Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Springtime for Dukat
“Alright, this is it,” Mariner grinned rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “All of my…I mean, all of our hard work is about to pay off. Man, this is gonna be a smash!”
“You got that right,” Boimler grumbled fidgeting nervously. “I still feel really uncomfortable about this whole unconventional enterprise. Do we really need to do this?”
“Of course we do, Boims,” Mariner insisted checking her padd. “You were there when I got that message from Quimp. We were too late to have him cut us in on the action with Val and her hot new traveling trope of thespians. If we want to hit the big time we gotta take matters into our own hands and make a hit video of our own.”
“The key words being ‘if we want’,” Boimler pointed out. “Considering the source material this is based on we’re more likely to end up spending the rest of our Starfleet careers in jail!”
“Aw, stop being such a worry-weasel,” Mariner waved. “If the original was a hit a few hundred years ago, it’ll still be a hit today!”
“Okay, all set,” Tendi and Rutherford announced joining their friends. “All necessary equipment is ready and requested communication security protocols have been implemented. Recording and transmission triggers are standing by.”
“Great. Good work, guys,” Mariner smiled. “I couldn’t have done this without ya.”
“Aw, it was nothing,” Rutherford said modestly.
“And there’s no way we would’ve missed been left out of this,” Tendi beamed cheerfully. “This is going to be fun!”
“It’ll be awesome if past rehearsals are any indication,” Mariner smirked. “I can see our names suspended in bold font and bright lights right now!”
“Yeah, on our mugshots,” Boimler sighed. “Remind me again why we’re performing this production live instead of sending your friend an edited version of our best work?”
“Because we need to impress Quimp by showing him we can perform in front of a live audience, so to speak,” Mariner explained. “He’s much too busy to visit the Cerritos in person, so a real-time subspace transmission is the next best thing.”
“We’re lucky we are able to stage our performance on the holodeck,” Rutherford said. “Any in-depth forensic analysis will show us really performing instead using of holograms. Aside from any necessary extras.”
“And it means we can use holograms to change our appearances instead of undergoing surgically alterations,” Tendi added.
“Or being buried under layers of cosmetic latex like they used to back in Earth’s twentieth and twenty-first centuries,” Mariner shook her head. “Man, you gotta respect anyone who submitted themselves to that primitive process.”
“No kidding,” Tendi commented. “Though I have to admit, being surgically altered sounds like it’d be an interesting experience.”
“Don’t bet on it, T,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “Surgical alterations have been way overdone. Besides, all the skin and hair modifications itch like crazy. Especially my last time.”
“If you say so…wait, what?!” Boimler did a double-take. “What do you mean your last time?!”
“Sorry, Boims. It’s classified,” Mariner brushed him off. “You understand.”
“No I don’t!” Boimler protested. “Tell me!”
“Maybe later,” Mariner glanced at her padd’s chronometer. “Alright, it’s showtime! Places, people!”
“But…but…!” Boimler stuttered.
“C’mon, man,” Rutherford urged dragging Boimler to their starting marks. Mariner and Tendi quickly did the same as the holodeck program finished loading the four ensign’s new costumes and appearances. “The live transmission is starting in three…two…one…”
The holodeck depicted a skyline of imposing, elegantly curved bronze-colored buildings. A lively selection of music began to play as a dozen Cardassian men and women dressed in idyllic civilian clothes pranced out including Tendi and Rutherford masquerading as Cardassians. “Cardassia was being wrecked by Klingons and Maquis! Lacking a real leader to restore its former glory!”
“Woe, oh woe are we! Broke in misery!” The group wailed dramatically. “We lost our aim and then he came! The man of destiny!”
The skyline then parted revealing a giant, emblazoned emblem of the Cardassian Union situated atop a raised set of stairs surrounded by an array of shorter, unoccupied pedestals. Tendi, Rutherford and their holographic compatriots cheerfully skipped out of sight.
“And now it's...!” Mariner strode up wearing an armored Cardassian military uniform while also appearing as a Cardassian. “Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” A line of attractive Cardassian women began descending the stairs wearing costumes designed to highlight iconic elements of Cardassian culture. The women took turns posing in the spotlight for a few moments before claiming positions atop the various pedestals. “Families are happy and fed!”
Mariner gestured at one woman flanked by a pair of oversized, decorated regova eggs along with a stylized headpiece. “We're marching tall with pride and grace!” Mariner saluted another woman accompanied by a small fleet of Keldon-class starships. “Watch out as we reclaim our space!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” Mariner sang as a woman dressed in the shape of a Nor-class space station descended the stairs next. “Winter for little Bajor!”
“Hope Lieutenant Shaxs never finds out about this,” Rutherford whispered to himself as he patiently waited out of sight. “He’d kill us all and use our decapitated heads as incense trays!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” Mariner smiled at a model balancing oversized mugs of hot fish juice on her head as well as in each hand. “Heads up, people! We're going on tour!”
Mariner beamed and struck a pose as yet another woman appeared portrayed with giant hardback copies of The Never-Ending Sacrifice. “Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!”
“Look, it's springtime!” Rutherford chirped along with the chorus.
“Orders are on the advance!” Mariner waxed poetically as Tendi appeared as the last figure to descend the stairs dressed as a living depiction of the Cardassian Union insignia. “Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!”
“Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime!” Rutherford and the chorus echoed as Tendi slowly posed and spun around. “Springtime!”
“Cardassians!” Mariner proclaimed. “Go into your dance!”
“Hmmm, maybe we should have asked Captain Freeman to be in this,” Rutherford mused as Tendi ascended the staircase while a group of holoextras took center stage and began performing an intricate dance routine. “I heard rumors that she learned how to perform several Cardassian dancing styles before that historic diplomatic conference was cancelled. Oops, that’s my cue!”
The holoextras pranced to one side as Rutherford popped out now dressed as a glinn. “Soldiers, help children live free! Help secure the DMZ!”
The holoextras smoothly danced to the other side as a Cardassian version of Ensign sh’Reyan appeared next dressed as a legate. “Loyal citizens, take a stand! Come join the Central Command!”
“Huh, I don’t remember including a hologram of Ensign sh’Reyan with the program,” Rutherford blinked in surprise. “Mariner must have added her for some reason. Wonder why?”
The holoextras continued to dance and perform a kickline before Tendi daintily descended the staircase once again. “Gul Dukat is coming! Gul Dukat is coming! Gul Dukat is coming!”
Tendi skipped to the side as Mariner, Rutherford and the sh’Reyan hologram strode up to take her place. Rutherford threw a sharp salute. “Hail Dukat!”
“Hail Dukat!” The sh’Reyan hologram did the same.
“Hail Dukat!” The three faux-Cardassian ensigns joined hands and stepped aside.
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassiaaaaaa!” Mariner boomed and gestured as a figure rose up to appear at the top of the stairs. The lights fell upon him revealing Boimler depicted as a Cardassian while bearing a parodied likeness of Dukat. Everyone faced him and saluted. “Hail Dukat!”
Boimler gave a sharp salute before breaking into a far more relaxed pose. “Hail myself! Hail to me! I'm the gul who's going to change our history!” He smiled and cheerfully skipped down the stairs. “Hail myself! All applaud!” Boimler grinned and clapped his hands. “There's no greater dictator in the quad!”
Boimler beamed and pranced around while spreading his arms wide. “Gaze out at the crowds and hear them roar!”
“With ardor!” Mariner, Rutherford and the crowd of holoextras cheered.
“If you're looking for a fight, here's the Dominion War!” Boimler boasted leading the dance line before pulling out a tall, fluted glass. “Hail myself! With kanar!”
“Devoir!” Mariner, Rutherford and the holoextras toasted in salute.
“Every yes-man Cardassian praise my star!” Boimler roared.
“Hooray!” Mariner, Rutherford and the holoextras cheered. “Every yes-man Cardassian!”
“Hail myself!” Boimler howled dramatically.
“Every yes-man Cardassian!” Mariner, Rutherford and the holoextras repeated.
“Hail myself!” Boimler whooped linking arms with Mariner and Rutherford as the three of them sang together in unison. “Every yes-man Cardassian!”
“Praise my star!” Boimler smiled leading the trio to the side as another group of holoextras led by Tendi took their place. Tendi was now wearing a standard armored Cardassian uniform like Rutherford.
“Gul Dukat is making all distraught!” Tendi and the chorus of holoextras crooned avidly. “He's rapped those Klingons on the skull! You gotta love that wacky gul! Gul Dukat is making all distraught!”
“Yeah!” Boimler whooped frolicking in front of them.
“His charismatic will expands! None can deny his bold commands! He's got the quadrant in his hands!” Tendi and the chorus of holoextras sang raising their arms. “Gul Dukat is making all distraught!”
The holodeck then darkened leaving only a single light to illuminate Boimler as he modestly sat on the floor and hugged his knees. “I’d been disowned and forgotten. Left with one small ship’s crew. Till I called up the Dominion. And had them back my coup!”
“Shaky self-esteem, oh! Almost lost my dream!” Boimler wailed dramatically before jumping to his feet. “But I hitched my pants! And seized my chance! And now I rule supreme!”
“Wow, Boimler’s really getting into this,” Rutherford blinked as Boimler began to ham it up. “Guess it’s easy to get over any production misgivings when one is made the star.”
“Oh, it ain't no mystery! I’m the greatest gul in history!” Boimler bellowed passionately while practically chewing the holoscenery. “A fact of life you must see! Everyone respects me!”
Boimler grinned and struck a pose before proceeding to dance about in the spotlight. “Hail myself! Watch my show! I'm Alaimo’s alter ego, don’t’cha know!”
“Who’s Alaimo?” Tendi asked quietly waiting in the wings.
“No idea,” Rutherford shrugged whispering back. “You’ll have to ask Mariner about it. She’s the one who modified the lyrics.”
“A true succeeder! The supreme leader is here!” Boimler proclaimed indicating himself. “Make a great big smile! I’m the gul with style, clearly! Wonderful me!” Boimler grinned striking a majestic pose. “And now it's…!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” The holodeck lit up revealing Mariner leading a battalion of armed Cardassian soldiers marching in lockstep. “Galor is valor today!”
“Phase disruptors are charged again!” Mariner and the soldiers saluted Boimler with their rifles as explosions and weapons fire erupted in the background. “Cardassia’s on the rise again!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” Mariner and the soldiers smoothly assumed a formation in the shape of the Cardassian Union’s emblem with Boimler highlighted in the center. “Starships are flying once moooooore! Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!”
“Means that…!” Boimler smiled emerging from the formation.
“Soon we'll be going!” Mariner and the battalion of soldiers chanted.
“My ambition’s growing!” Boimler grinned as the group of costumed Cardassian culture women on pedestals came out and surrounded him.
“We’ve got to be going!” Tendi and Rutheford skipped out along with various imposing pieces of Cardassian military equipment.
“My looks are mind-blowing!” Boimler whooped.
“You know we'll be going to…!” Everyone sang and danced around accompanied by a pyrotechnic display of explosions, illuminations and weapons fire while a fleet of Cardassian warships zoomed over their heads. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!”
“Aaand, that’s a wrap,” Rutherford announced using his implant to remotely end the transmission.
“Alright!” Mariner grinned as the program ended and all the holograms disappeared revealing the bare hologrid. “Way to go, people! That was awesome!”
“I’ll say!” Tendi beamed flushed with excitement. “That was our best performance yet! All those rehearsals really paid off!”
“I have to admit, that wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it would be,” Boimler admitted with a smile. “I’m glad you talked me into doing this.”
“Attaway, Boims,” Mariner smiled tossing an arm around his shoulders. “It takes a big man to admit he’s wrong. Or in your case a humbled, skinny weasel.”
“Gee, thanks,” Boimler rolled his eyes.
“Hey, we’re receiving a message,” Rutherford noticed a blinking indicator on Mariner’s padd. “It’s from your friend Quimp.”
“Oooo, maybe he’s sending us feedback on our performances,” Tendi squealed eagerly. “I bet he really liked it!”
“Yeah, it’s always nice to hear from the viewers,” Mariner said picking up her padd. “Though it’s pretty annoying when people enjoy one’s work and don’t bother leaving any feedback. If you really like something the least you can do is drop the creator a brief review.”
“Hello, Mariner,” Quimp appeared on the padd’s screen. “You’re late. So, when are you going to begin this new production of yours?”
“Huh?” Mariner blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? We just finished performing and transmitting it to you.”
“No you didn’t,” Quimp replied. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you for ten minutes. I haven’t received anything.”
“What?!” Boimler yelped. “But Rutherford set up all the secure transmission details himself and…” He trailed off in realization. “Rutherford…”
“Oops,” Rutherford gulped checking the logs. “Sorry, guys. Looks like I made a teeny-tiny error.”
“Oh really?” Mariner gave him a look. “Just how ‘teeny-tiny’ are we talking about?”
“Uh, well you know how you gave me Quimp’s personal subspace frequency?” Rutherford asked. “Turns out I got one of the digits wrong. Our performance was still transmitted. Just not to the right recipient.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. It was a minor mistake,” Tendi tried to cheer him up. “So, who did receive our performance?”
“Bajor,” Rutherford coughed nervously. “Over their main planetary broadcast frequency. And it looks like it also ended up being piggybacked on a few of the planet’s popular commercial frequencies as well…”
“On the other hand,” Tendi blinked.
“Oh boy,” Mariner whistled. “That’s not gonna go over well.”
“You can say that again,” Quimp said checking another monitor. “Bajor’s entire comm net is already erupting with fury and outrage at ‘that utterly disgusting, appalling and despicable piece of Cardassian propaganda’. People are demanding the First Minister find the perpetrators of ‘that vile, heinous spectacle’ and see that they are ‘punished with extreme prejudice’.”
“Oh no,” Boimler blanched as his knees began to knock.
“I suppose this is a bad to time to mention my other little mistake,” Rutherford coughed timidly. “Turns out Bajor wasn’t the only unintended recipient of our transmission.”
“Oh really?” Mariner twitched. “Who else did you end up sending it to?”
“Cardassia,” Rutherford gulped weakly. “Looks like I accidentally transposed a few digits of the backup subspace frequency as well.”
“You what?!” Boimler yelped. “Oh no! They’re gonna roast us in effigy!”
“Not exactly,” Quimp corrected studying his secondary monitor. “All the official channels and figures are calling it ‘a distasteful spectacle from a shameful point in the Union’s history’, but a few are actually viewing it more positively. One major Cardassian celebrity described the performance as ‘a shocking, outrageous, insulting yet surprisingly enjoyable farce’.”
“Well, that’s good,” Tendi tried to be optimistic. “Nice to know at least one person out there enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, out of a few billion,” Mariner quipped. “Though that’s still better odds than most productions have at becoming famous.”
“More like infamous,” Boimler groaned covering his face with his hands. “As soon as people find out we appeared in that production our Starfleet careers are over! Not to mention the rest of our lives!”
“Don’t worry, man. No one will recognize us,” Rutherford assured him. “The holodeck made us look like Cardassians, remember? All the ridges and stuff should completely conceal our true appearances. I think…”
“You think?!” Boimler yelped.
“What if people attempt to trace our transmission?” Tendi asked.
“Don’t worry. There’s a reason I insisted on using untraceable communication and transmission protocols,” Quimp assured. “I have to watch out for unwanted eavesdropping attempts all the time. My competitors would like nothing more than to intercept a potentially new popular and profitable entertainment medium.”
“Plus, we’re using Ruthy’s modified relay processing core and separate subspace antenna array so there won’t be any communication logs made by the Cerritos,” Mariner added. “Let’s just hope Ruthy’s homemade communication setup works better than the last time.”
“What last time?” Tendi asked.
“Well, you see…” Rutherford began.
“That’s not important, T,” Mariner cut him off. “The important thing is to make sure Quimp gets a copy of our live transmission so he can claim any positive credit and give us our share of any unlikely profits that may result from it.”
“AAARRRGGGHHHHHH! THAT IS THE MOST OFFENSIVE, INFURIATING SUBSPACE VIDEO I’VE EVER SEEN!” Shaxs’ apoplectic roars were heard the length and breadth of the Cerritos. “IF I EVER GET MY HANDS ON THE MANIACS WHO MADE THAT FOUL PIECE OF HARA CAT WASTE THEY ARE DEAD! DEAD YOU HEAR ME?!”
“No, the important thing is to make sure we are never caught or identified by Shaxs,” Boimler gulped. “Starting with erasing that entire program from the holodeck’s database before fleeing the scene immediately!”
“Good idea,” Mariner agreed. “Catch ya later, Quimp!”
“Bye!” Quimp waved as Mariner signed off.
“Well, so much for our side careers as popular entertainment figures,” Tendi sighed in disappointment. “Oh well. At least we still have our coveted careers in Starfleet.”
“For the moment anyway,” Mariner quipped.
“Trust me, it’s for the best,” Boimler moaned as the four ensigns quickly fled the holodeck. “After all, who would ever want to view condensed, comedic entertainment productions involving us?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song “Springtime for Hitler”.
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Springtime for Dukat
“Alright, this is it,” Mariner grinned rubbing her hands together in anticipation. “All of my…I mean, all of our hard work is about to pay off. Man, this is gonna be a smash!”
“You got that right,” Boimler grumbled fidgeting nervously. “I still feel really uncomfortable about this whole unconventional enterprise. Do we really need to do this?”
“Of course we do, Boims,” Mariner insisted checking her padd. “You were there when I got that message from Quimp. We were too late to have him cut us in on the action with Val and her hot new traveling trope of thespians. If we want to hit the big time we gotta take matters into our own hands and make a hit video of our own.”
“The key words being ‘if we want’,” Boimler pointed out. “Considering the source material this is based on we’re more likely to end up spending the rest of our Starfleet careers in jail!”
“Aw, stop being such a worry-weasel,” Mariner waved. “If the original was a hit a few hundred years ago, it’ll still be a hit today!”
“Okay, all set,” Tendi and Rutherford announced joining their friends. “All necessary equipment is ready and requested communication security protocols have been implemented. Recording and transmission triggers are standing by.”
“Great. Good work, guys,” Mariner smiled. “I couldn’t have done this without ya.”
“Aw, it was nothing,” Rutherford said modestly.
“And there’s no way we would’ve missed been left out of this,” Tendi beamed cheerfully. “This is going to be fun!”
“It’ll be awesome if past rehearsals are any indication,” Mariner smirked. “I can see our names suspended in bold font and bright lights right now!”
“Yeah, on our mugshots,” Boimler sighed. “Remind me again why we’re performing this production live instead of sending your friend an edited version of our best work?”
“Because we need to impress Quimp by showing him we can perform in front of a live audience, so to speak,” Mariner explained. “He’s much too busy to visit the Cerritos in person, so a real-time subspace transmission is the next best thing.”
“We’re lucky we are able to stage our performance on the holodeck,” Rutherford said. “Any in-depth forensic analysis will show us really performing instead using of holograms. Aside from any necessary extras.”
“And it means we can use holograms to change our appearances instead of undergoing surgically alterations,” Tendi added.
“Or being buried under layers of cosmetic latex like they used to back in Earth’s twentieth and twenty-first centuries,” Mariner shook her head. “Man, you gotta respect anyone who submitted themselves to that primitive process.”
“No kidding,” Tendi commented. “Though I have to admit, being surgically altered sounds like it’d be an interesting experience.”
“Don’t bet on it, T,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “Surgical alterations have been way overdone. Besides, all the skin and hair modifications itch like crazy. Especially my last time.”
“If you say so…wait, what?!” Boimler did a double-take. “What do you mean your last time?!”
“Sorry, Boims. It’s classified,” Mariner brushed him off. “You understand.”
“No I don’t!” Boimler protested. “Tell me!”
“Maybe later,” Mariner glanced at her padd’s chronometer. “Alright, it’s showtime! Places, people!”
“But…but…!” Boimler stuttered.
“C’mon, man,” Rutherford urged dragging Boimler to their starting marks. Mariner and Tendi quickly did the same as the holodeck program finished loading the four ensign’s new costumes and appearances. “The live transmission is starting in three…two…one…”
The holodeck depicted a skyline of imposing, elegantly curved bronze-colored buildings. A lively selection of music began to play as a dozen Cardassian men and women dressed in idyllic civilian clothes pranced out including Tendi and Rutherford masquerading as Cardassians. “Cardassia was being wrecked by Klingons and Maquis! Lacking a real leader to restore its former glory!”
“Woe, oh woe are we! Broke in misery!” The group wailed dramatically. “We lost our aim and then he came! The man of destiny!”
The skyline then parted revealing a giant, emblazoned emblem of the Cardassian Union situated atop a raised set of stairs surrounded by an array of shorter, unoccupied pedestals. Tendi, Rutherford and their holographic compatriots cheerfully skipped out of sight.
“And now it's...!” Mariner strode up wearing an armored Cardassian military uniform while also appearing as a Cardassian. “Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” A line of attractive Cardassian women began descending the stairs wearing costumes designed to highlight iconic elements of Cardassian culture. The women took turns posing in the spotlight for a few moments before claiming positions atop the various pedestals. “Families are happy and fed!”
Mariner gestured at one woman flanked by a pair of oversized, decorated regova eggs along with a stylized headpiece. “We're marching tall with pride and grace!” Mariner saluted another woman accompanied by a small fleet of Keldon-class starships. “Watch out as we reclaim our space!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” Mariner sang as a woman dressed in the shape of a Nor-class space station descended the stairs next. “Winter for little Bajor!”
“Hope Lieutenant Shaxs never finds out about this,” Rutherford whispered to himself as he patiently waited out of sight. “He’d kill us all and use our decapitated heads as incense trays!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” Mariner smiled at a model balancing oversized mugs of hot fish juice on her head as well as in each hand. “Heads up, people! We're going on tour!”
Mariner beamed and struck a pose as yet another woman appeared portrayed with giant hardback copies of The Never-Ending Sacrifice. “Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!”
“Look, it's springtime!” Rutherford chirped along with the chorus.
“Orders are on the advance!” Mariner waxed poetically as Tendi appeared as the last figure to descend the stairs dressed as a living depiction of the Cardassian Union insignia. “Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!”
“Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime! Springtime!” Rutherford and the chorus echoed as Tendi slowly posed and spun around. “Springtime!”
“Cardassians!” Mariner proclaimed. “Go into your dance!”
“Hmmm, maybe we should have asked Captain Freeman to be in this,” Rutherford mused as Tendi ascended the staircase while a group of holoextras took center stage and began performing an intricate dance routine. “I heard rumors that she learned how to perform several Cardassian dancing styles before that historic diplomatic conference was cancelled. Oops, that’s my cue!”
The holoextras pranced to one side as Rutherford popped out now dressed as a glinn. “Soldiers, help children live free! Help secure the DMZ!”
The holoextras smoothly danced to the other side as a Cardassian version of Ensign sh’Reyan appeared next dressed as a legate. “Loyal citizens, take a stand! Come join the Central Command!”
“Huh, I don’t remember including a hologram of Ensign sh’Reyan with the program,” Rutherford blinked in surprise. “Mariner must have added her for some reason. Wonder why?”
The holoextras continued to dance and perform a kickline before Tendi daintily descended the staircase once again. “Gul Dukat is coming! Gul Dukat is coming! Gul Dukat is coming!”
Tendi skipped to the side as Mariner, Rutherford and the sh’Reyan hologram strode up to take her place. Rutherford threw a sharp salute. “Hail Dukat!”
“Hail Dukat!” The sh’Reyan hologram did the same.
“Hail Dukat!” The three faux-Cardassian ensigns joined hands and stepped aside.
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassiaaaaaa!” Mariner boomed and gestured as a figure rose up to appear at the top of the stairs. The lights fell upon him revealing Boimler depicted as a Cardassian while bearing a parodied likeness of Dukat. Everyone faced him and saluted. “Hail Dukat!”
Boimler gave a sharp salute before breaking into a far more relaxed pose. “Hail myself! Hail to me! I'm the gul who's going to change our history!” He smiled and cheerfully skipped down the stairs. “Hail myself! All applaud!” Boimler grinned and clapped his hands. “There's no greater dictator in the quad!”
Boimler beamed and pranced around while spreading his arms wide. “Gaze out at the crowds and hear them roar!”
“With ardor!” Mariner, Rutherford and the crowd of holoextras cheered.
“If you're looking for a fight, here's the Dominion War!” Boimler boasted leading the dance line before pulling out a tall, fluted glass. “Hail myself! With kanar!”
“Devoir!” Mariner, Rutherford and the holoextras toasted in salute.
“Every yes-man Cardassian praise my star!” Boimler roared.
“Hooray!” Mariner, Rutherford and the holoextras cheered. “Every yes-man Cardassian!”
“Hail myself!” Boimler howled dramatically.
“Every yes-man Cardassian!” Mariner, Rutherford and the holoextras repeated.
“Hail myself!” Boimler whooped linking arms with Mariner and Rutherford as the three of them sang together in unison. “Every yes-man Cardassian!”
“Praise my star!” Boimler smiled leading the trio to the side as another group of holoextras led by Tendi took their place. Tendi was now wearing a standard armored Cardassian uniform like Rutherford.
“Gul Dukat is making all distraught!” Tendi and the chorus of holoextras crooned avidly. “He's rapped those Klingons on the skull! You gotta love that wacky gul! Gul Dukat is making all distraught!”
“Yeah!” Boimler whooped frolicking in front of them.
“His charismatic will expands! None can deny his bold commands! He's got the quadrant in his hands!” Tendi and the chorus of holoextras sang raising their arms. “Gul Dukat is making all distraught!”
The holodeck then darkened leaving only a single light to illuminate Boimler as he modestly sat on the floor and hugged his knees. “I’d been disowned and forgotten. Left with one small ship’s crew. Till I called up the Dominion. And had them back my coup!”
“Shaky self-esteem, oh! Almost lost my dream!” Boimler wailed dramatically before jumping to his feet. “But I hitched my pants! And seized my chance! And now I rule supreme!”
“Wow, Boimler’s really getting into this,” Rutherford blinked as Boimler began to ham it up. “Guess it’s easy to get over any production misgivings when one is made the star.”
“Oh, it ain't no mystery! I’m the greatest gul in history!” Boimler bellowed passionately while practically chewing the holoscenery. “A fact of life you must see! Everyone respects me!”
Boimler grinned and struck a pose before proceeding to dance about in the spotlight. “Hail myself! Watch my show! I'm Alaimo’s alter ego, don’t’cha know!”
“Who’s Alaimo?” Tendi asked quietly waiting in the wings.
“No idea,” Rutherford shrugged whispering back. “You’ll have to ask Mariner about it. She’s the one who modified the lyrics.”
“A true succeeder! The supreme leader is here!” Boimler proclaimed indicating himself. “Make a great big smile! I’m the gul with style, clearly! Wonderful me!” Boimler grinned striking a majestic pose. “And now it's…!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” The holodeck lit up revealing Mariner leading a battalion of armed Cardassian soldiers marching in lockstep. “Galor is valor today!”
“Phase disruptors are charged again!” Mariner and the soldiers saluted Boimler with their rifles as explosions and weapons fire erupted in the background. “Cardassia’s on the rise again!”
“Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!” Mariner and the soldiers smoothly assumed a formation in the shape of the Cardassian Union’s emblem with Boimler highlighted in the center. “Starships are flying once moooooore! Springtime for Dukat’s Cardassia!”
“Means that…!” Boimler smiled emerging from the formation.
“Soon we'll be going!” Mariner and the battalion of soldiers chanted.
“My ambition’s growing!” Boimler grinned as the group of costumed Cardassian culture women on pedestals came out and surrounded him.
“We’ve got to be going!” Tendi and Rutheford skipped out along with various imposing pieces of Cardassian military equipment.
“My looks are mind-blowing!” Boimler whooped.
“You know we'll be going to…!” Everyone sang and danced around accompanied by a pyrotechnic display of explosions, illuminations and weapons fire while a fleet of Cardassian warships zoomed over their heads. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!”
“Aaand, that’s a wrap,” Rutherford announced using his implant to remotely end the transmission.
“Alright!” Mariner grinned as the program ended and all the holograms disappeared revealing the bare hologrid. “Way to go, people! That was awesome!”
“I’ll say!” Tendi beamed flushed with excitement. “That was our best performance yet! All those rehearsals really paid off!”
“I have to admit, that wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as I thought it would be,” Boimler admitted with a smile. “I’m glad you talked me into doing this.”
“Attaway, Boims,” Mariner smiled tossing an arm around his shoulders. “It takes a big man to admit he’s wrong. Or in your case a humbled, skinny weasel.”
“Gee, thanks,” Boimler rolled his eyes.
“Hey, we’re receiving a message,” Rutherford noticed a blinking indicator on Mariner’s padd. “It’s from your friend Quimp.”
“Oooo, maybe he’s sending us feedback on our performances,” Tendi squealed eagerly. “I bet he really liked it!”
“Yeah, it’s always nice to hear from the viewers,” Mariner said picking up her padd. “Though it’s pretty annoying when people enjoy one’s work and don’t bother leaving any feedback. If you really like something the least you can do is drop the creator a brief review.”
“Hello, Mariner,” Quimp appeared on the padd’s screen. “You’re late. So, when are you going to begin this new production of yours?”
“Huh?” Mariner blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? We just finished performing and transmitting it to you.”
“No you didn’t,” Quimp replied. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you for ten minutes. I haven’t received anything.”
“What?!” Boimler yelped. “But Rutherford set up all the secure transmission details himself and…” He trailed off in realization. “Rutherford…”
“Oops,” Rutherford gulped checking the logs. “Sorry, guys. Looks like I made a teeny-tiny error.”
“Oh really?” Mariner gave him a look. “Just how ‘teeny-tiny’ are we talking about?”
“Uh, well you know how you gave me Quimp’s personal subspace frequency?” Rutherford asked. “Turns out I got one of the digits wrong. Our performance was still transmitted. Just not to the right recipient.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. It was a minor mistake,” Tendi tried to cheer him up. “So, who did receive our performance?”
“Bajor,” Rutherford coughed nervously. “Over their main planetary broadcast frequency. And it looks like it also ended up being piggybacked on a few of the planet’s popular commercial frequencies as well…”
“On the other hand,” Tendi blinked.
“Oh boy,” Mariner whistled. “That’s not gonna go over well.”
“You can say that again,” Quimp said checking another monitor. “Bajor’s entire comm net is already erupting with fury and outrage at ‘that utterly disgusting, appalling and despicable piece of Cardassian propaganda’. People are demanding the First Minister find the perpetrators of ‘that vile, heinous spectacle’ and see that they are ‘punished with extreme prejudice’.”
“Oh no,” Boimler blanched as his knees began to knock.
“I suppose this is a bad to time to mention my other little mistake,” Rutherford coughed timidly. “Turns out Bajor wasn’t the only unintended recipient of our transmission.”
“Oh really?” Mariner twitched. “Who else did you end up sending it to?”
“Cardassia,” Rutherford gulped weakly. “Looks like I accidentally transposed a few digits of the backup subspace frequency as well.”
“You what?!” Boimler yelped. “Oh no! They’re gonna roast us in effigy!”
“Not exactly,” Quimp corrected studying his secondary monitor. “All the official channels and figures are calling it ‘a distasteful spectacle from a shameful point in the Union’s history’, but a few are actually viewing it more positively. One major Cardassian celebrity described the performance as ‘a shocking, outrageous, insulting yet surprisingly enjoyable farce’.”
“Well, that’s good,” Tendi tried to be optimistic. “Nice to know at least one person out there enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, out of a few billion,” Mariner quipped. “Though that’s still better odds than most productions have at becoming famous.”
“More like infamous,” Boimler groaned covering his face with his hands. “As soon as people find out we appeared in that production our Starfleet careers are over! Not to mention the rest of our lives!”
“Don’t worry, man. No one will recognize us,” Rutherford assured him. “The holodeck made us look like Cardassians, remember? All the ridges and stuff should completely conceal our true appearances. I think…”
“You think?!” Boimler yelped.
“What if people attempt to trace our transmission?” Tendi asked.
“Don’t worry. There’s a reason I insisted on using untraceable communication and transmission protocols,” Quimp assured. “I have to watch out for unwanted eavesdropping attempts all the time. My competitors would like nothing more than to intercept a potentially new popular and profitable entertainment medium.”
“Plus, we’re using Ruthy’s modified relay processing core and separate subspace antenna array so there won’t be any communication logs made by the Cerritos,” Mariner added. “Let’s just hope Ruthy’s homemade communication setup works better than the last time.”
“What last time?” Tendi asked.
“Well, you see…” Rutherford began.
“That’s not important, T,” Mariner cut him off. “The important thing is to make sure Quimp gets a copy of our live transmission so he can claim any positive credit and give us our share of any unlikely profits that may result from it.”
“AAARRRGGGHHHHHH! THAT IS THE MOST OFFENSIVE, INFURIATING SUBSPACE VIDEO I’VE EVER SEEN!” Shaxs’ apoplectic roars were heard the length and breadth of the Cerritos. “IF I EVER GET MY HANDS ON THE MANIACS WHO MADE THAT FOUL PIECE OF HARA CAT WASTE THEY ARE DEAD! DEAD YOU HEAR ME?!”
“No, the important thing is to make sure we are never caught or identified by Shaxs,” Boimler gulped. “Starting with erasing that entire program from the holodeck’s database before fleeing the scene immediately!”
“Good idea,” Mariner agreed. “Catch ya later, Quimp!”
“Bye!” Quimp waved as Mariner signed off.
“Well, so much for our side careers as popular entertainment figures,” Tendi sighed in disappointment. “Oh well. At least we still have our coveted careers in Starfleet.”
“For the moment anyway,” Mariner quipped.
“Trust me, it’s for the best,” Boimler moaned as the four ensigns quickly fled the holodeck. “After all, who would ever want to view condensed, comedic entertainment productions involving us?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song “Springtime for Hitler”.
