by Mike Robertson
Ensign Babyface! Damage report! Smooth as an android’s bottom, eh, Data? Talk about going nowhere fast. Worf, It’s better than music. It’s jazz. Our neural pathways have become accustomed to your sensory input patterns. Besides, you look good in a dress. Congratulations - you just destroyed the Enterprise. This is not about revenge. This is about justice. The Enterprise computer system is controlled by three primary main processor cores, cross-linked with a redundant melacortz ramistat, fourteen kiloquad interface modules. I will obey your orders. I will serve this ship as First Officer. And in an attack against the Enterprise, I will die with this crew. But I will not break my oath of loyalty to Starfleet. and attack the Romulans. Not if I weaken first. That might’ve been one of the shortest assignments in the history of Starfleet. A lot of things can change in twelve years, Admiral. I recommend you don’t fire until you’re within 40,000 kilometers.
Your head is not an artifact! Yesterday I did not know how to eat gagh. We have a saboteur aboard. Computer, belay that order. Travel time to the nearest starbase? Wouldn’t that bring about chaos? Well, I’ll say this for him - he’s sure of himself. Earl Grey tea, watercress sandwiches… and Bularian canapés? Are you up for promotion? You’re going to be an interesting companion, Mr. Data. The look in your eyes, I recognize it.
You used to have it for me. When has justice ever been as simple as a rule book? I’ll alert the crew. And blowing into maximum warp speed, you appeared for an instant to be in two places at once. I’m afraid I still don’t understand, sir. Why don’t we just give everybody a promotion and call it a night - ‘Commander’? Flair is what marks the difference between artistry and mere competence…tags: blog