Star Trek: Prodigy

We've got rogue Romulan factions closing in behind us.

We leaving the Neutral Zone.

The "Dauntless" has locked on to our coordinates.

They're hailing us.

Jamming comms.

How do our shields look?

Shields at maximum.

Ahh! Oh, we've got incoming!

Shields at 23%.

Rok, send the message, Morse Code.

Fire off their bow.

Do not contact, virus aboard.

Nope, they don't get it.

They just think we're firing at them.

Round two inbound!

Evasive maneuvers!

Shields are gone, captain.

We're caught in their tractor beam.

If they take our ship, the Living Construct activates.

- Then disable that beam. - Open fire!

Oh boy, they didn't like that.

Torpedo three coming our way!

Brace for impact.

End simulation.

Oh, well, maybe we'll nail it the 87th time.

Doesn't matter.

No matter what we try, we lose every time.

We'll find a way out of the Neutral Zone.

We'll get to the Federation.

Maybe it's time we consider

we stop trying to go to Starfleet.

- Wow. - It's like a funeral in here.

Might as well be.

Our dreams of joining the Federation are dead.

- You've been up for days. - Get some rest.

What isn't present today might reveal itself tomorrow.

In stressful times like this,

Jankom Pog knows just the solution.

This does make me feel a lot better,

but what sort of lunatic would whip cream?

Who was I kidding?

Starfleet is the best and brightest in the galaxy,

and I'm just some accident from a petri dish.

Sounds like you earned yourself

two more scoops of sadness.

All: Pile it on!

That Tellarite officer said lots of mean things about me.

Jankom can take it, but to call me short...

all: Pile it on!

What Jankom wouldn't give to slap his soggy jowls.

With words, of course.

I'd like to slap my father for all he's

put me through, with my hand.

Let's hit the holo-sim at 0800.

How about 08-whenever- Pog-wakes-up-hundred?

Computer, turn everything off.

Let the darkness take me.

Computer, music off.

Huh?

Did anyone else just see a feral human suffering

from malnutrition strolling around on our ship?

No, but some odd-looking glittery puffball

is giving me kissy lips?

Glittersmooch!

Glittersmooch!

Oh my gosh, aren't you the cutest thing.

Wow, you know that thing?

I take care of them in my holo-sim,

"Delta Heart Magical Veterinarian."

Look, I ain't judging,

but how did your holo-pet escape the holodeck?

There must be a malfunction with the holo-emitters.

That would explain the feral human.

But it doesn't make sense.

These holograms aren't permitted

to leave the holodeck, unless--

I fear it may be far worse.

Friends, I believe we never left the holodeck at all.

It wasn't real?

The ship?

The mess hall?

The ice cream?

All of them, fake.

Not the ice cream.

All of it, a simulation.

Computer, exit program.

Computer, summon arch.

Janeway, can you read me?

Loud and clear.

I'm detecting your life signs

inside the holodeck, all right,

but the arch refuses to respond.

A disruption in subspace could be interfering

with the ship's functions.

Try to sit tight while I get to the bottom of it.

If we're all stuck in one room,

how is Zero all the way over there?

Motion floor tracking, visual horizon manipulation.

A holodeck tricks the mind to create any scenario.

I recognize this holo-program.

I often spend my recreational time here.

Come in, come in.

It's quite enjoyable.

Well, if we're trapped here a while,

we may as well enjoy it.

Welcome to the headquarters of the Cellar Door Society,

purveyors of puzzling puzzles, amateur sleuthing,

and milquetoast mysteries.

Yeah, this is a hard pass.

I don't think we have a choice.

So what dorky task do we have to do?

Return an overdue library book?

- - Dal, the Cellar Door Society

deals with precarious adventures,

like the Case of the Phony Pharaoh,

or the Case of the Biting Ghost, or the Case--

Ooh, found a clue.

This is dumb.

Let's get out of here.

You can tease all you want,

but every time I solve a mystery,

the program ends and the arch reappears.

So if we play detective, we'll find a way out.

All right, what's the mystery?

It only reveals itself at the stroke of midnight.

Aha!

The mystery is a feet.

Get it? Feet. It's at our--eh?

"For the Cellar Door Society.

Together, you can solve the case."

The sooner we solve the mystery,

the sooner we can leave the holodeck.

Uh, it's just scribbles.

Oh, yeah.

Jankom's having a blast already.

Gwyn, use your linguistic skills.

What language is this?

No language.

It's gibberish.

Or maybe it's a clue.

This sounds like a lot of work, Zero.

Think, Dal.

The envelope said the clues were meant for us, together.

Murf, put your paper over mine.

- Jankom! - Huh?

Cellar Door Society, endless adventure

awaits you with the case--

The Case of the Lost Skeleton Key!

That's what we're after to solve the mystery.

Great, so we find a key, then this dumb holo ends?

An excellent deduction.

Sounds easy enough.

Skeleton key?

What's it made of? Bones or something?

Don't look at me.

I'm just doing what everyone else is doing.

What is that?

And did we just get a music soundtrack?

Look at short stuff here.

Did you come to get stepped on?

You know these guys, Zero?

No, this is something different.

Is it me, or do they all kind of look like--

Yep.

It's my program.

Jankom's been using this street fighting sim

to let off some steam.

I'm starting to worry one of these hooligans

knows something about our key.

I'm not worried about getting hurt.

I'm worried our two holo-programs

have somehow merged.

Leave the key to me. Hoo.

Stand back and watch me play.

Who's got arms? Give us the key!

- - Whoa!

Okay, now I see why you all spend so much time in here.

But don't worry, the safety protocols are on.

It is impossible to get hurt in here.

Whoa!

Hey, that actually hurt.

Oh, no.

What happened to the safety protocols?

They've been shut off.

I don't think this is a game anymore.

Janeway!

I'm trying to re-enable safety protocols out here,

but my settings only allow work