Star Trek: Lower Decks

I'm Sylvia Ront, and this is FNN's continuing coverage

of the destruction of Pakled Planet.

What we know at this hour: Starfleet Captain Carol Freeman

stands accused of orchestrating a devastating attack

on the Pakled capital,

a place they call "Big Strong City."

The USS Cerritos remains in spacedock,

impounded for further investigation;

her crew, on temporary leave

while their captain stands trial.

- Why would Freeman do this? - No comment.

- What did you hear? - I said no comment.

- Please, a little respect. - Did she hate Pakleds?

Out of our way!

And the latest shocking development,

new surveillance footage retrieved

from the attack that appears to place Freeman

on the ground at the time of the bombing.

In "lighter" news, a swarm of incandescent verugament

will be illuminating Earth tomorrow...

Beckett!

Screens can just be turned off, you know.

I can't take this anymore.

Everyone's acting like the trial's already over,

when there is no way that Mom did anything wrong.

Look, you and I both know that,

and plenty of people in the courtroom know it, too.

You just need to be patient and trust in the system.

Oh, you mean the same system that's now putting her on trial?

Oh, yeah, yeah,

I frickin' love the system.

Ah, ah, ah. Hey, hey, hey, hey, why don't you go out for bit?

We don't get home that often. You can maybe go for a walk,

breathe some non-recycled air.

Home for you. I didn't grow up here.

I just meant Earth. It's rare that you get back here.

Ugh, the longer I'm off a ship, the more useless I feel.

Like that. Like that big, dumb red thing.

Beckett, you know that's the Golden Gate Bridge.

Nobody drives anymore. Why do you need a bridge?

This planet's wack.

People like the bridge. I like the bridge.

Ah, Admiral Buenamigo.

Alonzo. I am afraid I'm the bearer of bad news.

What? What-What's the news? Oh, hey, Uncle Les.

Beckett. I just received word,

the judge assigned to Carol's case is, uh...

Mith bin Tong.

What? She's that "planet's rights" lunatic.

Dad, we got to get Mom out of this trial.

We got to have faith in Starfleet.

The truth will come out.

If you won't do something, then I will.

Wait, wait, wait, no, ah.

I don't know why

you keep breakable objects in the house anymore.

Neither do I.

Oh, God, vineyard flies.

Ugh. I hate being home.

Dude, are you even listening to what I'm telling you?

The captain's getting railroaded, man.

I have to do something before it's too late.

- Well, count me in. - Really?

Usually, it takes way more convincing.

I'll do anything to get away from these raisins.

It's already gonna take me a month

to get the smell out of my hair.

Hey, Bradward.

Want to test the sweetness of my bushel?

Ugh, fine, Genevieve.

Just give it 43 more sun hours at 21 degrees brix.

Oh, okay.

Uh, when you said your family had vineyards,

I just assumed it was for wine.

Oh, I wish. No, we Boimlers dry grapes.

Just dry them and dry them and dry them

till they're all shriveled and hopeless

and stuck on Earth forever.

Bradward, all these varietals are so confusing.

Take me to the privacy of the pickery shed

and explain them to me.

Come on, Mandolina, red goes in the red bucket,

white in the white, you know that.

How do they not see this is a setup?

We were nowhere near Pakled Planet when it blew.

I mean, she was saving another ship, for Kirk's sake.

Okay, we know it doesn't track,

but the ship's logs got corrupted

by the Laapeerian debris field.

It makes it look like she's covering something up.

Wait, so they just need our logs? I have logs.

No. We need the official senior staff logs,

not, like, what you had for lunch.

No, no, no. My logs are crazy detailed.

Every night, I'd listen to the captain's

and re-record them for my own reference.

What?

Yeah. The official star dates,

systems, personnel,

it's all in there, stowed by my bunk.

Oh, my God, Boimler, wait, that is so nerdy

and so clutch right now.

So, all we have to do is get your PADDs,

and we clear her name with some surprise evidence.

Take that, conservative military court.

But we're grounded.

Plus, we don't even know where the Cerritos is.

It's in dry dock?

Yeah, but which dry dock? There's, like, a bajillion.

And, besides, they probably only kept on a small skeleton crew

of engineers to help dock it, and that's it.

Engineers?

Rutherford!

Bradward, I'm soaked in juice,

and I need help getting naked.

Just spray off with the hose, Lianne.

Say "gumbo."

Gumbo!

So, after lunch, where should we go next?

I mean, should we go back to the Grand Canyon? Is that crazy?

We could take in a London Kings game, or... Ooh!

Want to go see historical Bozeman?

The site of Zefram Cochrane's first warp flight?

Um, yes, please.

Man, I can't believe you never visited any Earth stuff

when you were at the Academy.

Oh, I was so focused on my studies,

I never left San Francisco. I just...

Man, I can't believe this.

Those prosecutors are gonna look so stupid

when the captain gets proved innocent.

I wonder how Mariner's taking it.

Oh, I'm taking it...

taking it to the limit.

Did you, did you time your entrance to say that?

- What? No. - Oh, yeah, she did.

No. I mean, like, only, like, a few seconds.

It was at least a minute. I was like,

"Why are we hiding by the door?"

Would you just go get us some chairs?

Hmm, I don't know, sneaking into the impound dock

doesn't sound very Starfleet.

Well, neither does throwing the captain into prison

for a crime she didn't commit.

Okay, well, let's just

go tell the court about Boimler's logs.

Why, so they can bury them? No.

Something went down on Pakled Planet,

and they want a Cali -class captain to take the fall.

The bridge crew are under constant attack.

It's up to us to do something.

I know where the Cerritos is.

I got a glance at the orbital coordinates

when we were docking.

It's only 19 digits.

Yes, Ruthy Ruth! There we go.

But the only way up to that dry dock

is via an encrypted transporter at a secure compound.

How are we gonna get in?

Geez, don't cry, man. We'll figure something out.

Nice little kick.

Uh, so we're gonna have to get past the transporter chief.

I heard he's long-time Starfleet security.

- He could be intense. - Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up.

We have to face some kind of psycho badass?

Look, we've got the numbers and the element of surprise.

This is for the captain.

Well, ahoy, there. Come in, come in.

Don't let the door hit you where the Big Bang

split you.

Yup. Let me just get over here.

Chief Carlton Dennis at your service.

You can call me Denny.

So, what brings y'all to my dusty old transporter pad?

You kids from the Academy?

Uh, yeah, that's right, we were just, uh,

hoping to learn... about your transporter.

Say no more. If there's one thing I've got

in this joint, it's gout.

But also transporters.

Come on, let's give you the tour. Here we go.

We can't tie this guy up.

He's, like, the sweetest old man in the world.

I know, I know, but we have no choice, okay?

- Just distract him for me. - Whoa!

These transporters are classics.

- Did you restore these? - Yeah.

I'm a bit of a buffer buff.

Working on these beauties is what kept me going when my...

when my wife Jane passed.

Guys, I can't. You got to do it.

No way. He's like my grandpa.

He's everyone's grandpa. Butterscotch?

Sure, yeah, thanks, Denny.

It's so rare that I get visitors here.

You kids are the real treat.

Yeah, usually people only come in looking to knock me out and

use my transporter to beam to a restricted ship.

You wouldn't know anything about that...

would you?