Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
Note: This story takes place after the episode "Veritas".
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Filling in the Blanks
“Ah, now I get it,” Boimler said in understanding. “Things are finally starting to make sense.”
“I think so too,” Rutherford concurred with a nod. “All the pieces are falling into place.”
“It’s about time,” Tendi smiled in satisfaction. “All our hard work and research are finally paying off.”
“Yo, what up peoples!” Mariner greeted sauntering into Repair Bay Five. “What’cha doing?”
“Hi, Mariner!” Tendi greeted cheerfully. She, Boimler and Rutherford were seated around the main repair table surrounded by several small stacks of padds. “We’re busy trying to unlock all the unanswered questions, secrets and mysteries regarding the Cerritos’ recent mission to K'Tuevon Prime.”
“Ah, no! Seriously?” Mariner tsked in disappointment. “C’mon guys. I thought we agreed we were better off not knowing what all that not-a-trial nonsense was about.”
“You agreed. We didn’t,” Boimler pointed out. “And it’s our job as Starfleet officers to explore the unknown.”
“Yeah, we need to satisfy our natural curiosities and find out why we all nearly died,” Rutherford said. “Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Even if it means secretly investigating a classified subject,” Tendi declared passionately. “Nothing will hinder our paths to eventual enlightenment!”
“Look, normally I’d be all in and right alongside you guys just on the basis of sticking it in Freeman’s face,” Mariner said. “But I’m feeling lazy so I’ll just pass and say that in this case ignorance is bliss. Maybe not Ktarian headset game or telepathic pitcher plant level bliss, but still…”
“Well, independently investigating a classified mission using open-source resources is considered prohibited,” Boimler whistled innocently. “Not technically of course, but it does violate the spirit behind Starfleet regulations regarding classified topics. And we all know how much spirit you have when it comes to violating regulations…”
“Alright, fine. I’ll bite,” Mariner gave in plopping into a chair and propping her feet up on the table. “Let the enlightenment begin. Hit me!”
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford smiled readying a padd. “Let’s start at the beginning. First a little background information…”
“Ugh, no! Boo! Hiss!” Mariner mock jeered. “Not another dull, boring presentation. What do you think this is, a mission briefing?”
“Ahem,” Rutherford cleared his throat and began reading. “K'Tuevon Prime is an inhabited, independent world near Romulan space bordering the Neutral Zone.”
“Yeah, yeah. We already know that,” Mariner waved. “Get to the good part. If there is such a thing.”
“As I was saying,” Rutherford continued. “The Romulans have long desired to control the entire K'Tuevon system, but since K'Tuevon Prime is fairly well armed and fortified the Romulans have never attempted to openly invade. Instead, they’ve limited themselves to various attempts at influencing K'Tuevon Prime’s politics.”
“A far messier and morally bankrupt undertaking than any war,” Mariner quipped.
“Obviously,” Boimler confirmed picking up from where Rutherford left off. “The Romulans have attempted to either bribe, blackmail or manipulate the leadership of K'Tuevon Prime various times in the past, but have always failed. Mostly due to the efforts of Imperium Magistrate Clar.”
“Which prompted the Romulans to kidnap him,” Mariner reasoned. “So they could better go about their underhanded espionage and other Tal Shiar-related cloak-and-dagger skullduggery.”
“That’s right,” Tendi nodded. “The Romulans also subjected Clar to mind probes and other intense interrogation techniques, but he managed to resist them.”
“Really? Huh, good for him,” Mariner commented. “It almost makes me want to forgive him for practically interrogating us. Almost. Wait, how did you guys find out about all this?”
“By reading through past news reports and government statements from K'Tuevon Prime,” Rutherford said holding up a padd. “And Clar’s recent announcement describing his experiences.”
“Nearly the entire planet considers Clar to be a big hero,” Boimler explained. “So big that the Romulans didn’t want to risk him dying and turning into a martyr. So they decided to lock him up and keep him in suspended animation instead. And hold him for ransom. Which the K'Tuevon Prime government refused to pay despite Clar’s vast importance and popularity.”
“Now that’s surprising,” Mariner remarked. “Most people wouldn’t pay two credits if any of their highest-ranking government officials were kidnapped. Heck, they’d probably encourage it! Ransoming a society’s most popular sports, entertainment or celebrity figures however…”
“You have a point,” Boimler noted. “Which put the K'Tuevon Prime government in a real bind. They desperately wanted Clar back, but refused to pay the Romulans’ ransom demands even though they lacked the ability to attempt a rescue mission themselves. Which is where Starfleet and the crew of the Cerritos came in.”
“Finally,” Mariner blew her lips in exasperation. “This was starting to drag on longer than a Cardassian epic novel.”
“Starfleet tapped the Cerritos to lead the rescue efforts of Imperium Magistrate Clar,” Boimler stated proudly. “Because the Cerritos is one of Starfleet’s finest ships with one of the most capable crews in the fleet.”
“Uh huh,” Mariner gave him a knowing look. “And what’s the real reason?”
“Because a more famous ship like the Enterprise, Titan, or Defiant is way too well-known and would be far more likely to draw the Romulans’ attention while also being under constant Romulan observation,” Boimler coughed admittingly. “While the Cerritos is a relatively obscure ship which the Romulans probably don’t even know or care about.”
“Gotta admit they ain’t wrong,” Mariner scoffed. “Like the Romulans would ever bother inserting an undercover operative aboard the Cerritos.”
“It could happen,” Tendi suggested while suspiciously glancing around the repair bay. “It may have even happened already…”
“Na, I’m sure we would have noticed something if it had,” Boimler waved. “Anyway, getting back to Clar’s rescue. The Cerritos’ first task was to obtain a map of the Neutral Zone from the Clickets.”
“Which made absolutely no sense,” Mariner snorted. “The Federation has sensor buoys, spy satellites, long range scanners, stealth probes and plenty of skilled intel operatives. We could’ve easily compiled a map of the Neutral Zone on our own. Why bother getting one from a race of overgrown cockroaches?”
“Because the Clickets’ homeworld lies directly in the Neutral Zone,” Boimler explained. “And the Clickets are known to handle part of the unofficial trade between the Romulans and the Federation which gives them first-hand, up-to-date knowledge of the area.”
“The map Captain Freeman got from the Clickets was pretty detailed,” Tendi added holding up padd. “It contained things like ship patrol routes, cloaked subspace listening posts, potential blind spots and lots of other minute details that would otherwise be really difficult if not nearly impossible to get.”
“Okay, that makes a bit more sense,” Mariner admitted. “Barely. But why did those klirping Clickets bother giving Freeman a big, awkward physical map instead of a padd or data chip containing a map? Or simply transmit a copy straight to the Cerritos’ computers?”
“That’s just how the Clickets tend to make their maps,” Tendi explained. “They prefer dealing with actual physical diagrams over digitized ones. It’s a cultural thing.”
“Man, if that’s the case I’d hate to be a Clicket navigator,” Mariner quipped. “Imagine the hassle those guys must go through.”
“No kidding,” Boimler agreed consulting his padd. “Anyway, after getting a detailed map of the Neutral Zone, the Cerritos then needed a way for a rescue team to covertly cross the Neutral Zone. Which lead to them apparently acquiring a vintage Romulan Bird-of-Prey.”
“Not exactly,” Tendi corrected checking stardates on a padd. “The acquiring of the Romulan Bird-of-Prey actually occurred first. Though we still don’t know exactly where the Bird-of-Prey came from.”
“It came from the ship museum on the Vulcan Tasmeen Colony,” Rutherford provided helpfully.
“How do you know that?” Boimler asked. “I thought you only had partial memory of that day.”
“And what else happened to you that you didn’t get to reveal during your testimony?” Tendi asked eagerly. “Like what you did during your memory blackouts and how you escaped from the Gorn wedding?”
“Uh, it’s kind of a long story,” Rutherford coughed. “Kind of messy too. And I was sworn to secrecy about the whole thing.”
“Sort of a chaos-classified kind of situation?” Mariner asked.
“You could say that,” Rutherford whistled. “Or not since you guys were all sworn to secrecy too. Remember when you saved Shaxs, Billups and me from being blown up by a Gorn interceptor during one of Tendi’s piloting lessons?”
“Oh yeah. I remember that,” Tendi chirped fondly. “That was a lot of fun!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Boimler shuddered. “In any way, shape or form!”
“Wait, you’re saying you, Shaxs and Billups acquired the Romulan Bird-of-Prey during that time?” Tendi asked Rutherford.
“Yep,” Rutherford confirmed. “But the mission report itself is classified so we can’t read it to find out what exactly happened.”
“Eh, too bad. We’ll just have to skip that part,” Mariner shrugged. “Unless I call in a favor or three from some of my old grey ops contacts…”
“Please don’t,” Boimler groaned.
“Though I can tell you that the Vulcans originally acquired the Romulan Bird-of-Prey in 2311 before placing it in the museum,” Rutherford said reading from a padd. “A group of Coridan traders sold it to them after previously salvaging the ship after the Tomed Incident.”
“Okay,” Mariner said. “But why use an old Bird-of-Prey to cross the Neutral Zone in the first place? Why not use a Barolian merchant ship or something?”
“Probably because the rescue mission required stealth,” Boimler surmised. “When sneaking into Romulan space, what better type of ship to use than Romulan?”
“But the Romulans aren’t stupid,” Mariner pointed out. “They must know how to track and identify they own ships, cloaking device or not.”
“Not if the ship’s transponder identification and subspace markers are altered,” Rutherford pointed out. “And if the cloaking device itself is modified a bit. Even an old, presumably obsolete one. Though it would have to be precisely aligned and maintained.”
“Ah, that explains why the infiltration team was so nervous whenever a passing Romulan ship initiated a scan,” Tendi’s eyes widened in realization. “They had to be ready to engage evasive maneuvers on a moment’s notice in case the cloaking device didn’t hold up.”
“Speaking of which,” Mariner gave Tendi a look. “Care to tell us what else went on during the whole infiltration-rescue ordeal? From the evidence you apparently kicked a load of Romulan butt with your wicked martial arts skills…”
“Yeah! Tell us!” Boimler and Rutherford cheered.
“Uh, there really isn’t much else to add,” Tendi blushed modestly. “We beamed in, swiped the package, beamed out, no biggie. While also grabbing or erasing all the surveillance footage containing us.”
“I wondered where that footage shown during your testimony came from,” Boimler commented.
“Once we returned to the Bird-of-Prey we warped out and returned to Federation space without a hitch,” Tendi finished. “Though it took some clever piloting to get past all the Romulan ships and listening outposts that had been alerted to our presence without being detected. That map we got from the Clickets was a lifesaver!”
“Wow. Guess dealing with those bug-eyed tusked termites was worth it,” Mariner remarked. “Did you pilot the Bird-of-Prey at any time during the way back?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Tendi sighed in disappointment. “All the controls were in Romulan. Good thing some of the other mission team members could read it.”
“Lucky them,” Boimler said. “Who were the other mission team members by the way? Besides Ransom.”
“Yeah, I want names,” Mariner pressed. “I might know one or two of them.”
“Sorry. I can’t tell you that,” Tendi said primly. “Have to protect and respect my fellow team member’s classified identities you know.”
“Aw,” Rutherford pouted.
“Well that’s disappointing, but not unsurprising,” Boimler commented. “Unlike what happened after the rescue team returned to Federation space. What happened to the Romulan Bird-of-Prey afterward?”
“After we rendezvoused with the Cerritos Commander Ransom, the rescue team and I beamed directly to the Cerritos’ main conference room,” Tendi said. “After first parking the Bird-of-Prey over the magnetic pole of the local uninhabited planet chosen as the rendezvous point to prevent it from being officially detected.”
“That explains the sudden brief darkening of all the Cerritos’ viewports during that time,” Rutherford realized. “To stop anybody from glancing out and spotting the stolen Romulan ship.”
“That’s right,” Tendi confirmed. “Ransom had set the Bird-of-Prey to automatically fly into the nearest star the moment we all beamed out for the last time. He said the Bird-of-Prey had to be destroyed since it would be too risky keeping it as potential evidence of the mission.”
“Aw, no! That’s terrible!” Boimler moaned. “That ship was an important historical relic! It deserved to be in a museum. Oh wait, it was.”
“What a sad fate,” Rutherford sighed. “And after all the hard work put in getting it to fly again. At least I presume a lot of hard work went into it. I still don’t fully remember…”
“Yeah, shame to have to deep-six a classic ship like that,” Mariner commented. “Did you at least take a few holopictures of you and the rescue team standing aboard the Bird-of-Prey’s bridge?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Tendi shook her head. “But I did manage to save one thing.”
“Really?” Boimler blinked. “What?”
“This,” Tendi stood up and walked over to a line of stacked nondescript cargo containers before dramatically opening one. “Ta da!”
“Whoa!” Rutherford gasped at the hidden contents in shock. “No way! You kept the cloaking device?!”
“Yep. Sure did,” Tendi smiled sheepishly. “I thought it’d make a nice mission souvenir. Plus it seemed like such a waste to simply toss it into a sun…”
“Alright! Way to go, T!” Mariner whooped leaping up and giving Tendi a hug. “You hit the jackpot this time! Just think of all the sweet, sweet stuff we can do with this baby! Hey, we should install it in our rebuilt shuttle!”
“I dunno. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rutherford commented making some quick mental calculations. “The shuttlecraft probably won’t have enough power to operate a cloaking device.”
“Why not?” Mariner asked. “If Klingon cloaking devices can cloak themselves without being connected to an external power source, surely a Romulan cloaking device can. Heck, the Romulans are the ones who invented cloaking devices to begin with! At least that’s what they insist on telling everyone…”
“Well, maybe,” Rutherford mused for a moment. “I’ll have to look at it.”
“Can you do it later?” Boimler asked. “We still have more stuff to go over.”
“Like what?” Mariner asked as she and Tendi returned to their seats.
“Like why we were hauled away and thrown in a dungeon before being raised into the courtroom,” Boimler said. “I mean, the event silo.”
“Oh yeah. Good point,” Mariner frowned. “Gotta admit, that one’s been bugging me.”
“Oooh, I can answer that,” Tendi chirped consulting a padd. “I’ve been reading up on Starfleet’s database regarding K'Tuevon Prime. The stone-lined cell we were initially held in was actually a common waiting area. The jagged bar-like doors and skull-headed gavels were simple cultural aesthetics.”
“Okay,” Boimler allowed. “But why did they raise us up and demand that we provide testimony?”
“Because it was all part of the celebratory spectacle,” Tendi explained. “Having people appear on raised platforms is a time-honored theatrical device utilized by various cultures and societies. Especially celebrities who want to make a dramatic entrance.”
“You have a point,” Rutherford blinked.
“During such celebratory events on K'Tuevon Prime, witnesses are brought in to provide evidence and first-hand accounts in order to prove that the guests of honor are truly worthy of being honored,” Tendi went on. “Such witnesses aren’t briefed or warned beforehand to prevent any potential bias or allow witnesses to come up with any false stories.”
“I see,” Boimler nodded. “So basically we were all brought in and put on the spot just to tell a story?”
“That’s correct,” Tendi confirmed. “A story that would then be etched onto a history stone for future preservation and posterity.”
“Wow,” Rutherford marveled. “When you explain it like that the whole testimony process actually makes sense. Amazing how much difference a little context makes.”
“Wait, what about the eels?” Mariner pressed. “You can’t tell me dipping us in eels was just part of the party. They were gonna kill us!”
“Not exactly,” Tendi said. “‘Death by Eels’ is a bit of a misnomer. It’s actually a figurative term. Similar to the terms ‘Death by Chocolate’ or ‘to die laughing’.”
“I dunno,” Rutherford winced in recollection. “Being dunked into a vat of eels was no laughing matter.”
“Oh, and I suppose firing up a set of burners and attempting to boil us to death was meant to be figurative too?” Mariner challenged.
“No, the burners and resulting flames were real,” Tendi explained. “But they were only intended to moderately heat the Tank of Contempt’s water, not boil it. And the actual target of the burners wasn’t us, but the eels.”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked in confusion. “They wanted to warm the eels? Why?”
“To trigger their basic biological instincts and appetites,” Tendi said. “K'Tuevon Prime eels shriek and become stimulated and aroused when exposed to increased temperatures.”
“What?” Rutherford yelped. “The eels were going to eat us?”
“No, not those kinds of appetites,” Tendi blushed. “The other kind.”
“Huh? What other…” Boimler goggled in realization. “Are you kidding me?”
“Wow,” Mariner was stunned. “What a way to go. Still horrible of course, but not too bad comparatively…”
“No! It’s not what you think!” Tendi said quickly. “I mean, it is kind of what you think, but not exactly.”
“Really?” Mariner leered suggestively. “And just what are we thinking?”
“Accckkk! No! Don’t tell us!” Boimler yelped covering his ears. “Please!”
“It’s nothing bad!” Tendi insisted. “Firing up the burners was meant to quickly heat the water which would arouse the eels and prompt them to kiss us.”
“Huh?” Rutherford blinked. “Uh, what now?”
“Kiss us,” Tendi repeated. “K'Tuevon Prime eels kiss other lifeforms when they’re aroused. Being kissed by an eel on K'Tuevon Prime is considered to be the ultimate humiliation.”
“Ugh,” Boimler shuddered. “Talk about being put into heat. In more ways than one.”
“Hold on. Lemme get this straight.” Mariner held up a hand. “You’re saying we were going to be punished for supposedly not telling the whole truth by being dunked into a big o’ tank of kissing eels?”
“That’s right,” Tendi said. “Failing to provide truthful testimony during a K'Tuevon Prime party is punished by humiliation, not death. Dying would contradict the whole celebratory atmosphere.”
“Yeah, because being kissed by eels is so much better,” Boimler drawled sarcastically.
“Still beats the alternative,” Rutherford pointed out.
“And being kissed by eels is actually a pretty mild punishment,” Tendi went on consulting a padd. “At least by Federation standards. Exposing the eels to certain sonic frequencies would have triggered a different biological response which would have prompted the eels to try swimming right up our…”
“Okay, that’s enough! Enlightenment time is over!” Boimler stated quickly collecting all the padds. “All lingering unanswered questions have been solved!”
“If you say so,” Mariner smirked at Boimler’s reaction. “Man, life on K'Tuevon Prime is a lot weirder and messier that I thought. Not surprising coming from a species which refers to each other as ‘Primes’. Why would the Romulans ever want to control such a lousy planet in the first place?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” A slightly distracted Boimler commented casually. “It’s because K'Tuevon Prime produces some of the finest wines, spirits and alcoholic beverages in the quadrant. They’re reportedly even better than Romulan ale and whiskey.”
“What?!” Mariner yelped.
“Oh yeah. I heard of them before,” Tendi’s eyes sparkled. “They’re really prized for their high quality and exquisite tastes. Certain K'Tuevon Prime wines usually go for a few dozen bars of latinum a bottle.”
“WHAT?!” Mariner yelled.
“Really? Wow,” Rutherford whistled in amazement. “Wait, how do you know that?”
“Uh, just typical subspace gossip,” Tendi laughed nervously. “It’s not like I’ve ever taken…er, I mean partaken…uh, I mean indulged in any such ludicrously luxurious beverages myself. I didn’t even know they were from K'Tuevon Prime. They’re always packaged under a different label. Er, at least that’s what I’ve heard…”
“Yeah, distributing K'Tuevon Prime wines without labeling them as K'Tuevon Prime wines is all part of a marketing ploy in an attempt to prevent their planet from becoming a target,” Boimler provided. “The Romulans want to control K'Tuevon Prime not for its strategic value, but in order to eliminate an alcoholic trading rival.”
“Huh, how Ferengi of them,” Rutherford remarked.
“Clar’s family actually owns the largest spirits producer and conglomerate on K'Tuevon Prime,” Boimler went on. “His wife runs the entire operation.”
“WHAT?!” Mariner shrieked clutching her heart. “Wait…you’re saying I could’ve had a direct in with the head of a major alcohol producer? Leading to potentially having an unlimited supply of non-contraband booze to drink or barter with as I pleased?”
“I guess,” Boimler shrugged absently. “Too bad you insulted Clar, helped ruin his party and made yourself persona non grata on K'Tuevon Prime for the foreseeable future.”
“GAAAHHHHHH! NO!” Mariner wailed and began repeatedly banging her head on the work table. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?! BAD MARINER! BAD MARINER! STUPID! STUPID! STUPID! AAAUUUGGGHHHHHH!”
“Mariner! Geeze, cut it out!” Boimler said moving to her side. “No need to pull a Fletcher…OW! NO! DON’T BANG YOUR KLINGON-LEVEL HARD HEAD AGAINST ME! WAAAHHHHHH!”
“Ouch,” Rutherford winced watching his friends. “Guess Mariner was right about ignorance being bliss in some cases. Maybe her not knowing about all the missing details regarding our episode on K'Tuevon Prime really would have been for the best.”
“I don’t think so. Being well-informed is always preferable to the alternative,” Tendi said as Mariner and Boimler proceeded to wail and thrash about for different reasons. “Uh, shouldn’t we stop this?”
“Na, just sit back and let it play out while we record it for future posterity,” Rutherford smiled aiming his implant at his friends. “Mariner and Boimler may seem to be extremely troubled, agitated and discombobulated now, but someday they’ll look back on this idiosyncratically memorable moment and laugh. That is if they aren’t laughing already.”
“I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” Tendi commented at the scene. “Who would ever laugh at a such strange yet weirdly non-unexpected situation like this?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
Note: This story takes place after the episode "Veritas".
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Filling in the Blanks
“Ah, now I get it,” Boimler said in understanding. “Things are finally starting to make sense.”
“I think so too,” Rutherford concurred with a nod. “All the pieces are falling into place.”
“It’s about time,” Tendi smiled in satisfaction. “All our hard work and research are finally paying off.”
“Yo, what up peoples!” Mariner greeted sauntering into Repair Bay Five. “What’cha doing?”
“Hi, Mariner!” Tendi greeted cheerfully. She, Boimler and Rutherford were seated around the main repair table surrounded by several small stacks of padds. “We’re busy trying to unlock all the unanswered questions, secrets and mysteries regarding the Cerritos’ recent mission to K'Tuevon Prime.”
“Ah, no! Seriously?” Mariner tsked in disappointment. “C’mon guys. I thought we agreed we were better off not knowing what all that not-a-trial nonsense was about.”
“You agreed. We didn’t,” Boimler pointed out. “And it’s our job as Starfleet officers to explore the unknown.”
“Yeah, we need to satisfy our natural curiosities and find out why we all nearly died,” Rutherford said. “Inquiring minds want to know.”
“Even if it means secretly investigating a classified subject,” Tendi declared passionately. “Nothing will hinder our paths to eventual enlightenment!”
“Look, normally I’d be all in and right alongside you guys just on the basis of sticking it in Freeman’s face,” Mariner said. “But I’m feeling lazy so I’ll just pass and say that in this case ignorance is bliss. Maybe not Ktarian headset game or telepathic pitcher plant level bliss, but still…”
“Well, independently investigating a classified mission using open-source resources is considered prohibited,” Boimler whistled innocently. “Not technically of course, but it does violate the spirit behind Starfleet regulations regarding classified topics. And we all know how much spirit you have when it comes to violating regulations…”
“Alright, fine. I’ll bite,” Mariner gave in plopping into a chair and propping her feet up on the table. “Let the enlightenment begin. Hit me!”
“Okey-dokey,” Rutherford smiled readying a padd. “Let’s start at the beginning. First a little background information…”
“Ugh, no! Boo! Hiss!” Mariner mock jeered. “Not another dull, boring presentation. What do you think this is, a mission briefing?”
“Ahem,” Rutherford cleared his throat and began reading. “K'Tuevon Prime is an inhabited, independent world near Romulan space bordering the Neutral Zone.”
“Yeah, yeah. We already know that,” Mariner waved. “Get to the good part. If there is such a thing.”
“As I was saying,” Rutherford continued. “The Romulans have long desired to control the entire K'Tuevon system, but since K'Tuevon Prime is fairly well armed and fortified the Romulans have never attempted to openly invade. Instead, they’ve limited themselves to various attempts at influencing K'Tuevon Prime’s politics.”
“A far messier and morally bankrupt undertaking than any war,” Mariner quipped.
“Obviously,” Boimler confirmed picking up from where Rutherford left off. “The Romulans have attempted to either bribe, blackmail or manipulate the leadership of K'Tuevon Prime various times in the past, but have always failed. Mostly due to the efforts of Imperium Magistrate Clar.”
“Which prompted the Romulans to kidnap him,” Mariner reasoned. “So they could better go about their underhanded espionage and other Tal Shiar-related cloak-and-dagger skullduggery.”
“That’s right,” Tendi nodded. “The Romulans also subjected Clar to mind probes and other intense interrogation techniques, but he managed to resist them.”
“Really? Huh, good for him,” Mariner commented. “It almost makes me want to forgive him for practically interrogating us. Almost. Wait, how did you guys find out about all this?”
“By reading through past news reports and government statements from K'Tuevon Prime,” Rutherford said holding up a padd. “And Clar’s recent announcement describing his experiences.”
“Nearly the entire planet considers Clar to be a big hero,” Boimler explained. “So big that the Romulans didn’t want to risk him dying and turning into a martyr. So they decided to lock him up and keep him in suspended animation instead. And hold him for ransom. Which the K'Tuevon Prime government refused to pay despite Clar’s vast importance and popularity.”
“Now that’s surprising,” Mariner remarked. “Most people wouldn’t pay two credits if any of their highest-ranking government officials were kidnapped. Heck, they’d probably encourage it! Ransoming a society’s most popular sports, entertainment or celebrity figures however…”
“You have a point,” Boimler noted. “Which put the K'Tuevon Prime government in a real bind. They desperately wanted Clar back, but refused to pay the Romulans’ ransom demands even though they lacked the ability to attempt a rescue mission themselves. Which is where Starfleet and the crew of the Cerritos came in.”
“Finally,” Mariner blew her lips in exasperation. “This was starting to drag on longer than a Cardassian epic novel.”
“Starfleet tapped the Cerritos to lead the rescue efforts of Imperium Magistrate Clar,” Boimler stated proudly. “Because the Cerritos is one of Starfleet’s finest ships with one of the most capable crews in the fleet.”
“Uh huh,” Mariner gave him a knowing look. “And what’s the real reason?”
“Because a more famous ship like the Enterprise, Titan, or Defiant is way too well-known and would be far more likely to draw the Romulans’ attention while also being under constant Romulan observation,” Boimler coughed admittingly. “While the Cerritos is a relatively obscure ship which the Romulans probably don’t even know or care about.”
“Gotta admit they ain’t wrong,” Mariner scoffed. “Like the Romulans would ever bother inserting an undercover operative aboard the Cerritos.”
“It could happen,” Tendi suggested while suspiciously glancing around the repair bay. “It may have even happened already…”
“Na, I’m sure we would have noticed something if it had,” Boimler waved. “Anyway, getting back to Clar’s rescue. The Cerritos’ first task was to obtain a map of the Neutral Zone from the Clickets.”
“Which made absolutely no sense,” Mariner snorted. “The Federation has sensor buoys, spy satellites, long range scanners, stealth probes and plenty of skilled intel operatives. We could’ve easily compiled a map of the Neutral Zone on our own. Why bother getting one from a race of overgrown cockroaches?”
“Because the Clickets’ homeworld lies directly in the Neutral Zone,” Boimler explained. “And the Clickets are known to handle part of the unofficial trade between the Romulans and the Federation which gives them first-hand, up-to-date knowledge of the area.”
“The map Captain Freeman got from the Clickets was pretty detailed,” Tendi added holding up padd. “It contained things like ship patrol routes, cloaked subspace listening posts, potential blind spots and lots of other minute details that would otherwise be really difficult if not nearly impossible to get.”
“Okay, that makes a bit more sense,” Mariner admitted. “Barely. But why did those klirping Clickets bother giving Freeman a big, awkward physical map instead of a padd or data chip containing a map? Or simply transmit a copy straight to the Cerritos’ computers?”
“That’s just how the Clickets tend to make their maps,” Tendi explained. “They prefer dealing with actual physical diagrams over digitized ones. It’s a cultural thing.”
“Man, if that’s the case I’d hate to be a Clicket navigator,” Mariner quipped. “Imagine the hassle those guys must go through.”
“No kidding,” Boimler agreed consulting his padd. “Anyway, after getting a detailed map of the Neutral Zone, the Cerritos then needed a way for a rescue team to covertly cross the Neutral Zone. Which lead to them apparently acquiring a vintage Romulan Bird-of-Prey.”
“Not exactly,” Tendi corrected checking stardates on a padd. “The acquiring of the Romulan Bird-of-Prey actually occurred first. Though we still don’t know exactly where the Bird-of-Prey came from.”
“It came from the ship museum on the Vulcan Tasmeen Colony,” Rutherford provided helpfully.
“How do you know that?” Boimler asked. “I thought you only had partial memory of that day.”
“And what else happened to you that you didn’t get to reveal during your testimony?” Tendi asked eagerly. “Like what you did during your memory blackouts and how you escaped from the Gorn wedding?”
“Uh, it’s kind of a long story,” Rutherford coughed. “Kind of messy too. And I was sworn to secrecy about the whole thing.”
“Sort of a chaos-classified kind of situation?” Mariner asked.
“You could say that,” Rutherford whistled. “Or not since you guys were all sworn to secrecy too. Remember when you saved Shaxs, Billups and me from being blown up by a Gorn interceptor during one of Tendi’s piloting lessons?”
“Oh yeah. I remember that,” Tendi chirped fondly. “That was a lot of fun!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Boimler shuddered. “In any way, shape or form!”
“Wait, you’re saying you, Shaxs and Billups acquired the Romulan Bird-of-Prey during that time?” Tendi asked Rutherford.
“Yep,” Rutherford confirmed. “But the mission report itself is classified so we can’t read it to find out what exactly happened.”
“Eh, too bad. We’ll just have to skip that part,” Mariner shrugged. “Unless I call in a favor or three from some of my old grey ops contacts…”
“Please don’t,” Boimler groaned.
“Though I can tell you that the Vulcans originally acquired the Romulan Bird-of-Prey in 2311 before placing it in the museum,” Rutherford said reading from a padd. “A group of Coridan traders sold it to them after previously salvaging the ship after the Tomed Incident.”
“Okay,” Mariner said. “But why use an old Bird-of-Prey to cross the Neutral Zone in the first place? Why not use a Barolian merchant ship or something?”
“Probably because the rescue mission required stealth,” Boimler surmised. “When sneaking into Romulan space, what better type of ship to use than Romulan?”
“But the Romulans aren’t stupid,” Mariner pointed out. “They must know how to track and identify they own ships, cloaking device or not.”
“Not if the ship’s transponder identification and subspace markers are altered,” Rutherford pointed out. “And if the cloaking device itself is modified a bit. Even an old, presumably obsolete one. Though it would have to be precisely aligned and maintained.”
“Ah, that explains why the infiltration team was so nervous whenever a passing Romulan ship initiated a scan,” Tendi’s eyes widened in realization. “They had to be ready to engage evasive maneuvers on a moment’s notice in case the cloaking device didn’t hold up.”
“Speaking of which,” Mariner gave Tendi a look. “Care to tell us what else went on during the whole infiltration-rescue ordeal? From the evidence you apparently kicked a load of Romulan butt with your wicked martial arts skills…”
“Yeah! Tell us!” Boimler and Rutherford cheered.
“Uh, there really isn’t much else to add,” Tendi blushed modestly. “We beamed in, swiped the package, beamed out, no biggie. While also grabbing or erasing all the surveillance footage containing us.”
“I wondered where that footage shown during your testimony came from,” Boimler commented.
“Once we returned to the Bird-of-Prey we warped out and returned to Federation space without a hitch,” Tendi finished. “Though it took some clever piloting to get past all the Romulan ships and listening outposts that had been alerted to our presence without being detected. That map we got from the Clickets was a lifesaver!”
“Wow. Guess dealing with those bug-eyed tusked termites was worth it,” Mariner remarked. “Did you pilot the Bird-of-Prey at any time during the way back?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Tendi sighed in disappointment. “All the controls were in Romulan. Good thing some of the other mission team members could read it.”
“Lucky them,” Boimler said. “Who were the other mission team members by the way? Besides Ransom.”
“Yeah, I want names,” Mariner pressed. “I might know one or two of them.”
“Sorry. I can’t tell you that,” Tendi said primly. “Have to protect and respect my fellow team member’s classified identities you know.”
“Aw,” Rutherford pouted.
“Well that’s disappointing, but not unsurprising,” Boimler commented. “Unlike what happened after the rescue team returned to Federation space. What happened to the Romulan Bird-of-Prey afterward?”
“After we rendezvoused with the Cerritos Commander Ransom, the rescue team and I beamed directly to the Cerritos’ main conference room,” Tendi said. “After first parking the Bird-of-Prey over the magnetic pole of the local uninhabited planet chosen as the rendezvous point to prevent it from being officially detected.”
“That explains the sudden brief darkening of all the Cerritos’ viewports during that time,” Rutherford realized. “To stop anybody from glancing out and spotting the stolen Romulan ship.”
“That’s right,” Tendi confirmed. “Ransom had set the Bird-of-Prey to automatically fly into the nearest star the moment we all beamed out for the last time. He said the Bird-of-Prey had to be destroyed since it would be too risky keeping it as potential evidence of the mission.”
“Aw, no! That’s terrible!” Boimler moaned. “That ship was an important historical relic! It deserved to be in a museum. Oh wait, it was.”
“What a sad fate,” Rutherford sighed. “And after all the hard work put in getting it to fly again. At least I presume a lot of hard work went into it. I still don’t fully remember…”
“Yeah, shame to have to deep-six a classic ship like that,” Mariner commented. “Did you at least take a few holopictures of you and the rescue team standing aboard the Bird-of-Prey’s bridge?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Tendi shook her head. “But I did manage to save one thing.”
“Really?” Boimler blinked. “What?”
“This,” Tendi stood up and walked over to a line of stacked nondescript cargo containers before dramatically opening one. “Ta da!”
“Whoa!” Rutherford gasped at the hidden contents in shock. “No way! You kept the cloaking device?!”
“Yep. Sure did,” Tendi smiled sheepishly. “I thought it’d make a nice mission souvenir. Plus it seemed like such a waste to simply toss it into a sun…”
“Alright! Way to go, T!” Mariner whooped leaping up and giving Tendi a hug. “You hit the jackpot this time! Just think of all the sweet, sweet stuff we can do with this baby! Hey, we should install it in our rebuilt shuttle!”
“I dunno. I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rutherford commented making some quick mental calculations. “The shuttlecraft probably won’t have enough power to operate a cloaking device.”
“Why not?” Mariner asked. “If Klingon cloaking devices can cloak themselves without being connected to an external power source, surely a Romulan cloaking device can. Heck, the Romulans are the ones who invented cloaking devices to begin with! At least that’s what they insist on telling everyone…”
“Well, maybe,” Rutherford mused for a moment. “I’ll have to look at it.”
“Can you do it later?” Boimler asked. “We still have more stuff to go over.”
“Like what?” Mariner asked as she and Tendi returned to their seats.
“Like why we were hauled away and thrown in a dungeon before being raised into the courtroom,” Boimler said. “I mean, the event silo.”
“Oh yeah. Good point,” Mariner frowned. “Gotta admit, that one’s been bugging me.”
“Oooh, I can answer that,” Tendi chirped consulting a padd. “I’ve been reading up on Starfleet’s database regarding K'Tuevon Prime. The stone-lined cell we were initially held in was actually a common waiting area. The jagged bar-like doors and skull-headed gavels were simple cultural aesthetics.”
“Okay,” Boimler allowed. “But why did they raise us up and demand that we provide testimony?”
“Because it was all part of the celebratory spectacle,” Tendi explained. “Having people appear on raised platforms is a time-honored theatrical device utilized by various cultures and societies. Especially celebrities who want to make a dramatic entrance.”
“You have a point,” Rutherford blinked.
“During such celebratory events on K'Tuevon Prime, witnesses are brought in to provide evidence and first-hand accounts in order to prove that the guests of honor are truly worthy of being honored,” Tendi went on. “Such witnesses aren’t briefed or warned beforehand to prevent any potential bias or allow witnesses to come up with any false stories.”
“I see,” Boimler nodded. “So basically we were all brought in and put on the spot just to tell a story?”
“That’s correct,” Tendi confirmed. “A story that would then be etched onto a history stone for future preservation and posterity.”
“Wow,” Rutherford marveled. “When you explain it like that the whole testimony process actually makes sense. Amazing how much difference a little context makes.”
“Wait, what about the eels?” Mariner pressed. “You can’t tell me dipping us in eels was just part of the party. They were gonna kill us!”
“Not exactly,” Tendi said. “‘Death by Eels’ is a bit of a misnomer. It’s actually a figurative term. Similar to the terms ‘Death by Chocolate’ or ‘to die laughing’.”
“I dunno,” Rutherford winced in recollection. “Being dunked into a vat of eels was no laughing matter.”
“Oh, and I suppose firing up a set of burners and attempting to boil us to death was meant to be figurative too?” Mariner challenged.
“No, the burners and resulting flames were real,” Tendi explained. “But they were only intended to moderately heat the Tank of Contempt’s water, not boil it. And the actual target of the burners wasn’t us, but the eels.”
“Huh?” Boimler blinked in confusion. “They wanted to warm the eels? Why?”
“To trigger their basic biological instincts and appetites,” Tendi said. “K'Tuevon Prime eels shriek and become stimulated and aroused when exposed to increased temperatures.”
“What?” Rutherford yelped. “The eels were going to eat us?”
“No, not those kinds of appetites,” Tendi blushed. “The other kind.”
“Huh? What other…” Boimler goggled in realization. “Are you kidding me?”
“Wow,” Mariner was stunned. “What a way to go. Still horrible of course, but not too bad comparatively…”
“No! It’s not what you think!” Tendi said quickly. “I mean, it is kind of what you think, but not exactly.”
“Really?” Mariner leered suggestively. “And just what are we thinking?”
“Accckkk! No! Don’t tell us!” Boimler yelped covering his ears. “Please!”
“It’s nothing bad!” Tendi insisted. “Firing up the burners was meant to quickly heat the water which would arouse the eels and prompt them to kiss us.”
“Huh?” Rutherford blinked. “Uh, what now?”
“Kiss us,” Tendi repeated. “K'Tuevon Prime eels kiss other lifeforms when they’re aroused. Being kissed by an eel on K'Tuevon Prime is considered to be the ultimate humiliation.”
“Ugh,” Boimler shuddered. “Talk about being put into heat. In more ways than one.”
“Hold on. Lemme get this straight.” Mariner held up a hand. “You’re saying we were going to be punished for supposedly not telling the whole truth by being dunked into a big o’ tank of kissing eels?”
“That’s right,” Tendi said. “Failing to provide truthful testimony during a K'Tuevon Prime party is punished by humiliation, not death. Dying would contradict the whole celebratory atmosphere.”
“Yeah, because being kissed by eels is so much better,” Boimler drawled sarcastically.
“Still beats the alternative,” Rutherford pointed out.
“And being kissed by eels is actually a pretty mild punishment,” Tendi went on consulting a padd. “At least by Federation standards. Exposing the eels to certain sonic frequencies would have triggered a different biological response which would have prompted the eels to try swimming right up our…”
“Okay, that’s enough! Enlightenment time is over!” Boimler stated quickly collecting all the padds. “All lingering unanswered questions have been solved!”
“If you say so,” Mariner smirked at Boimler’s reaction. “Man, life on K'Tuevon Prime is a lot weirder and messier that I thought. Not surprising coming from a species which refers to each other as ‘Primes’. Why would the Romulans ever want to control such a lousy planet in the first place?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” A slightly distracted Boimler commented casually. “It’s because K'Tuevon Prime produces some of the finest wines, spirits and alcoholic beverages in the quadrant. They’re reportedly even better than Romulan ale and whiskey.”
“What?!” Mariner yelped.
“Oh yeah. I heard of them before,” Tendi’s eyes sparkled. “They’re really prized for their high quality and exquisite tastes. Certain K'Tuevon Prime wines usually go for a few dozen bars of latinum a bottle.”
“WHAT?!” Mariner yelled.
“Really? Wow,” Rutherford whistled in amazement. “Wait, how do you know that?”
“Uh, just typical subspace gossip,” Tendi laughed nervously. “It’s not like I’ve ever taken…er, I mean partaken…uh, I mean indulged in any such ludicrously luxurious beverages myself. I didn’t even know they were from K'Tuevon Prime. They’re always packaged under a different label. Er, at least that’s what I’ve heard…”
“Yeah, distributing K'Tuevon Prime wines without labeling them as K'Tuevon Prime wines is all part of a marketing ploy in an attempt to prevent their planet from becoming a target,” Boimler provided. “The Romulans want to control K'Tuevon Prime not for its strategic value, but in order to eliminate an alcoholic trading rival.”
“Huh, how Ferengi of them,” Rutherford remarked.
“Clar’s family actually owns the largest spirits producer and conglomerate on K'Tuevon Prime,” Boimler went on. “His wife runs the entire operation.”
“WHAT?!” Mariner shrieked clutching her heart. “Wait…you’re saying I could’ve had a direct in with the head of a major alcohol producer? Leading to potentially having an unlimited supply of non-contraband booze to drink or barter with as I pleased?”
“I guess,” Boimler shrugged absently. “Too bad you insulted Clar, helped ruin his party and made yourself persona non grata on K'Tuevon Prime for the foreseeable future.”
“GAAAHHHHHH! NO!” Mariner wailed and began repeatedly banging her head on the work table. “WHAT HAVE I DONE?! BAD MARINER! BAD MARINER! STUPID! STUPID! STUPID! AAAUUUGGGHHHHHH!”
“Mariner! Geeze, cut it out!” Boimler said moving to her side. “No need to pull a Fletcher…OW! NO! DON’T BANG YOUR KLINGON-LEVEL HARD HEAD AGAINST ME! WAAAHHHHHH!”
“Ouch,” Rutherford winced watching his friends. “Guess Mariner was right about ignorance being bliss in some cases. Maybe her not knowing about all the missing details regarding our episode on K'Tuevon Prime really would have been for the best.”
“I don’t think so. Being well-informed is always preferable to the alternative,” Tendi said as Mariner and Boimler proceeded to wail and thrash about for different reasons. “Uh, shouldn’t we stop this?”
“Na, just sit back and let it play out while we record it for future posterity,” Rutherford smiled aiming his implant at his friends. “Mariner and Boimler may seem to be extremely troubled, agitated and discombobulated now, but someday they’ll look back on this idiosyncratically memorable moment and laugh. That is if they aren’t laughing already.”
“I don’t think there’s any chance of that,” Tendi commented at the scene. “Who would ever laugh at a such strange yet weirdly non-unexpected situation like this?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
