turned his back on her. “I'll never save a bunk for ya! Or hope for ya to come back!”
“Arrrghh!” Boimler howled pulling at his hair. “In the question, you're the ‘Why?’! In the statement, you're the lie!”
“Though I know some things are indispensable, like a starship’s crew!” Mariner got in his face. “If there's one thing I can do without, I can do without you!”
“That’ll be a first!” Boimler barked turning around and gestured at their dilapidated surroundings. “In the program, you're the error! In the balance, you’re the terror! In the universe, you're the Q!” He huffed in annoyance. “Yeah, I can do without you!”
“Wanna bet?” Mariner indicated Boimler’s smudged appearance. “In the wardrobe, you're the shroud! On a clear day, you’re the cloud! Like the Levodian flu, I can do without you!”
“You’re a bottle full of entropy!” Boimler warned. “You’re a pimple on Starfleet’s face!”
“You’re Pedantry‘s epitome!” Mariner retorted. “The appendix of your whole race!”
“In the dealings, you're the scam!” Boimler spat.
“In the phaser, you’re the jam!” Mariner shot back.
“Though I know some things are necessary, like General Order Two!” Boimler roared as he and Mariner faced off bare inches from each other. “If there's one thing I can do without, I can do without…!”
“You're a weasel!” Mariner snapped.
“You're a maverick!” Boimler shouted.
“You're a measle!” Mariner hissed.
“Pain in the neck!” Boimler yelled as he and Mariner simultaneously whipped out phasers. They pointed their weapons at each other for a moment before holstering them, crossing their arms and stubbornly turning their backs on each other. “I can do without you!”
The two ensigns determinedly stomped off in different directions before remembering they were still trapped together aboard the small, broken shuttlecraft. “Okay, maybe we do need to work with each other,” Boimler admitted returning to the open access panel. “At least until we repair the warp drive. And use each other as alibis in order to sneak back aboard the Cerritos…”
“Oh, just shut up and pass the coil spanner,” Mariner sighed.
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song “I Can Do Without You”.
