Star Trek: Lower Decks

Stardate 57538.9.

The Cerritos is working alongside the USS Merced

in the relocation of an ancient generation ship,

which, due to some unknown calamity,

never reached its destination.

Her crew, adrift for centuries,

mummified in disabled cryo units.

Their most precious cargo--

Mysterious containers of molecular fluid

which generates life from inorganic material.

We suspect they planned to use it on a dead planet

to create a habitable environment

they could call home.

The Merced is here

to ensure the generation ship is preserved

during transportation,

and I want everyone to give them full support.

Captain Durango and I both served

on the Illinois many years ago,

and it is a true delight to be able to work with him again.

Trouble sleeping, Ensign?

No, I slept great. I mean, maybe too good, honestly.

Just distribute the PADDs.

Starfleet believes this alien vessel

is equipped with unique terraforming technology:

an elemental fluid which can transform inert matter

into a living ecosystem.

Towing it will be a delicate procedure.

Even the slightest flux in tractor beam

stabilization could damage...

Oh. Oh, I am so sorry. I'm sorry.

It is just so much information.

I don't know how you guys aren't yawning.

Your crew doesn't appear to appreciate the gravity

of our undertaking, Captain.

I assure you, Captain,

my people are the best in the fleet.

They're proficient, alert and...

- - Mariner!

I am trying to hold it in!

Ugh!

I had to yawn, okay? I'm sorry.

That guy is super boring. Like, "Oh, I'm boring.

I love museums and dust and old gates."

I know he's boring. He's been boring for 15 years!

But right now, he's telling everyone on the Merced

that I don't have the respect of my crew.

If you ever disrespect me like that again,

I'll skip the court-martial and blow you out the airlock.

Cool. Well, live long and prosper.

Don't you give me that sarcastic Vulcan salute!

Beckett!

Captain, I have the sensor data that you requested.

Huh? Oh, right. The sensors.

Ugh. I'm sorry, Jack. It's just Ensign Mariner.

Ugh. I feel like she stays up all night

coming up with new ways to piss me off.

I honestly don't know why you haven't kicked her off the ship.

But since it's not my job

to question your motives...

If you want to avoid conflict,

why not reassign her to all the worst jobs?

That way, transferring would be her idea, not yours.

Hmm.

Well, we could reassign her

to all the nastiest jobs on the ship.

That way, transferring her would be her idea, not mine.

Brilliant plan. That's why you're the captain.

Assignment time!

Hatchi machi!

I got conference room cleanup duty. In your face!

-Last time I checked, that was very lame. -

Why would you dance? That's not a danceable job.

That's where all the senior officer action happens!

Plus, they have access to better replicator programs than we do,

and sometimes they let you eat with them!

It's, like, basically the same food.

No, it's not!

They get, like, gnocchi and fritters and...

Doesn't matter. It's good, okay?

- -Oh, man. I got to monitor

power fluctuations in the tractor beam?

I wanted to monitor power fluctuations

in the impulse relays.

Rutherford! I'm about to go watch an ascension.

What? That's amazing! What's an ascension?

Some people who master the art

of alien meditation can achieve inner peace.

Then they transcend the physical realm

and become a being of pure energy.

-Isn't that cool? -Oh, like a Q or a the Traveler?

No! It's more like studying so much for a test

that you literally become the test.

You become everything!

Damn, that is cool.

I can't believe I actually get to see it in person!

I wonder if it's gonna make a sound

like "vrr" or "hmm" or "whoo."

I guess I'll know soon!

Anyway, let's see what I got assigned.

"Turbolift lubing, holodeck waste removal

and scraping carbon off the carbon filter"?

Ooh. Those are the worst jobs on the ship.

Scraping carbon off of slightly harder carbon?

That's Klingon prison stuff.

This is weird.

: Wow.

: Wow.

Oh.

As I grow closer to decorporation,

words start to lose meaning.

Hey, are-are we supposed to join in?

Hmm...

A tzutchian gong?!

-Oh. - What's happening?

Is he ascending? I think he's ascending.

He's ascending. -Really?! No, no, no, no!

- -

-Aah! - My sand mandala!

-No, no, no, no! -I can fix it! I can fix it!

I've been laying that for two years!

It was a physical representation of my inner calm!

No, no, it's gonna-- it's gonna be totally fine.

Just keep ascending! Computer,

colorful sand, room temperature.

Well, uh... there.

See? It's-it's... it's all good.

We're good. We're good. It's fine. Uh...

If I had known I was going

to be emptying the holodeck bio-filters,

I wouldn't have had so much for breakfast.

Welp, have fun with your terrible jobs.

I got to go clean the executive conference room

and eat some lobster ravioli. Peace.

Uh, no. Uh-uh. Sorry.

It does not look cool when you do it.

Damn it, it does.

- -

Ugh.

Computer, emergency stop turbolift nine!

Ugh! Hey, I'm working up here!

Sorry.

Oh, this is the worst! Oh, wait a minute.

Hey, buddy, do you want to make this interesting?

How? Like, bet on who can finish their piece first?

-Yeah. -All right, sure. Why not?

Yeah, I'll get in on that.

All right! Hell yeah!

Syncing tractor beams in three, two, one.

Whoa. I was wrong. These fluctuations are great.

Aw, man, look at these amplitudes!

Hi. Um, I just... I feel terrible about the... you know.

Don't worry about it. Don't talk to me.

Anyway, I went and found a Hiverian metronome,

and apparently, if you just relax

and let it sync to your biorhythm,

we can get you back on track and ascending by this afternoon!

You think I can realign a decade of spiritual enlightenment

by this afternoon?!

Tomorrow morning at the latest.

You just have to find your calm. Ah!

I... don't... want...

your... help!

Has Mariner submitted her transfer request?

I'm going to frame it.

She's... having a great time.

-What?! -She's finding little ways

to inject joy into otherwise horrible tasks.

Then give her worse jobs.

I've got her emptying

out of the holodeck's filter!

Ugh. People really use it for that?

Oh, yeah, it's mostly that.

Oh, if she finds a way to enjoy that,

then what the hell are we gonna do to get her to resign?

I don't know, but there has to be

something on this ship she hates.

Hmm...

Ensign Mariner, report to Conference Room Five.

Whoa-hoa, another conference room meeting?

Shocker. You guys debating the Prime Directive again?

Pretty fascinating stuff.

- -What is...?

No, no. No laughing.

I was making fun of you, not with you.

Well, since you're one of us now,

I guess you're making fun of yourself.

What?

- : No. -Ensign Beckett Mariner,

-No, no, no, no. -I am pleased to grant you a promotion.

No!

Congratulations, Lieutenant Mariner.

Lieutenant?

Lieu... Lieu... Lieutenant?

Looking forward to serving with you

for a long, long time.

Good job, Mariner. Well earned, well earned.