Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Gee, Commander Ransom
“Ah, the old homestead,” Mariner smiled affectionately. “Nice to see the place hasn’t changed.”
“Of course it hasn’t changed,” Rutherford pointed out. “It’s only been two weeks since you were last released from the Brig. There hasn’t been enough time to perform any new repair or maintenance work.”
“Eh, what can I say? It’s the nostalgic in me,” Mariner quipped lying on the bunk of her usual cell. “This place is like my second home. In fact, I’m thinking of turning it into my unofficial HQ.”
“That’s nice,” Tendi said sitting on the other side of the Brig force field with Boimler and Rutherford. “Would you like me to bring you anything to help brighten up the place? Like some fresh bulkhead polish or a stylish set of curtains?”
“Na, no thanks, T. I’m pretty used to the décor,” Mariner declined with a wave. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to a smuggled-in tamale and a peach margarita or three. Standard Brig food’s just fine, but I still can’t get any alcoholic or syntheholic beverage service in here. Well, okay I could, but…”
“Oh no! Don’t even think about coercing Tendi into breaking regulations for you!” Boimler warned. “It was your recent acts of unauthorized sharing of ship’s provisions that landed you back in the Brig in the first place!”
“Hey, I was doing a good deed!” Mariner defended sitting up. “So I transported a load of emergency rations, blankets and other basic supplies from the Cerritos to a ship full of refugees fleeing the latest Proxcinian war instead of letting the stuff sit and collect dust in some forgotten corner of a storage bay. Is that so wrong?”
“It is when you do so without permission,” Boimler gave her a look. “And without completing and submitting all the proper requisition paperwork first.”
“Oh, excuse me for giving a supply of emergency rations, blankets and supplies to a group of hungry refugees,” Mariner snapped. “I should have just sat back and let them all starve to death. What was I thinking?”
“A question I find myself asking far too often these days,” Boimler groaned. “The answer to which becomes more frightening every time.”
“And I did fill out the oh-so-precious paperwork,” Mariner insisted. “I transmitted all the necessary documentation and everything.”
“You transmitted a set of the latest travel documents to the Proxcinians granting their ship official Federation refugee status and safe passage through this sector,” Rutherford reminded. “Which you also did without permission.”
“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” Mariner asked. “Let them wait around for Starfleet’s slower-than-Alvanian-molasses bureaucracy to process, evaluate and accept their asylum request? Give me a break! Half of ‘em would’ve died of boredom or old age before being granted official status as refugees.”
“You still should have waited for them to go through the proper channels first,” Boimler stated. “And allowed Captain Freeman to deal with the situation instead of going behind her back while she was talking with the two pursuing Proxcinian patrol vessels.”
“Who would have no doubt labeled the refugees as criminals and insisted on taking them back so they could be conscripted into the Proxcinians’ latest stupid round of war,” Mariner grumbled. “Which Captain Freeman would have no doubt granted since stepping in and saving a ship full of innocent lives would have violated the great, grand, holier-than-thou Prime Directive.”
“Well, there is a reason Starfleet has a system for processing asylum and refugee applications,” Rutherford said. “Applicants need to pass a series of background checks to prevent Starfleet officers from unknowingly assisting criminals.”
“Yeah, like that’s never happened before,” Mariner snorted.
“I don’t know. Starfleet captains do possess a broad array of discretionary powers in that area,” Tendi thought for a moment. “I’m sure Captain Freeman would have found a peaceful solution that would have been justly amicable to all parties.”
“Yeah, by sometime in the next century,” Mariner quipped. “Whereas I solved the problem just fine in a matter of minutes. And I would have done it all without anyone being the wiser if Commander Ransom hadn’t chosen that moment to walk in and interrupt me just as I was about to wrap everything up. I tell ya some days it feels like ol’ Jack is just out to get me.”
“Gee, I wonder why?” Boimler stared at Mariner in disapproval. “You are constantly ignoring rules, breaking regs and racking up who knows how many protocol violations on a daily, if not hourly basis! Any other officer would have been dishonorably discharged from Starfleet long ago. It’s a miracle Ransom, Shaxs and Captain Freeman haven’t caught any more of your unauthorized escapades than they already have. Especially those that unwillingly involve me!”
“Hey, man! Everything I do is for a reason,” Mariner defended righteously. “I do more to uphold what Starfleet is supposed to stand for when breaking rules than on the irregular occasions when I bother to follow them.”
“Did that sound weird to you or was it just me?” Tendi blinked.
“I’ll let you know when my implant manages to figure it out,” Rutheford winced. “Ow, my head!”
“And it’s not like suddenly becoming a boring old model officer would cause Cap or Ransom to let up on me,” Mariner went on. “Face it, those two would be on my case no matter what. Especially Ransom! I swear, that dude is obsessed with me and not in a good way. It’s like nothing I do is ever good enough for him.”
“How would you know?” Boimler asked. “You’ve never tried to be good enough for him.”
“He’s always barking and hounding and criticizing me over every little thing,” Mariner ignored Boimler and continued with her rant. “I know Ferengi louse counters who are less obsessive about stuff.” Mariner abruptly shot up from her bunk and pointed. “Hey you!”
“Huh?” Rutherford blinked looking confused.
“Who me, Commander Ransom?” Mariner asked innocently before giving an exaggerated impersonation of Ransom. “Yes, you! Give me one good reason for not tossing you out an airlock, Ensign!”
“Wow, that Ransom impression is pretty good,” Tendi complimented. “Still not as good as Boimler’s though.”
“Thank you,” Boimler preened.
Mariner switched back to herself while giving a wicked grin. “Deeeeeear kind Commander Ransom. I’ve got a noble heart. I focus on the outcome. And skip the useless parts!”
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned holding his head. “Here we go again.”
“Such bureaucratic nonsense, I simply toss and fling!” Mariner declared. “Golly Ranny, let me do my thing!”
“Yeah!” Tendi and Rutherford cheered playing along and leaping to their feet. “Gee, Commander Ransom, it’s not too complex!” They supportively gestured to Mariner. “She just wants to contribute while being Lower Decks!”
“Oh geeze,” Boimler moaned. “They’re all gone!”
“She’s not a delinquent! She’s misunderstood!” Tendi and Rutherford insisted. “Deep down inside her there is good!”
“There is good!” Mariner shouted.
“Depends how hard one looks,” Boimler quipped.
“There is good! There is good! There is untapped good!” Mariner, Tendi and Rutherford sang and danced around. “Yes, inside the worst of her is good!”
“That’s the really incredulous part,” Boimler sighed. “Not to mention horrifying.”
“Aw, that's a touching good story,” Tendi smiled.
“Lemme tell it to the fleet!” Mariner whooped.
“How about just telling it to the Captain?” Rutherford suggested.
“Even better!” Mariner grinned and pretended to saunter into the Captain’s Ready Room. “Heeeeeey, howdy, Captain Freeman! No need to bust my legs! Or arrange a court-martial! For breaking a few regs!”
“Wanna bet?” Boimler gave her a look.
“I met some needy people! And helped them just a tad!” Mariner went on. “Crickey Chekov, is that all so bad?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Boimler quipped.
“Argh! Commander Ransom, this girl is a nut!” Mariner shouted doing her Captain Freeman impression. “She doesn’t need support! She needs a kick in the butt!”
“Seconded!” Boimler applauded.
“Her vexatious actions we’ll have to endure!” Mariner cried pulling at her hair. “She's emotionally immature!”
“Immature!” Tendi and Rutherford echoed.
“Yes! Exactly!” Boimler declared shooting to his feet. “Immature! Immature! She’s so immature! Yes, she’s emotionally immature!” He paused and blinked for a moment. “Oh great. Now they got me doing it!”
“Quiet down! Quiet down!” Mariner barked still pretending to be Freeman. “As Captain of the Cerritos, I hereby relieve this officer of duty and release her into ship’s custody, bans benefit of counsel.”
“Hey, you’re released on account that you’re relieved,” Tendi remarked.
“But a Starfleet officer deserves to have benefit of counsel,” Rutherford pointed out.
“Really? Oh, very well,” Mariner waved. “Then take her to a counselor!”
“Oh boy,” Boimler whistled. “I can’t wait to see this play out.”
Mariner quickly plopped down and laid back in her bunk like it was a couch. “I’m awesome at my duties! I mix my work with fun! I take on every mission! And unofficial ones!”
“Unfortunately,” Boimler groaned.
“Senior officers are clueless! They hamper with my job!” Mariner griped. “Seriously, what the heck’s their prob?”
“I know the answer to that question,” Boimler said staring at his friend. “And I’m looking right at her!”
“Ah! Commander Ransom, this girl is a clam,” Mariner stood up while speaking like Dr. Migleemo. “She doesn’t need to talk! She needs a meaty exam!”
“More like a lobotomy,” Boimler moaned.
“Her prefrontal cortex is buttery thick,” Mariner tapped her forehead. “Thus, physiologically she's sick!”
“She is sick!” Tendi and Rutherford repeated.
“No kidding,” Boimler commented.
“I am sick! I am sick! I am sick, sick, sick!” Mariner cackled proudly. “I am physiologically sick!”
“Not to mention mentally, emotionally, professionally, behaviorally…” Boimler ticked off his fingers.
“Ahem,” Mariner cleared her throat giving her Migleemo impersonation once again. “In my opinion, this officer’s salt shaken mind contains the caraway seeds for leafy, aromatic greatness. Insubordination arises purely from a fatty chemical imbalance.”
“Hey, she’s got a chemical imbalance,” Rutherford commented.
“Ooo, sounds serious,” Tendi said worriedly. “Better take her to a doctor.”
“Right!” Mariner nodded reverting back to her usual self. “Yo, what up, Doc T’Ana! There’re glob ants in my brain! My eyes have insomnia! My pulse has gone insane!”
“It’s not the only one,” Boimler noted.
“My back feels like a pretzel! My liver’s in my toes!” Mariner wailed dramatically. “Wait a second, those are Freeman’s woes!”
“We know,” Boimler sighed. “Boy, do we know!”
“Grrr! Commander Ransom, what the *bleeping* jig?” Mariner screeched like Doctor T’Ana. “This girl don't need some meds! She needs a week in the Brig!”
“And just look at where that got us,” Boimler sighed glancing at their surroundings. “Talk about coming full circle.”
“Of logic and reason, there’s none to be had!” Mariner hissed. “Deep down inside her, she is bad!”
“She is bad!” Tendi and Rutherford echoed.
“It’s about time someone acknowledged that fact,” Boimler said.
“Yeah, I am bad! I am bad! I am so darn bad!” Mariner crowed pumping her fist. “I am so fantastically bad!”
“Thought that still doesn’t stop some people from taking it as a compliment,” Boimler sighed.
“The trouble is she's lazy!” Rutherford sang doing his own Ransom impression.
“The trouble is she drinks!” Tendi stated impersonating Freeman.
“The trouble is she's crazy!” Boimler moaned as himself.
“The trouble is she thinks!” Mariner warbled like Migleemo.
“The trouble is she's cheeky!” Rutherford continued.
“The trouble is she’s fun!” Tendi added.
“RANSOM, I’M NOT THE TROUBLESOME ONE!” Mariner declared passionately.
“Ha!” Boimler couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Mariner, who are you kidding?”
“Gee, Commander Ransom! She’s lost and alone!” Tendi and Rutherford pointed at Mariner posing in her cell.
“‘Cause no one wants an Ensign with a mind of her own!” Mariner quipped.
“That’s one way to put it,” Boimler noted. “Even if it’s not in any way accurate.”
“Gee, Commander Ransom! What am I to do?” Mariner asked before rising and pointing her finger in defiance. “Gee, Commander Ransom! Ran you!”
“What was that, Ensign?”
“Huh?” Everyone turned as Commander Ransom himself enter the Brig. “Uh oh…”
“Why nothing, sir,” Mariner said quickly giving a lazy salute. “Just innocently passing the time while resting from my latest ordeal.”
“Speaking of ordeals,” Ransom said holding up a padd. “Captain Freeman finally finished dealing with the aftermath of your latest stunt with the Proxcinians…”
“Aha!” Mariner smirked confidently. “And she learned I had simply rendered aid to a bunch of harmless war refugees, am I right?”
“No,” Ransom said giving her a look. “It turns out the ship you helped was actually being piloted by a group of bored Proxcinian kids taking it for a joyride.”
“Wow, really?” Tendi blinked in surprise. “That’s startlingly unexpected.”
“More like par for the course,” Boimler whispered under his breath.
“Huh?” Mariner was stunned. “Uh, are you sure? ‘Cause they sounded pretty mature over the comm.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ransom frowned. “We verified their identities with the Proxcinian authorities. We even contacted the kids’ parents and informed them of their activities. An action I’ve very tempted to do the same with you!”
“No!” Mariner said quickly. “Uh, I mean, there’s really no need to contact my parents about this. Or find out who they are. They obviously don’t need to hear about it anyway. I take full responsibility for my actions. I am an adult after all.”
“Really?” Boimler blinked. “Since when?”
“Depends on how well you behave during your incarceration,” Ransom eyed Mariner skeptically. “Act out of line just once and I’ll contact your parents so fast…”
“No, no need for that,” Mariner said crossing her heart. “I’ll be good. Scout’s honor.”
“You were a scout?” Rutherford asked.
“Well, technically…” Mariner began to whisper. “Never mind. I’ll explain later.”
“That’s better,” Ransom nodded turning and exiting the Brig. “See you in a week, Ensign.”
“Whew,” Boimler sighed in relief wiping his forehead. “Well, that could have been worse.”
“Grrr, that stupid muscle-headed Ransom,” Mariner growled dangerously. “He’s doing it again! Always hounding and criticizing me! I’m gonna get him for this! Just wait till I get outta here…!”
“Uh oh,” Rutherford gulped as Mariner began to cackle insanely. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Maybe we should find a way to calm Mariner down,” Tendi suggested nervously. “Want to me prepare a sedative or two?”
“Better make it a triple,” Boimler groaned as Mariner continued to laugh maniacally. “One for her and a double dose for me!”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song "Gee, Officer Krupke".
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Gee, Commander Ransom
“Ah, the old homestead,” Mariner smiled affectionately. “Nice to see the place hasn’t changed.”
“Of course it hasn’t changed,” Rutherford pointed out. “It’s only been two weeks since you were last released from the Brig. There hasn’t been enough time to perform any new repair or maintenance work.”
“Eh, what can I say? It’s the nostalgic in me,” Mariner quipped lying on the bunk of her usual cell. “This place is like my second home. In fact, I’m thinking of turning it into my unofficial HQ.”
“That’s nice,” Tendi said sitting on the other side of the Brig force field with Boimler and Rutherford. “Would you like me to bring you anything to help brighten up the place? Like some fresh bulkhead polish or a stylish set of curtains?”
“Na, no thanks, T. I’m pretty used to the décor,” Mariner declined with a wave. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to a smuggled-in tamale and a peach margarita or three. Standard Brig food’s just fine, but I still can’t get any alcoholic or syntheholic beverage service in here. Well, okay I could, but…”
“Oh no! Don’t even think about coercing Tendi into breaking regulations for you!” Boimler warned. “It was your recent acts of unauthorized sharing of ship’s provisions that landed you back in the Brig in the first place!”
“Hey, I was doing a good deed!” Mariner defended sitting up. “So I transported a load of emergency rations, blankets and other basic supplies from the Cerritos to a ship full of refugees fleeing the latest Proxcinian war instead of letting the stuff sit and collect dust in some forgotten corner of a storage bay. Is that so wrong?”
“It is when you do so without permission,” Boimler gave her a look. “And without completing and submitting all the proper requisition paperwork first.”
“Oh, excuse me for giving a supply of emergency rations, blankets and supplies to a group of hungry refugees,” Mariner snapped. “I should have just sat back and let them all starve to death. What was I thinking?”
“A question I find myself asking far too often these days,” Boimler groaned. “The answer to which becomes more frightening every time.”
“And I did fill out the oh-so-precious paperwork,” Mariner insisted. “I transmitted all the necessary documentation and everything.”
“You transmitted a set of the latest travel documents to the Proxcinians granting their ship official Federation refugee status and safe passage through this sector,” Rutherford reminded. “Which you also did without permission.”
“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” Mariner asked. “Let them wait around for Starfleet’s slower-than-Alvanian-molasses bureaucracy to process, evaluate and accept their asylum request? Give me a break! Half of ‘em would’ve died of boredom or old age before being granted official status as refugees.”
“You still should have waited for them to go through the proper channels first,” Boimler stated. “And allowed Captain Freeman to deal with the situation instead of going behind her back while she was talking with the two pursuing Proxcinian patrol vessels.”
“Who would have no doubt labeled the refugees as criminals and insisted on taking them back so they could be conscripted into the Proxcinians’ latest stupid round of war,” Mariner grumbled. “Which Captain Freeman would have no doubt granted since stepping in and saving a ship full of innocent lives would have violated the great, grand, holier-than-thou Prime Directive.”
“Well, there is a reason Starfleet has a system for processing asylum and refugee applications,” Rutherford said. “Applicants need to pass a series of background checks to prevent Starfleet officers from unknowingly assisting criminals.”
“Yeah, like that’s never happened before,” Mariner snorted.
“I don’t know. Starfleet captains do possess a broad array of discretionary powers in that area,” Tendi thought for a moment. “I’m sure Captain Freeman would have found a peaceful solution that would have been justly amicable to all parties.”
“Yeah, by sometime in the next century,” Mariner quipped. “Whereas I solved the problem just fine in a matter of minutes. And I would have done it all without anyone being the wiser if Commander Ransom hadn’t chosen that moment to walk in and interrupt me just as I was about to wrap everything up. I tell ya some days it feels like ol’ Jack is just out to get me.”
“Gee, I wonder why?” Boimler stared at Mariner in disapproval. “You are constantly ignoring rules, breaking regs and racking up who knows how many protocol violations on a daily, if not hourly basis! Any other officer would have been dishonorably discharged from Starfleet long ago. It’s a miracle Ransom, Shaxs and Captain Freeman haven’t caught any more of your unauthorized escapades than they already have. Especially those that unwillingly involve me!”
“Hey, man! Everything I do is for a reason,” Mariner defended righteously. “I do more to uphold what Starfleet is supposed to stand for when breaking rules than on the irregular occasions when I bother to follow them.”
“Did that sound weird to you or was it just me?” Tendi blinked.
“I’ll let you know when my implant manages to figure it out,” Rutheford winced. “Ow, my head!”
“And it’s not like suddenly becoming a boring old model officer would cause Cap or Ransom to let up on me,” Mariner went on. “Face it, those two would be on my case no matter what. Especially Ransom! I swear, that dude is obsessed with me and not in a good way. It’s like nothing I do is ever good enough for him.”
“How would you know?” Boimler asked. “You’ve never tried to be good enough for him.”
“He’s always barking and hounding and criticizing me over every little thing,” Mariner ignored Boimler and continued with her rant. “I know Ferengi louse counters who are less obsessive about stuff.” Mariner abruptly shot up from her bunk and pointed. “Hey you!”
“Huh?” Rutherford blinked looking confused.
“Who me, Commander Ransom?” Mariner asked innocently before giving an exaggerated impersonation of Ransom. “Yes, you! Give me one good reason for not tossing you out an airlock, Ensign!”
“Wow, that Ransom impression is pretty good,” Tendi complimented. “Still not as good as Boimler’s though.”
“Thank you,” Boimler preened.
Mariner switched back to herself while giving a wicked grin. “Deeeeeear kind Commander Ransom. I’ve got a noble heart. I focus on the outcome. And skip the useless parts!”
“Oh no,” Boimler groaned holding his head. “Here we go again.”
“Such bureaucratic nonsense, I simply toss and fling!” Mariner declared. “Golly Ranny, let me do my thing!”
“Yeah!” Tendi and Rutherford cheered playing along and leaping to their feet. “Gee, Commander Ransom, it’s not too complex!” They supportively gestured to Mariner. “She just wants to contribute while being Lower Decks!”
“Oh geeze,” Boimler moaned. “They’re all gone!”
“She’s not a delinquent! She’s misunderstood!” Tendi and Rutherford insisted. “Deep down inside her there is good!”
“There is good!” Mariner shouted.
“Depends how hard one looks,” Boimler quipped.
“There is good! There is good! There is untapped good!” Mariner, Tendi and Rutherford sang and danced around. “Yes, inside the worst of her is good!”
“That’s the really incredulous part,” Boimler sighed. “Not to mention horrifying.”
“Aw, that's a touching good story,” Tendi smiled.
“Lemme tell it to the fleet!” Mariner whooped.
“How about just telling it to the Captain?” Rutherford suggested.
“Even better!” Mariner grinned and pretended to saunter into the Captain’s Ready Room. “Heeeeeey, howdy, Captain Freeman! No need to bust my legs! Or arrange a court-martial! For breaking a few regs!”
“Wanna bet?” Boimler gave her a look.
“I met some needy people! And helped them just a tad!” Mariner went on. “Crickey Chekov, is that all so bad?”
“Do you even have to ask?” Boimler quipped.
“Argh! Commander Ransom, this girl is a nut!” Mariner shouted doing her Captain Freeman impression. “She doesn’t need support! She needs a kick in the butt!”
“Seconded!” Boimler applauded.
“Her vexatious actions we’ll have to endure!” Mariner cried pulling at her hair. “She's emotionally immature!”
“Immature!” Tendi and Rutherford echoed.
“Yes! Exactly!” Boimler declared shooting to his feet. “Immature! Immature! She’s so immature! Yes, she’s emotionally immature!” He paused and blinked for a moment. “Oh great. Now they got me doing it!”
“Quiet down! Quiet down!” Mariner barked still pretending to be Freeman. “As Captain of the Cerritos, I hereby relieve this officer of duty and release her into ship’s custody, bans benefit of counsel.”
“Hey, you’re released on account that you’re relieved,” Tendi remarked.
“But a Starfleet officer deserves to have benefit of counsel,” Rutherford pointed out.
“Really? Oh, very well,” Mariner waved. “Then take her to a counselor!”
“Oh boy,” Boimler whistled. “I can’t wait to see this play out.”
Mariner quickly plopped down and laid back in her bunk like it was a couch. “I’m awesome at my duties! I mix my work with fun! I take on every mission! And unofficial ones!”
“Unfortunately,” Boimler groaned.
“Senior officers are clueless! They hamper with my job!” Mariner griped. “Seriously, what the heck’s their prob?”
“I know the answer to that question,” Boimler said staring at his friend. “And I’m looking right at her!”
“Ah! Commander Ransom, this girl is a clam,” Mariner stood up while speaking like Dr. Migleemo. “She doesn’t need to talk! She needs a meaty exam!”
“More like a lobotomy,” Boimler moaned.
“Her prefrontal cortex is buttery thick,” Mariner tapped her forehead. “Thus, physiologically she's sick!”
“She is sick!” Tendi and Rutherford repeated.
“No kidding,” Boimler commented.
“I am sick! I am sick! I am sick, sick, sick!” Mariner cackled proudly. “I am physiologically sick!”
“Not to mention mentally, emotionally, professionally, behaviorally…” Boimler ticked off his fingers.
“Ahem,” Mariner cleared her throat giving her Migleemo impersonation once again. “In my opinion, this officer’s salt shaken mind contains the caraway seeds for leafy, aromatic greatness. Insubordination arises purely from a fatty chemical imbalance.”
“Hey, she’s got a chemical imbalance,” Rutherford commented.
“Ooo, sounds serious,” Tendi said worriedly. “Better take her to a doctor.”
“Right!” Mariner nodded reverting back to her usual self. “Yo, what up, Doc T’Ana! There’re glob ants in my brain! My eyes have insomnia! My pulse has gone insane!”
“It’s not the only one,” Boimler noted.
“My back feels like a pretzel! My liver’s in my toes!” Mariner wailed dramatically. “Wait a second, those are Freeman’s woes!”
“We know,” Boimler sighed. “Boy, do we know!”
“Grrr! Commander Ransom, what the *bleeping* jig?” Mariner screeched like Doctor T’Ana. “This girl don't need some meds! She needs a week in the Brig!”
“And just look at where that got us,” Boimler sighed glancing at their surroundings. “Talk about coming full circle.”
“Of logic and reason, there’s none to be had!” Mariner hissed. “Deep down inside her, she is bad!”
“She is bad!” Tendi and Rutherford echoed.
“It’s about time someone acknowledged that fact,” Boimler said.
“Yeah, I am bad! I am bad! I am so darn bad!” Mariner crowed pumping her fist. “I am so fantastically bad!”
“Thought that still doesn’t stop some people from taking it as a compliment,” Boimler sighed.
“The trouble is she's lazy!” Rutherford sang doing his own Ransom impression.
“The trouble is she drinks!” Tendi stated impersonating Freeman.
“The trouble is she's crazy!” Boimler moaned as himself.
“The trouble is she thinks!” Mariner warbled like Migleemo.
“The trouble is she's cheeky!” Rutherford continued.
“The trouble is she’s fun!” Tendi added.
“RANSOM, I’M NOT THE TROUBLESOME ONE!” Mariner declared passionately.
“Ha!” Boimler couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Mariner, who are you kidding?”
“Gee, Commander Ransom! She’s lost and alone!” Tendi and Rutherford pointed at Mariner posing in her cell.
“‘Cause no one wants an Ensign with a mind of her own!” Mariner quipped.
“That’s one way to put it,” Boimler noted. “Even if it’s not in any way accurate.”
“Gee, Commander Ransom! What am I to do?” Mariner asked before rising and pointing her finger in defiance. “Gee, Commander Ransom! Ran you!”
“What was that, Ensign?”
“Huh?” Everyone turned as Commander Ransom himself enter the Brig. “Uh oh…”
“Why nothing, sir,” Mariner said quickly giving a lazy salute. “Just innocently passing the time while resting from my latest ordeal.”
“Speaking of ordeals,” Ransom said holding up a padd. “Captain Freeman finally finished dealing with the aftermath of your latest stunt with the Proxcinians…”
“Aha!” Mariner smirked confidently. “And she learned I had simply rendered aid to a bunch of harmless war refugees, am I right?”
“No,” Ransom said giving her a look. “It turns out the ship you helped was actually being piloted by a group of bored Proxcinian kids taking it for a joyride.”
“Wow, really?” Tendi blinked in surprise. “That’s startlingly unexpected.”
“More like par for the course,” Boimler whispered under his breath.
“Huh?” Mariner was stunned. “Uh, are you sure? ‘Cause they sounded pretty mature over the comm.”
“Yes, I’m sure,” Ransom frowned. “We verified their identities with the Proxcinian authorities. We even contacted the kids’ parents and informed them of their activities. An action I’ve very tempted to do the same with you!”
“No!” Mariner said quickly. “Uh, I mean, there’s really no need to contact my parents about this. Or find out who they are. They obviously don’t need to hear about it anyway. I take full responsibility for my actions. I am an adult after all.”
“Really?” Boimler blinked. “Since when?”
“Depends on how well you behave during your incarceration,” Ransom eyed Mariner skeptically. “Act out of line just once and I’ll contact your parents so fast…”
“No, no need for that,” Mariner said crossing her heart. “I’ll be good. Scout’s honor.”
“You were a scout?” Rutherford asked.
“Well, technically…” Mariner began to whisper. “Never mind. I’ll explain later.”
“That’s better,” Ransom nodded turning and exiting the Brig. “See you in a week, Ensign.”
“Whew,” Boimler sighed in relief wiping his forehead. “Well, that could have been worse.”
“Grrr, that stupid muscle-headed Ransom,” Mariner growled dangerously. “He’s doing it again! Always hounding and criticizing me! I’m gonna get him for this! Just wait till I get outta here…!”
“Uh oh,” Rutherford gulped as Mariner began to cackle insanely. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“Maybe we should find a way to calm Mariner down,” Tendi suggested nervously. “Want to me prepare a sedative or two?”
“Better make it a triple,” Boimler groaned as Mariner continued to laugh maniacally. “One for her and a double dose for me!”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks or the song "Gee, Officer Krupke".
