Option four

This last thought brought Phil out of his musing...It gave him an idea....hitting the comms button again he called for All senior staff to fly their respective craft to his...there was going to be an intergotaion of a hologram...by a hologram...."Do you know how to fly this thing?" Cerebrum asked one of his mimes.
 
"Non. Do you?"
 
"I'm a psychiatrist, not a pilot. I'll just fake it. Let's see, deploy maneuvering thrusters. Wait, we don't have any fine maneuvering thrusters. We just have major course correction thrusters. Ah well, let's see what we can do, at least it follows his orders. Besides, I'm always in favor of obeying orders."
 
It was a good thing he didn't have a set of morals, Cerebrum mused, as he pounded on the controls on his desk. Otherwise, they probably would have been bothered by the outrageous lie he just said.
 
The psychiatric office slowly turned, then fired its rockets, heading towards Phil's shuttle.
 
A few minutes later, Phil's communicator activated. "This is Dr Cerebrum. Quick question, how do you dock?"
 
"Let the pilot do it," was Phil's reply.
 
"I am the pilot."
 
"Oh, well, just slow down, and get into a formation with your airlock near mine."
 
"Got that. What's option two?" Cerebrum inquired, as he checked his (Keto's) computer monitor and the controls on his desk.
 
"What do you mean, option two?" Phil demanded.
 
"I don't have an airlock."
 
"Well, then just get near and deploy a docking umbilical!" Phil shouted, starting to run out of patience.
 
"What's option three? I don't have a docking umbilical."
 
"I do! Just fire your bloody braking rockets and come to a stop!" Phil screamed.
 
"Understood," Cerebrum said, and checked his (Keto's) computer. Braking rockets, he looked, and read his entry on them: Plans require braking rockets to be installed in phase four of Psychiatric Office flight conversion.
 
Cerebrum quickly flipped to another file, and noted that the workers had finished up to phase three before stopping.
 
"Never mind," he transmitted to Phil, as he checked the radar screen. The psychiatric offices were completely radar resistant, as per the directives of ASS. "I just figured out option four."
 
"Option four? What are you talking-" Phil suddenly cut off, as the sound of metal colliding with metal racked through his ship, coupled by hulls plating bending and breaking and a few minor explosions. When the tremors ceased, the wall in the meeting room had a corner of the psychiatric office sticking through it. A door opened and Cerebrum stepped out. "I'm here, let's get on with that senior staff meeting," he suggested.