Five-Minute "Desert Crossing"
by Zeke

Captain's Starlog: Vacation time! And let me tell you, Porthos and I are --
T'Pol: (over the comm) Some aliens just sent us a distress call, sir.
Archer: Cool! Invite them to come to Risa with us.
T'Pol: I'm pretty sure they need help.
Archer: Well, ask if they can wait till we're done.
T'Pol: I'm pretty sure they need help now.
Archer: But I don't WANNA change course! WAAAAAAAAA!
T'Pol: Well, sir, that's --
Porthos: Ruff!
T'Pol: Thank you.
Archer: Pfft. That joke has been done to death.
T'Pol: You're just being grumpy.

Zebral: Greetings! I'm a space Russian. Want to come visit my planet?
Archer: Of course. After all, we have all the time in the world for planets that aren't Risa.
T'Pol: Don't mind Jon, he's just bitter. We'd be happy to come.
Zebral: Not you -- it's a boys-only club, shirts optional.
T'Pol: Then can I watch from orbit?

Archer: So whaddaya say? Shall we do the desert planet?
Tucker: I dunno, Captain... I've been trying to watch my weight.

Zebral: Thanks for letting me come on the shuttlecr--
Archer: POD. ShuttlePOD. Ready to land us, Trip?
Tucker: Am I ever! Just look at that surface: all I need to do is cut the engines, and the sand will cushion our fall.
Archer: Sounds good. Something wrong, Zebral? You look pale.

Zebral: On behalf of the whole terrorist cell, I welcome you to our abode.
Archer and Trip: The whole WHAT?
Zebral: Did I say "terrorist cell"? I meant to say "terrorist-free non-cell." And now, let us seal our friendship with disgusting food.
Tucker: Well, now we know where Chef got the idea.
Archer: Oh, cheer up. How bad can it be?
Zebral: Cook! Bring our guests some of your famous Genital Borscht....
Archer and Trip: Gulp.
Zebral: ....Mr. Neelix.
Archer and Trip: GULP.

Chancellor Trellit: (over the comm) You! What are you doing in orbit?
T'Pol: At first we were spying on you, but you're really, really boring, so now most of us are playing solitaire.
Trellit: And your captain?
T'Pol: Oh, he's with the space Russians.
Trellit: Then you won't see him again.
T'Pol: Oh no! They're going to turn him invisible?

Tucker: So, got any sports here? And please don't say water polo.
Zebral: We have sports, but they're completely different from anything you have on Earth. The one we're about to play is called "lacrosse" --
Archer: Wow! The name alone sets it apart.
Zebral: Don't interrupt me. I'm very easy to offend, anger, dissatisfy, vex, or otherwise provoke emotion in.
Tucker: Are you ticklish?
Zebral: No. It is my one weakness.

Referee: Let the game begin!
Archer: Wham! Wham! Take that! And that! Wheee!
Tucker: Captain, I'm really sure we're not supposed to use these things as clubs.
Archer: The sooner the game ends, the sooner I can put my shirt back on.

T'Pol: T'Pol to Archer. Who's winning?
Archer: (over the comm) So far it's a zero-zero tie, unless you count people besides me and Trip.
T'Pol: Never mind. I should probably let you know that if you go to this planet, you'll die.
Archer: I'm already here.
T'Pol: I'll leave the math to you.

Archer: So you've been lying this whole time?
Zebral: Lying? Never! We simply glossed over certain facts.
Archer: Such as the fact that you're terrorists, and the fact that we're all going to die.
Zebral: Exactly. You understand now.
Tucker: But why us? Why not... Hoshi?
Zebral: Alas, I am afraid a woman would not have helped me.
Tucker: Helped you? Hey, wait a sec -- you're wearing the captain's clothes!
Zebral: I go now.

Tucker: We're trapped! The base is about to be attacked by... well, somebody. You know how people on planets are always under attack?
T'Pol: (over the comm) There's an easy solution. Just introduce yourself to the attackers and --
Tucker: Their ships don't have comm systems. According to Zebral, it's because they like being mean.
T'Pol: Then it doesn't matter what you do, so go build some sand castles.
Archer: You're just full of these helpful suggestions, aren't you?

Zebral: (over the comm) Archer to Enterprise. One to beam up.
Transporter Chief: You don't sound like Captain Archer.
Zebral: But I am wearing his uniform.
Transporter Chief: Well, why didn't you say so, Captain?

Tucker: We'd better grab some food before we leave. What've they got?
Archer: Sorry... all I could find was this bag of spice.
Tucker: Just "spice"? What kind?
Archer: Dunno. I think somebody dumped a bunch of different ones in; it's kind of a m�lange. Hey, stop eating it!
Tucker: Gulp gulp gulp... there, all done.
Archer: You -- you ate the whole bag of spice before we even left! Why?
Tucker: I thought of this hilarious pun to make afterwards. (ahem) Spice: the final frontier!
Archer: If we survive, you have no idea how much I'm going to kill you.

Enemy Ships: Attack! ATTAAAAACK!
Terrorist Base: You're so sleek, enemy ships. I wish I could be like you.
Enemy Ships: Really? You mean it?
Terrorist Base: Of course! So are you really going to blow up an admirer?
Enemy Ships: Hmmmm... yes.

T'Pol: Look, Chancellor, let's t--
Trellit: Stop calling me! You're tying up the line so no one else can get through!
T'Pol: Please. Who would call you?
Trellit: Um... well... my mom said she might, later, if she wasn't too busy.
T'Pol: Travis, take a snapshot. The OED can always use a new picture to put with the definition of "pathetic."

Archer: And off we go into the desert! What a jolly trip it'll be!
Tucker: Water... need water....
Archer: Well, okay, but we only have enough for one of us.
Tucker: What? Why?
Archer: I used the other half to wash my hands. No sense wandering into the desert with dirty hands.

Reed: So Archer and Trip are in danger and the rest of us need to save them. Haven't we already done one of these today?
T'Pol: Just work on a rescue plan. And if you're going to suggest a rope ladder, I've already answered that one.
Mayweather: She said we don't have enough rope to reach from the ship to the planet.
Reed: Ahhhhh.

Archer: I think I see a shelter over there....
Tucker: Bee boop ba di.
Archer: Where are you going? That's not the right way.
Tucker: Doop ba da bee doo.
Archer: Oh, fine! Go that way! You'll be malfunctioning within a day. And don't let me catch you following me begging for help, because you won't get it.
Tucker: Ba bi di. Booooooo.

Sato: Ever wonder why the Vulcans didn't land in the Antarctic? Why Bozeman, Montana?
T'Pol: Everyone knows why, Ensign. It's Brannon Braga's hometown.
Sato: My point is, the nation you contact first determines whether you'll have a hit series or a bucket of penguins in space.
T'Pol: Well, hindsight is 20:20 -- let's not dwell on regrets.
Sato: Yeah. ...Hey!

Archer: You know, I'm getting pretty tired of this armaggeddon game.
Tucker: I know just how you feel. Whoa!
Archer: Something wrong?
Tucker: I'm getting... a vision! A vision of the future!
Archer: Really? Who's going to win the water polo pennant?
Tucker: As soon as I start doing anything fun, you ruin it for me....

Reed: We should try to contact Zebral. Maybe he knows where Archer is.
Zebral: Hi, everybody! Here's Archer!
T'Pol: Uh huh. I seriously doubt you're fooling anyone....
Zebral: Whaddaya mean? I'm the captain! Ensign, take us out of here at Warp 412!
Mayweather: Yes, SIR!
T'Pol: Mr. Reed, please end this farce.
Reed: Aye, sir. Keying autodestruct sequence -- will five minutes do?
T'Pol: Just... shoot... him.
Reed: Oh, that's a thought.

Archer: Trip, you're lagging behind again! What are you, some kind of desert mouse?
Tucker: The visions... so intense....
Archer: Again with that vision thing? Give it up! You can't see the future.
Tucker: Temporal... cold....
Archer: The Temporal Cold War? Oh boy oh boy oh boy! What happens? Tell me! Tellmetellmeltellme--
Tucker: Oh, wait. I just remembered I can't see the future. Sure is a good thing you reminded me of that, eh, Captain?
Archer: You've won this battle, old friend. But you won't win the war.

Zebral: So they must have left my settlement and headed, I dunno, west.
T'Pol: We'll take a shuttlepod down. If we're lucky, we'll land on them, solving two problems.
Zebral: Now that's the kind of efficiency a space Russian admires.
Reed: Okay, that does it! What the frell is the "space Russian" thing about? You're not Russian! You don't look Russian! Your accent isn't Russian!
T'Pol: Sounds Russian to me.
Zebral: Me too, and I think I'd know.
Reed: ARRRGH! Why must I be surrounded by idiots?

Tucker: ....and then the swarm of locusts turned to fly towards Andoria....
T'Pol: Captain! Are you all right?
Archer: Oh, hi T'Pol. Trip was just telling me about his latest premonition.
T'Pol: Did he see the vision of the World, and all the wonder that would be?
Archer: I don't think he's dipt quite that far yet.
Reed: You're all hallucinating. I hate you.

Captain's Log: Trip and I got back to the ship just before the sandworms arrived. Man, am I glad I missed THAT.

Zebral: Thank you for all your generous help, Captain Archer. You won't regret taking our side in the War Against Terrorism.
Archer: I'd better not. Well, best of luck....
Zebral: Oh! I almost forgot -- I've left a farewell present for you. You'll find two barrels of borscht in the Cargo Bay.
T'Pol: How generous! I'm sure the crew will enjoy it.
Archer: Er, heh heh. Yes. (Reed, burn it now.)
Reed: (With pleasure!)

Archer: The blatch of it is, they're probably doing the right thing. But they're doing it in the wrong way -- the politically inconvenient way.
T'Pol: You're not talking about Bryon, are you?
Archer: No.
T'Pol: Whew! If there's one guy we don't need on this show....
(Enterprise heads off at Ludicrous Speed)

THE END

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