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Captain's Log: We're studying a star whose massive flares are making our computer go all flashy-blue and nuts. What a beautiful opportunity for Reckless Endangerment of the Ship [TM]. Janeway would be so proud.
Data: Captain, a distress call is coming from the ship orbiting the fourth planet. It's being sent to the third planet.
Picard: Well, I'm pretty sure we're not the third planet. Turn it off.
Data: Captain, need I remind you that distress calls are an important source of plots? Even good ones, on occasion?
Picard: Oh, in that case, don't turn it off. We certainly need a good plot after that Klingon death-howling episode.
Picard: This is Subcommander Almak from the Romulan Warbird T'Met.
T'Jon: (over the comm) WAAAH!
Picard: Ha! Fooled you! Seriously now, this is the USS Enterprise. Can we be of assistance?
T'Jon: I dunno....
Riker: Yes or no?
T'Jon: I guess... whatever....
Riker: "Whatever"? Are you on drugs or something?
T'Jon: Uh, was that last one a rhetorical question?
Picard: (over the comm) Transporter Room, the Ornaran ship is breaking up. Did you get the crew out?
Riker: We'll have to try again. All we got the first time were some metal cargo containers.
Picard: Are they any more articulate than their owners?
Riker: I don't see much difference yet.
Sobi and Langor: It's our cargo!
T'Jon and Romas: Is not!
Sobi and Langor: Is too!
(ZAP!)
Yar: Wow, electrical powers. Certainly a weapon that's hard to confiscate.
Riker: You're a big help. I don't see much of a future for you in Starfleet Security.
Troi: Did you notice how the Ornarans didn't show any grief over the death of their other crewmates?
Picard: Please stop pointing out the obvious, Counselor. It's already enough that Commander Riker has questioned the usefulness of one member of this crew.
Picard: What is this cargo of felicium and what makes it so important?
Langor: It's a dru...ummm...medicine. Ahem.
Riker: "Drumedicine"?
Sobi: That's the Brekkan word for "very expensive phramaceutical product."
T'Jon: The plague is killing us! Our entire civilization is infected! THOUSANDS of us!
Riker: Gee, what a big civilization.
Romas: The felicium is the only medicine that keeps us alive!
Crusher: And I don't suppose that there's a cheap generic version on the market?
Langor: No, that would infringe our patents.
Sobi: Our policy is strict: no drug insurance, no dru...ummm...medicine. Ahem.
Crusher: How about a few teeny weeny drops?
Langor: Oh, all right.
T'Jon: Sniff!
Romas: Oh yeah!
Crusher: Hmm....
Picard: You believe that felicium is a narcotic, Doctor?
Crusher: Yes! Everyone on Ornara is addicted to it!
Picard: I can't imagine what it must be like to depend on a chemical substance. Computer -- tea, Earl Grey, hot.
Crusher: Isn't that your twelfth cup since this morning?
Picard: Find someone who drinks that much coffee, then complain.
Captain's Log: Ha! Take that, CSI, NYPD Blue and Law & Order! You and your addicts-of-the-week! We have an entire civilization addicted to drugs! Beat that!
Crusher: The plague no longer exists! The Brekkans are keeping the Ornarans addicted out of pure greed!
Picard: The Prime Directive prevents us from interfering.
Crusher: I'm prepared to resign to protest your policy on this!
Picard: You'll have wait till Lieutenant Yar leaves the ship. She's in line ahead of you.
Wesley: I don't understand. Are drugs really bad?
Yar: Yes, Wesley! Drugs are big, bad, evil and naughty! Naughty, naughty, naughty, naughty!
Wesley: So I should just say no to them?
Yar: Yes.
Wesley: You mean "yes" I should say no, or no I should say "yes"?
Yar: Isn't it obvious?
Langor: Guess what? We've totally changed our mind! We'll give all four billion dosages of felicium to the Ornarans.
Crusher: Really? Even though T'Jon said his civilization consists of only a few thousands?
Sobi: Well, sure! They can knock themselves out! Anything to cure the naughty, naughty plague.
Picard: So, there. Take your felicium to Ornara and knock yourself out.
T'Jon: What about the ship-repair equipment you promised us? We need it to maintain our interplanetary trade with the Brekkans.
Picard: Sorry, but the Prime Directive forbids us from interfering with the natural course of your ineptitude.
Langor: Oh no! That'll destroy our centuries-old trade agreement! How will our people make money from now on?
Picard: Perhaps the Ferengi could give you some suggestions.
Sobi: Who do you think helped us go into business in the first place?
Picard: Take us wherever you want, Mr. La Forge. Make it special, though. It's the least we can do for Tasha and Beverly while they're still with us.
Yar: I wish you'd stop dropping ominous hints about my career, sir.
Crusher: I'm sure he's bluffing because he knows I'm coming back.
Yar: How does that help me?
Crusher: Think of it -- a blonde, a brunette and a redhead. Would you break up a perfect trio like that if you were in charge?
(The Enterprise sails away at Ludicrous Speed)
THE END | 
