Originally posted on fanfiction.net - Link.
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Ensigns Gone Vogue
“Man, it’s about time we got assigned a decent second contact mission,” Mariner said leaning back and cracking her knuckles. “It’s been way too long.”
“Not as long as the last time you at least pretended to act serious,” Boimler remarked sitting next to her. He and Mariner were in the rear of the shuttlecraft Yosemite which was being piloted by Commander Ransom. “And this isn’t just any second contact mission. The Cerritos is responding to a planetary distress call put out by the natives of Sisseti VI.”
“That’s even better,” Mariner grinned in anticipation. “It means we can act fast and help people directly without having to wait and deal with all the slow, unnecessary bureaucratic red tape.”
“That’s a surprisingly positive way to look at an emergency,” Tendi commented as she and Rutherford sat opposite of their friends. She watched as the Yosemite descended through Sisseti VI’s atmosphere. “I hope the situation isn’t too bad down there. Do you think we brought enough relief supplies?”
“I hope so,” Rutherford said patting one of the many crates stowed away in the shuttlecraft. “Though it’s hard to pack for an emergency when you don’t know exactly what the emergency is about.”
“Yeah, there weren’t many details during the mission briefing,” Boimler noted studying a padd. “The Sisseti apparently just transmitted a general planetary distress call. Didn’t include the reason why.”
“Maybe the situation is so bad they didn’t have time to provide further details,” Tendi speculated. “Maybe the planet is being hit by a prolonged period of intense ionic storms.”
“No, scans didn’t detect any unusual atmospheric activity,” Boimler said checking his padd. “Thought Sisseti VI does contain significant magnesite deposits which interfere with sensor and transporter functions. And the Sisseti also extensively utilize magnesite as a construction material which is why we need to take a shuttlecraft to the surface.”
“Obviously,” Mariner quipped.
“Beginning final approach to the previously designated landing point,” Ransom announced. “Remember, we don’t know exactly what kind of crisis the Sisseti are experiencing. Be prepared for anything!”
“You got it, Jack,” Mariner grinned tossing off a salute.
“That includes being prepared to act like a responsible Starfleet officer,” Boimler gave Mariner a look. “For once!”
The Yosemite soon landed in an open park-like clearing in front of a large government building in the center of a sprawling, bustling city. “Oh, this is nice,” Tendi cooed as the away team exited the shuttlecraft. “Just smell the non-ship recycled air. So clean and fresh! And the diverse architectural choices are nice too."
"No signs of major technical or geological disruptions,” Rutherford reported pulling out a tricorder. “At least as much as can be determined with all the magnesite in the area.”
“The locals seem to be relatively calm too,” Boimler noted spotting various nearby Sisseti. “I wonder what prompted them to send out a distress call?”
“We’re about to find out,” Ransom said as they were quickly approached by a party of serious, well-dressed Sisseti.
“Welcome, visitors from Starfleet,” The lead Sisseti greeted. The Sisseti were of fairly typical humanoid appearance with the exception of having six eyes spaced evenly around their heads. “The Grand Premier is expecting you. Please come this way.”
“You got it,” Ransom smiled signaling to the ensigns. “Let’s go, people!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mariner waved as the Sisseti escorted the away team into the building.
“Wow, look at this place,” Boimler whispered at the opulent décor and artistic designs lining the many hallways. “These pieces are beautiful. I can’t wait to start cataloging and adding them to Starfleet’s cultural database.”
“The security and fire safety systems are impressive too,” Rutherford noted inspecting them with his implant. “Though the building’s air circulation system could do with a good cleaning.”
“Quit gawking and acting like a bunch of star-struck tourists, guys,” Mariner scolded. “We got things to do and people to save. At least we will after getting all the pointless, time-wasting formalities of meeting the planet’s head honchos out of the way.”
“One moment, please,” The Sisseti escorts paused before a large, ornate set of doors. “Your Grace, the representatives from Starfleet have arrived.”
“Finally! It’s about time,” The doors opened revealing a tall, intricately adorned Sisseti wearing a bright garish outfit that would have put Liberace to shame. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come in! Come in!”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Ransom greeted as the away team and their Sisseti escorts were quickly ushered into a large, well-lit office. “I’m Commander Jack Ransom of the Federation starship Cerritos. It’s an honor and a pleasure to meet the Sisseti Grand Premier…”
“Oh, I’m not the Grand Premier,” The dazzling-dressed Sisseti corrected. “I am Minister LaBlern.” He pointed to another, even more elaborately decorated set of doors. “The Grand Premier is in there. We share adjoined offices.”
“Ah, I see,” Ransom nodded. “Sorry for the mistake. Then let’s go greet the Grand Premier…”
“I’m sorry,” Minister LaBlern smoothly blocked his way. “But I can’t allow you to meet the Grand Premier like that.”
“What? Why?” Ransom asked. “Is it because we didn’t bring a gift? We would have brought one, but decided the limited space in our shuttlecraft would be better used for additional emergency supplies…”
“No, I mean I can’t allow you to meet the Grand Premier like that,” LaBlern sniffed gesturing at the away team. “Your clothes. They’re horrible!”
“Huh?” Ransom blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with our clothes.”
“Yeah,” Rutherford confirmed. “These are standard Starfleet duty uniforms.”
“And they’re terrible!” LaBlern winced covering his many eyes. “They’re so plain! They’re so monochrome! They’re so boing!”
“Says the guy dressed like a walking Argelian chandelier,” Mariner quipped at LaBlern’s outfit.
“Our uniforms aren’t boring!” Tendi protested. “They’re practical and functional and wonderful just the way they are!”
“Well, Starfleet’s current uniform designs are kind of a homage to those worn back in the sixties,” Mariner admitted. “If you think these uniforms are dull, you should have seen some of the monochrome ones introduced during the seventies.”
“You mean you’ve worn worse?” LaBlern gasped in shock. “Oh, the horror…the horror…!”
“Excuse me! Do we really have time for this?” Ransom interrupted impatiently. “We need to focus on how to best help your people deal with their planetary crisis.”
“This is a crisis! A fashion crisis!” LaBlern insisted. “Why do you think the Grand Premier had our planet’s space agency send out that cosmic distress call in the first place?”
“WHAT?!” The team of Starfleet officers gaped in surprise. “You sent out a planetary distress call due to a perceived fashion emergency?!”
“Of course,” LaBlern stated obviously. “Fashion emergencies are the most important type of emergencies here on Sisseti. Our entire planet is about to experience a severe fashion crisis. And it’s all because of you Starfleeters!”
“What?!” Boimler yelped. “What did we do?”
“You brought your horrible sense of fashion here to Sisseti while also raising the public’s fashion expectations literally star high,” LaBlern stated. “We were so excited when we met your people for the first time. They opened our imaginations to all the potential new fashions the galaxy has to offer. Even though they were disappointingly drab, the outfits sported by your previous colleagues quickly became the hottest trend on the planet. Everybody was wearing them.”
“Wow,” Tendi blinked. “That’s definitely an unexpected side effect of a first contact.”
“I’ll say,” Boimler agreed. “Imagine thousands of everyday people dressed in unofficial replicas of Starfleet uniforms. Talk about weird.”
“Well we’re here now,” Mariner pointed out. “All primed, set and dressed in our everyday, run-of-the-mill best. So what’s the prob?”
“The ‘prob’ is your current uniform styles are so yesterday,” LaBlern waved. “We were expecting you people to wear something new after not hearing from you for such a long time.”
“Long time?” Ransom blinked. “Starfleet just made first contact with Sisseti three months ago.”
“Exactly!” LaBlern nodded. “The thrill of your prior ensemble debut has come and gone. Not that they were that thrilling to begin with.”
“Hey,” Rutherford yelped in offense.
“Our people want to see exciting new outfits from Starfleet,” LaBlern went on. “We expect visitors from the stars to sport clothes that are bold, exotic, dazzling, futuristic. Instead, you people show up like this!” LaBlern gestured to the away team’s uniforms once again. “Talk about poor fashion tastes!”
“Uh, sorry?” Tendi ventured timidly.
“Hello? We’re standing right here,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, and people say I’m rude.”
“I’m sorry, there seems to have been a major misunderstanding,” Ransom said. “We thought your people were experiencing an actual crisis of some kind. Plasma storms, giant solar flares, disease outbreaks, extinction-level natural disasters, those kinds of things. But since you’re not, we’ll report there’s thankfully no problem that needs fixing and return to the Cerritos…”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” LaBlern raised a hand.
“Uh oh,” Rutherford gulped as the Starfleet officers’ former Sisseti escorts pulled out weapons and pointed them at the away team. “This can’t be good.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” LaBlern declared. “Not until Starfleet provides us with plenty of new fashion styles our people will actually approve of.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ransom was stunned. “You intend to bargain out lives in exchange for fashion outfits?”
“Unfortunately yes,” LaBlern confirmed. “It’s your own fault, really. If you Starfleeters had only worn stylish new uniforms instead of the same old boring duds we wouldn’t need to resort to this.”
“Isn’t that blaming the victims?” Rutherford asked. “Not that I’m calling us fashion victims or anything.”
“Great, instead encountering a planetary crisis, we’ve become part of a hostage crisis,” Boimler groaned.
“Oooh, I’ve never been hostage before,” Tendi commented excitedly. “Is it any different from being held prisoner?”
“I’m afraid we’re about to find out,” Boimler moaned.
“Eh, don’t sweat it, Boims,” Mariner shrugged. “Being held hostage is a large part of what life in Starfleet is all about. Heck, just look at Kirk and crew. Those guys were being captured and held hostage all the time. We’re following in the footsteps of the greats. Well, more like shackles…”
“You have a point,” Boimler blinked. “That actually makes me feel a little bit better. A very, very, very little bit…”
“Minister LaBlern, you really need to reconsider this course of action,” Ransom attempted to reason. “The Federation will not stand for this brazen act of facetiousness and neither will Captain Freeman. You taking us hostage will only end up causing a political and diplomatic crisis.”
“Well what else is a Minister of Aesthetic Attire supposed to do?” LaBlern asked irritably. “I’m the one in charge of managing the personal fashion tastes and opinions of the entire planet. I’m the one who absolutely needs to know what’s going to be in and what’s hot every new fashion season and I have to be right every single time!”
“Your planet has an actual governmental post for that?” Rutherford blinked in surprise.
“Doesn’t everyone?” LaBlern replied and began to pace around. “Public fashion expectations are an incredible burden. You have no idea the kind of pressure I’m under in order to provide new fashion styles for the public. Your first Starfleet outfit revelations were so tasteless they sent the entire fashion world into shock! There was nearly a planetary uprising in protest of the government’s lack of foresight regarding unstylish extraterrestrial fashions!”
“Eh, I’ve helped…er, I mean, seen people rise up in regard to worst,” Mariner shrugged.
“I just barely managed to convince the public to consider your previous colleagues’ outfits borderline trendy and acceptable, but it only raised the fashion expectations for Starfleet’s next appearence,” LaBlern continued with a twitch. “That’s why I convinced the Grand Premier to have our space agency send out that distress call. If the government doesn’t present the public with a new collection of stylish Starfleet outfits immediately I’m going to lose my job, my life and worse of all my fashion license!”
“O-kay,” Tendi said slowly as LaBlern began to sweat nervously. “That makes things a little more understandable. Um, are you feeling okay?”
“Of course I’m not okay!” A hyperventilating LaBlern snapped. “My entire career is on the line! It’s literally all I have left! Especially since I received the final divorce documents from my wife who ran off with my former massage partner who also happens to be my brother!”
“Uh,” Boimler was too stunned to speak.
“I bet everything I had investing in this season’s stunning Starfleet style line!” LaBlern wailed with his voice quickly becoming higher and higher. “If it fails so will my life’s savings along with the fortunes of every major politician, celebrity and captain of fashion industry I managed to bribe, beg or blackmail into being co-investors with! Failing to launch a new Starfleet fashion collection now could bring down the entire planetary economy! My kids’ futures will be ruined! Not that their futures aren’t completely ruined already! My youngest son is a sleep addict, my eldest son does nothing but play simulation games all day and my only daughter just announced she intends to drop out of the planet’s most prestigious fashion academy and instead study to become an…an…engineer!”
“GASP!” Every other Sisseti staggered back in shock.
“So? What’s wrong with that?” Tendi asked.
“Must be a culture thing,” Rutherford shrugged.
“Great, the head hostage taker is having a midlife crisis,” Mariner rolled her eyes at LaBlern’s latest revelations. “So much for a normal second contact mission.”
“When have our missions ever been normal?” Boimler groaned. “Second contact or otherwise?”
“That is why I was so desperate for you to come with new outfit designs,” LaBlern said managing to recompose himself. “You Starfleeters will provide me with dozens of stylish new outfits, attire and other breathtaking fashion ensembles to satisfy the fickle and fleeting appetites of the public and you will provide them to me now!”
“O-kay,” Ransom said slowly. “In light of your unexpected…cultural circumstances, I suppose we could provide you with a new outfit collection. If you promise to release us unharmed.”
“That’s all I ask,” LaBlern sighed in relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Way to use those ol’ negotiation skills, Jack,” Mariner quipped while giving LaBlern a look. “Ya know, you could have simply asked us to show up wearing different uniforms instead of taking us hostage or misusing a planetary distress call.”
“But you might have said no,” LaBlern swooned at the thought. “The risk was too great!”
“Huh, where have I heard that before?” Rutherford scratched his head.
“Um, does the Prime Directive allow us to share fashion designs with other species?” Tendi asked. “Doesn’t it interfere with the course of a society’s natural development?”
“I don’t think that applies to a society’s fashion development,” Boimler said. “At least I hope it doesn’t.”
“I’m sure Starfleet Command will give their okay,” Ransom assured turning back to LaBlern. “Anyway, now that all that’s been worked out, we’ll return to our ship and have them send down some…”
“Not so fast,” LaBlern cut him off. “When I said I needed new outfit designs now I was being quite literal. An exhibition highlighting your comeback outfit debut has already been arranged and is waiting on hot standby.”
“What?” Tendi did a take. “We can’t get new outfits from the Cerritos that fast. Especially without transporters.”
“Then simply change into one of the different sets of uniforms you keep aboard your shuttlecraft,” LaBlern said. “A stunning and stylish set of uniforms. Please!”
“Uh, away teams don’t usually travel with spare uniforms,” Ransom blinked. “Though I gotta admit, that’s a pretty good idea.”
“What?!” LaBlern gasped. “Who doesn’t travel with at least half a dozen spare outfits on hand? What kind of fashion heathens are you?”
“The scary and unpredictable kind,” Mariner quipped waving her hands dramatically. “Beware our fashion ignorance. Booga, booga!”
“We could try donning the Yosemite’s supply of emergency EV suits,” Rutherford suggested.
“I don’t think that’s quite going to cut it, Ensign,” Ransom said.
“Then you leave us no choice,” LaBlern said as the Sisseti raised their weapons once more. “We will hold you all hostage until we get the outfits need. Guards, take the Starfleeters to our least decorated set of detention cells. I need to have our scientists establish a discreet communication channel with their ship…”
“Uh oh,” Tendi gulped. “Uh, is that really necessary? Can’t we just sit and wait here while you present your fashion demands to Captain Freeman? We promise to be good. Honest.”
“Ready to fight our way out of this yet, Jack?” Mariner asked readying her fists. “We can almost-probably take these guys. Just say the word.”
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking…” Ransom tensed and set his jaw.
“Wait!” Boimler spoke up. “I can provide you with new outfit designs!”
“You can?” The rest of the away team stared at Boimler in surprise.
“You can?” LaBlern turned and gazed at him in hope. “How? From where?”
“With this,” Boimler held up his padd. “I downloaded the entire Federation cultural database to my padd before we left. I had planned to fill out the sections regarding Sisseti while we helped deal with the anticipated crisis and compare various cultural elements to those of other species while we worked.”
“Really?” Rutherford blinked. “That’s a great idea.”
“More like a nerdish idea,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “We really gotta do something about your cataloging obsession, Boims.”
“Interesting,” LaBlern eagerly stared at the padd. “You really have hundreds of different outfit designs stored on there?”
“More like thousands,” Boimler corrected. “From hundreds of different species from hundreds of periods throughout history. You never know when a random bit of cultural data will end up being important.”
“Well said,” Tendi agreed.
“So I can simply share the files regarding various species’ clothing and fashion styles with you,” Boimler offered. “Then you can let us go and we’ll forgo making any mention of your whole hostage taking attempt in our logs. With Commander Ransom’s permission of course…”
“No. I’m sorry. Your offer is very generous, but it simply won’t do,” LaBlern shook his head. “I do not have time to pour through thousands of potential outfit profiles and determine which ones the public will accept. And pictures alone can not convey an outfit’s true sense of presence and gravitas. Also, the public will never believe such outfits are genuine if presented straight from me. People will simply accuse me of coming up with supposedly new designs myself. I need you to provide actual outfits and present them to the public by wearing such outfits yourselves.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ransom asked incredulously. “How the heck are we supposed to do that?”
“Well, there is one way,” Tendi glanced at Rutherford. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Oh yeah,” Rutherford grinned. “I love thinking what you’re thinking I’m thinking!”
“I wish I didn’t know what you two were thinking,” Boimler groaned. “Because I just know I’m going to regret it.”
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Ensigns Gone Vogue
“Man, it’s about time we got assigned a decent second contact mission,” Mariner said leaning back and cracking her knuckles. “It’s been way too long.”
“Not as long as the last time you at least pretended to act serious,” Boimler remarked sitting next to her. He and Mariner were in the rear of the shuttlecraft Yosemite which was being piloted by Commander Ransom. “And this isn’t just any second contact mission. The Cerritos is responding to a planetary distress call put out by the natives of Sisseti VI.”
“That’s even better,” Mariner grinned in anticipation. “It means we can act fast and help people directly without having to wait and deal with all the slow, unnecessary bureaucratic red tape.”
“That’s a surprisingly positive way to look at an emergency,” Tendi commented as she and Rutherford sat opposite of their friends. She watched as the Yosemite descended through Sisseti VI’s atmosphere. “I hope the situation isn’t too bad down there. Do you think we brought enough relief supplies?”
“I hope so,” Rutherford said patting one of the many crates stowed away in the shuttlecraft. “Though it’s hard to pack for an emergency when you don’t know exactly what the emergency is about.”
“Yeah, there weren’t many details during the mission briefing,” Boimler noted studying a padd. “The Sisseti apparently just transmitted a general planetary distress call. Didn’t include the reason why.”
“Maybe the situation is so bad they didn’t have time to provide further details,” Tendi speculated. “Maybe the planet is being hit by a prolonged period of intense ionic storms.”
“No, scans didn’t detect any unusual atmospheric activity,” Boimler said checking his padd. “Thought Sisseti VI does contain significant magnesite deposits which interfere with sensor and transporter functions. And the Sisseti also extensively utilize magnesite as a construction material which is why we need to take a shuttlecraft to the surface.”
“Obviously,” Mariner quipped.
“Beginning final approach to the previously designated landing point,” Ransom announced. “Remember, we don’t know exactly what kind of crisis the Sisseti are experiencing. Be prepared for anything!”
“You got it, Jack,” Mariner grinned tossing off a salute.
“That includes being prepared to act like a responsible Starfleet officer,” Boimler gave Mariner a look. “For once!”
The Yosemite soon landed in an open park-like clearing in front of a large government building in the center of a sprawling, bustling city. “Oh, this is nice,” Tendi cooed as the away team exited the shuttlecraft. “Just smell the non-ship recycled air. So clean and fresh! And the diverse architectural choices are nice too."
"No signs of major technical or geological disruptions,” Rutherford reported pulling out a tricorder. “At least as much as can be determined with all the magnesite in the area.”
“The locals seem to be relatively calm too,” Boimler noted spotting various nearby Sisseti. “I wonder what prompted them to send out a distress call?”
“We’re about to find out,” Ransom said as they were quickly approached by a party of serious, well-dressed Sisseti.
“Welcome, visitors from Starfleet,” The lead Sisseti greeted. The Sisseti were of fairly typical humanoid appearance with the exception of having six eyes spaced evenly around their heads. “The Grand Premier is expecting you. Please come this way.”
“You got it,” Ransom smiled signaling to the ensigns. “Let’s go, people!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mariner waved as the Sisseti escorted the away team into the building.
“Wow, look at this place,” Boimler whispered at the opulent décor and artistic designs lining the many hallways. “These pieces are beautiful. I can’t wait to start cataloging and adding them to Starfleet’s cultural database.”
“The security and fire safety systems are impressive too,” Rutherford noted inspecting them with his implant. “Though the building’s air circulation system could do with a good cleaning.”
“Quit gawking and acting like a bunch of star-struck tourists, guys,” Mariner scolded. “We got things to do and people to save. At least we will after getting all the pointless, time-wasting formalities of meeting the planet’s head honchos out of the way.”
“One moment, please,” The Sisseti escorts paused before a large, ornate set of doors. “Your Grace, the representatives from Starfleet have arrived.”
“Finally! It’s about time,” The doors opened revealing a tall, intricately adorned Sisseti wearing a bright garish outfit that would have put Liberace to shame. “Well, what are you waiting for? Come in! Come in!”
“Thank you, Your Grace,” Ransom greeted as the away team and their Sisseti escorts were quickly ushered into a large, well-lit office. “I’m Commander Jack Ransom of the Federation starship Cerritos. It’s an honor and a pleasure to meet the Sisseti Grand Premier…”
“Oh, I’m not the Grand Premier,” The dazzling-dressed Sisseti corrected. “I am Minister LaBlern.” He pointed to another, even more elaborately decorated set of doors. “The Grand Premier is in there. We share adjoined offices.”
“Ah, I see,” Ransom nodded. “Sorry for the mistake. Then let’s go greet the Grand Premier…”
“I’m sorry,” Minister LaBlern smoothly blocked his way. “But I can’t allow you to meet the Grand Premier like that.”
“What? Why?” Ransom asked. “Is it because we didn’t bring a gift? We would have brought one, but decided the limited space in our shuttlecraft would be better used for additional emergency supplies…”
“No, I mean I can’t allow you to meet the Grand Premier like that,” LaBlern sniffed gesturing at the away team. “Your clothes. They’re horrible!”
“Huh?” Ransom blinked, confused. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with our clothes.”
“Yeah,” Rutherford confirmed. “These are standard Starfleet duty uniforms.”
“And they’re terrible!” LaBlern winced covering his many eyes. “They’re so plain! They’re so monochrome! They’re so boing!”
“Says the guy dressed like a walking Argelian chandelier,” Mariner quipped at LaBlern’s outfit.
“Our uniforms aren’t boring!” Tendi protested. “They’re practical and functional and wonderful just the way they are!”
“Well, Starfleet’s current uniform designs are kind of a homage to those worn back in the sixties,” Mariner admitted. “If you think these uniforms are dull, you should have seen some of the monochrome ones introduced during the seventies.”
“You mean you’ve worn worse?” LaBlern gasped in shock. “Oh, the horror…the horror…!”
“Excuse me! Do we really have time for this?” Ransom interrupted impatiently. “We need to focus on how to best help your people deal with their planetary crisis.”
“This is a crisis! A fashion crisis!” LaBlern insisted. “Why do you think the Grand Premier had our planet’s space agency send out that cosmic distress call in the first place?”
“WHAT?!” The team of Starfleet officers gaped in surprise. “You sent out a planetary distress call due to a perceived fashion emergency?!”
“Of course,” LaBlern stated obviously. “Fashion emergencies are the most important type of emergencies here on Sisseti. Our entire planet is about to experience a severe fashion crisis. And it’s all because of you Starfleeters!”
“What?!” Boimler yelped. “What did we do?”
“You brought your horrible sense of fashion here to Sisseti while also raising the public’s fashion expectations literally star high,” LaBlern stated. “We were so excited when we met your people for the first time. They opened our imaginations to all the potential new fashions the galaxy has to offer. Even though they were disappointingly drab, the outfits sported by your previous colleagues quickly became the hottest trend on the planet. Everybody was wearing them.”
“Wow,” Tendi blinked. “That’s definitely an unexpected side effect of a first contact.”
“I’ll say,” Boimler agreed. “Imagine thousands of everyday people dressed in unofficial replicas of Starfleet uniforms. Talk about weird.”
“Well we’re here now,” Mariner pointed out. “All primed, set and dressed in our everyday, run-of-the-mill best. So what’s the prob?”
“The ‘prob’ is your current uniform styles are so yesterday,” LaBlern waved. “We were expecting you people to wear something new after not hearing from you for such a long time.”
“Long time?” Ransom blinked. “Starfleet just made first contact with Sisseti three months ago.”
“Exactly!” LaBlern nodded. “The thrill of your prior ensemble debut has come and gone. Not that they were that thrilling to begin with.”
“Hey,” Rutherford yelped in offense.
“Our people want to see exciting new outfits from Starfleet,” LaBlern went on. “We expect visitors from the stars to sport clothes that are bold, exotic, dazzling, futuristic. Instead, you people show up like this!” LaBlern gestured to the away team’s uniforms once again. “Talk about poor fashion tastes!”
“Uh, sorry?” Tendi ventured timidly.
“Hello? We’re standing right here,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “Sheesh, and people say I’m rude.”
“I’m sorry, there seems to have been a major misunderstanding,” Ransom said. “We thought your people were experiencing an actual crisis of some kind. Plasma storms, giant solar flares, disease outbreaks, extinction-level natural disasters, those kinds of things. But since you’re not, we’ll report there’s thankfully no problem that needs fixing and return to the Cerritos…”
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” LaBlern raised a hand.
“Uh oh,” Rutherford gulped as the Starfleet officers’ former Sisseti escorts pulled out weapons and pointed them at the away team. “This can’t be good.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” LaBlern declared. “Not until Starfleet provides us with plenty of new fashion styles our people will actually approve of.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ransom was stunned. “You intend to bargain out lives in exchange for fashion outfits?”
“Unfortunately yes,” LaBlern confirmed. “It’s your own fault, really. If you Starfleeters had only worn stylish new uniforms instead of the same old boring duds we wouldn’t need to resort to this.”
“Isn’t that blaming the victims?” Rutherford asked. “Not that I’m calling us fashion victims or anything.”
“Great, instead encountering a planetary crisis, we’ve become part of a hostage crisis,” Boimler groaned.
“Oooh, I’ve never been hostage before,” Tendi commented excitedly. “Is it any different from being held prisoner?”
“I’m afraid we’re about to find out,” Boimler moaned.
“Eh, don’t sweat it, Boims,” Mariner shrugged. “Being held hostage is a large part of what life in Starfleet is all about. Heck, just look at Kirk and crew. Those guys were being captured and held hostage all the time. We’re following in the footsteps of the greats. Well, more like shackles…”
“You have a point,” Boimler blinked. “That actually makes me feel a little bit better. A very, very, very little bit…”
“Minister LaBlern, you really need to reconsider this course of action,” Ransom attempted to reason. “The Federation will not stand for this brazen act of facetiousness and neither will Captain Freeman. You taking us hostage will only end up causing a political and diplomatic crisis.”
“Well what else is a Minister of Aesthetic Attire supposed to do?” LaBlern asked irritably. “I’m the one in charge of managing the personal fashion tastes and opinions of the entire planet. I’m the one who absolutely needs to know what’s going to be in and what’s hot every new fashion season and I have to be right every single time!”
“Your planet has an actual governmental post for that?” Rutherford blinked in surprise.
“Doesn’t everyone?” LaBlern replied and began to pace around. “Public fashion expectations are an incredible burden. You have no idea the kind of pressure I’m under in order to provide new fashion styles for the public. Your first Starfleet outfit revelations were so tasteless they sent the entire fashion world into shock! There was nearly a planetary uprising in protest of the government’s lack of foresight regarding unstylish extraterrestrial fashions!”
“Eh, I’ve helped…er, I mean, seen people rise up in regard to worst,” Mariner shrugged.
“I just barely managed to convince the public to consider your previous colleagues’ outfits borderline trendy and acceptable, but it only raised the fashion expectations for Starfleet’s next appearence,” LaBlern continued with a twitch. “That’s why I convinced the Grand Premier to have our space agency send out that distress call. If the government doesn’t present the public with a new collection of stylish Starfleet outfits immediately I’m going to lose my job, my life and worse of all my fashion license!”
“O-kay,” Tendi said slowly as LaBlern began to sweat nervously. “That makes things a little more understandable. Um, are you feeling okay?”
“Of course I’m not okay!” A hyperventilating LaBlern snapped. “My entire career is on the line! It’s literally all I have left! Especially since I received the final divorce documents from my wife who ran off with my former massage partner who also happens to be my brother!”
“Uh,” Boimler was too stunned to speak.
“I bet everything I had investing in this season’s stunning Starfleet style line!” LaBlern wailed with his voice quickly becoming higher and higher. “If it fails so will my life’s savings along with the fortunes of every major politician, celebrity and captain of fashion industry I managed to bribe, beg or blackmail into being co-investors with! Failing to launch a new Starfleet fashion collection now could bring down the entire planetary economy! My kids’ futures will be ruined! Not that their futures aren’t completely ruined already! My youngest son is a sleep addict, my eldest son does nothing but play simulation games all day and my only daughter just announced she intends to drop out of the planet’s most prestigious fashion academy and instead study to become an…an…engineer!”
“GASP!” Every other Sisseti staggered back in shock.
“So? What’s wrong with that?” Tendi asked.
“Must be a culture thing,” Rutherford shrugged.
“Great, the head hostage taker is having a midlife crisis,” Mariner rolled her eyes at LaBlern’s latest revelations. “So much for a normal second contact mission.”
“When have our missions ever been normal?” Boimler groaned. “Second contact or otherwise?”
“That is why I was so desperate for you to come with new outfit designs,” LaBlern said managing to recompose himself. “You Starfleeters will provide me with dozens of stylish new outfits, attire and other breathtaking fashion ensembles to satisfy the fickle and fleeting appetites of the public and you will provide them to me now!”
“O-kay,” Ransom said slowly. “In light of your unexpected…cultural circumstances, I suppose we could provide you with a new outfit collection. If you promise to release us unharmed.”
“That’s all I ask,” LaBlern sighed in relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Way to use those ol’ negotiation skills, Jack,” Mariner quipped while giving LaBlern a look. “Ya know, you could have simply asked us to show up wearing different uniforms instead of taking us hostage or misusing a planetary distress call.”
“But you might have said no,” LaBlern swooned at the thought. “The risk was too great!”
“Huh, where have I heard that before?” Rutherford scratched his head.
“Um, does the Prime Directive allow us to share fashion designs with other species?” Tendi asked. “Doesn’t it interfere with the course of a society’s natural development?”
“I don’t think that applies to a society’s fashion development,” Boimler said. “At least I hope it doesn’t.”
“I’m sure Starfleet Command will give their okay,” Ransom assured turning back to LaBlern. “Anyway, now that all that’s been worked out, we’ll return to our ship and have them send down some…”
“Not so fast,” LaBlern cut him off. “When I said I needed new outfit designs now I was being quite literal. An exhibition highlighting your comeback outfit debut has already been arranged and is waiting on hot standby.”
“What?” Tendi did a take. “We can’t get new outfits from the Cerritos that fast. Especially without transporters.”
“Then simply change into one of the different sets of uniforms you keep aboard your shuttlecraft,” LaBlern said. “A stunning and stylish set of uniforms. Please!”
“Uh, away teams don’t usually travel with spare uniforms,” Ransom blinked. “Though I gotta admit, that’s a pretty good idea.”
“What?!” LaBlern gasped. “Who doesn’t travel with at least half a dozen spare outfits on hand? What kind of fashion heathens are you?”
“The scary and unpredictable kind,” Mariner quipped waving her hands dramatically. “Beware our fashion ignorance. Booga, booga!”
“We could try donning the Yosemite’s supply of emergency EV suits,” Rutherford suggested.
“I don’t think that’s quite going to cut it, Ensign,” Ransom said.
“Then you leave us no choice,” LaBlern said as the Sisseti raised their weapons once more. “We will hold you all hostage until we get the outfits need. Guards, take the Starfleeters to our least decorated set of detention cells. I need to have our scientists establish a discreet communication channel with their ship…”
“Uh oh,” Tendi gulped. “Uh, is that really necessary? Can’t we just sit and wait here while you present your fashion demands to Captain Freeman? We promise to be good. Honest.”
“Ready to fight our way out of this yet, Jack?” Mariner asked readying her fists. “We can almost-probably take these guys. Just say the word.”
“I’m thinking, I’m thinking…” Ransom tensed and set his jaw.
“Wait!” Boimler spoke up. “I can provide you with new outfit designs!”
“You can?” The rest of the away team stared at Boimler in surprise.
“You can?” LaBlern turned and gazed at him in hope. “How? From where?”
“With this,” Boimler held up his padd. “I downloaded the entire Federation cultural database to my padd before we left. I had planned to fill out the sections regarding Sisseti while we helped deal with the anticipated crisis and compare various cultural elements to those of other species while we worked.”
“Really?” Rutherford blinked. “That’s a great idea.”
“More like a nerdish idea,” Mariner rolled her eyes. “We really gotta do something about your cataloging obsession, Boims.”
“Interesting,” LaBlern eagerly stared at the padd. “You really have hundreds of different outfit designs stored on there?”
“More like thousands,” Boimler corrected. “From hundreds of different species from hundreds of periods throughout history. You never know when a random bit of cultural data will end up being important.”
“Well said,” Tendi agreed.
“So I can simply share the files regarding various species’ clothing and fashion styles with you,” Boimler offered. “Then you can let us go and we’ll forgo making any mention of your whole hostage taking attempt in our logs. With Commander Ransom’s permission of course…”
“No. I’m sorry. Your offer is very generous, but it simply won’t do,” LaBlern shook his head. “I do not have time to pour through thousands of potential outfit profiles and determine which ones the public will accept. And pictures alone can not convey an outfit’s true sense of presence and gravitas. Also, the public will never believe such outfits are genuine if presented straight from me. People will simply accuse me of coming up with supposedly new designs myself. I need you to provide actual outfits and present them to the public by wearing such outfits yourselves.”
“Are you kidding me?” Ransom asked incredulously. “How the heck are we supposed to do that?”
“Well, there is one way,” Tendi glanced at Rutherford. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Oh yeah,” Rutherford grinned. “I love thinking what you’re thinking I’m thinking!”
“I wish I didn’t know what you two were thinking,” Boimler groaned. “Because I just know I’m going to regret it.”
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