Archer: We are gathered to honour the memory of a dear friend and comrade by blasting his corpse into space. He was not a great man, nor even a real man, but most of us will miss him anyway. He was... Charles Tucker.
T'Pol: (sniff)
Sato: (sniff)
Tucker: (sniff)
Archer: Hey! Stop that! Get the camera off Trip! They can't see him standing here till the end. Pick someone else sniffling!
Porthos: (ruff)
Somebody: Two Weeks Earlier....
Tucker: Y'know, I did a little research the other day. Turns out there's this therapy on Earth called "acupressure."
T'Pol: Are you suggesting that our Vulcan neuropressure sessions are less farfetched than some might think?
Tucker: Oooh! Yeah, right there. Um, I forget.
Captain's Starlog: Trip has a brilliant plan to increase our warp efficiency. He's going to use....
Archer: Uh, Archer to Trip. What did you say your new system is called?
Tucker: Coaxial quantum slipstream transwarp subspace corridors.
He's going to make the ship faster.
Warp Drive: KABOOOOOOM!
Sato: I'm going to go out on a limb here and say the experiment failed.
Archer: Report! Where did we come out of warp?
T'Pol: According to the sensors, we're in a field of something.
Mayweather: All right! Field trip!
Sato: Speaking of which, Engineering says Trip is seriously injured. Oh no!
T'Pol: It could have been worse, Ensign. He could have not been seriously injured.
Phlox: There's only one chance to save Mr. Tucker. One of my pets --
Archer: Oh, this never ends well.
Phlox: Ahem. Becomes a clone of whatever DNA you inject into it. A magical, fast-aging clone.
Archer: Which you then use for spare parts?
Phlox: I know it sounds like playing God, Captain, but I assure you it wouldn't be. After all, I am God.
T'Pol: Whatever we're in a field of is starting to cling to the ship. Here is a sample.
Porthos: Ruff ruff! (chomp)
T'Pol: What the... he just...
Archer: Sorry about that. Porthos knows you have something to do with cheesecake, so he thought you were bringing him some.
T'Pol: We'll, he'll mutate, not me. Have you decided what to do about Commander Tucker?
Archer: I've reluctantly approved Phlox's plan. See how reluctant I was? See? Because that makes it okay. See?
Phlox: Meet the new Trip. Same as the old Trip, but cuter.
T'Pol: Until now I would have thought it a contradiction, but this baby is both younger and more mature than Commander Tucker.
Archer: Great, now that jab is one of his first memories. Way to skew an innocent mind.
Phlox's Log: In a delightfully obscure Ray Bradbury reference, I've named the baby Sim. If I had two of them, they'd be the Sims.
Sim: "Run... Spot... run."
Sato: Very good! Can you read the next line?
Sim: "You... don't... like... T... Tp... Tpol? You... like... Hoshi."
Sato: Mwahahahaha.
Archer: You're getting to be a big non-boy, Sim.
Sim: Thank y'all, ah thank so too.
Archer: Huh. Hey Phlox, where did he get the accent?
Phlox: I'm glad you asked! It seems Sim is gaining Trip's memories gradually as he ages. They must be encoded in Trip's DNA.
(BOOM)
Reed: (over the comm) Reed to Captain Archer! You won't believe this, sir, but Subcommander T'Pol's head just exploded!
Archer: Now look what you've done to our science officer, Doctor.
Reed: This is the best day ever!
Sim: You're a good boy, Porthos. Good boy.
Phlox: Ruff!
Archer: Okay, this is just too much cuteness. I'd better break it to him now. Sim, could you come with me to Sickbay?
Sim: Yay! We're gonna visit God!
Archer: I thought I told Hoshi to counterprogram that out of you.
Sim: He's unc... uncon... unconshimous.
Archer: Yes. Sim, I know this will be hard to accept, but... this man is you.
Phlox: In fact, he's the real you and you're the fake you. Faker.
Sim: AAAAAAAAAA!
Archer: Maybe we did it wrong.
Phlox: I don't think so.
Sim: So... so you made me to... to fix him?
Phlox: That's right. I'll be taking a little of your brain. Don't worry, you won't feel a thing. Until I jam this thing into your --
Archer: Don't show him the tools! Geez! Sim, are you handling this okay?
Sim: I... (gulp)... I guess so....
Archer: Good. I'm glad we told you when you were still too young to be rightfully outraged.
Captain's Starlog: Sim's a teenager now. It's hard for me to accept... I remember his childhood like it was just yesterday.
Sim: Hey. Wanna go out?
T'Pol: As much as I would enjoy leading you on only to utterly crush your hopes and self-respect, I must decline. I am busy attempting to get the ship out of the field of whatever we're in a field of.
Sim: So what am I supposed to do with all these hormones?
T'Pol: I understand Lieutenant Reed collects them.
Archer: You've got to work faster. We only have a few days left before this field destroys Enterprise.
T'Pol: Do you hear something ticking?
Archer: Hmm. Sounds like a clock.
Reed: Good morning, Sim. I see you're finally played by Connor Trinneer now.
Sim: Yep. An' I have a great idea. Can we turn the phase cannons inward to fire at the ship?
Reed: (GASP) My God! All those times I've been bored because we had nothing to attack! I could have been firing on our own ship! Thank you, thank you! I'll get started right now!
Sim: ...I'll take that as a yes.
T'Pol: I suppose you've come to ask me out again?
Sim: It's more than that, T'Pol. I love you. I truly love -- are you giggling?
T'Pol: Heheheh... I'm sorry, it's just hilarious how much I don't care.
Sim: Anyway, what worries me is that I don't know if these feelings are mine or Trip's. Plus there's this weird part of my brain that keeps insisting it's Hoshi I like, not you.
T'Pol: Don't be worried, Sim. It doesn't matter whose feelings they are. What matters is that I can hurt you with them.
Sim: So then we use two shuttlepods to drag the ship out of the field!
Archer: Hmm... it sounds impossible, but you're the fake engineer, not me. Permission granted.
Sim: Sweet! I'll fly one pod and Reed can fly the other. I know not to put us in the same one because I just got my "Shuttlepod One" memories back.
Archer: Whoa, whoa. There's no way I can risk you on this mission. You're needed for dissection.
Sim: But... but....
Archer: Also, I have an actual pilot just sitting around.
Mayweather: (over the comm) It's no good, sir! The ship won't budge!
Archer: Push forward against your console and see if that helps.
Sim: That ain't gonna do it. Malcolm said he had a backup plan, but I don't know what --
(BOOOOOOM)
Mayweather: Hey, it's working now!
Archer: Archer to Reed. Nicely done, whatever you did.
Reed: (over the comm) It was just a matter of making the ship lighter. I blew up all the parts we weren't using.
Phlox: I have dire news, Captain. I just discovered Sim won't survive my removing his brain.
Archer: Removing it? I thought you just needed a few brainstem cells!
Phlox: Well, yeah, but I'll have to take the whole brain out to get at them. Or so I claim.
Sim: No way! I ain't dying early. In fact, maybe I ain't dying at all. I did some research --
Phlox: Uh oh.
Sim: -- and I found out there's an experimental procedure that could save me!
Archer: What? Did you know about this, Phlox?
Sim: You bet he did. My research was in his sock drawer.
Phlox: I was going to show it to you! After the operation, so I could gloat! Is that so wrong?
Archer: Get out of Trip's quarters.
Sim: I have every right to be here! I have all his memories, I think exactly like him, and I'm a better cook and morale officer than he ever was! I should be the one to live!
Archer: Too bad. I need Trip, T'Pol needs Trip, and doggone it, people like Trip. I have no pity for you.
Sim: You can't fool me, Cap'n. I can tell by your furrows that you're not without pity.
Archer: Yes, I am! Do you think being a living human being gives you "rights" or something? I'll get your brain one way or the other!
Sim: What's the other way?
Archer: I line T'Pol's quarters with Trellium-D, she turns into a zombie, the zombie eats your brain, Reed beams it out of the zombie, and Phlox buys it from Reed with some hormones.
Reed: How odd. Someone's locked us out of the launch bay.
Archer: Uh oh -- it must be Sim trying to escape! Wait, what's odd about that?
Reed: The launch bay was one of the areas I blew up.
Sim: I could have escaped, you know. What changed my mind was my sister.
Archer: (nod) Saving Earth is very, very important.
Sim: No, I mean my sister's ghost appeared before me and said she likes Trip better than me. You ever had absolutely everyone against you?
Archer: There was that time I decided to make a clone of Trip. Everyone said it would lead to a huge moral dilemma, but I knew better.
T'Pol: How are you, Sim?
Sim: In a few hours Phlox brains me. I've been better.
T'Pol: Perhaps this will help. (kiss)
Sim: Does this... does this mean you love me?
T'Pol: What? No. I merely wished to comfort you with a false gesture that means nothing whatsoever to me.
Sim: Why don't you just throw in a kick in the crotch, huh?
T'Pol: I'll give the real Mr. Tucker one for you.
Sim: Okay, I'm ready to go.
Phlox: Excellent. You know, on any other series, the doctor would be refusing to perform this procedure for ethical reasons.
Sim: You mean --
Phlox: I'm just making conversation.
Archer: Goodbye, Sim. This was an impossible decision for me, a choice between two really, really, really evils... I hope someday you'll understand.
Sim: I'll be dead!
Archer: Oh. Guess you won't.
Archer: And so, as we launch this unfortunate phony soul to his final rest, we must take the lessons he taught us and apply them to the challenges of the future. I, for example, have the challenge of breaking it to Trip's parents that their son got killed and is safe and sound. You can cut to Trip now.
Tucker: (sniff)
Archer: Nice. All right, Malcolm: torpedo away.
Torpedo: BOOOOM!
Archer: What the--? I told you to disarm it!
Reed: You might as well have told me to tear my own arm off.
Archer: Whatever. Funeral dismissed.
(Enterprise heads off at Dolorous Speed)
THE END
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