If that's how you want to play it

Cerebrum was stalking down the hallway. Fortunately, given that this was the
digital age, the copy of his recording was safely secure in the main
computer. Unfortunately (for Keto that was), a person with the right
password could access it. Cerebrum amused himself by hiding the password in
all of his reports and letters. Just because you were insane didn't mean you
couldn't have some fun. And if having his fun meant somebody could
innocently type a certain combination of letters and numbers into a
computer, and wind up indicting the chief of the medi-bay of various
felonies, well, he was sure that it would be understand.
As he made his plots, he heard a voice. "Psst, eee-kay forty three and the
letter C."
"That's my codename, what do you want?" he said, turning to face the garbage
can that had addressed him.
A folder was pushed out of the can, and Cerebrum took it and opened. "My
first real assignment in an evil and secret organization," he said, proudly.
"I'm so happy."
He took off down the hallway back to his office.
Fifteen minutes later, he was on the telephone, in front of the ruins of his
office, making a call to a certain someone.
Two hours later, a couple of Starbugs docked with the Blue Dwarf, and two
crewmembers were commenting on the new arrivals.
"Don't you think there's something odd about these new crewmembers?" one
asked the other.
"Now that you mention it, yeah," the other replied. "They're all male."
"Well, yeah. But I was thinking of something else besides that."
"They're all dressed the same."
"Peculiar, perhaps, but not the one I was looking for."
"They're all armed with the 1920's era .45 Thompson submachine gun."
"That is unusual, but it was something worse."
"They're all French."
"Unusual for an entire shipment, but there's just one more thing."
"Well, they're all- Jesus K. Reist! They're all mimes! Eight hundred mimes
just got on board the ship"
The two crewmembers clutched each other and wailed incoherently as the mimes
walked further the ship.
In storage bay 3
"Okay, where's your boss?" Cerebrum asked.
One of the mimes stepped forward and started gesturing.
"Hmm, horse? No. Pony? No. Traveling? No. Box? Yes. Moving? For crying out
loud, just tell me!"
"He'll be delayed," the mime said. "It was horrible. He was trying to pick
up an invisible box, but it was too big. He gave himself an invisible
hernia."
"I see. Okay, here's the plan."
A short while later
The door to Phil's office opened, and mimes started walking in, until there
were about fifty crowded into the room with Phil and mini-Phil. One of them
slid a note across the desk at him, ignoring the sounds of crumpling metal
as Phil's face whitened and his hands tightened on the arms of his chair.
The note read: 'We're mimes. Our only thought is to entertain. If you don't
like being entertained, there are eight hundred of us and we've all got
submachine guns. You're choice."
As Phil read the note, the mimes started picking up invisible boxes, and
piling them on top of his desk.