Competition you like to challenge me, how long can you stay up for then? You see I don't drink smoke or do drugs lets see which one of us can stay up the longest then. Let the post whoring commence!
"Mr. Scott, if we return to Spacedock, then not only will we lost the chance to discover who is behind all this, then it is also likely that we will never see Captain Kirk or Doctor McCoy alive again."
"Can you see me? Oh, now be honest, Captain, warrior to warrior. You do prefer it this way, don't you, as it was meant to be? No peace in our time. "Once more unto the breach, dear friends."
"Two months ago, a Federation starship monitored an explosion on the Klingon moon, Praxis. We believe it was the result of overmining and insufficient safety precautions. The moon's decimation means a deadly pollution of their ozone: They will have depleted their supply of oxygen in 50 Earth years. Due to the enormous size of their military budget the Klingons do not have the means to deal with this catastrophe. Last month, at the behest of the Vulcan ambassador, I opened a dialogue with Gorkon, Klingon chancellor of the High Council. He proposes to begin negotiations at once.!
"Indeed. The record shows that Captain Kirk once held the rank of Admiral. And that Admiral Kirk was broken for taking matters into his own hands in defiance of regulations of the law. Do you deny being demoted for these charges? DON'T WAIT FOR THE TRANSLATION. Answer me now."
"The Chancellor of the High Council is dead - the result of an unprovoked attack while he traveled to see you under a flag of truce on a mission of peace. Captain Kirk was legally arrested for the crime. May I remind you that he and Dr. McCoy boarded Kronos One on their own free will? No of these facts are in dispute, Mr. President."
"Mr. President, I share a measure of personally responsibility in this matter, but I am obliged to confirm my esteemed colleague's legal interpretation."
"An ancestor of mine maintained that when you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. If we did not fire those torpedoes, another ship did."
"Inform them of what? A new weapon that's invisible? Raving lunatics, that's what they'll call us! They'll say we're so desperate to exonerate the captain that we'll say anything."
"You're forgetting something, Mr. Chekhov. According to our ship's databanks, this ship fired those torpedoes. If we did, the killers are here. If we did not, whoever altered the databanks is here. In either case, what we are looking for, is here."
"Stardate 9521.6. Captain's Log, USS Excelsior. Hikaru Sulu commanding. After three years, I have concluded my first assignment as master of this vessel, cataloguing gaseous planetary anomalies in Beta Quadrant. We're heading home under full impulse power. I'm pleased to report that ship and crew have functioned well."
"Captain's Log, stardate 9529.1. This is the final cruise of the Starship Enterprise under my command. This ship and her history will shortly become the care of another crew. To them and their posterity will we commit our future. They will continue the voyages we have begun, and journey to all the undiscovered countries, boldly going where no man... where no *one* has gone before."
"Your use of language has altered since our arrival. It is currently laced with, shall we say, more colorful metaphors, "double dumb-a££ on you" and so forth."
"Then you stand here alive because of a mistake made by your flawed, feeling, human friends. They have sacrificed their futures because they believed that the good of the one - you - was more important to them."
"Just what is the future? / The things we've done and said? / Let's just push the button / We'd be better off dead / 'Cause I hate you / And I berate you / And I can't wait to get to you / The sins of all the fathers / Being dumped on us, the sons / The only choice we're given is / "How many megatons?" / And I eschew you / And I say *screw* you! / And I hope you're blue too..."
"This is the President of the United Federation of Planets. Do not approach Earth. The transmissions of an orbiting probe are causing critical damage to this planet. It has almost totally ionized our atmosphere. All power sources have failed. All Earth-orbiting Starships are powerless. The probe is vaporizing our oceans. We cannot survive unless a way can be found to respond to the probe. Further communications may not be possible. Save your energy... save yourselves. Avoid the planet Earth at all costs. Farewell."
"I prefer a dose of common sense! You're proposing that we go back in time, find humpback whales, then bring them foward in time, drop 'em off, and hope to hell they tell this damn probe what to do with itself."
"I've seen horrors... horrors that you've seen. But you have no right to call me a murderer. You have a right to kill me. You have a right to do that... but you have no right to judge me. It's impossible for words to describe what is necessary to those who do not know what horror means. Horror. Horror has a face... and you must make a friend of horror. Horror and moral terror are your friends. If they are not then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. I remember when I was with Special Forces. Seems a thousand centuries ago. We went into a camp to inoculate the children. We left the camp after we had inoculated the children for Polio, and this old man came running after us and he was crying. He couldn't see. We went back there and they had come and hacked off every inoculated arm. There they were in a pile. A pile of little arms. And I remember... I... I... I cried. I wept like some grandmother. I wanted to tear my teeth out. I didn't know what I wanted to do. And I want to remember it. I never want to forget it. I never want to forget. And then I realized... like I was shot... like I was shot with a diamond... a diamond bullet right through my forehead. And I thought: My God... the genius of that. The genius. The will to do that. Perfect, genuine, complete, crystalline, pure. And then I realized they were stronger than we. Because they could stand that these were not monsters. These were men... trained cadres. These men who fought with their hearts, who had families, who had children, who were filled with love... but they had the strength... the strength... to do that. If I had ten divisions of those men our troubles here would be over very quickly. You have to have men who are moral... and at the same time who are able to utilize their primordial instincts to kill without feeling... without passion... without judgment... without judgment. Because it's judgment that defeats us."
"Hey, man, you don't talk to the Colonel. You listen to him. The man's enlarged my mind. He's a poet-warrior in the classic sense. I mean sometimes he'll... uh... well, you'll say "hello" to him, right? And he'll just walk right by you. He won't even notice you. And suddenly he'll grab you, and he'll throw you in a corner, and he'll say, "do you know that 'if' is the middle word in life? If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you, if you can trust yourself when all men doubt you"... I mean I'm no, I can't... I'm a little man, I'm a little man, he's... he's a great man. I should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across floors of silent seas..."
"How many people had I already killed? There was those six that I know about for sure. Close enough to blow their last breath in my face. But this time it was an American and an officer. That wasn't supposed to make any difference to me, but it did. Sh!t... charging a man with murder in this place was like handing out speeding tickets in the Indy 500. I took the mission. What the hell else was I gonna do?"
"The machinist, the one they called Chef, was from New Orleans. He was wrapped too tight for Vietnam, probably wrapped too tight for New Orleans. Lance on the forward 50's was a famous surfer from the beaches south of LA. You look at him and you wouldn't believe he ever fired a weapon in his whole life. Clean, Mr. Clean, was from some South Bronx shithole. Light and space of Vietnam really put the zap on his head. Then there was Phillips, the Chief. It might have been my mission, but it sure as sh!t was Chief's boat."
"And now here's another blast from the past coming out to Big Cind, all alone in the mantle room out there with the First Battalion Thirty-fifth Infantry, and dedicated by the fire team at An Khe to their groupie CO Fred the Head: The Rolling Stones' Satisfaction."
"That's right, Garry. They dig it up, they cart it back to their base. Somehow it gets thawed, it wakes up, probaly not the best of moods, and... I don't know, I wasn't there!"
"know I'm human. And if you were all these things, then you'd just attack me right now, so some of you are still human. This thing doesn't want to show itself, it wants to hide inside an imitation. It'll fight if it has to, but it's vulnerable out in the open. If it takes us over, then it has no more enemies, nobody left to kill it. And then it's won."
"Well, the Empire doesn't consider a small one-man fighter to be any threat, or they'd have a tighter defense. An analysis of the plans provided by Princess Leia has demonstrated a weakness in the battle station. But the approach will not be easy. You are required to maneuver straight down this trench and skim the surface to this point. The target area is only two meters wide. It's a small thermal exhaust port, right below the main port. The shaft leads directly to the reactor system. A precise hit will start a chain reaction which should destroy the station. Only a precise hit will set off a chain reaction. The shaft is ray-shielded, so you'll have to use proton torpedoes."
"Years ago, you served my father in the Clone Wars; now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person; but my ship has fallen under attack and I'm afraid my mission to Alderaan has failed. I've placed information vital to the survival of the rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi; you're my only hope."
"Don't act so surprised, your highness. You weren't on any mercy mission this time. Several transmissions were beamed to this ship by rebel spies. I want to know what happened to the plans they sent you."
"Absolutely, Your Worship. Look, I had everything under control until you led us down here! It's not going to take them long to figure out what happened to us."
"It is a period of civil war. Rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil Galactic Empire. During the battle, Rebel spies managed to steal secret plans to the Empire's ultimate weapon, the Death Star, an armored space station with enough power to destroy an entire planet. Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess Leia races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the galaxy..."
"Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, and I've seen a lot of strange stuff. But I've never seen anything to make me believe that there's one all-powerful Force controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field that controls MY destiny."
"Our scout ships have reached Dantooine. They found the remains of a Rebel base, but they estimate that it has been deserted for some time. They are now conducting an extensive search of the surrounding systems."
"Calm... calm myself? How can I be calm in your stupidity, STUPIDITY! Losing that aircraft to the Americans... Do you know who this man Gant is? He can land on an ice floe and take off again!"
"He's an pilot. Mitchel Gant, an American. Obviously sir, he knows our planes, our hardware, better than anybody. But perhaps he intends a close inspection of the MiG-31?"
"You had considered, First Secretary, that this could all be an elaborate bluff by the Americans to distract us from looking to the north, while this single aircraft attempts to escape to the south?"
"When the first rumors began to filter out of the Soviet Union some three years ago, our theoretical weapons strategists stood before NATO command to explain - with much confidence - that it would take the Soviets a minimum of ten years to develop a Mach Five aircraft with thought-controlled weapons systems. I stand before you today to explain - with much regret - that we were wrong."
"I am certain. They know the potential of this aircraft; they know what it means. I would imagine that, had our positions been reversed, we might have acted similarly."
"Mr. Gant, you are an American. You are a free man. I am not. There is a difference. If I resent the men in London who are ordering my death, then it is a small thing when compared with my resentment of the KGB."
"Greetings. The Master Control Program has chosen you to serve your system on the Game Grid. Those of you who continue to profess a belief in the Users will receive the standard substandard training, which will result in your eventual elimination. Those of you who renounce this superstitious and hysterical belief will be eligible to join the warrior elite of the MCP. You will each receive an identity disk. Everything you do or learn will be imprinted on this disk. If you lose your disk or fail to obey commands, you will be subject to immediate de-resolution. That will be all."
"Paranoids, Matrix Blaster, Vice Squad, a whole slew of them. I was this close to starting my own little enterprise, man. But enter another software engineer. Not so young, not so bright, but very very sneaky. Ed Dillinger. So one night, our boy Flynn, he goes to his terminal, tries to read up his file. I get nothing on there, it's a big blank. Okay, now we take you three months later. Dillinger presents Encom with five video games, that's HE'S invented. The slime didn't even change the names, man! He gets a big, fat promotion. And thus begins his meteoric rise to - -what is he now? Executive VP?"
