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Captain's Log: We have finally located the U.S.S. Brattain, a ship that we've heard no word from ever since they borrowed our lawnmower last November. Memo to self -- make sure Janeway returns our pruning shears sometime soon.
Worf: Commander, this crewman is dead.
Riker: Sucks to be him. And him. And him. And her. And....
Troi: Captain, I'll sit here with this comatose Betazoid for the remainder of the episode.
Picard: Excellent. Just don't do anything useful -- two more weeks and Starfleet will have to let me trade you in for something just as useless but less annoying. Another goldfish, maybe.
Troi: You can't do that! Who would replace me as Counselor?
Picard: That comatose guy looks about right.
Crusher: Captain, the crew of the Brattain killed each other.
Picard: Hmm. Fighting over promotion, or a 'shipper gang war?
Crusher: Those were our first thoughts, sir. But look at this.
Zaheva: (on log entry) They're after me! They're after me, I tell you!
Crusher: Paranoid delusions, Captain.
Zaheva: GAK!
Picard: No, look, she wasn't delusional after all. See? Nothing to worry about.
O'Brien: Keiko, you're cheating on me, aren't you?
Keiko: What? Of course not!
O'Brien: Oh, sure. And next you'll probably deny being a genetically-enhanced Cardassian agent from the Mirror Universe.
Captain's Log: The crew's hallucinations are getting worse. At this rate, I can get a date with Beverly by Tuesday.
Troi: I have these strange, terrible dreams. I'm floating in a green cloud, and a voice whispers at me.
Riker: Well, either you're the Emissary of the Prophets, or else you should beware of a tall, dark stranger in the month of June.
Troi: Ummm... anything else?
Riker: There's also the Freudian interpretation, but it's kind of disgusting.
Troi: Captain, what do you think?
Picard: I think "Freudian" would be a nice name for that goldfish.
Data: We're caught in a Tyken's Rift. I recommend that we get out by making something blow up.
Picard: You've been talking to Mr. Reed again, haven't you, Data?
Captain's Log: AAAAAAAAAA! NOOOOOOOOOO! Ahem. Never mind.
Crusher: We're going crazy because we aren't dreaming.
Picard: I can solve that. Picard to all crewmen. Repeat after me -- "I firmly believe we shall soon see peace in the Middle East." Also, memorize that speech by that Martin Luther person. Anything else, Doctor?
Gillespie: We can't just sit here and wait to die! I want to go down fighting!
O'Brien: Ummm� Fighting who?
Gillespie: Shut up.
Troi: Good news, Captain!
Picard: Oh no! What is it?
Troi: Worf tried to kill himself, but I stopped him!
Picard: Thank God. For a moment there, I was afraid you might have done something useful.
Data's Log: Captain Picard has put me in command, so that if everyone winds up killing each other, at least I'll come out with my very own Galaxy-class starship.
Dream Voices: Eyes in the dark� One moon circles�
Troi: Whut?
Dream Voices: Eyes in the dark� One moon circles�
Troi: Whut?
Dream Voices: Eyes in the dark, dammit! EYES in the DARK!
Troi: Whut?
Comatose Betazoid: Eyes in the dark�
Troi: Oh my God! It all makes sense now! Why didn't you say so before?
Crusher: Captain, I believe that making hundreds of people go crazy and try to kill each other is these aliens' form of communication.
Picard: My God... I never imagined there could be a race consisting entirely of talk show hosts.
Data: What can the alien message mean? "One moon circles"... Perhaps--
Picard: Ye Gods! They're saying they'll rescue us if we give them a small solar system!
Data: Or they need hydrogen.
Picard: ...or maybe they just need hydrogen. Boy, it's a good thing the aliens know English.
Troi: Captain! The aliens don't know English! It's just translated telepathically!
Picard: Oh. Well, boy, it's a shame the aliens don't know how to telepathically translate the word "hydrogen."
Troi: Captain, shut up.
Data: We are restored to sanity and calm -- Deanna has saved the ship!
Picard: That... sounds useful.
Data: Yes, sir.
Picard: AAAAAAAAAA! NOOOOOOOOOO!
(The Enterprise sails away at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END | 
