Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Mudd on Your Face
“Well, this is a first,” Boimler commented. “I never thought I’d see the day when you not only didn’t complain about being assigned to cargo run duty, but actually volunteered for it.”
“Hey, what can I say? I like to be predictably unpredictable,” Mariner shrugged nonchalantly. She and Boimler were seated in the shuttlecraft Whiskeytown while piloting it at warp speed. “Besides, it gives me a chance to get away from the Cerritos for a while. Things aboard ship have been way too dull lately.”
“Didn’t you just throw an unauthorized pool party in Storage Bay Four last week?” Boimler reminded. “Which not only got out of control, but also ended up flooding six decks, four conference rooms, Stellar Cartography and every vital area of the ship except, ironically enough, Cetacean Ops. All while a swarm of unknown noncorporal alien entities attempted to destroy and take over the Cerritos.”
“Like I said, things have been pretty dull,” Mariner repeated. “And it’s not like the Cerritos hasn’t been flooded with water before. And we managed to establish communication with those glowing alien clouds by coming to a peaceful, diplomatic agreement.”
“Yeah, by having them possess our bodies and enjoy endless rides down the multiple water slides you had set up,” Boimler groaned at the memory. “I swear, my sinuses still have saline water in them!”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Mariner pointed out. “Everybody likes water slides. With or without swimsuits…”
“Be that as it may,” Boimler coughed and desperately attempted to change topics. “I’m still surprised you volunteered to deliver a load of spare environmental control components to Deep Space Station K-14. I thought you said making supply runs was brain-numbingly boring.”
“It is and they are,” Mariner confirmed. “But they also offer an opportunity to get away from the everyday humdrum of the Lower Decks and grab some me time to recharge and clear one’s head. To promote one’s inner character growth and practice some independent responsibility. And a chance to score some sweet weapons and tactical modules to outfit our own rebuilt shuttlecraft!”
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned.
“Oh yes,” Mariner grinned. “There’s no way we’d be able to salvage a ‘borrowed’ phaser bank or two from the Cerritos, but there’s a whole row of surplus and supply shops on K-14. I’ve been there before.”
“Of course you have,” Boimler sighed.
“Trust me, Boims. An old station like K-14 is bound to have plenty of spare parts and weapon packs left over from the 23rd century to choose from,” Mariner assured. “Personally, I’m hoping we’ll find a vintage set of 2260’s particle accelerators and classic pulse phaser cannons…”
“I hope we don’t end up in a holding cell, running for our lives or in the middle of yet another all-out bar brawl,” Boimler moaned. “Dare I even ask how you plan to barter for your shopping list of unauthorized engines of questionable destruction?”
“With several crates of Romulan ale, various bladed weapons and Klingon aphrodisiacs,” Mariner gave him a look. “Duh.”
“Of course,” Boimler groaned glancing back at the stack of cargo containers sitting in the rear of shuttlecraft. “I should have known you snuck in a few extra containers when you insisted on doing the cargo inventory checklist. K-14’s security is going to arrest us for knowingly transporting contraband!”
“Starfleet may consider it contraband,” Mariner retorted. “But K-14 is technically a civilian station with a very cosmopolitan population. Their definition of contraband isn’t quite the same as Starfleet’s. At least since the last time I was there…”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Boimler moaned. “We’re going to wind up in the Brig or fighting for our lives again, I just know it!”
“Relax, Boims. I got it all under control,” Mariner assured him with a smirk. “Trust me…”
Two hours later found the pair of ensigns docked at the aged, yet still functional station K-14. “Okay, that takes care of all our official duties,” Boimler said as they finished delivering the loads of spare parts and supplies to the station’s quartermaster.
“Great. Now to get down to the real work,” Mariner grinned taking a deep breath. “Ah, just smell that ol’ recycled air. Nothing like strolling through a leftover space relic like this to put you in the frontier spirit. Back to the days when K-class stations were bustling crossroads at the forefront of the Federation’s expansion and not the abandoned, forgotten tourist traps most of ‘em are now.”
“I have to admit, it is kind of thrilling. Even if I can’t add it to my Visited Planets list,” Boimler said taking a few cautious sniffs. “Maybe we should take a few snapshots while we’re here…
“Boimler! Darling!” A charming, delighted voice suddenly called out. “Nice to see you again.”
“Huh?” Boimler and Mariner turned at the unexpected greeting.
“I knew it was you,” Odelina Kay Mudd, owner and operator of the independent freetrader Interstella, stepped out from amongst the crowd wandering through the station. “I’d recognize that striking purple hair and adorable dimples of yours anywhere.”
“Ms. Odette?” Boimler blinked in surprise. “I mean, Captain Odette. I mean…”
“It’s just Odette or Odelina, dear,” Odette smiled sauntering up to him. “No need for formalities. We are friends after all.”
“Of course. Sure,” Boimler agreed. “Nice to see you too.”
“Hello, Oddy,” Mariner narrowed her eyes at Odette.
“Ensign Mariner. A pleasure as always,” Odette said politely before turning her attention back to Boimler. “So, what’s a dashing, caring Starfleet officer like you doing in a rundown place like this?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Boimler shrugged. “Just finished making another typical uneventful cargo run…”
“We’re conducting official, important Starfleet business,” Mariner abruptly cut Boimler off while glaring at Odette. “It’s classified. In fact, it’s beyond classified. Can’t tell you anything about it. Top secret security clearance required. You understand.”
“I see,” Odette gave Mariner a measured look. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to break Starfleet protocol and end up getting into trouble.”
“Ha!” Boimler let out an ironic laugh. “If you only knew…”
“Thanks for the consideration, Oddy,” Mariner drawled. “So, what brings you here?”
“Oh, just a few business ventures,” Odette smiled casually taking Boimler’s arm and began strolling with him down the station’s main promenade. “Running a few side jobs and deliveries along with undertaking a potentially lucrative opportunity I simply could not pass up.”
“I bet,” Mariner muttered under her breath as she followed after them.
“That sounds fascinating,” Boimler commented. “We’re hoping to conduct a little side business ourselves. We’re looking for a reputable starship surplus outlet where we can pick up a few salvageable spare parts.”
“Really? Then let me assist you in your personal endeavor,” Odette offered. “I’m quite familiar with the station’s various merchants and operators. I’ll direct you to the most honest ones and let you know which dealers to avoid.”
“Hey, I know this place pretty well too!” Mariner insisted while trying to get between Boimler and Odette. “Thanks for the offer, Oddy, but we don’t need the help from some shifty, flirtatious hustler like you.”
“I am not a hustler,” Odette stated while deftly countering Mariner’s attempts to pry her away from Boimler. “I am a fully licensed commercial entrepreneur with an unimpeachable professional background of long standing.”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “And I’m willing to sell you some bargain-rate oceanfront property on Nimbus III.”
“Figures an erratic, deceitful person such as yourself would make such an outlandish, obvious ploy,” Odette frowned at Mariner in disapproval. “I wager you often undertake similar attempts to take advantage of such a noble, trusting soul like Ensign Boimler.”
“You have no idea,” Boimler sighed.
“Excuse me?” Mariner snapped glaring at her. “What was that?”
“You heard me,” Odette matched Mariner’s gaze. “You may strut around clad in a veneer of honestly and virtue that correlates to wearing a Starfleet uniform, but inside you’re just like all the other low-level swindlers and con artists out there. Believe me, I know a con when I see one.”
“Really?” Boimler asked. “How so?”
“Because I grew up around cons,” Odette explained. “My family was not exactly well off. My father was frequently absent when I was a child, just like his father before him. Not to mention some of my other less reputable relatives.”
“Gee, what a surprise,” Mariner drawled.
“Always scampering about the galaxy in search of the next big score,” Odette continued. “More like the next big rip-off! My father was always making promises that either didn’t pan out or which he was simply unable to keep.”
“Wow. That’s terrible,” Boimler said sympathetically.
“Oh yeah,” Mariner’s rolled eyes practically dripped with sarcasm. “I’m all in tears over here.”
“Such early first-hand exposure to near-constant unreliability and broken guarantees helped fuel me with the desire to go out and fulfill my own dreams,” Odette stated proudly. “By achieving them through trust, determination and honest-to-Surak hard work.”
“Wow. That’s great,” Boimler smiled. “Good for you!”
“Ooo, whoopee,” Mariner drawled twirling a finger in the air. “Nice turbolift speech. You’re an inspiration to us all.”
“Which is why my crew and I only conduct legal, legitimate business,” Odette said while shooting Mariner a quick glare. “And why I take any intentional smears to my ship, my crew and my reputation very seriously…” A chirp from Odette’s personal communicator suddenly cut her off. “Oops, I’m getting a call. Excuse me one moment.”
“Sure, no problem,” Boimler said as Odette discreetly moved behind a nearby information kiosk. “Wow. Odette becomes more amazing every time I see her. She is so cool.”
“No, she’s not,” Mariner grumbled. “And quit saying ‘wow’.”
“She’s even the captain of her own top-of-the-line ship,” Boimler smiled dreamingly. “Maybe I should ask her for pointers on how I can become a captain someday…mmmphhh!” Boimler yelped as Mariner quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. She put a finger to her lips before quietly leading them over to the information kiosk Odette had moved behind.
“How are the cargo transfers coming along?” Odette was heard asking.
“Everything’s proceeding on schedule, Captain,” LeMarois, the Interstella’s middle-aged Rigelian First Mate replied over Odette’s communicator. “Had a small glitch with the cargo manifest, but we managed to clear it up with the station’s officials.”
“Good work,” Odette said. “And what about the special ‘unofficial’ cargo?”
“I’m taking it over via shuttle now,” LeMarois said. “The contents are too sensitive and volatile to risk using the transporters.”
“Just make sure to be discreet,” Odette whispered. “I’ve spoken to the relevant members of the station’s security so they won’t bother you. But avoid all Starfleet officers. I don’t want them finding out about this.”
“Understood,” LeMarois confirmed.
“Hmh?” Boimler blinked in surprise.
“Aha! I knew it!” Mariner crowed quietly leading Boimler away from the kiosk. “That sneaky, scheming Odette is running some kind of scam! She cooked up that whole ‘absent father’ sob story just to distract us from her attempt to smuggle some kind of contraband aboard the station.”
“Look who’s talking,” Boimler snapped removing Mariner’s hand from his mouth. “You’re the one with several crates full of weapons, booze and who knows what else sitting inside our shuttlecraft right now!”
“Technically, none of that stuff is considered illegal here,” Mariner waved. “But whatever dangerous, illicit stuff Oddy’s peddling definitely is!”
“Are you insane?” Boimler gaped at her in shock. “What am I saying? Stop jumping to conclusions about Odette. Okay, what little conversation you forced me to eavesdrop on does seem a bit suspicious, but it still doesn’t mean Odette is planning to do anything wrong.”
“Like heck it doesn’t,” Mariner said with a determined look in her eye. “And I’m gonna prove it!”
“Sorry for the interruption,” Odette said rejoining the two ensigns. “I received a brief status update concerning my ship’s current commercial operations.”
“Don’t worry. It’s no problem,” Boimler said. “I keep my senior officers constantly updated on my activity status too. Whether they ask for it or not.”
“How diligent of you,” Odette smiled appreciatively. “So, let’s continue our stroll…”
“Sorry, Oddy,” Mariner interrupted. “But Boims and I have important Starfleet business to take of.”
“No, we don’t,” Boimler protested.
“Yes, we do!” Mariner insisted dragging Boimler away while shooting Odette a sharp wave. “Catch ya later, Oddy.”
“But…but…” Odette blinked as Mariner and Boimler quickly moved off. “Aw, jumja sticks.”
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Mudd on Your Face
“Well, this is a first,” Boimler commented. “I never thought I’d see the day when you not only didn’t complain about being assigned to cargo run duty, but actually volunteered for it.”
“Hey, what can I say? I like to be predictably unpredictable,” Mariner shrugged nonchalantly. She and Boimler were seated in the shuttlecraft Whiskeytown while piloting it at warp speed. “Besides, it gives me a chance to get away from the Cerritos for a while. Things aboard ship have been way too dull lately.”
“Didn’t you just throw an unauthorized pool party in Storage Bay Four last week?” Boimler reminded. “Which not only got out of control, but also ended up flooding six decks, four conference rooms, Stellar Cartography and every vital area of the ship except, ironically enough, Cetacean Ops. All while a swarm of unknown noncorporal alien entities attempted to destroy and take over the Cerritos.”
“Like I said, things have been pretty dull,” Mariner repeated. “And it’s not like the Cerritos hasn’t been flooded with water before. And we managed to establish communication with those glowing alien clouds by coming to a peaceful, diplomatic agreement.”
“Yeah, by having them possess our bodies and enjoy endless rides down the multiple water slides you had set up,” Boimler groaned at the memory. “I swear, my sinuses still have saline water in them!”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Mariner pointed out. “Everybody likes water slides. With or without swimsuits…”
“Be that as it may,” Boimler coughed and desperately attempted to change topics. “I’m still surprised you volunteered to deliver a load of spare environmental control components to Deep Space Station K-14. I thought you said making supply runs was brain-numbingly boring.”
“It is and they are,” Mariner confirmed. “But they also offer an opportunity to get away from the everyday humdrum of the Lower Decks and grab some me time to recharge and clear one’s head. To promote one’s inner character growth and practice some independent responsibility. And a chance to score some sweet weapons and tactical modules to outfit our own rebuilt shuttlecraft!”
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned.
“Oh yes,” Mariner grinned. “There’s no way we’d be able to salvage a ‘borrowed’ phaser bank or two from the Cerritos, but there’s a whole row of surplus and supply shops on K-14. I’ve been there before.”
“Of course you have,” Boimler sighed.
“Trust me, Boims. An old station like K-14 is bound to have plenty of spare parts and weapon packs left over from the 23rd century to choose from,” Mariner assured. “Personally, I’m hoping we’ll find a vintage set of 2260’s particle accelerators and classic pulse phaser cannons…”
“I hope we don’t end up in a holding cell, running for our lives or in the middle of yet another all-out bar brawl,” Boimler moaned. “Dare I even ask how you plan to barter for your shopping list of unauthorized engines of questionable destruction?”
“With several crates of Romulan ale, various bladed weapons and Klingon aphrodisiacs,” Mariner gave him a look. “Duh.”
“Of course,” Boimler groaned glancing back at the stack of cargo containers sitting in the rear of shuttlecraft. “I should have known you snuck in a few extra containers when you insisted on doing the cargo inventory checklist. K-14’s security is going to arrest us for knowingly transporting contraband!”
“Starfleet may consider it contraband,” Mariner retorted. “But K-14 is technically a civilian station with a very cosmopolitan population. Their definition of contraband isn’t quite the same as Starfleet’s. At least since the last time I was there…”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better,” Boimler moaned. “We’re going to wind up in the Brig or fighting for our lives again, I just know it!”
“Relax, Boims. I got it all under control,” Mariner assured him with a smirk. “Trust me…”
Two hours later found the pair of ensigns docked at the aged, yet still functional station K-14. “Okay, that takes care of all our official duties,” Boimler said as they finished delivering the loads of spare parts and supplies to the station’s quartermaster.
“Great. Now to get down to the real work,” Mariner grinned taking a deep breath. “Ah, just smell that ol’ recycled air. Nothing like strolling through a leftover space relic like this to put you in the frontier spirit. Back to the days when K-class stations were bustling crossroads at the forefront of the Federation’s expansion and not the abandoned, forgotten tourist traps most of ‘em are now.”
“I have to admit, it is kind of thrilling. Even if I can’t add it to my Visited Planets list,” Boimler said taking a few cautious sniffs. “Maybe we should take a few snapshots while we’re here…
“Boimler! Darling!” A charming, delighted voice suddenly called out. “Nice to see you again.”
“Huh?” Boimler and Mariner turned at the unexpected greeting.
“I knew it was you,” Odelina Kay Mudd, owner and operator of the independent freetrader Interstella, stepped out from amongst the crowd wandering through the station. “I’d recognize that striking purple hair and adorable dimples of yours anywhere.”
“Ms. Odette?” Boimler blinked in surprise. “I mean, Captain Odette. I mean…”
“It’s just Odette or Odelina, dear,” Odette smiled sauntering up to him. “No need for formalities. We are friends after all.”
“Of course. Sure,” Boimler agreed. “Nice to see you too.”
“Hello, Oddy,” Mariner narrowed her eyes at Odette.
“Ensign Mariner. A pleasure as always,” Odette said politely before turning her attention back to Boimler. “So, what’s a dashing, caring Starfleet officer like you doing in a rundown place like this?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Boimler shrugged. “Just finished making another typical uneventful cargo run…”
“We’re conducting official, important Starfleet business,” Mariner abruptly cut Boimler off while glaring at Odette. “It’s classified. In fact, it’s beyond classified. Can’t tell you anything about it. Top secret security clearance required. You understand.”
“I see,” Odette gave Mariner a measured look. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want you to break Starfleet protocol and end up getting into trouble.”
“Ha!” Boimler let out an ironic laugh. “If you only knew…”
“Thanks for the consideration, Oddy,” Mariner drawled. “So, what brings you here?”
“Oh, just a few business ventures,” Odette smiled casually taking Boimler’s arm and began strolling with him down the station’s main promenade. “Running a few side jobs and deliveries along with undertaking a potentially lucrative opportunity I simply could not pass up.”
“I bet,” Mariner muttered under her breath as she followed after them.
“That sounds fascinating,” Boimler commented. “We’re hoping to conduct a little side business ourselves. We’re looking for a reputable starship surplus outlet where we can pick up a few salvageable spare parts.”
“Really? Then let me assist you in your personal endeavor,” Odette offered. “I’m quite familiar with the station’s various merchants and operators. I’ll direct you to the most honest ones and let you know which dealers to avoid.”
“Hey, I know this place pretty well too!” Mariner insisted while trying to get between Boimler and Odette. “Thanks for the offer, Oddy, but we don’t need the help from some shifty, flirtatious hustler like you.”
“I am not a hustler,” Odette stated while deftly countering Mariner’s attempts to pry her away from Boimler. “I am a fully licensed commercial entrepreneur with an unimpeachable professional background of long standing.”
“Yeah right,” Mariner snorted. “And I’m willing to sell you some bargain-rate oceanfront property on Nimbus III.”
“Figures an erratic, deceitful person such as yourself would make such an outlandish, obvious ploy,” Odette frowned at Mariner in disapproval. “I wager you often undertake similar attempts to take advantage of such a noble, trusting soul like Ensign Boimler.”
“You have no idea,” Boimler sighed.
“Excuse me?” Mariner snapped glaring at her. “What was that?”
“You heard me,” Odette matched Mariner’s gaze. “You may strut around clad in a veneer of honestly and virtue that correlates to wearing a Starfleet uniform, but inside you’re just like all the other low-level swindlers and con artists out there. Believe me, I know a con when I see one.”
“Really?” Boimler asked. “How so?”
“Because I grew up around cons,” Odette explained. “My family was not exactly well off. My father was frequently absent when I was a child, just like his father before him. Not to mention some of my other less reputable relatives.”
“Gee, what a surprise,” Mariner drawled.
“Always scampering about the galaxy in search of the next big score,” Odette continued. “More like the next big rip-off! My father was always making promises that either didn’t pan out or which he was simply unable to keep.”
“Wow. That’s terrible,” Boimler said sympathetically.
“Oh yeah,” Mariner’s rolled eyes practically dripped with sarcasm. “I’m all in tears over here.”
“Such early first-hand exposure to near-constant unreliability and broken guarantees helped fuel me with the desire to go out and fulfill my own dreams,” Odette stated proudly. “By achieving them through trust, determination and honest-to-Surak hard work.”
“Wow. That’s great,” Boimler smiled. “Good for you!”
“Ooo, whoopee,” Mariner drawled twirling a finger in the air. “Nice turbolift speech. You’re an inspiration to us all.”
“Which is why my crew and I only conduct legal, legitimate business,” Odette said while shooting Mariner a quick glare. “And why I take any intentional smears to my ship, my crew and my reputation very seriously…” A chirp from Odette’s personal communicator suddenly cut her off. “Oops, I’m getting a call. Excuse me one moment.”
“Sure, no problem,” Boimler said as Odette discreetly moved behind a nearby information kiosk. “Wow. Odette becomes more amazing every time I see her. She is so cool.”
“No, she’s not,” Mariner grumbled. “And quit saying ‘wow’.”
“She’s even the captain of her own top-of-the-line ship,” Boimler smiled dreamingly. “Maybe I should ask her for pointers on how I can become a captain someday…mmmphhh!” Boimler yelped as Mariner quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. She put a finger to her lips before quietly leading them over to the information kiosk Odette had moved behind.
“How are the cargo transfers coming along?” Odette was heard asking.
“Everything’s proceeding on schedule, Captain,” LeMarois, the Interstella’s middle-aged Rigelian First Mate replied over Odette’s communicator. “Had a small glitch with the cargo manifest, but we managed to clear it up with the station’s officials.”
“Good work,” Odette said. “And what about the special ‘unofficial’ cargo?”
“I’m taking it over via shuttle now,” LeMarois said. “The contents are too sensitive and volatile to risk using the transporters.”
“Just make sure to be discreet,” Odette whispered. “I’ve spoken to the relevant members of the station’s security so they won’t bother you. But avoid all Starfleet officers. I don’t want them finding out about this.”
“Understood,” LeMarois confirmed.
“Hmh?” Boimler blinked in surprise.
“Aha! I knew it!” Mariner crowed quietly leading Boimler away from the kiosk. “That sneaky, scheming Odette is running some kind of scam! She cooked up that whole ‘absent father’ sob story just to distract us from her attempt to smuggle some kind of contraband aboard the station.”
“Look who’s talking,” Boimler snapped removing Mariner’s hand from his mouth. “You’re the one with several crates full of weapons, booze and who knows what else sitting inside our shuttlecraft right now!”
“Technically, none of that stuff is considered illegal here,” Mariner waved. “But whatever dangerous, illicit stuff Oddy’s peddling definitely is!”
“Are you insane?” Boimler gaped at her in shock. “What am I saying? Stop jumping to conclusions about Odette. Okay, what little conversation you forced me to eavesdrop on does seem a bit suspicious, but it still doesn’t mean Odette is planning to do anything wrong.”
“Like heck it doesn’t,” Mariner said with a determined look in her eye. “And I’m gonna prove it!”
“Sorry for the interruption,” Odette said rejoining the two ensigns. “I received a brief status update concerning my ship’s current commercial operations.”
“Don’t worry. It’s no problem,” Boimler said. “I keep my senior officers constantly updated on my activity status too. Whether they ask for it or not.”
“How diligent of you,” Odette smiled appreciatively. “So, let’s continue our stroll…”
“Sorry, Oddy,” Mariner interrupted. “But Boims and I have important Starfleet business to take of.”
“No, we don’t,” Boimler protested.
“Yes, we do!” Mariner insisted dragging Boimler away while shooting Odette a sharp wave. “Catch ya later, Oddy.”
“But…but…” Odette blinked as Mariner and Boimler quickly moved off. “Aw, jumja sticks.”
