Star Trek: Lower Decks

Ah. What an impressive collection.

Oh, it cost a fortune or two.

Luckily, I have several to go around.

- I'm rich, is what I'm saying. - Wait, is that

a Veltan lust idol?

- (gasps) - Oh, you have a keen eye.

My most valuable piece.

Had to slash the wages of everyone in my latinum mines

to afford this little guy.

You know, they say the mere sight of it is an aphrodisiac.

- Oh. (Chuckles) Captain.

Incoming Orion ship.

Merchant vessel,

power down your shields or be put to the sword.

Ugh. Crawl back to whatever slime dungeon

you were born in, Orion.

I would rather die

than return to my childhood dungeon. Fire!

They'll kill us all.

Ah. Nonsense.

My defenses are top-of-the-line.

They'll never get past the barriers.

I can control the entire ship from this room.

Wow, that's the first interesting thing

you've said all day.

- (bones crunch) - (screams)

L'Kar, defenses are down. Beam... aah!

What is this? Who the hell are you?

I'm the Mistress of the Winter Constellations.

Wait, am I supposed to know what that is?

- (laughs) - (gasps)

- (screams) I told you

what would happen if you didn't surrender.

Whoa, whoa. Stop.

What are you doing?

Oh, I thought this time we'd kill some of these guys.

Do the whole "leave one alive to spread fear" thing?

Right, but think about how much fear we'll spread

if we keep them all alive.

Well, can I at least chop off an ear or a finger or something?

No. Now load up the loot and let's get out of here.

- (groans) - (Yorif grunting)

- Astrid! - Aw, come on.

I've always wanted one of these.

- Please? - (sighs) Fine.

Aah, no!

It's prescription!

Almost got it.

- Steady... - It's here, it's here,

it's here, it's here, it's here, it's here, it's here.

My issue of Fleet is out.

I'm in the "30 Under 30" feature.

Oh, man, I hope my photo's okay.

Sometimes my nostrils look aggressively flared.

Starfleet publishes a periodical?

Yeah, they interviewed Boimler after he captained the Cerritos,

and now he's peeing his pants about it.

I'm not in here. They cut me out.

Look, I am sure you were the 31st under 30.

There's 15 honorable mentions.

One of them went to Naomi Wildman.

She's like ten years old. (Groans)

Let's face it. I plateaued.

Oh, I feel you, Boims. I... (sighs)

Ransom just assigned me a new batch of ensigns,

which seems like a bad idea.

I am not a helpful person.

I'm sure these ensigns will respect

that you "tell it like it is."

Aw, thanks, T'Lyn, but I'm still trying

to not get thrown in the brig all the time.

How am I supposed to be, like, a leader?

- You'll be great! - (screams)

Oh, geez, Rutherford.

Where did you come from, buddy?

I've been here the whole time.

Just quietly lurking on some work in that dark corner.

Hey, man, you've been working yourself to the bone

since Tendi left.

- How about a break? - Nah.

I like the way work makes it hard for my brain

to focus on the sad stuff.

Maybe we could all use a little hang time.

You want to go stare at the warp stars?

Lieutenants, report to the bridge.

We're arriving at our destination.

Woo-hoo! More work!

All right,

party people, what's the mish?

Oh, man. Another quantum fissure?

This-this is like the third one this month.

Boo, interdimensional portal.

They have been appearing

with statistically abnormal regularity.

Someone has to close the space-time potholes,

or who knows what kind of parallel universe stuff

could drift into our dimension?

How are the tachyon levels?

Below the reaction threshold. Warp core will be fine.

Wow. Alternate dimensions.

Imagine meeting, like, a bunch of weirdos

with, like, feet for hands or feet for eyes

or, you know, something

- more creative than that. - (beeping)

Captain, the fissure's losing integrity.

Red alert!

- Get us out of here. - We're caught

- in the gravitational wake. - All crew, brace for impact.

We're dunking into the rift like a big old cookie.

Damage report?

All clear, Captain.

Looks like that was more of a light show than anything else.

We were lucky, but let's not push it.

- Set a return course through the... - Captain,

- we're being hailed. - Hailed?

- By who? - It's...

It's the Cerritos.

Oh... (sighs) Stupid dimensional rifts.

On screen.

What up, Cerritos?

This is Captain Becky Freeman.

Looks like we have a lot to discuss.

Hello, D'Erika.

Hey, sis. Just saw the inventory from your latest haul.

Very impressive.

Impressive enough to pay off my debt

and let me return to Starfleet?

I gave you an entire warship.

A few lust idols aren't gonna cut it.

Come on, I've been at this for months.

My crew won't stop trying to stab everything.

Oh, I get it, you miss debating the ethics of goop

with your Starfleet nerds. (Scoffs)

Well, guess what. I have a way for you to pay me back...

one warship for another.

Is that Orion?

Yep, from the time of the Great Plague over 300 years ago.

Bought the location from a rogue archaeologist,

and nobody else knows it exists.

It'll be a huge symbolic victory for our house.

So, to be clear, if I retrieve this thing, we're even?

I can go back to the Cerritos?

That's the deal.

All right, D'Erika. I'll get you your ship.

Captain's log, supplemental.

The Cerritos is stranded in a parallel reality.

Until we can determine a way home, we are stuck here

with uncanny alternate versions of ourselves.

- (T'anas snarl, hiss) - (grunts) You've got great form.

I learned it from strangling Cardassians.

I did, too.

According to scans,

the quantum signatures of the parallel crews

exhibit a mere .327% variance.

I concur. It would appear our respective universes

are only negligibly divergent.

- Remarkable. - Fascinating.

Hmm. You say "remarkable," while I say "fascinating."

- Remarkable. - Fascinating.

It's almost like we represent each other's lives

if we'd made slightly dissimilar choices or something.

I wonder what we'll find out is different about the two of us.

I don't know. We seem pretty similar to me.

Oh, man, I can't wait till you teach me

how you got all these sweet mods.

My augmentations are not "sweet."

They allow me to perform at peak efficiency.

Sweet.

- Captain on deck. - At ease.

We have good news. We found a way

to send the other Cerritos home.

Even though our Cerritos closed the quantum fissure,

space-time is still turbulent.

King Billups is right. A directed energy surge

should briefly reopen the fissure and allow us

- to return to the prime universe. - Hey!

This is the prime universe.

We'll need to design an infrastructure

to transfer energy between all four nacelles.

Then we'll fire the pulse, giving the fake Cerritos

the chance to return home.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

- Fake Cerritos? - (Becky grunts)

We don't have time to argue about whose universe

is original and which one is clearly freakish.

We only have ten hours until the fissure seals permanently.

Well, with twice as many of us, we should be able

to get this done in half the time.

Everyone, pair up with your own counterpart.

Hmm. Speaking of which, uh, where am I?

Let's just say it's really nice to see you again.

- What? - Okay. Check your PADDs for your assignments.

Dismissed.

Temba. When he met himself.

Hey, uh, Becky? Ugh, how do you go by that?

Just, I mean, just saying it once aged me 15 years.

I guess what I should have done is hide behind my middle name

to distance myself from my mother...

Mariner.

Okay, yeah, respect.