Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Best Served Cold
“Ahhh, now this is what I call a duty assignment,” Boimler smiled clutching a padd in fulfillment. “Undertaking and completing meaningful work like this is what being part of Starfleet is all about.”
“Yeah, ‘cause nobody can move and stack cargo containers like Starfleet can,” Mariner drawled mockingly while unloading an anti-grav in the Repair Bay. “Boy, this sure is a dream come true. All those years working and studying at the Academy have really paid off.”
“Must you be sarcastic about everything?” Boimler sighed at his friend.
“Whaddya expect, Boims? It’s kinda my thing,” Mariner shrugged. “And can you really blame me this time? We’re not exactly out exploring strange new worlds here. We’re acting as a glorified moving service. Talk about lame!”
“This isn’t lame,” Tendi said scanning a stack of stasis containers with her tricorder. “The Cerritos is decommissioning an old cold storage facility and relocating its vast collection of biological research samples to a new location. The icy planetoid which had been housing the facility was recently stuck by a bizarre combination of increased solar activity and gravimetric anomalies causing the planetoid’s surface temperature to rise by over six hundred degrees Kelvin.”
“Thus rendering the former cold storage facility permanently unsustainable,” Boimler continued. “It’s difficult to preserve biological research samples in cold storage when the planetoid’s very air will soon become hot enough to melt lead.”
“Not as difficult as loading all this unwieldy stuff aboard the ship,” Mariner noted unloading more containers. “Every cargo bay, storage bay and shuttlebay is already packed to the brim so now we’re stuck dealing with the overflow. I tell ya somebody really ought to tell those research types to stop hoarding so much stuff and give their place a serious declutter.”
“Man, it’s really sad to see such a veritable, well-engineered facility meet its end,” Rutherford commented while checking the power flow to the stasis containers. “Hard to believe increased planetary warming will finally do it in. That place has been around since the early 2200s. They really build cold storage facilities to last back in those days.”
“Yeah, a backup cold storage facility,” Mariner pointed out. “Which held backup biological samples for backup research nobody’s ever heard of or will probably ever undertake. Talk about a waste of time and resources!”
“You don’t know that,” Boimler frowned in annoyance. “Some of those samples may hold the key for finding cures and solutions to unknown diseases and biological disasters yet to be encountered.”
“Maybe,” Mariner allowed. “But I wouldn’t bet on it. Hey, that reminds me! I just received a shipment from one of my old gambling contacts!”
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned. “What sort of health-hazardous contraband have you smuggled aboard the Cerritos this time? On second thought, don’t tell me. That way I can still attempt to plead ignorance at our court-martial.”
“Relax, Boims. It isn’t contraband,” Mariner assured him pulling out a good-sized food stasis unit. “An old ‘friend’ finally got around to repaying an outstanding debt which I accepted in the form of three jumbo cartons of Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream.”
“Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream?” Rutherford blinked doing a take. “The stuff that makes Ktarian and Thalian chocolate taste like combat rations?”
“Yep,” Mariner smirked proudly. “And it’s all ours!”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” Tendi’s eyes went wide. “Tzartak chocolate is famous for its unique molecular structure which makes it impossible to replicate. Like syrup of squill from Balancar.”
“Well, I don’t recommend adding any kind of syrup or toppings to this ice cream,” Mariner grinned patting the unit. “This stuff is rarer than latinum and worth ten times as much.”
“Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream,” Boimler’s padd dropped from his hands as he stared at the food stasis unit with glazed eyes. “Mmmm, I’ve heard about it, but never actually tasted it…”
“Watch yourself there, Boims. You’re starting to drool a bit,” Mariner smirked.
“I am not!” Boimler protested wiping his mouth. “Well, maybe a little…”
“Wow, I never knew you were such a serious chocolate lover, Boimler,” Rutherford commented.
“Well, I’m not at Commander Deanna Troi’s rumored level or anything,” Boimler blushed. “But I do love good chocolate. Traveling to different worlds and tasting all the different kinds of chocolate they have to offer is one of the many reasons I joined Starfleet. A minor reason, but still…”
“Still better than having a love for moving cargo containers,” Mariner said stacking the last stasis unit. “There. Everything’s moved, stowed and stable. I’d say this calls for a little ice cream-centered buffer time.”
“Yay!” Tendi cheered as she and Rutherford joined their friends around the main repair table. “Thanks for sharing with us, Mariner. I haven’t had Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream in a long time.”
“You’ve had Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream before?” Rutherford blinked in surprise. “How were you able to arrange that? I heard it usually takes a minimum of ten years just to place an export order.”
“Oh, you know. Anything is possible when you have the right connections,” Tendi laughed awkwardly. “Whether they be professional, financial, unofficial, family…”
“Really?” Boimler gazed at her eagerly. “Do you think you could help me arrange the necessary connections to tap into the Tzartak chocolate pipeline? Tell me exactly what methods and resources worked for you!”
“Uh,” Tendi gulped nervously. “Well, you see…”
RUMMMBLE!
“Ahhhhhh!” The four ensigns yelped as the ship suddenly shook violently.
“Gahhh! What the heck?” Mariner grumbled bracing herself against the repair table.
“Oh man! The ship’s at Red Alert!” Boimler shouted as the associated lights and alarm began to blare. “We have to get to our stations!”
“Dude, we are at our stations!” Mariner pointed out. “Our duty stations anyway.”
“Yeah, but not our battle stations!” Boimler headed for the door. “Come on! Let’s go!”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford said as they swiftly headed out of the Repair Bay. “What do you think happened to the ship?”
“How the heck should I know?” Mariner shrugged as they raced through the corridors. “It’s not like senior officers ever bother informing the lower decks every time a ship encounters a potentially dangerous situation.”
“I have to admit you have a point,” Boimler said. “You’d think they’d at least make a shipwide announcement or something…hey, the Red Alert alarm has stopped.”
“So have the flashing lights,” Tendi confirmed as the ship’s lighting scheme returned to normal. “The Cerritos must have stood down.”
“Huh, that was quick,” Rutherford remarked. “But stood down from what?”
“Who knows, who cares?” Mariner waved. “Whatever it was I’m sure we’ll be the last to know. If anyone even bothers to tell us. Now let’s head back to the Repair Bay and pig out on ice cream!”
“For once, that’s a plan of yours I approve of,” Boimler grinned as the ensigns turned around. “It’s been a long, hard shift and we deserve a break. I can practically smell that sweet, smooth, silky Tzartak chocolate right now…”
“That’s not what I smell,” Tendi wrinkled her nose as they returned to the Repair Bay. “Smells more like one of Mariner’s unsuccessful attempts at making homemade tea.”
“Hey, that only happened once!” Mariner protested. “Okay, three times, but still! I’m sure I’m not the only Starfleet officer to ever set a pot of tea or three on fire. There’s a reason we order beverages from replicators!”
“That’s not burned tea, it’s a plasma fire!” Rutherford yelped pointing at a blown-out panel. “Whatever hit the ship earlier must have caused a local power spike which resulted in an EPS conduit overload!”
“Then what are you waiting for, man?” Mariner shouted. “Put it out!”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford rushed to a different maintenance panel.
“Guys, we have another problem!” Tendi warned checking her tricorder. “The overload damaged some of the research stasis units. Several units have failed and their biological samples are beginning to reanimate.”
“Oh great,” Boimler groaned as he swiftly retrieved a pair of plasma extinguishers from a nearby equipment locker. He handed one to Mariner as the two command division ensigns immediately turned their respective extinguishers onto the fire. “What kind of samples are we talking about? Old skin cells? Preserved brain neurons?”
“Nope,” Tendi shook her head while checking the cargo manifest. “Looks like several batches of rare and highly concentrated strains of Rigelian Fever, Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome and Symbalene Blood Burn.”
“Oh, is that all?” Mariner drawled. “And here I thought it was something serious.”
“Oh no, not again!” Boimler moaned as he and Mariner proceeded to fight the plasma fire. “Yet another inexplicable happenstance which threatens to end my short-lived Starfleet career. Those biological samples are going to reanimate and eventually end up inflecting the entire ship. We’ll end up covered in buboes or boiling to death in our own blood or worse: transform into an ancient, unevolved form of human!”
“Like from the early 21st century,” Mariner suggested. “Man, talk about primitive!”
“I don’t know. I think it would be interesting to turn into an ancient Orion lifeform,” Tendi commented. “It might even be fun!”
“Are you insane?! What am I saying?” Boimler groaned. “Oh man! I don’t wanna turn into an Australopithecus! I don’t wanna!”
“Calm down, Boims. You’re not gonna turn into a skinny Australo-whatever,” Mariner assured him. “You’ll probably turn into a primitive weasel or something. A small, hairless weasel with a twitchy nose and beady eyes…”
“Thanks a lot,” Boimler hissed. “It would still be better than what you’ll probably de-evolve into. A big-mouthed, hyperactive …”
“There! Got it!” Rutherford called out from the maintenance panel. “I’ve bypassed the damaged EPS conduit and rerouted the energy through the secondary power couplings.”
“Alright,” Mariner praised as she and Boimler finished extinguishing the plasma fire. “Good job, Ruthy.”
“What about the stasis units?” Tendi asked worriedly. “How do we repair them?”
“Oh, I already did,” Rutherford smiled proudly. “The power spike only fried some of the stasis units’ isolinear regulating processors. I simply swapped out the destroyed processors with some fresh ones. No biggie.”
“Thank goodness,” Boimler sighed in relief. “For a minute there I thought this minor mishap would turn into a full-blown shipwide crisis.”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “Those kinds of once-a-week coincidences only happen to senior officers or far more prestigious Federation starships. Resolving a sudden life and death situation like this is just another routine shift among Starfleet’s Lower Decks.”
“You got that right,” Boimler nodded. “By the way, how did you manage to get replacement stasis unit regulating processors so fast, Rutherford? Those are usually very specific pieces of equipment.”
“Simple. I removed them from an available, lower priority stasis unit,” Rutherford explained. “The processors were built to different specs, but were easily made compatible after I made a few minor modifications.”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked, confused. “What available, lower priority stasis…?” His eyes then fell upon the food stasis unit Mariner had brought in earlier. “Oh no. You didn’t…!”
“Hey, relax Boims,” Mariner said. “So Ruthy had to yank out of the guts of the portable icebox. Big deal. Having to eat some slightly melted ice cream isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Are you crazy?! Don’t you know what this means?” Boimler cried quickly opening the unit. “AAAGGGHHHHHH! NOOOOOOO!”
“Huh?” Mariner blinked at the trio of empty cartons sitting in the remains of the nonfunctional stasis unit. “What happened to all the ice cream? I confirmed the contents earlier upon delivery.”
“Oh, that’s right. Tzartak ice cream is also famously touchy,” Tendi recalled. “It’s one reason why it’s impossible to replicate. Its unique molecular structure means the ice cream must remain below a certain critical cold temperature. If it gets even half a degree warmer the ice cream will immediately undergo complete sublimation.”
“And in non-sciency speak?” Mariner gave Tendi a look.
“If the ice cream doesn’t remain cold it will quickly evaporate,” Tendi explained. “That’s another reason why Tzartak ice cream is so prized. When it makes contact with one’s tongue it evaporates and all the amazing flavor is carried completely by the vapor.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to avoid brain freeze,” Mariner quipped. “Unless one accidently inhales the stuff and ends up experiencing olfactory fatigue instead of taste.”
“Too bad we didn’t get to taste any of it,” Rutherford sighed gazing at the empty cartons in disappointment. “I’ve never had Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream before. I was really looking forward to it.”
“Sorry, Ruthy, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get my hands on another carton,” Mariner informed him. “It was blind luck I was ever able to score this much.”
“Nooo! Not the ice cream!” Boimler cried sinking to his knees. “I didn’t even get to have any! I was this close to achieving one of life’s great joys only to have it literally evaporate before my eyes! Why? WHY?!”
“Eh, easy come, easy go,” Mariner shrugged. “Sorry Boims, but you know all good treats must come to an end, no desserts get left behind and all ice cream is fleeting.”
“Aw, too bad. What an unhappy way for such a delicious batch of ice cream to come to such an unfulfilling end,” Tendi said glancing at the bare cartons as well. “There’s nothing sadder than the sight of an empty container of ice cream.”
“AAAHHHHHH! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! I MUST HAVE SOME TZARTAK TRIPLE CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE ICE CREAM!” Boimler howled sticking his head into the warming stasis unit. “There must still be a few wisps of evaporated ice cream floating about in here somewhere! Maybe I can still taste them by licking the remaining cartons and interior surfaces of the stasis unit!”
“With one exception,” Mariner quipped.
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
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Best Served Cold
“Ahhh, now this is what I call a duty assignment,” Boimler smiled clutching a padd in fulfillment. “Undertaking and completing meaningful work like this is what being part of Starfleet is all about.”
“Yeah, ‘cause nobody can move and stack cargo containers like Starfleet can,” Mariner drawled mockingly while unloading an anti-grav in the Repair Bay. “Boy, this sure is a dream come true. All those years working and studying at the Academy have really paid off.”
“Must you be sarcastic about everything?” Boimler sighed at his friend.
“Whaddya expect, Boims? It’s kinda my thing,” Mariner shrugged. “And can you really blame me this time? We’re not exactly out exploring strange new worlds here. We’re acting as a glorified moving service. Talk about lame!”
“This isn’t lame,” Tendi said scanning a stack of stasis containers with her tricorder. “The Cerritos is decommissioning an old cold storage facility and relocating its vast collection of biological research samples to a new location. The icy planetoid which had been housing the facility was recently stuck by a bizarre combination of increased solar activity and gravimetric anomalies causing the planetoid’s surface temperature to rise by over six hundred degrees Kelvin.”
“Thus rendering the former cold storage facility permanently unsustainable,” Boimler continued. “It’s difficult to preserve biological research samples in cold storage when the planetoid’s very air will soon become hot enough to melt lead.”
“Not as difficult as loading all this unwieldy stuff aboard the ship,” Mariner noted unloading more containers. “Every cargo bay, storage bay and shuttlebay is already packed to the brim so now we’re stuck dealing with the overflow. I tell ya somebody really ought to tell those research types to stop hoarding so much stuff and give their place a serious declutter.”
“Man, it’s really sad to see such a veritable, well-engineered facility meet its end,” Rutherford commented while checking the power flow to the stasis containers. “Hard to believe increased planetary warming will finally do it in. That place has been around since the early 2200s. They really build cold storage facilities to last back in those days.”
“Yeah, a backup cold storage facility,” Mariner pointed out. “Which held backup biological samples for backup research nobody’s ever heard of or will probably ever undertake. Talk about a waste of time and resources!”
“You don’t know that,” Boimler frowned in annoyance. “Some of those samples may hold the key for finding cures and solutions to unknown diseases and biological disasters yet to be encountered.”
“Maybe,” Mariner allowed. “But I wouldn’t bet on it. Hey, that reminds me! I just received a shipment from one of my old gambling contacts!”
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned. “What sort of health-hazardous contraband have you smuggled aboard the Cerritos this time? On second thought, don’t tell me. That way I can still attempt to plead ignorance at our court-martial.”
“Relax, Boims. It isn’t contraband,” Mariner assured him pulling out a good-sized food stasis unit. “An old ‘friend’ finally got around to repaying an outstanding debt which I accepted in the form of three jumbo cartons of Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream.”
“Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream?” Rutherford blinked doing a take. “The stuff that makes Ktarian and Thalian chocolate taste like combat rations?”
“Yep,” Mariner smirked proudly. “And it’s all ours!”
“Wow, that’s amazing!” Tendi’s eyes went wide. “Tzartak chocolate is famous for its unique molecular structure which makes it impossible to replicate. Like syrup of squill from Balancar.”
“Well, I don’t recommend adding any kind of syrup or toppings to this ice cream,” Mariner grinned patting the unit. “This stuff is rarer than latinum and worth ten times as much.”
“Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream,” Boimler’s padd dropped from his hands as he stared at the food stasis unit with glazed eyes. “Mmmm, I’ve heard about it, but never actually tasted it…”
“Watch yourself there, Boims. You’re starting to drool a bit,” Mariner smirked.
“I am not!” Boimler protested wiping his mouth. “Well, maybe a little…”
“Wow, I never knew you were such a serious chocolate lover, Boimler,” Rutherford commented.
“Well, I’m not at Commander Deanna Troi’s rumored level or anything,” Boimler blushed. “But I do love good chocolate. Traveling to different worlds and tasting all the different kinds of chocolate they have to offer is one of the many reasons I joined Starfleet. A minor reason, but still…”
“Still better than having a love for moving cargo containers,” Mariner said stacking the last stasis unit. “There. Everything’s moved, stowed and stable. I’d say this calls for a little ice cream-centered buffer time.”
“Yay!” Tendi cheered as she and Rutherford joined their friends around the main repair table. “Thanks for sharing with us, Mariner. I haven’t had Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream in a long time.”
“You’ve had Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream before?” Rutherford blinked in surprise. “How were you able to arrange that? I heard it usually takes a minimum of ten years just to place an export order.”
“Oh, you know. Anything is possible when you have the right connections,” Tendi laughed awkwardly. “Whether they be professional, financial, unofficial, family…”
“Really?” Boimler gazed at her eagerly. “Do you think you could help me arrange the necessary connections to tap into the Tzartak chocolate pipeline? Tell me exactly what methods and resources worked for you!”
“Uh,” Tendi gulped nervously. “Well, you see…”
RUMMMBLE!
“Ahhhhhh!” The four ensigns yelped as the ship suddenly shook violently.
“Gahhh! What the heck?” Mariner grumbled bracing herself against the repair table.
“Oh man! The ship’s at Red Alert!” Boimler shouted as the associated lights and alarm began to blare. “We have to get to our stations!”
“Dude, we are at our stations!” Mariner pointed out. “Our duty stations anyway.”
“Yeah, but not our battle stations!” Boimler headed for the door. “Come on! Let’s go!”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford said as they swiftly headed out of the Repair Bay. “What do you think happened to the ship?”
“How the heck should I know?” Mariner shrugged as they raced through the corridors. “It’s not like senior officers ever bother informing the lower decks every time a ship encounters a potentially dangerous situation.”
“I have to admit you have a point,” Boimler said. “You’d think they’d at least make a shipwide announcement or something…hey, the Red Alert alarm has stopped.”
“So have the flashing lights,” Tendi confirmed as the ship’s lighting scheme returned to normal. “The Cerritos must have stood down.”
“Huh, that was quick,” Rutherford remarked. “But stood down from what?”
“Who knows, who cares?” Mariner waved. “Whatever it was I’m sure we’ll be the last to know. If anyone even bothers to tell us. Now let’s head back to the Repair Bay and pig out on ice cream!”
“For once, that’s a plan of yours I approve of,” Boimler grinned as the ensigns turned around. “It’s been a long, hard shift and we deserve a break. I can practically smell that sweet, smooth, silky Tzartak chocolate right now…”
“That’s not what I smell,” Tendi wrinkled her nose as they returned to the Repair Bay. “Smells more like one of Mariner’s unsuccessful attempts at making homemade tea.”
“Hey, that only happened once!” Mariner protested. “Okay, three times, but still! I’m sure I’m not the only Starfleet officer to ever set a pot of tea or three on fire. There’s a reason we order beverages from replicators!”
“That’s not burned tea, it’s a plasma fire!” Rutherford yelped pointing at a blown-out panel. “Whatever hit the ship earlier must have caused a local power spike which resulted in an EPS conduit overload!”
“Then what are you waiting for, man?” Mariner shouted. “Put it out!”
“Okey-dokey!” Rutherford rushed to a different maintenance panel.
“Guys, we have another problem!” Tendi warned checking her tricorder. “The overload damaged some of the research stasis units. Several units have failed and their biological samples are beginning to reanimate.”
“Oh great,” Boimler groaned as he swiftly retrieved a pair of plasma extinguishers from a nearby equipment locker. He handed one to Mariner as the two command division ensigns immediately turned their respective extinguishers onto the fire. “What kind of samples are we talking about? Old skin cells? Preserved brain neurons?”
“Nope,” Tendi shook her head while checking the cargo manifest. “Looks like several batches of rare and highly concentrated strains of Rigelian Fever, Barclay's Protomorphosis Syndrome and Symbalene Blood Burn.”
“Oh, is that all?” Mariner drawled. “And here I thought it was something serious.”
“Oh no, not again!” Boimler moaned as he and Mariner proceeded to fight the plasma fire. “Yet another inexplicable happenstance which threatens to end my short-lived Starfleet career. Those biological samples are going to reanimate and eventually end up inflecting the entire ship. We’ll end up covered in buboes or boiling to death in our own blood or worse: transform into an ancient, unevolved form of human!”
“Like from the early 21st century,” Mariner suggested. “Man, talk about primitive!”
“I don’t know. I think it would be interesting to turn into an ancient Orion lifeform,” Tendi commented. “It might even be fun!”
“Are you insane?! What am I saying?” Boimler groaned. “Oh man! I don’t wanna turn into an Australopithecus! I don’t wanna!”
“Calm down, Boims. You’re not gonna turn into a skinny Australo-whatever,” Mariner assured him. “You’ll probably turn into a primitive weasel or something. A small, hairless weasel with a twitchy nose and beady eyes…”
“Thanks a lot,” Boimler hissed. “It would still be better than what you’ll probably de-evolve into. A big-mouthed, hyperactive …”
“There! Got it!” Rutherford called out from the maintenance panel. “I’ve bypassed the damaged EPS conduit and rerouted the energy through the secondary power couplings.”
“Alright,” Mariner praised as she and Boimler finished extinguishing the plasma fire. “Good job, Ruthy.”
“What about the stasis units?” Tendi asked worriedly. “How do we repair them?”
“Oh, I already did,” Rutherford smiled proudly. “The power spike only fried some of the stasis units’ isolinear regulating processors. I simply swapped out the destroyed processors with some fresh ones. No biggie.”
“Thank goodness,” Boimler sighed in relief. “For a minute there I thought this minor mishap would turn into a full-blown shipwide crisis.”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “Those kinds of once-a-week coincidences only happen to senior officers or far more prestigious Federation starships. Resolving a sudden life and death situation like this is just another routine shift among Starfleet’s Lower Decks.”
“You got that right,” Boimler nodded. “By the way, how did you manage to get replacement stasis unit regulating processors so fast, Rutherford? Those are usually very specific pieces of equipment.”
“Simple. I removed them from an available, lower priority stasis unit,” Rutherford explained. “The processors were built to different specs, but were easily made compatible after I made a few minor modifications.”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked, confused. “What available, lower priority stasis…?” His eyes then fell upon the food stasis unit Mariner had brought in earlier. “Oh no. You didn’t…!”
“Hey, relax Boims,” Mariner said. “So Ruthy had to yank out of the guts of the portable icebox. Big deal. Having to eat some slightly melted ice cream isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“Are you crazy?! Don’t you know what this means?” Boimler cried quickly opening the unit. “AAAGGGHHHHHH! NOOOOOOO!”
“Huh?” Mariner blinked at the trio of empty cartons sitting in the remains of the nonfunctional stasis unit. “What happened to all the ice cream? I confirmed the contents earlier upon delivery.”
“Oh, that’s right. Tzartak ice cream is also famously touchy,” Tendi recalled. “It’s one reason why it’s impossible to replicate. Its unique molecular structure means the ice cream must remain below a certain critical cold temperature. If it gets even half a degree warmer the ice cream will immediately undergo complete sublimation.”
“And in non-sciency speak?” Mariner gave Tendi a look.
“If the ice cream doesn’t remain cold it will quickly evaporate,” Tendi explained. “That’s another reason why Tzartak ice cream is so prized. When it makes contact with one’s tongue it evaporates and all the amazing flavor is carried completely by the vapor.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to avoid brain freeze,” Mariner quipped. “Unless one accidently inhales the stuff and ends up experiencing olfactory fatigue instead of taste.”
“Too bad we didn’t get to taste any of it,” Rutherford sighed gazing at the empty cartons in disappointment. “I’ve never had Tzartak triple chocolate truffle ice cream before. I was really looking forward to it.”
“Sorry, Ruthy, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get my hands on another carton,” Mariner informed him. “It was blind luck I was ever able to score this much.”
“Nooo! Not the ice cream!” Boimler cried sinking to his knees. “I didn’t even get to have any! I was this close to achieving one of life’s great joys only to have it literally evaporate before my eyes! Why? WHY?!”
“Eh, easy come, easy go,” Mariner shrugged. “Sorry Boims, but you know all good treats must come to an end, no desserts get left behind and all ice cream is fleeting.”
“Aw, too bad. What an unhappy way for such a delicious batch of ice cream to come to such an unfulfilling end,” Tendi said glancing at the bare cartons as well. “There’s nothing sadder than the sight of an empty container of ice cream.”
“AAAHHHHHH! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING! I MUST HAVE SOME TZARTAK TRIPLE CHOCOLATE TRUFFLE ICE CREAM!” Boimler howled sticking his head into the warming stasis unit. “There must still be a few wisps of evaporated ice cream floating about in here somewhere! Maybe I can still taste them by licking the remaining cartons and interior surfaces of the stasis unit!”
“With one exception,” Mariner quipped.
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
