Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
--------------------------------------
Insanity at Your Service
Chapter One: A Starship For a Stage
“It’s here! It’s finally here!” Boimler cheered in delight while doing a happy dance in front of his bunk. “At long last it’s arrived! It’s about time!”
“What’s here?” A towel-clad Mariner, Tendi and Rutherford asked walking up from the sonic showers. “What’s arrived?”
“Is it the classic non-replicated 23rd century padd stylus you requisitioned a while back?” Tendi asked.
“No,” Boimler replied.
“Ooo, is it the latest expansion pack to Bat'leths and BiHnuchs?” Rutherford asked eagerly.
“No,” Boimler shook his head.
“Did you finally grow a spine and an ounce of real maturity?” Mariner quipped.
“No. I mean yes! I mean…ahhh!” A flustered Boimler cried frustratingly. “Stop it! Why must you always mock me?”
“How can I not?” Mariner smirked. “Especially when you set yourself up so well…”
“Let’s table that discussion for now,” Tendi suggested turning to Boimler. “So, what is it that’s finally arrived?”
“This!” Boimler beamed proudly showing off his padd. “Orders straight from Commander Ransom himself. I’ve been assigned as a liaison officer and aide for one of the parties attending the upcoming trade negotiations.”
“The ones being held aboard the Cerritos?” Rutherford asked.
“That’s right,” Boimler confirmed. “The Cerritos is hosting and acting as mediator in order to help settle several trade disputes involving the Klingons, Orions, Ferengi, Klowahkans and Hysperians.”
“Really? Wow,” Tendi blinked. “That sounds pretty serious.”
“That’s sounds pretty dull,” Mariner scoffed as she and the others changed into their uniforms. “A bunch of snooty diplomats arguing about numbers, cargo limits and agriculture. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Boimler insisted. “There’s a huge amount of trade that goes on between the five parties. Klowahkans consider many Ferengi worms, grubs and beetles to be delicacies. Ferengi go crazy for Orion wing-slugs. Klingons have developed a surprising taste for certain Ferengi worms, crabs and mollusks. Hysperians exchange hircocervuses for Klingon targs. Everyone wants Orion spices and liquors. The list goes on and on.”
“Just like this spiel,” Mariner yawned. “It’s almost as boring as a mission briefing.”
“There are also several ongoing problems between the various parties when comes to health regulations and practices,” Boimler continued scrolling through his padd. “Quality and safety standards vary widely between Klingon, Ferengi, Klowahkan and Orion invertebrates. Which can be hard to impose much less regulate when such foodstocks are preferred to be eaten live.”
“But tracking and eating the biometric data of live subjects is the best part,” Tendi said.
“Ugh, I’ll take your word for it,” Rutherford made a face.
“Plus, there’s heavy competition between producers and their attempts to corner each other’s markets,” Boimler went on. “Orion Rhombolian butter goes head-to-head against Hysperian cream. Klingon zilm'kach vs. Ferengi grubfruit. Klowahkan oysters and Hysperian mussels. Some parties going as far as to claim they’re under culinary invasion.”
“That’s one way to designate alien foods as invasive species,” Mariner quipped.
“And if that wasn’t enough, the five parties also have years of grudges, prejudices and mistrust that still haven’t been worked out,” Boimler ticked off the list. “Klowahkans are still miffed at being excluded from the Hysperian Grand Gourmand Banquet of ’56. The Orions blame the Klingons over the whole Feira Incident and vice versa. Practically nobody trusts the Ferengi or Orions to keep their word. At least not without being cheated.”
“Hey, Orions take words of honor almost as serious as Klingons,” Tendi defended. “Nobody would take spoils agreements and assassination contracts seriously if the involved parties didn’t intent to carry them out.”
“Not exactly helping your case there, T,” Mariner noted.
“All of which makes the upcoming trade negotiations all the more important,” Boimler said. “And that’s not the best part.”
“There’s more?” Rutherford blinked in surprise.
“Yep,” Boimler beamed with pride. “Commander Ransom specifically chose me to be the liaison and aide for the visiting Starfleet mediation specialist: Lieutenant Commander Sam Lavelle!”
“Who?” Tendi asked curiously.
“Lieutenant Commander Lavelle,” Boimler repeated. “He’s a legend! How can you not have heard of him?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” Rutherford shrugged. “I usually don’t pay much attention to other notable figures outside of Operations and Engineering circles.”
“Same thing with me and accomplished Science and Medical personnel,” Tendi commented. “Why is Starfleet sending Commander Lavelle to help mediate the trade disputes instead of a professional diplomat?”
“Because of his wide breath of experience,” Boimler explained in admiration. “He’s had quite a colorful career. He’s one of the few Starfleet officers who has extensive experience dealing with the five conflicting parties involved. Not mention possessing various personal connections with them which have been forged over the years.”
“Wow,” Rutherford blinked, impressed. “Sounds like a pretty great officer to me.”
“And I get to be his aide,” Boimler smiled in anticipation. “I can hardly wait! I’ll be able to learn so much from him. And if all goes well, he may even write me a glowing letter of commendation which will help earn me a promotion!”
“And there it is,” Mariner shook her head. “I should have known. You just want a chance to kiss up to a decorated Starfleet officer in hopes of boosting yourself up in rank.”
“That’s not the whole reason,” Boimler defended. “At least not all of it. These upcoming trade negotiations are important. I’m going to work my manicured fingertips to the bone to help Commander Lavelle successfully pull them off. And if all my hard work and dedicated efforts finally get recognized, so much the better.”
“Sounds like a real win-win situation to me,” Tendi said as she finished putting on her uniform. “Hope it all goes well for you, Boimler. You got this!”
“Yeah, best of luck, man,” Rutherford grinned. “We’re all rooting for you!”
“Thanks guys,” Boimler smiled appreciatively with his eyes briming in excitement. “This is my big chance to finally show what I can do. I’m going to really give this assignment my all. All my hard work and dedication to Starfleet is finally going to pay off! These trade negotiations are going to be a success! And no amount of craziness, madness, chaos or insanity is going to stop me!”
“Famous last words,” Mariner smirked.
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
--------------------------------------
Insanity at Your Service
Chapter One: A Starship For a Stage
“It’s here! It’s finally here!” Boimler cheered in delight while doing a happy dance in front of his bunk. “At long last it’s arrived! It’s about time!”
“What’s here?” A towel-clad Mariner, Tendi and Rutherford asked walking up from the sonic showers. “What’s arrived?”
“Is it the classic non-replicated 23rd century padd stylus you requisitioned a while back?” Tendi asked.
“No,” Boimler replied.
“Ooo, is it the latest expansion pack to Bat'leths and BiHnuchs?” Rutherford asked eagerly.
“No,” Boimler shook his head.
“Did you finally grow a spine and an ounce of real maturity?” Mariner quipped.
“No. I mean yes! I mean…ahhh!” A flustered Boimler cried frustratingly. “Stop it! Why must you always mock me?”
“How can I not?” Mariner smirked. “Especially when you set yourself up so well…”
“Let’s table that discussion for now,” Tendi suggested turning to Boimler. “So, what is it that’s finally arrived?”
“This!” Boimler beamed proudly showing off his padd. “Orders straight from Commander Ransom himself. I’ve been assigned as a liaison officer and aide for one of the parties attending the upcoming trade negotiations.”
“The ones being held aboard the Cerritos?” Rutherford asked.
“That’s right,” Boimler confirmed. “The Cerritos is hosting and acting as mediator in order to help settle several trade disputes involving the Klingons, Orions, Ferengi, Klowahkans and Hysperians.”
“Really? Wow,” Tendi blinked. “That sounds pretty serious.”
“That’s sounds pretty dull,” Mariner scoffed as she and the others changed into their uniforms. “A bunch of snooty diplomats arguing about numbers, cargo limits and agriculture. Big deal.”
“It is a big deal,” Boimler insisted. “There’s a huge amount of trade that goes on between the five parties. Klowahkans consider many Ferengi worms, grubs and beetles to be delicacies. Ferengi go crazy for Orion wing-slugs. Klingons have developed a surprising taste for certain Ferengi worms, crabs and mollusks. Hysperians exchange hircocervuses for Klingon targs. Everyone wants Orion spices and liquors. The list goes on and on.”
“Just like this spiel,” Mariner yawned. “It’s almost as boring as a mission briefing.”
“There are also several ongoing problems between the various parties when comes to health regulations and practices,” Boimler continued scrolling through his padd. “Quality and safety standards vary widely between Klingon, Ferengi, Klowahkan and Orion invertebrates. Which can be hard to impose much less regulate when such foodstocks are preferred to be eaten live.”
“But tracking and eating the biometric data of live subjects is the best part,” Tendi said.
“Ugh, I’ll take your word for it,” Rutherford made a face.
“Plus, there’s heavy competition between producers and their attempts to corner each other’s markets,” Boimler went on. “Orion Rhombolian butter goes head-to-head against Hysperian cream. Klingon zilm'kach vs. Ferengi grubfruit. Klowahkan oysters and Hysperian mussels. Some parties going as far as to claim they’re under culinary invasion.”
“That’s one way to designate alien foods as invasive species,” Mariner quipped.
“And if that wasn’t enough, the five parties also have years of grudges, prejudices and mistrust that still haven’t been worked out,” Boimler ticked off the list. “Klowahkans are still miffed at being excluded from the Hysperian Grand Gourmand Banquet of ’56. The Orions blame the Klingons over the whole Feira Incident and vice versa. Practically nobody trusts the Ferengi or Orions to keep their word. At least not without being cheated.”
“Hey, Orions take words of honor almost as serious as Klingons,” Tendi defended. “Nobody would take spoils agreements and assassination contracts seriously if the involved parties didn’t intent to carry them out.”
“Not exactly helping your case there, T,” Mariner noted.
“All of which makes the upcoming trade negotiations all the more important,” Boimler said. “And that’s not the best part.”
“There’s more?” Rutherford blinked in surprise.
“Yep,” Boimler beamed with pride. “Commander Ransom specifically chose me to be the liaison and aide for the visiting Starfleet mediation specialist: Lieutenant Commander Sam Lavelle!”
“Who?” Tendi asked curiously.
“Lieutenant Commander Lavelle,” Boimler repeated. “He’s a legend! How can you not have heard of him?”
“Gee, I don’t know,” Rutherford shrugged. “I usually don’t pay much attention to other notable figures outside of Operations and Engineering circles.”
“Same thing with me and accomplished Science and Medical personnel,” Tendi commented. “Why is Starfleet sending Commander Lavelle to help mediate the trade disputes instead of a professional diplomat?”
“Because of his wide breath of experience,” Boimler explained in admiration. “He’s had quite a colorful career. He’s one of the few Starfleet officers who has extensive experience dealing with the five conflicting parties involved. Not mention possessing various personal connections with them which have been forged over the years.”
“Wow,” Rutherford blinked, impressed. “Sounds like a pretty great officer to me.”
“And I get to be his aide,” Boimler smiled in anticipation. “I can hardly wait! I’ll be able to learn so much from him. And if all goes well, he may even write me a glowing letter of commendation which will help earn me a promotion!”
“And there it is,” Mariner shook her head. “I should have known. You just want a chance to kiss up to a decorated Starfleet officer in hopes of boosting yourself up in rank.”
“That’s not the whole reason,” Boimler defended. “At least not all of it. These upcoming trade negotiations are important. I’m going to work my manicured fingertips to the bone to help Commander Lavelle successfully pull them off. And if all my hard work and dedicated efforts finally get recognized, so much the better.”
“Sounds like a real win-win situation to me,” Tendi said as she finished putting on her uniform. “Hope it all goes well for you, Boimler. You got this!”
“Yeah, best of luck, man,” Rutherford grinned. “We’re all rooting for you!”
“Thanks guys,” Boimler smiled appreciatively with his eyes briming in excitement. “This is my big chance to finally show what I can do. I’m going to really give this assignment my all. All my hard work and dedication to Starfleet is finally going to pay off! These trade negotiations are going to be a success! And no amount of craziness, madness, chaos or insanity is going to stop me!”
“Famous last words,” Mariner smirked.
