Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link. -------------------------------------- Memories Aren’t Made of These “Mmmm,” Tendi murmured while lying on a soft, warm surface. She slowly opened her eyes and let out a long yawn. “Ahhh, what a good sleep. Time to get ready for another exciting day in Starfleet…huh?” Tendi blinked looking around. “Hey, this isn’t my bunk. Where am I?” “Ugh, what’s that noise?” Rutherford mumbled somewhere nearby. “Did my implant develop another distorted feedback loop?” He sleepily poked his implant a few times. “Nope. Hmmm, maybe my tinnitus is acting up again.” “Nooo, leave me alone. I don’t wanna get up yet,” Mariner moaned slumped in a non-reclining chair. “Just five more minutes…” “Oooh, my spine,” Boimler groaned curled up near Mariner’s feet. He winced and rubbed his back. “Ugh, I feel like I’m lying on a pile of broken starship models.” “You are lying on a pile of broken starship models,” Tendi informed him. “Huh?” Boimler blinked, confused. He slowly sat up and looked around to see he and his three friends were sprawled around one of the Engineering labs. “That’s weird. Where did all these models come from…aaahhhhhh!” Boimler yelped noticing that, instead of his uniform, he was wearing a makeshift, multicolored toga. “What the heck is this?” “I was about to ask the same thing,” Tendi said indicating her own outfit. She was dressed as a 17th century French musketeer while sitting on a mound of non-Starfleet issue pillows. “Anybody recognize these clothes? They must be holodeck costumes of some kind.” “Oh boy,” Rutherford blinked from where he had been lying on one of the lab tables. He wore only a motley collection of bright neon body paint and some strategically-placed feathers. “This definitely isn’t up to Starfleet’s uniform code. What am I wearing?” “More like what aren’t you wearing,” Mariner quipped rubbing her eyes. She looked down and found herself dressed in an off-the-shoulder pink uniform, matching miniskirt and knee-high go-go boots. “Ugh, talk about dated fashion sense. Who the heck designed this ensemble, William Ware Theiss?” “Forget the clothes. What happened to this room?” Boimler gaped in shock at the completely wrecked Engineering lab. Bulkheads were scorched, equipment was trashed and all the displays were covered in a strange, foamy substance. “Is that shaving cream?” “No. Cheese cream,” Tendi said taking an experiment sniff. “Tastes good too.” “Man, what the heck happened in here?” Boimler asked, stunned. “I can’t remember anything. Are we under attack?” “Na, the ship isn’t at Red Alert,” Mariner pointed out. “Unless Ruthy went and messed with the Red Alert speakers or something.” “Well, not recently,” Rutherford coughed. “Hold on. Let’s think this through,” Tendi reasoned. “The last thing I remember was trying some of that special toffee Mariner offered us.” “Oh yeah. I remember that,” Boimler nodded. “It was pretty good. Wait a minute,” He shot Mariner a look. “That toffee wasn’t contraband, was it?” “Of course not,” Mariner scoffed. “That stuff was pure, one hundred percent legal. I didn’t offer you guys any contraband candy this time.” “Well, in that case,” Boimler did a double-take. “What do you mean ‘this time’?” “Hold on,” Rutherford held up a hand. “What kind of toffee was it?” “Betazoid uttaberry toffee,” Mariner said. “Completely non-replicated. An old friend in the Diplomatic Corps sent it to me.” “Of course they did,” Boimler rolled his eyes. “Ah, okay. Betazoid uttaberry toffee is completely harmless,” Tendi nodded. “Guess the toffee wasn’t the cause of our memory loss after all.” “Told ya,” Mariner smirked. “I admit that stuff can be pretty potent, but it’s not that strong. And Betazoid toffee is kinda rare too. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.” “Really?” Rutherford asked. “What special occasion were we celebrating? Did we help avert some kind of ship-wide disaster?” “Was it somebody’s birthday?” Tendi ventured. “Did one of my cataloging, organization and efficiency memos get published?” Boimler asked hopefully. “Na, I think we just ate the toffee for the heck of it,” Mariner shrugged. “Makes sense too considering I kinda forgot about my secret toffee stash and let it sit in storage for over a year.” “Oh. Okay…wait, you what?” Tendi did a take. “You’re not supposed to let Betazoid uttaberry toffee sit around like that. If left uneaten the toffee will ferment and when consumed by non-Betazoids act as a highly potent source of concentrated sugars, hallucinogens and psychoactive agents.” “What?” Boimler and Rutherford yelped. “Really?” A surprised Mariner blinked. “Oh. Uh, oops.” “Oops is right,” Boimler groaned holding his head. “I should have known something like this had happened. And that once again it was all your fault!” “Hey, relax Boims. No lasting harm done,” Mariner held up her hands. “Besides, we obviously ate all the evidence. All we gotta do is clean this place up and no one will know the difference.” “Hey, look who’s awake,” The doors to the lab opened revealing a smiling Jet and Ensign Barnes. “‘Bout time you guys woke up from your post-chaos-creating comas.” “You were saying?” Boimler shot Mariner a look. “Manhaver to Captain Freeman,” Jet tapped his combadge. “Ensign Mariner and the others have finally regained consciousness.” “Acknowledged, Ensign,” Freeman replied. “I’ll be down there soon to issue appropriate responses for their recent rash of erratic and unauthorized actions.” “Understood,” Jet confirmed. “Manhaver out.” “Responses?” Tendi blinked, confused. “Erratic actions?” “Unauthorized?” Boimler blanched. “Hold on. There must be some mistake!” “Oh, there’s no mistake,” Barnes said. “Everyone onboard saw or was caught up in at least part, if not all of the wild, crazy stunts you guys pulled during the night shift.” “They did?” Mariner blinked in surprise. “Hmmm, well there goes the ‘no witnesses’ defense.” “Oh man,” Rutherford gulped nervously. “What did we do?” “What didn’t you do?” Barnes asked rhetorically. “You guys went and painted the whole ship red. Literally.” “Along with pink, purple and other various colors,” Jet added. “It made the graffiti scrawled by the Gelrakians look like a bunch of faded sticker tattoos.” “Huh?” Tendi was stunned. “Speaking of which, I heard Mariner and Rutherford did a great job making it snow in Engineering,” Barnes remarked. “The resulting snow sculptures you guys carved out with phasers didn’t melt even after setting off all those fireworks. How did you do that?” “I have absolutely no idea,” Rutherford blinked. “Or have any recollection thereof.” “Though it was nothing compared to what Tendi and Boimler did after breaking into the Rubber Ducky Room,” Jet chuckled. “Talk about wild!” “We what?” Tendi and Boimler gawked in shock. “Personally, I thought the thruster-powered, anti-grav unicycle drag races were a bit much,” Barnes commented. “But steering a flying Lieutenant Levy around with a pair of remote-controlled hover boots strapped to his feet was quite enjoyable.” “Everybody enjoyed that,” Jet laughed heartily. “That guy bounced off more bulkheads than an old-fashioned superball in a squash court.” “Really?” Mariner’s eyes widened. “Dang, that sounds like fun. Wish I’d thought of it.” “You did think of it,” Barnes reminded her. “Along with what you and Boimler did with the molecular phase inverter and giant animal balloons in the Hydroponics Bay.” “Hydroponics Bay?” Boimler looked very confused. “I’m still trying to figure out what I did in the Rubber Ducky Room.” “Don’t worry about that, man,” Jet assured him. “The tales of what you and Tendi did in the Rubber Ducky Room will be shared and enjoyed for years to come.” “Unlike the mural Rutherford made depicting Admiral Jellico being savaged by a flock of Phylosian swoopers,” Barnes noted in disappointment. “I didn’t even get to see it.” “You’re not the only one,” Rutherford blinked. “That’s no problem,” Jet waved. “You can always access the Cerritos’ internal visual logs and watch all the action from the beginning.” “What?!” Boimler yelped. “Oh no!” “Oh yes,” Jet held up a padd. “Copies of the ship’s visual logs have already been shared multiple times among the crew. I’ve been watching them for hours.” “Yaaahoooooo!” The padd’s display screen showed a very happy, very hyper Rutherford riding around on a wheeled, rocket-propelled tank of liquid nitrogen while spraying the tank’s freezing contents throughout various hallways of the Cerritos. “I’m the Snow Miser of Armus IX! Hahahahaha!” “Alright! Wohoo!” A whooping, toga-clad Boimler was shown next dancing atop the tables in the Mess Hall. “Get down! Work it people! Shake that thing! Yeah!” “Oh geeze, this is humiliating,” Boimler moaned burying his face in his hands. “No it isn’t, Boims,” Mariner assured him. “You’ve done far more humiliating and embarrassing things than that.” “Hehehehehe!” A beaming, skipping, skirt-strutting Mariner appeared on the padd while randomly blasting crewmembers and equipment with a modified isomagnetic disintegrator which shot out exploding glitter bombs instead of energy bolts. “The Queen of Sunshine and Rainbows is here! Sparkly smiles, fun and laughter for everyone! Yay!” “Look who’s talking,” Boimler gave her a look. “The Queen of what?!” Mariner gawked at the screen in shock. “Oh man! Where the heck did that come from?” “That’s exactly what I said when I saw the life-like Gorn suit Tendi stuffed Lieutenant Commander Stevens in,” Barnes commented. “I did what?” Tendi blinked again. “En garde, foul villain!” Tendi was seen chasing an awkwardly costumed Stevens through the ship’s corridors while mercilessly poking and prodding at him. “You dare not dare cross the greatest swordswoman in all Sickbay?” “AAAGGGHHHHHH! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” Stevens wailed while desperately attempting to avoid Tendi’s assault. “I CAN’T RUN ANYWHERE IN THIS BLASTED GORN SUIT! NOT THAT I COULD REALLY RUN ANYWHERE WITHOUT IT…YEEEOOOWWWWWW!” “Ouch, that’s gotta hurt,” Boimler gulped watching the video. “Wait, where did Tendi get the sword?” “That’s not a sword,” Jet corrected. “It’s a Klingon painstik.” MMMRRRLLLZZZZZZ! “AAAIIIEEEEEEEEE!” “Yikes,” Tendi winced at Stevens’ high-pitched shrieks. “Sorry for zapping you so much, sir. That life-like Gorn costume obviously doesn’t provide much realistic protection.” “Eh, what else can you expect from a guy dressed in a lizard suit?” Jet shrugged. “Though that painstik does seem to be the real deal. How did one of those ever get onboard?” “Gee, no idea,” Mariner whistled innocently. “That’s a real mystery.” “If only,” Boimler muttered. “Man, this is nuts,” Rutherford blinked as more clips of the four energetic ensigns acting out were shown. “We total trashed the ship. Why didn’t Security stop us?” “They tried,” Barnes explained. “And failed spectacularly.” “Man, I tell ya Starfleet security officers sure seem to be really bad at providing security,” Jet remarked shaking his head. “It’s like they’re always unintentionally part of a plot-required running gag.” “We assaulted the Cerritos’ entire Security department?” Boimler yelped. “No need to brag about it,” Barnes remarked. “Though I’m not sure sticking all the security officers to the bulkheads by flooding Deck Six with Arcadian superglue can really be considered assault.” “Boy, was Shaxs ever steamed when he and Doctor T’Ana ending up stuck upside-down on top of each other to the doors of Transporter Room Two,” Jet remarked. “Though strangely Doc T’Ana didn’t seem to mind it too much. That is until Lieutenant junior-grade Cody tried prying them off the doors…” “On the other hand, I think the half-bald look works pretty well on Shaxs,” Barnes commented. “Doctor T’Ana on the other hand…” “Oh no,” Boimler paled in horror. “O-kay. That’s definitely not good,” Mariner noted. “I can maybe handle an angry, ticked off Shaxs, but an even crankier version of Doc T’Ana can really hold a grudge.” “Not as much as Lieutenant Commander Billups,” Jet pointed out. “He was on his knees bawling his eyes out after Tendi and Rutherford shot his favorite toolkit out a torpedo tube. Along with a spare warp plasma conduit, a burrito-loaded probe casing, an EV-clad Ensign Asif…” “We what?!” Tendi and Rutherford yelped. “That’s still nothing compared to what I did to Commander Ransom’s collection of free weights,” Boimler moaned viewing another clip. “I had no idea a bottle of chili sauce and a cytoplasmic separator could be used that way. That has to be illegal!” “Better hope not,” Mariner warned. “Or it’ll be noted on your official Starfleet record. Not that it’ll make much difference…” “Uh, just how long did our little ship-wrecking rampage last?” Tendi asked timidly. “Eh, only a few hours,” Barnes replied. “Though some claimed it felt more like a few days.” “I don’t blame them,” Boimler groaned. “I’m surprised we didn’t all end up in the Brig.” “That’s because the Brig is kind of…missing,” Barnes coughed. “It’s what?!” Rutherford yelped. “How is that possible?” “I dunno. That section of the ship’s visual logs got corrupted by all the raspberry gelatin Boimler somehow snuck into the main computer core,” Jet scratched his head. “It’s a real brain stumper for sure.” “Oh geeze,” Boimler moaned. “That’s why Ransom ordered us to lock you guys in the sole remaining, unflooded Engineering lab after you all finally passed out,” Barnes explained. “At least we think that’s what he said. Ransom’s words were kind of hard to make out through all the layers of medical bandages and thermal concrete Boimler had encased him in…” “Oh no,” Boimler began to tremble in fear. “We are so dead!” “Only if we’re lucky,” Mariner quipped. “We’re never lucky,” Tendi pointed out. “Oh geeze, you’re right,” Rutherford gulped nervously. “We’re doomed!” “We’re going to be court-martialed!” Boimler cried. “We’re going to be drummed out of Starfleet!” Tendi wailed. “Cool it, guys. Quit it with the dramatic overreactions,” Mariner held up her hands. “We’ll just explain the whole situation, take the demerits and end up spending a few weeks or months in the Brig once the Engineering techs finish building the ship a new one. No biggie. And we if do somehow end up before a court martial any reasonable, unbiased Starfleet tribunal is sure to let us off.” “Ah, good. You’re all finally awake,” Captain Freeman said entering the Engineering lab. “It’s about time you ensigns took responsibility for your recent unauthorized actions along with accepting the appropriate consequences.” “On the other hand,” Mariner blinked. “I’ve spent the last few hours poring through all the facts, statements and reports regarding your recent bizarre, unauthorized behaviors,” Freeman fixed the four accountable ensigns with a look. “After reviewing the evidence, it is my unwavering decision that you all be…” “Captain, wait!” Boimler suddenly blurted out. “It wasn’t our fault! I mean, technically it was our fault, but it really wasn’t! We didn’t even know what we were doing!” “We’d never normally act all wild, crazy and senselessly ridiculous like that,” Tendi quickly backed Boimler up. “We were unknowingly under the influence of fermented Betazoid uttaberry toffee.” “Huh?” Freeman blinked in confusion. “Yeah, it was all the uttaberry toffee’s fault!” Rutherford babbled uncontrollably. “And Mariner’s for feeding the toffee to us after unintentionally letting it all ferment!” “Hey, I didn’t hear you guys complaining while you were happily chowing down on the toffee,” Mariner defended. “Of course, I didn’t hear much of anything after Boims made all those pretty lights come out of his hands and the entire Repair Bay began to spin about…” “O-kay,” Freeman struggled to process the situation. “That new information does explain a few things, but I still believe you should all receive…” “No! Don’t! Please!” Boimler begged falling to his knees. “We never meant to do any of those insane things! We disavow each and every one of our recent actions! We’re sorry for what we did! We’ll clean up every messy, wrecked and affected cubic centimeter of the Cerritos ourselves! Just please don’t make any mention of this incident on our official records!” “Yes, please!” Tendi and Rutherford pleaded kneeling next to Boimler. “Don’t let this hopefully forgotten episode mark and define the rest of our potentially short Starfleet careers! We don’t deserve it!” “Well, if you all really feel that way…” Freeman began. “Yes! We absolutely do!” Boimler cried. “Totally! Utterly! Completely! Right, Mariner.” “Yeah, sure. Whatever,” Mariner shrugged. “Like it’ll do any good…” “Alright, fine,” Freeman finally gave in. “Since you all insist and feel that strongly about it, I will forego making any notes or commendations about your recent related behaviors on your official Starfleet records.” “Oh, thank you, Captain!” Boimler cried practically kissing Freeman’s boots. “Thank you, thank you, thank…wait, what?!” “Commendations?” Tendi and Rutherford blinked, surprised. “Uh, excuse me? What exactly do you mean by that?” Mariner asked, confused. “Didn’t you come down here to scream, yell and throw the ridiculously inconsistent Starfleet rulebook at us?” “Of course not,” Freeman said. “I came down here to thank you.” “WHAT?!” The four shocked Lower Deckers yelped. “WHY?!” “Don’t you remember?” Freeman gave them all strange looks. “The Cerritos encountered a powerful, god-like alien entity which demanded we prove our worth by offering the most valuable, cherished items we possessed or else the entity would destroy the ship before moving on to possibly condemn the entire Federation.” “Oh, is that all?” Mariner drawled. “The ship’s senior staff and I suggested and offered up many things, but the alien entity rejected them all,” Freeman went on. “Right when it seemed the entire ship would be destroyed, we began receiving reports of your outrageous, outlandish behaviors.” “Uh oh,” Boimler gulped. “Which was exactly what the alien entity was looking for,” Freeman said. “Turns out the rarest and most precious elements in the universe are a good laugh, the ability to be self-deprecating, the willingness to embrace the absurd and the possession of a healthy sense of humor.” “Huh?” Tendi and Rutherford gaped, stunned. “Really?” Mariner blinked. “Huh, who’da thunk?” “I was going to issue you all commendations for your excellent, unorthodox problem-solving skills after all conventional Starfleet thinking had failed,” Freeman stated. “Along with my strong personal recommendations for future advancement and promotions.” “WHAT?!” Boimler cried. “However, since you all admitted your recent actions were due to being under the influence of a behavior-altering substance,” Freeman fixed them all with a glare. “I will forego making said commendations and recommendations in exchange for overlooking your serendipitous acts of irresponsibility and not issuing the appropriate punishments such careless, reckless behaviors would normally merit.” “Uh, okay,” Rutherford finally managed to get out. “Thank you very much, Captain. I think.” “Just don’t let it happen again,” Freeman warned before exiting the lab. “Ugh, I am definitely not looking forward to writing out this mission report…” “Wow, you guys sure are modest,” Barnes commented at her four gaping crewmates. “Generously declining commendations like that.” “Eh, it’s all part of living up to the selfless, virtuous life of service in Starfleet,” Jet noted as he and Barnes left as well. “You guys are examples to us all. Great work! Catch you all later!” “O-kay, what the heck just happened?” A stunned Tendi blinked as the four shocked ensigns were finally left alone. “Were we just praised, punished, passed over or what?” “Eh, a little bit of all the above,” Mariner shrugged. “All in all, I think we just about broke even.” “That’s not all we broke,” Rutherford blinked tapping his head. “I think all the logic, reason and reality centers of my brain and implant just fizzled out too.” “Aaauuuggghhh, no!” Boimler howled in despair. “I was this close to finally receiving a well-deserved commendation and promotion only to throw them both away! I even did it willingly! What was I thinking?!” He began repeatedly banging his head against the floor. “Why did I do that?! WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!” “Aw, don’t sweat about it, Boims. We all have our regrets,” Mariner waved. “I for one regret not finding out about and acting under the effects of fermented Betazoid uttaberry toffee earlier.” “I regret having all our recent embarrassing actions caught on video,” Tendi sighed. “I regret not hitting the Gym more often,” Rutherford groaned glancing at his nearly bare form. “Or shaving my legs.” “And I’m starting to regret ever being assigned to this flying madhouse posing as a Federation starship in the first place,” Boimler moaned. -------------------------------------- Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
HA ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA ha ha ha ha! -Will