Star Trek: Lower Decks

The lizard men will no longer be subject to rat oppression!

Aw, they're not oppressed.

We raise them as food.

They-they like it.

Well, we are delicious.

No. You should be free to do whatever you want.

- What do lizards like to do? - Mm, bask?

Okay. Then you should bask without fear of being eaten.

Well, that does sounds nice.

This will not stand!

Buddy, my captain's on the way right now.

It's funny. Normally, I'm, like, a huge disappointment to her,

but this time she's gonna be pumped

that I rooted out injustice.

And here comes the praise,

- in five... - Attention, everyone.

I'm afraid my ensign has made a huge mistake.

- What? - Starfleet is forbidden

from interfering in your planetary politics.

You will be free to determine your future

without our influence.

What? How could you... Oh, screw the Prime Directive!

Hey.

You are way out of bounds here.

They're eating those guys.

What am I supposed to do?

Report it to me.

Now I have to explain why there's an inter-species war

on a planet that was peaceful yesterday!

Oh, so you're yelling at me for spreading freedom

because you don't feel like filing a report?

Mariner, I swear, if you weren't my daughter,

you'd be off the Cerritos.

If I wasn't your daughter,

you wouldn't be such a bitch all the time!

That's it. That's it! When we get back to the ship,

- you are going straight to... - Yeah, yeah, I know.

Straight to the brig. Shocker.

Oh, you're not going to the brig.

You're going to therapy.

What?! You think I need therapy?

What? That's... No!

It's the '80s, dude.

We don't have psychiatric problems.

You're a loose cannon.

I don't care how many lizards you save.

You need professional help.

Dr. Migleemo? Oh, he's the worst counselor in the fleet!

He just tosses out nonstop food metaphors!

That's an order, Ensign.

Freeman to Cerritos.

One to beam up.

I don't need therapy!

Okay, look, will you stop eating these guys

if we give you food replicators?

Ha. I don't know. Can they make nutrient pellets?

Yes!

Mariner, this report is

a veritable fruit salad of insubordination.

I don't want to be here. I broke the rules.

I'm supposed to be in the brig.

Sorry. Captain's orders.

She wants us to meet every week,

cooking up some healthy strategies

to marinate you into the officer she knows you can be.

I don't want your help!

I want to show the captain that she's wrong

and then get put... in... the... brig!

Full stop, Beckett.

We need to find an outlet for all that rage.

Have you ever made paella?

Nice shot, da Vinci!

- Grazie. - Hey, guys.

Do you mind if I take over the deck?

I've got a big evaluation

with Captain Freeman this afternoon.

She's selecting eager to please candidates

for her advanced diplomacy workshop.

Problem is, I don't know how eager to please.

Ugh, I got to practice.

Computer, load program Boimler seven.

- Ciao, da Vinci. - Ciao, Tendi.

Ugh, you simulated the crew?

Yeah, that way, I can pre-interview

so I don't make any mistakes when it's for real.

I uploaded seven years of entries

from the entire crew's private logs...

Aren't those private?

...and it algorithmically created

a perfect simulation of everyone on the Cerritos.

They'll respond exactly the way they would in real life.

Ah.

Hey, buddy. How's it going?

Don't talk to me! I'm pissed off!

Whoa! Amazing! We had that exact same conversation an hour ago.

Yeah. Ah. All I got to do is feed it a scenario.

Then the simulated crew fills in the blanks.

It'll give me an edge in my interview.

- Ahoy, Cap'n. - "Ahoy"?

See? I just learned not to say that.

Congrats on the brown-nosing program, butt-kisser.

Only you would... Wait.

This is a perfect simulation?

What was that?

Hey, hey, what are you doing?

"Interior. Rickety metal catwalk. Night"?

Mariner! You can't write that about the captain.

Why waste this on some dumb interview prep?

- I'm putting in my own parameters. - If Freeman sees this,

you'll get court-martialed.

What did she ever do to you?

You say I need therapy?

Okay, I'll go to therapy.

Mariner, don't touch my code! Don't touch my...

Therapy...!

What the hell? What did you do to my program?

I made it into an awesome movie.

Oh, I'm gonna work some *bleep* out.

All right!

Ooh, nice font.

No, no, what are you talking about? A movie?

What, you wrote out a whole script in two seconds?

I just, like, hit the act breaks,

- couple set pieces. - Set pieces?

The computer's filling in the rest.

I made parts for the crew and all of us!

It's gonna be great!

I don't want to do a movie!

That's okay. You were kind of a Xon, to be honest.

You probably weren't gonna make final cut.

- Who's Xon? - Exactly.

Ooh, I've always wanted to be in a movie!

Can I be the voice of the ship?

"Red alert! Red alert!"

No, no, I got the perfect part for you.

- You're gonna love it. - Guys!

This is an important work tool,

not a fun thing to have a good time with.

Boimler, pipe down. Shh. Come on, the credits.

I don't want this.

- I just want to prep. - Well, tough.

You're just gonna have to wait till it's over.

Come on, come on, come on, let's go get into costume.

Okey-dokey!

I'm not getting in anything.

Mariner! I want these credits gone now!

Hmm.

Wha?

Yeah!

Happy birthday, Captain!

I might be getting up in years,

but I still hold the hydroscoot speed record

back at the Academy!

- Captain out! - Whoa!

Get him, Captain!

Shut up!

I'll kill you! I...

Oh, I can't stay mad.

Good one, Cap'n!

I don't remember giving you permission

to scoot with us, Ensign.

Yeah, actually, I need to borrow the cap'n

- for a quick interview. - It's her birthday!

Um, can I at least ask what she likes more,

when bridge officers arrive early or stay late?

A question like that makes me think

you're asking the wrong questions.

Good... to... know.

Sorry to interrupt your vacation.

This isn't a vacation.

It's important scientific research.

Vacation's over.

Sorry for the short notice, Captain Freeman.

Not a problem at all, Admiral.

- How can we help? - We've received a bizarre message

from the leaders of Idlocana 6.

Their president wanted to thank us

for a wonderful second contact

with the crew of the San Clemente.

So? What's wrong with that?

Starfleet doesn't have a San Clemente.

Whoever second-contacted them wasn't our ship.

What a mystery.

Uh, whose boy is this?

Ensign Brad Boimler, sir.

Here to learn.

This impostor...

you want the Cerritos to investigate?

Get in, get me intel, then get out.

And, Freeman, stick to the plan this time.

If this was actually happening, they'd send the Enterprise.

But, you know, artistic license.

Luckily, the Cerritos just went through some upgrades.

We should be more than suitable for the task.

The Cerritos is ready to launch whenever you are.

Oh.

There she is.

She never fails to take my breath away.

- I wish I could kiss her and squeeze her. - Excuse me?

Uh, uh, the Cerritos is a handsome lady.