Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
Note: This story takes place during one of the flashbacks shown in the episode "Veritas".
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Those Klirping Clickets
“Target their Bridge!”
“Umph!” Boimler grunted as the Cerritos shook from the impact. “Ohhh, so much for rolling with it.”
“Damage report!” Captain Freeman barked.
“Shields holding, Captain!” Lieutenant Shaxs rumbled. “Permission to return fire!”
“Negative,” Freeman shook her head. “This is all a misunderstanding. We need to resolve this peacefully.”
“Are you kidding? These guys just shot at us,” Mariner said. “It’s a little late for peaceful. We’re fully justified in defending ourselves.”
“We wouldn’t need to defend ourselves if you hadn’t fired on them first!” Freeman hissed.
“Oh, excuse me for misinterpreting your overly ambiguous suggestion,” Mariner snapped back. “If you wanted me to send a message inviting these bug-eyed bugs for dinner, you should have just said so!”
“We are the ones who will be having you for dinner!” The Clicket captain snarled over the still open channel. “We will rend the flesh from your duplicitous, klirping corpses and suck the marrow straight out of your double-crossing bones!”
“Uh, you really don’t want to do that,” Boimler gulped. “I’m mostly just skin and low percentage body fat. I’m not tasty at all.”
“Well I am,” Ransom preened flexing and patting his biceps. “Nothing but solid, free-range, prime grade muscle right here.”
“Great. Then you can be eaten first, sir,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “And not in a good way.”
“Nobody is eating anybody!” Freeman declared facing the viewscreen. “Captain Zurkel, this is all a misunderstanding. Please allow me to explain.”
“There is nothing to explain!” The Clicket Captain Zurkel snapped. “You klirped our gift, betrayed our trust and opened fire on our klirping ship!”
“We never even hit your ship,” Freeman defended. “It was only a single warning shot.”
“See? You admit it!” Zurkel roared.
“I did not!” Freeman insisted.
“Liar! Thief! Klirper!” Zurkel turned towards the weapons officer. “Target them again!”
PHHHWZZZZZZUUUWWW!
“Ahhh,” Boimler yelped as everyone staggered once more. “Captain, should I initiate evasive maneuvers?”
“Not yet,” Freeman shook her head. “But be ready to implement some on my command. Any suggestions, people?”
“I propose we eject the warp core, Captain!” Shaxs roared.
“Of course you do,” Mariner drawled.
“I’ll take your proposal under advisement, Lieutenant,” Freeman rolled her eyes. “Any other ideas?”
“Here’s one for ya,” Mariner jerked a thumb at the viewscreen. “How about closing the channel to prevent this bozo from hearing about all our top secret, arguably brilliant ideas?”
“No! Don’t you dare shut us out, you arrogant klirpers! Especially while we are klirping yelling at each other!” Zurkel roared. “People do that to us all the time! Everybody ignores us Clickets! Nobody notices, cares or even bothers to remember us. That’s why we are so good at spying and retrieving confidential information. Which is exactly why you klirping Starfleeters came to us in the first place!”
“Really?” Boimler blinked. “What kind of confidential information did Starfleet want from you?”
“That’s not important right now, Mister Boimler,” Freeman cut him off. “What’s important is finding a way to resolve this situation peacefully before somebody gets hurt.”
“Then give in to our demands, you klirping klirpers!” Zurkel snapped. “Or else we will klirp your klirping ship in ways you could never even klirp of!”
“Oh for *bleep* sake!” T’Ana roared glaring at the screen. “Enough with the stupid klirping already and shut the *bleep* up!”
“What did you say?” Zurkel gasped at T’Ana in shock. “You dare to klirp back at us!”
“You bet I do, you *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*!” T’Ana snapped. “I’ve had it up to here with you *bleep*ing klirp *bleep*!”
“You tell ‘em, Doc!” Shaxs whooped. “Whatever it is you’re saying!”
“Well how else are we supposed to klirp at you if not by klirping every other klirp?” Zurkel hissed. “You klirping klirpers are so stupid you won’t know a good klirp if it klirped you in the klirp!”
“I don’t give a *bleep*’s *bleep* about your *bleep*ing klirps, you *bleep*ing *bleep*er!” T’Ana snarled. “The only *bleep* around here is the huge pile of *bleep* that keeps pouring out of your *bleep*ing mouth!”
“Look who’s klirping!” Zurkel shot back.
“I’ll show you *bleep*ing!” T’Ana made a rude gesture.
“Oh boy,” Boimler blushed. “I don’t think the Clicket captain needs a universal translator to interpret that.”
“Unlike the rest of this unexpected yet scintillating repartee,” Mariner quipped. “Amazing how some versions of the universal translator come with built-in profanity filters.”
“Uh, shouldn’t we do something about this?” Ransom asked as T’Ana and Zurkel continued to scream at each other.
“In a minute,” Freeman said unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. “Personally, I’m horrified at this raw, crude exchange of xenolinguistic vulgarities. On the other hand, it means we and the Clickets are at least talking to each other which is far better than going to back to exchanging weapons fire.”
“We should have known better than to trust the klirping motives and acts of klirping Starfleet!” Zurkel snapped. “You klirpers have klirped our klirp for the last klirping time!”
“That’s because you *bleep*ing *bleep*ers have been *bleep*ing asking for it, you *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*!” T’Ana howled. “We’re *bleep*ing Starfleet, you *bleep*ing *bleep*-*bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*s! Anybody *bleep*s with us they end up getting *bleep*ed where the *bleep*ed *bleep* don’t *bleep*!”
“Finally!” Zurkel exclaimed. “It’s about time one of you klirping Starfleeters showed us the proper respect.”
“Huh?” Freeman blinked in shock. “You respected that?”
“Of course I did,” Zurkel nodded at T’Ana in approval. “Cursing and insulting another party is an acknowledgement of their power and respect. Why bother swearing at someone who is clearly weaker than you?”
“You’d be surprised,” Mariner quipped.
“Similarly, bestowing gifts upon those obviously weaker than oneself is a sign of asserting’s one’s own superiority, honor and social standing,” Zurkel went on. “It shows one is so powerful and wealthy one can afford to part with such a trivial item as a gift.”
“That…actually makes a certain amount of sense,” Boimler thought for a moment. “In a weird, twisted, mess-up sort of way.”
“Yet you klirping klirpers not only had the gall to thank us for bestowing you a gift, but displayed klirping gratitude towards us as well,” Zurkel hissed. “Thereby implying you consider Clickets as weak and inferior, thus completing your klirping display of injustice and betrayal!”
“O-kay,” Mariner stared at the screen. “Wow. Sorry, I’m just gonna say it. These guys are klirping nuts! Oh great, now they got me doing it!”
“Well, that does help clarify a few things,” Freeman said slowly. “Thank you for that informative explanation, Captain….”
“You display klirping thanks after all that?!” Zurkel roared in fury. “How klirping dare you!”
“Oops,” Freeman blinked in realization. “Wait! I didn’t mean…!”
“Target them again! Fire every klirping weapon we’ve got!” Zurkel yelled. “Turn the klirping Federation ship into nothing but klirping space dust!”
“Oh great. Here we go again,” Boimler groaned bracing himself for impact. “Though I have to say, the Clickets are pretty good at picking up language nuances.”
“Aggghhh!” Zurkel yelped suddenly.
“Huh?” Freeman stared at the screen in surprise. “Captain Zurkel, are you alright?”
“W-what…what did that Starfleeter with the bizarrely-colored head fur say?” Zurkel twitched pointing at Boimler.
“Uh, that you are pretty good at picking up language nuances?” Boimler gulped hesitantly.
“Gaaahhh!” Zurkel gasped in pain.
“But it’s true! I really mean it!” Boimler insisted. “It’s nice to encounter a species who cares about little details like that. You guys are great.”
“Aaaccckkk! No! Stop it!” Zurkel cried.
“Why? It’s a compliment,” Boimler looked very confused.
“That’s it!” Freeman snapped her fingers. “The Clickets obviously have a different system of social interactions and corresponding biological responses than us. If they perceive insults as acknowledgements of respect and displays of gratitude as implying weakness, they must also interpret receiving compliments differently too.”
“Then let’s give ‘em some more,” Ransom grinned facing the viewscreen. “Hey, good lookin’! Love what you've done with your antennae. It really brings out your eyes.”
“Aaauuggghhh!” Zurkel twitched violently. “Please…no more!”
“Your mandibles are intimidating,” Shaxs rumbled indicating Zurkel’s uniform. “And your fashion sense is impressive.”
“Eeeeeekkk!” Zurkel shrieked.
“You’re cool! You’re awesome! You’re an example to insect-based aliens everywhere!” Mariner shouted giving Boimler a nudge. “Pssst! What are you waiting for, Boims? Join in!”
“Uh,” Boimler gulped nervously. “Nice…vocal articulation?”
“WAAAHHHHHH!” Zurkel screamed thrashing about. “THESE STARFLEETERS ARE TOO KIND! GET US OUT OF HERE! RETREAT! RETREAT!”
“Huh, well that’s disappointingly anticlimactic,” Mariner commented as the Clicket ship Tweerk quickly warped away. “Those weirdoes didn’t even let us get in a good parting shot, figurative or otherwise.”
“Nooo! Not another hostile encounter without putting up a good fight!” Shaxs groaned shaking his fist. “You cursed Clickets! Come back here so I can fire phasers at you! Or even one not-so-little torpedo!”
“Stand down, Mister Shaxs,” Ransom ordered signaling him to end Red Alert. “We did what we were trained to do. Resolved conflict using words instead of weapons.”
“Our compliments must have triggered some kind of instinctive Clicket fight-or-flight response,” Freeman reasoned settling back into her chair. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”
“Speaking of taking, what was the gift the Clicket captain kept talking about?” Boimler asked. “In all the excitement I never really noticed.”
“Me neither,” Mariner shrugged.
“Uh, nothing. Nothing at all,” Freeman whistled while Ransom awkwardly attempted to hide the bulky, acquired map of the Neutral Zone behind his back. “Just a minor token of appreciation. Not even worth mentioning.”
“Just like the Clickets themselves,” Mariner quipped. “No wonder everyone ignores and forgets about them.”
“With good reason too,” T’Ana growled. “Crazy *bleep*s.”
“I guess so,” Boimler sighed shaking his head. “The Clickets did seem to be pretty inconsistent. If they consider insults as acknowledgements of respect, why did they keep klirping…er, I mean cursing at us?”
“Who knows? Who cares?” Mariner shrugged. “Just another random encounter with another random species in another random area of space during another random day in the lives of Starfleet’s Lower Decks.”
“Uh, sure,” Freeman coughed self-consciously. “What you said.”
“Well, at least we learned a few things about a potentially hostile alien species,” Boimler noted. “Which should come in handy in case we encounter them in the future.”
“Yeah right. Like the Cerritos will ever end up running into those ludicrous lame-os again,” Mariner snorted confidently. “What are the chances of that?”
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Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
Note: This story takes place during one of the flashbacks shown in the episode "Veritas".
--------------------------------------
Those Klirping Clickets
“Target their Bridge!”
“Umph!” Boimler grunted as the Cerritos shook from the impact. “Ohhh, so much for rolling with it.”
“Damage report!” Captain Freeman barked.
“Shields holding, Captain!” Lieutenant Shaxs rumbled. “Permission to return fire!”
“Negative,” Freeman shook her head. “This is all a misunderstanding. We need to resolve this peacefully.”
“Are you kidding? These guys just shot at us,” Mariner said. “It’s a little late for peaceful. We’re fully justified in defending ourselves.”
“We wouldn’t need to defend ourselves if you hadn’t fired on them first!” Freeman hissed.
“Oh, excuse me for misinterpreting your overly ambiguous suggestion,” Mariner snapped back. “If you wanted me to send a message inviting these bug-eyed bugs for dinner, you should have just said so!”
“We are the ones who will be having you for dinner!” The Clicket captain snarled over the still open channel. “We will rend the flesh from your duplicitous, klirping corpses and suck the marrow straight out of your double-crossing bones!”
“Uh, you really don’t want to do that,” Boimler gulped. “I’m mostly just skin and low percentage body fat. I’m not tasty at all.”
“Well I am,” Ransom preened flexing and patting his biceps. “Nothing but solid, free-range, prime grade muscle right here.”
“Great. Then you can be eaten first, sir,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “And not in a good way.”
“Nobody is eating anybody!” Freeman declared facing the viewscreen. “Captain Zurkel, this is all a misunderstanding. Please allow me to explain.”
“There is nothing to explain!” The Clicket Captain Zurkel snapped. “You klirped our gift, betrayed our trust and opened fire on our klirping ship!”
“We never even hit your ship,” Freeman defended. “It was only a single warning shot.”
“See? You admit it!” Zurkel roared.
“I did not!” Freeman insisted.
“Liar! Thief! Klirper!” Zurkel turned towards the weapons officer. “Target them again!”
PHHHWZZZZZZUUUWWW!
“Ahhh,” Boimler yelped as everyone staggered once more. “Captain, should I initiate evasive maneuvers?”
“Not yet,” Freeman shook her head. “But be ready to implement some on my command. Any suggestions, people?”
“I propose we eject the warp core, Captain!” Shaxs roared.
“Of course you do,” Mariner drawled.
“I’ll take your proposal under advisement, Lieutenant,” Freeman rolled her eyes. “Any other ideas?”
“Here’s one for ya,” Mariner jerked a thumb at the viewscreen. “How about closing the channel to prevent this bozo from hearing about all our top secret, arguably brilliant ideas?”
“No! Don’t you dare shut us out, you arrogant klirpers! Especially while we are klirping yelling at each other!” Zurkel roared. “People do that to us all the time! Everybody ignores us Clickets! Nobody notices, cares or even bothers to remember us. That’s why we are so good at spying and retrieving confidential information. Which is exactly why you klirping Starfleeters came to us in the first place!”
“Really?” Boimler blinked. “What kind of confidential information did Starfleet want from you?”
“That’s not important right now, Mister Boimler,” Freeman cut him off. “What’s important is finding a way to resolve this situation peacefully before somebody gets hurt.”
“Then give in to our demands, you klirping klirpers!” Zurkel snapped. “Or else we will klirp your klirping ship in ways you could never even klirp of!”
“Oh for *bleep* sake!” T’Ana roared glaring at the screen. “Enough with the stupid klirping already and shut the *bleep* up!”
“What did you say?” Zurkel gasped at T’Ana in shock. “You dare to klirp back at us!”
“You bet I do, you *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*!” T’Ana snapped. “I’ve had it up to here with you *bleep*ing klirp *bleep*!”
“You tell ‘em, Doc!” Shaxs whooped. “Whatever it is you’re saying!”
“Well how else are we supposed to klirp at you if not by klirping every other klirp?” Zurkel hissed. “You klirping klirpers are so stupid you won’t know a good klirp if it klirped you in the klirp!”
“I don’t give a *bleep*’s *bleep* about your *bleep*ing klirps, you *bleep*ing *bleep*er!” T’Ana snarled. “The only *bleep* around here is the huge pile of *bleep* that keeps pouring out of your *bleep*ing mouth!”
“Look who’s klirping!” Zurkel shot back.
“I’ll show you *bleep*ing!” T’Ana made a rude gesture.
“Oh boy,” Boimler blushed. “I don’t think the Clicket captain needs a universal translator to interpret that.”
“Unlike the rest of this unexpected yet scintillating repartee,” Mariner quipped. “Amazing how some versions of the universal translator come with built-in profanity filters.”
“Uh, shouldn’t we do something about this?” Ransom asked as T’Ana and Zurkel continued to scream at each other.
“In a minute,” Freeman said unable to tear her eyes away from the scene. “Personally, I’m horrified at this raw, crude exchange of xenolinguistic vulgarities. On the other hand, it means we and the Clickets are at least talking to each other which is far better than going to back to exchanging weapons fire.”
“We should have known better than to trust the klirping motives and acts of klirping Starfleet!” Zurkel snapped. “You klirpers have klirped our klirp for the last klirping time!”
“That’s because you *bleep*ing *bleep*ers have been *bleep*ing asking for it, you *bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*!” T’Ana howled. “We’re *bleep*ing Starfleet, you *bleep*ing *bleep*-*bleep*ing *bleep* *bleep*s! Anybody *bleep*s with us they end up getting *bleep*ed where the *bleep*ed *bleep* don’t *bleep*!”
“Finally!” Zurkel exclaimed. “It’s about time one of you klirping Starfleeters showed us the proper respect.”
“Huh?” Freeman blinked in shock. “You respected that?”
“Of course I did,” Zurkel nodded at T’Ana in approval. “Cursing and insulting another party is an acknowledgement of their power and respect. Why bother swearing at someone who is clearly weaker than you?”
“You’d be surprised,” Mariner quipped.
“Similarly, bestowing gifts upon those obviously weaker than oneself is a sign of asserting’s one’s own superiority, honor and social standing,” Zurkel went on. “It shows one is so powerful and wealthy one can afford to part with such a trivial item as a gift.”
“That…actually makes a certain amount of sense,” Boimler thought for a moment. “In a weird, twisted, mess-up sort of way.”
“Yet you klirping klirpers not only had the gall to thank us for bestowing you a gift, but displayed klirping gratitude towards us as well,” Zurkel hissed. “Thereby implying you consider Clickets as weak and inferior, thus completing your klirping display of injustice and betrayal!”
“O-kay,” Mariner stared at the screen. “Wow. Sorry, I’m just gonna say it. These guys are klirping nuts! Oh great, now they got me doing it!”
“Well, that does help clarify a few things,” Freeman said slowly. “Thank you for that informative explanation, Captain….”
“You display klirping thanks after all that?!” Zurkel roared in fury. “How klirping dare you!”
“Oops,” Freeman blinked in realization. “Wait! I didn’t mean…!”
“Target them again! Fire every klirping weapon we’ve got!” Zurkel yelled. “Turn the klirping Federation ship into nothing but klirping space dust!”
“Oh great. Here we go again,” Boimler groaned bracing himself for impact. “Though I have to say, the Clickets are pretty good at picking up language nuances.”
“Aggghhh!” Zurkel yelped suddenly.
“Huh?” Freeman stared at the screen in surprise. “Captain Zurkel, are you alright?”
“W-what…what did that Starfleeter with the bizarrely-colored head fur say?” Zurkel twitched pointing at Boimler.
“Uh, that you are pretty good at picking up language nuances?” Boimler gulped hesitantly.
“Gaaahhh!” Zurkel gasped in pain.
“But it’s true! I really mean it!” Boimler insisted. “It’s nice to encounter a species who cares about little details like that. You guys are great.”
“Aaaccckkk! No! Stop it!” Zurkel cried.
“Why? It’s a compliment,” Boimler looked very confused.
“That’s it!” Freeman snapped her fingers. “The Clickets obviously have a different system of social interactions and corresponding biological responses than us. If they perceive insults as acknowledgements of respect and displays of gratitude as implying weakness, they must also interpret receiving compliments differently too.”
“Then let’s give ‘em some more,” Ransom grinned facing the viewscreen. “Hey, good lookin’! Love what you've done with your antennae. It really brings out your eyes.”
“Aaauuggghhh!” Zurkel twitched violently. “Please…no more!”
“Your mandibles are intimidating,” Shaxs rumbled indicating Zurkel’s uniform. “And your fashion sense is impressive.”
“Eeeeeekkk!” Zurkel shrieked.
“You’re cool! You’re awesome! You’re an example to insect-based aliens everywhere!” Mariner shouted giving Boimler a nudge. “Pssst! What are you waiting for, Boims? Join in!”
“Uh,” Boimler gulped nervously. “Nice…vocal articulation?”
“WAAAHHHHHH!” Zurkel screamed thrashing about. “THESE STARFLEETERS ARE TOO KIND! GET US OUT OF HERE! RETREAT! RETREAT!”
“Huh, well that’s disappointingly anticlimactic,” Mariner commented as the Clicket ship Tweerk quickly warped away. “Those weirdoes didn’t even let us get in a good parting shot, figurative or otherwise.”
“Nooo! Not another hostile encounter without putting up a good fight!” Shaxs groaned shaking his fist. “You cursed Clickets! Come back here so I can fire phasers at you! Or even one not-so-little torpedo!”
“Stand down, Mister Shaxs,” Ransom ordered signaling him to end Red Alert. “We did what we were trained to do. Resolved conflict using words instead of weapons.”
“Our compliments must have triggered some kind of instinctive Clicket fight-or-flight response,” Freeman reasoned settling back into her chair. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”
“Speaking of taking, what was the gift the Clicket captain kept talking about?” Boimler asked. “In all the excitement I never really noticed.”
“Me neither,” Mariner shrugged.
“Uh, nothing. Nothing at all,” Freeman whistled while Ransom awkwardly attempted to hide the bulky, acquired map of the Neutral Zone behind his back. “Just a minor token of appreciation. Not even worth mentioning.”
“Just like the Clickets themselves,” Mariner quipped. “No wonder everyone ignores and forgets about them.”
“With good reason too,” T’Ana growled. “Crazy *bleep*s.”
“I guess so,” Boimler sighed shaking his head. “The Clickets did seem to be pretty inconsistent. If they consider insults as acknowledgements of respect, why did they keep klirping…er, I mean cursing at us?”
“Who knows? Who cares?” Mariner shrugged. “Just another random encounter with another random species in another random area of space during another random day in the lives of Starfleet’s Lower Decks.”
“Uh, sure,” Freeman coughed self-consciously. “What you said.”
“Well, at least we learned a few things about a potentially hostile alien species,” Boimler noted. “Which should come in handy in case we encounter them in the future.”
“Yeah right. Like the Cerritos will ever end up running into those ludicrous lame-os again,” Mariner snorted confidently. “What are the chances of that?”
--------------------------------------
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek: Lower Decks.
