Star Trek: Enterprise (2001–2005): Season 1, Episode 16 - Shuttlepod One - full transcript

The Captain said they'd be
mapping this asteroid field,

but I can't see
head nor tails of them.

Maybe it's another
asteroid field.

No, this is the one.

Two primaries...
17 planetesimals.

Well, they weren't expecting
us back for three days.

Maybe they finished and went off
to do something else.

Well, with our sensor array
down,

we won't know when they get back
until we see them.

Any luck with the com?

Dead as a doornail.



I don't understand it.

No doubt you'll have your boys

take this pod apart
piece by piece,

once it's back
in the launch bay.

I'd feel a lot more comfortable

having everything
in working order

by the time Enterprise
gets back.

Oh... well,
tinker all you like.

I've got a copy of Ulysses here.

I doubt I'll even be
halfway through it

by the time the ship gets back.

I'd rather realign every
microcircuit on this shuttle

than try to wade
through that baby.

British schools
have a core curriculum.



It serves to provide
a well-rounded education.

Sometimes I think
you North Americans

read nothing but comic books

and those ridiculous
science fiction novels.

I'll have you know that Superman

was laced with metaphor.

Subtext layered on subtext.

Oh, if only Dr. Cochrane

had been a European,

the Vulcans would have been
far less reticent to help us.

But, no...
he had to be from Montana.

He probably spent his nights

reading about cowboys
and Indians.

Well, I don't recall
any Europeans

figuring out how to
build a warp engine.

Commander...

No Brits, no Italians,
no Serbo-Croatians...

Commander...

I think you'd better come
and take a look at this.

Bring us in closer.

Is it a ship?

If the damn sensors were
only working, we could...

Bring us around again.

There. Slow down.

♪ It's been a long road ♪

♪ Getting from there to here ♪

♪ It's been a long time ♪

♪ But my time is finally near ♪

♪ And I will see my dream
come alive at last ♪

♪ I will touch the sky ♪

♪ And they're not gonna
hold me down no more ♪

♪ No, they're not gonna
change my mind ♪

♪ 'Cause I've got faith ♪

♪ Of the heart ♪

♪ I'm going where my heart
will take me ♪

♪ I've got faith to believe ♪

♪ I can do anything ♪

♪ I've got strength
of the soul ♪

♪ No one's gonna bend
or break me ♪

♪ I can reach any star ♪

♪ I've got faith ♪

♪ I've got, I've got, I've got ♪

♪ I've got faith ♪

♪ Faith of the heart. ♪

Come in.

How are the Tesnians doing?

Dr. Phlox can only keep
12 of them

in the Decon Chamber at a time.

What about the other...
What is it, 22?

He's rotating them.

They seem to be doing fine
on our atmosphere,

but they need at least six hours
of boron gas a day.

He says we've got enough

to get them home.

Have you learned their language?

Yes, sir.

What do they have to say?

They're pretty rattled.

Most of them had been
on that ship for years.

It's a lot to digest
they lost everything.

They're alive.

Does the Captain have any idea
what happened?

No. And he feels terrible
about the damage to Enterprise.

He has no idea what went wrong.

When they approached
our docking port,

they lost control
of their sensor array,

and then a few seconds later,

their navigation system
went out.

Thank God their escape pods
were working.

I saw the wreckage
on the asteroid.

There wasn't much left.

Archer to Mayweather.

What's our ETA?

We should reach Tesnia

in about 20 hours, sir.

Good work.

That should get us back
to our rendezvous coordinates

well before
Trip and Malcolm get there.

Let's drop out of warp
for a few minutes.

I want to inspect the damage
to the launch doors.

Aye, sir.

Who's in charge of Engineering
while Trip's away?

Lieutenant Hess.

Tell her to get a team working

on a new starboard door
for Launch Bay 2.

Everything else
check out all right?

Astrometrics detected what
could be micro-singularities

in the vicinity of
the asteroid field.

Micro-singularities
are a Vulcan myth.

There's no scientific evidence
that they exist.

Our deflectors registered

some unusual charged particles

at the same time the Tesnian
ship began to malfunction.

Any similar damage
on Enterprise?

No. But our hull
plating was polarized.

Mm-hmm.

Micro-singularities.

If the Vulcans had their way,

they'd blame them
for the common cold.

How about the lifeboats?

They could have launched
the lifeboats before the crash.

They'd be here.

They only go 300 KPH.

They'd be right here
waiting for us to return.

Are we sure
there are no survivors?

Commander, we have to figure out
what we're going to do.

We can't just leave.

That's Enterprise.

At least we should
find the black boxes.

With what?

We have no radio.

Nothing to pick up the beacons.

What's the range in
our distress beacon?

It's off-line.

I'm talking about
the portable one,

the one in the away kit.

Ten million kilometers...
maybe 20.

But I highly doubt

there'd be a ship
anywhere close to that.

We've only got ten days
worth of breathable air.

How far to Echo III?

At impulse?
A lot more than ten days.

Well, if we could get
close enough

for it to pick up
our distress beacon,

it would relay the signal
back to Starfleet.

I'm afraid the math
doesn't work out, Commander.

It's going to take weeks,
maybe months,

for our signal
to reach Echo III.

By the time Starfleet
got a ship out here, we'd be...

we'd be long dead.

But at least they'd find us.

They'd get their shuttlepod
back,

a couple of...

well-preserved corpses.

Sir...

Which way?

Which way to what?

Echo III.
Which way to Echo III?

I told you it's too far.

Do you know which direction
it is or don't you?

Navigation is down.

That's not what I asked you.

You want me to guess?

You come from a long line
of Navy men,

and you got a real good memory.

Look hard at those stars.

Find something that
looks familiar

and tell me which way to go!

Sir...

That's an order!

I don't suppose
you have a sextant handy.

I left it with my slide rule.

Well?

That blue giant...

we may have gone by it...
I'm not sure.

That's good enough for me.

Take one more low pass
over the wreckage...

and then set a course.

See you around, Captain.

Personal Log,
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.

November 9, 2151.

By the time anyone hears this...

By anyone, I suppose
I mean anyone human...

Commander Tucker and I
will be long dead.

It's my intention
to recount the events

that led to the destruction
of the Starship Enterprise,

and to express
my deepest feelings

regarding my short but memorable
service with Starfleet.

Tell them I'd love
to add my two cents,

but I'm trying
to get a little work done.

Short but memorable service
with Starfleet.

In order to test the targeting
scanners on Shuttlepod 1,

Commander Tucker
and I had to get

at least 20,000 kilometers
from Enterprise.

During our third trial,

we experienced a brief
but sizable jolt.

And, shortly thereafter,

realized that our sensor array
had gone off-line.

This sensor array

is more than off-line.

It's totally fried.

That our sensor array
had gone off-line.

We had no choice,

but to head back
to the asteroid field

where Enterprise was involved
in a mapping project.

We found the ship...
destroyed...

its debris strewn
across a square kilometer

of one of the larger asteroids.

Had our sensors been working,

we certainly would
have done everything possible

to determine the cause
of the disaster,

but, as it was, with only
a short-range distress beacon

and limited air,

we had no alternative

but to set a course
for Echo III,

where, someday, this vessel...

And, eventually, this log...
Will be found.

May God have mercy on our souls.

Why don't you cut the crap

and get back here and help me?

What would you like me to do?

I don't know.

You could hold this flashlight
or turn down the heat.

Whatever you want.

I'm just getting a little tired

of listening
to all your pessimism.

If there's something
you need me to do,

I will be more than happy
to comply,

but I'm afraid "pessimism"

is simply not an accurate
description of my log entry.

I'm just being realistic,
Commander.

We've got nine days.

We're bound
to find someone out here.

At warp... perhaps.

But at impulse?

Vulcans, Klingons, Suliban,
Xyrillians, Andorians...

God knows who's going
to be lurking

around the next planet
we run into.

But that's just it, sir.

At impulse, we're not likely
to be running into any planets.

Not for at least
six or seven years.

Then somebody can run into us.

You ever think of that?

Or see us on their sensors.

The possibilities are endless.

I'll heat up some rations.

Unless, of course,
you'd rather wait

until we run into a vessel
serving proper meals.

Rations will be fine.

What are you in the mood for?

Depends.

What are you serving?

Veal marsala...

Chilean sea bass...

Moo Goo Gai Pan...

Any meat loaf?

With gravy and mashed potatoes.

Perfect.

Kentucky bourbon.

Yeah. The Captain was planning
to give that to somebody.

I can't remember who.

Guess it's ours now.

What's that?

The sea bass.

Any good?

Mmm.

It's lovely.

Thank you.

Captain Archer claims
you told him

you weren't even aware that
I was serving on Enterprise.

I find that difficult to believe
considering I wrote you twice

in the weeks prior
to our departure.

Now, it is possible that you
never received those letters.

You were, I believe,
in the process

of moving back
to Malaysia at the time.

But you must have spoken to
Aunt Sherry during that period,

and I know
she received my letters.

I would hate to go to my death

thinking that either of you
felt I was trying to avoid...

Malcolm!

You've been at it for hours now.

Don't you think it's time
to give it a rest?

As I'm sure you must have heard,

that was my esteemed colleague
Commander Charles Tucker.

Mr. Tucker doesn't
share my belief

that it is essential
to say what must be said...

To leave a record...
Tie up loose ends.

Mr. Tucker is laboring
under the false hope

that we are going
to be miraculously rescued

before we both suffocate.

Mr. and Mrs. Reed,
I realize

that you've just begun
a period of mourning

and that I'll never get an
answer to this question,

but I got to ask it anyway.

Was Malcolm always this cynical?

In a few days,

when the reality
of this situation

actually begins to sink in,

you might very well
decide you want to record

some logs of your own.

You have my word,
I will not interrupt you.

I just need

to get some sleep, Malcolm!

Is that so hard to understand?

We have less than nine days
of oxygen left.

It seems a waste
to use it up sleeping.

If I don't
waste some oxygen sleeping,

I'm going to start
getting real cranky.

And you don't want
to spend your last nine days

cooped up with me
when I'm cranky.

So turn that thing off

and get some rest!

We're back?

Lie still, Lieutenant.

What happened?

How did we...?

You're a very
brave man, Malcolm.

Commander Tucker
is going to be fine,

thanks to you.

I'm afraid I don't understand.

Get some rest.

There will be plenty of time

to explain what happened

in the morning.

Subcommander?

How are you feeling?

I'd feel a lot better

if I knew what was going on.

Captain Archer would
be quite annoyed with me

if I told you of your heroics.

I believe he's looking forward

to doing that himself
in the morning.

Heroics?

I had no idea you
could be so selfless

in the face of such danger.

Most males of your species

would have given in
to their fear.

Well, since you're obviously

not going to tell me
what happened,

I suppose a simple good night

will have to do.

Vulcans could never
ignore courage.

And this Vulcan
will never ignore

Lieutenant Malcolm Reed again.

I can't say I've ever...

ignored you, T'Pol.

Is it all right
if I call you T'Pol?

Yes. May I call you Malcolm?

I suppose so.

But, if the truth be known,

I've never much cared
for the name Malcolm.

Always seemed a bit too stuffy.

I think it's a lovely name.

Mol-Kom is the Vulcan word
for "serenity."

Well, then, perhaps
I won't change it.

Pity, though.

I was rather growing fond

of the name "Stinky."

I can't believe
you just did that.

Did what?

You smiled.

I saw you smile.

Vulcans don't smile.

This one does.

I saw you.

You're mistaken.

It was when I said
"Stinky," wasn't it?

You smiled when I said

Stinky.

Good morning, Stinky.

It's a lovely day,

isn't it, Stinky?

What's that?

I got the receiver working,

but the transmitter's
a lost cause.

Who's Stinky?

I beg your pardon?

You were talking in your sleep.

You kept calling
for some guy named Stinky.

You repaired the receiver?

What is that? Is it a ship?

The range is very limited.

It's probably just white noise...

The sound of the galaxy
laughing at us.

What the hell was that?

I don't know,
but it felt a little

like whatever knocked out
the sensor array.

We're losing atmosphere.

Pressure's down eight percent.

Help me.

We've got to find the hole!
Without sensors,

it's not going to be easy
to locate the breach.

Then use your ears.

Pressure's down 22 percent.

The damn hole's too small!

Where is it?!

What are you doing?

It's nitrogen
for the coolant tanks.

Just give me a few seconds.

Now let's find that leak.

I got it.

It's over here.

There's another one down here.

Put your finger on it
until we can figure out

what to do.

We've got some valve sealant
in Storage Bin 3.

Have we got anything
a little closer?

Uh...

Do you mind passing me
your meat loaf?

What?

Well, I assume
you've finished with it.

And you came close
to criticizing

my choice of cuisine.

Obviously, whatever hit us

went clear through the pod.

I'm afraid it did more than just
puncture the cabin, Commander.

On it's way out,

it was kind enough to rupture
one of the O-2 cylinders.

Great.

How much closer
to oblivion are we?

We've got less than two days
of air left.

The skin of this pod is
designed to deflect a meteor

five times the size
of this hole.

In that case, I'd guess
it wasn't a meteor.

I wonder if something
like it destroyed Enterprise.

Hmm. We'll never know.

Always the optimist.

We have 40 hours of air left.

What do you expect me to do,
sit here and plan my wedding?

I'm confident there'll be

a Charles Tucker
the Fourth one day.

Maybe it's your wedding
we should be planning.

That's assuming we can
find you a bride

in the next day and a half.

Any suggestions?

There was a little bar
in Mill Valley

where all the Starfleet
trainees used to go.

The 602 Club.

You know it?

I was there more times
than I can remember.

I met the girl of my dreams
my first Friday night there.

She was the one.

There's no doubt about it.

We had it all figured out...

Where we'd live,
how many kids we'd have.

Ah, Ruby.

Whatever happened to you?

Ruby?

You don't mean
the waitress Ruby?

You knew Ruby?

I knew her more times
than I can remember.

Ouch.

Seems we have more in common
than we thought.

Yeah.

Would another half day
be worth freezing your butt off?

What are you talking about?

If we lower the
thermostat in here,

to about minus-five centigrade,

we should be able
to use that power

to enhance the efficiency
of the atmosphere recyclers.

Our last 2½ days freezing,

versus our last two days
toasty warm.

What a delightful choice.

I'd pick freezing.

Another half day's
another half day.

Freezing it is then.

And just what are you doing?

An officer at his best
is always well-groomed.

Nice to see you're developing

a more positive attitude.

Actually, I was thinking

about what our corpses
would look like

when they're eventually found.

With no air in the pod,

we should remain
in fairly good condition.

Charming.

But you're forgetting
one thing, Malcolm.

What's that?

If I remember my honors
biology course correctly,

your hair and nails keep growing
for quite a while

after you're dead.

I'm pretty sure
that includes your beard.

Thanks.

Come in.

I've analyzed the scans

we took of the Tesnian ship

right before it crashed.

I believe they were hit
by a micro-singularity.

You still chasing gremlins?

This is no myth, Captain.

Three of the singularities
also hit Enterprise.

They collided
with our hull plating

here, here and here.

You telling me these
are tiny black holes?

They were.

The dispersal pattern suggests

they dissipated on impact.

This could be a significant
discovery, Captain.

If we could get

quantum sensor readings
of the three impact points,

we could authenticate
our findings.

I'd be a little less concerned

with winning
the Nobel Prize right now,

and a little more concerned
with Trip and Malcolm.

Their shuttlepod doesn't have

the hull plating we do.

They could be in
for a rough ride

when they get back
to the asteroid field.

Better hail them.

Agree to a new rendezvous point.

I never intended to suggest

that our crew members
were less important

than a scientific discovery.

Even one
of this historic magnitude.

Time's a-wasting.

My dearest Deborah,

by this time I'm certain
you've learned

of the tragedy that befell
the Starship Enterprise.

You've also undoubtedly learned

that my colleague,
Commander Charles Tucker, and I

did manage to survive for a
few days after the accident.

It's during that brief time

that I've chosen
to correspond with you.

Although our relationship
was... short-lived

and at times tumultuous,

I can't help but picture
your beautiful smile.

It gives me great comfort.

Think of me from time to time.
Cordially, Malcolm.

A ship?

It's a little more modulated
than the last one,

but it could be
just a random gamma-ray burst.

My dearest Rochelle,

by this time I'm certain
you've learned...

Wouldn't it be easier
just to record one message

and then add the "Dear
Whoever" afterward?

This is your fifth
or sixth identical letter.

That's not true.

There have been
subtle differences.

I would never refer to Rochelle
as having a beautiful smile.

With her, it was the eyes.

Travis and Hoshi
couldn't have been

more than 24 or 25 years old.

If the Captain
were here with us now,

I wonder if he'd feel guilty

about bringing them
on this mission.

Not for a minute.

They died doing what they loved.

I don't remember Hoshi loving
much about being in deep space.

She was coming along.

She saved our asses
on more than one occasion.

I plan on letting her family
know just how essential she was.

Sounds to me like you do have
some letters to record.

I'll wait
to tell them in person.

You know, your treacly optimism

is beginning to get

just a little bit tiresome.

Unlike your heartfelt letters
of farewell

to half the girls
in San Francisco?

At least I'm capable
of accepting our fate.

We're going to be dead
in about 33 hours.

Whether our beards
continue to grow or not

is of no concern to me!

We will be dead!

And unless some ship
happens to cross our path,

our bearded bodies

will be discovered
in about three or four years.

Is that optimistic enough
for you?!

What's your problem
with having a little hope?

What's your problem
with facing the truth?

You're a regular grim reaper,
Malcolm.

Anyone ever tell you that?

Well, if this little trip
is a death sentence,

then it would seem to me
we're entitled to a last meal.

What'll it be?

I'm afraid our selection
is somewhat limited.

I'm not hungry.

Well, then how about a drink?

I don't drink on duty.

Are you serious?

We're dead men, remember?

What's the matter, Lieutenant?

Are you afraid
the autopsy will show

your blood-alcohol level
was too high

to pilot a shuttle?

Live a little.

That's an order.

Do you really think

that's going
to provide any heat?

The bourbon will provide
the heat.

The candle's just for mood.

To the brave men and women
of the Starship Enterprise.

You know that's going
to consume oxygen, don't you?

We'll probably be dead

five or six minutes earlier
than we would have been.

I can live with that.

Anyway, it seems to me,

as far as you're concerned,
the sooner the better.

Is that really how you see me?

The eternal pessimist?

The grim reaper?

I don't want to die.

What makes you think
I want to die?

Because ever since we saw
Enterprise

spread across that asteroid,

you've done nothing
but write your own obituary.

I lost nearly everyone
I cared about on that ship.

Those girls I talked about...

Rochelle, Deborah, Catelin...

None of them worked out,

because I could...
never get very close to them.

Never got very close to my
family, either, for that matter.

Not that it's
any business of yours.

But with the crew of the
Enterprise, it was different.

I was really starting to feel...
comfortable with them.

And now the only one that's left

thinks I'm
the bloody angel of death.

All of a sudden,
five or six more minutes

sounds kind of nice.

Does that sound modulated
enough for you?

Modulated?

The radio.

Or is it just the galaxy
giggling at us again?

It can giggle all it wants,

but the galaxy's not getting

any of our bourbon.

Hey.

What do you think of T'Pol, hmm?

Do you think she's pretty?

T'Pol?
Are you serious?

Well, she's a woman, you know?

I think she's pretty.

You've had too much to drink.

Don't tell me
you've never looked at her

you know, in that way.

Nah, she's a Vulcan.

I think she's pretty.

Oh, God!

You ever noticed her bum?

What?

Her bum.

She's got an awfully nice bum.

To Subcommander T'Pol.

Awfully nice!

It's probably nothing, right?

It's definitely not nothing.

Then that means it's something.

What is it?

Is it something or someone,

because if it's someone...

Shh!
Sorry.

Definitely someone.

We have no way
to respond, do we?

This is like the plane flying

over the desert island
in a lost-at-sea movie.

Malcolm!

Sorry.

Happy endings.
I must think happy endings.

Shuttlepod 1...

Enterprise.

Please respond.

That's Hoshi!

We are transmitting new...

That's impossible!

Don't be so pessimistic!

It's not impossible!
It's Hoshi!

They're okay!

Enterprise is okay!

It's Hoshi!

Adjust your heading
to the new coordinates.

We will rendezvous in two days.

Commander, Lieutenant,
please respond.

Rendezvous!
What a beautiful word.

What's wrong?

They're still two days away.

And we only have a little more

than one day's air left.

And no way to tell them
to get here sooner.

Are you sure you got
the coordinates right?

Yes.

Not that it matters.

Lieutenant.

They're probably
traveling at, what?

Warp 2? Warp 3?

Compared to them, we're
like a garden snail.

Where we go and how
fast we get there

is irrelevant.

If I purge the CO2 filters,

it'll give us a little more air.

How much? An
hour's worth?

Probably less.

Great.

So when they reach
us in two days,

we'll have been out of
air for... 11 hours.

You ever try holding your
breath for 11 hours?

A train leaves New York
at 3:00 a.m. heading west

while another leaves Chicago
at 4:30 heading east.

I never could figure those out.

Enterprise is going to wonder
why we haven't responded, right?

Maybe they'll be concerned

and increase their speed.

Maybe, but if we really want
to get them to go to high warp,

we're going to have
to attract their attention.

Something a little more dramatic
than not answering their hails.

Can they see us
on their sensors?

Two days away at warp 3?

Oh, they can see us,
maybe not too clearly,

but we should be a nice
little blip on T'Pol's viewer.

Then we've got to get
that blip to tell them

to pick up a little steam.

What if we fired our weapons?

They're nearly a quarter
of a light-year away.

Our plasma cannons have a range
of less than ten kilometers.

It would all still look
like a single blip.

It's going to take
a lot more than that.

What if we jettison
the impulse drive?

What good would that do?

Well, you could rig
a self-destruct.

I imagine that would
make quite an explosion,

maybe even big enough to make
that blip do something odd.

No, I can't blow up our engine.

We'd be adrift, dead in space.

What's the difference
between that

and traveling at a snail's pace?

I'm an engineer.

I won't blow up our only engine.

Then I'll ask you again...

Ever hold your breath
for 11 hours?

I think I have
some micro-detonators

in here somewhere.

How does it feel

to be slower than a snail?

I saw a great cartoon once.

There were these two snails

sitting on the back
of a big ole turtle,

and one snail turns
to the other and says,

"Hold on, Fred.

Here we go."

If I'm right, I get the
rest of the bourbon.

Fine.

Less than 12 hours, you win.

More than 12...
and it's mine.

Go check the pressure gauge.

You check it.

I don't think I
can move my legs.

I can't believe we've been
sitting here that long.

Come on, let's hear it.

How much air is left?

Ten hours.

That's probably the last bet
I'll ever make

and I won.

I should feel like
celebrating, shouldn't I?

The whiskey's yours.

Now, why don't you
give us a toast

before you drink it?

Ten hours...

for two men.

If there were only one of us,

he'd have 20 hours, wouldn't he?

Great idea.

Why don't you...

climb up into the airlock...

and seal yourself in.

That's just what I was thinking.

Any last words
you want me to pass along?

Yeah.

Tell Captain Archer

that it was one hell
of an honor serving with him.

What are you doing?

We don't know
whether or not they saw

our little display
of pyrotechnics,

but either way...

this'll double your chances.

You're crazy.

Now, get down from there!

Sit down, Lieutenant.

If anyone should go up in there,

it should be me.

You're the Chief Engineer.

I'm also in charge of deciding

who's going into this airlock.

Do I make myself clear?

Commander.

What are you going
to do? Kill me?

It's set to stun.

I don't want to use it,

but I will.

Put it down!

Go to hell!

Stop trying to be a hero.

It doesn't suit you.

What would you know
about being a hero?

It takes nothing but a coward

to crawl up
inside a hole to die.

Then go ahead and shoot me,

but you better hope
we don't make it,

because if we survive,
the first thing

I'm going to do is
bust your ass back

to Crewman Second Class
for insubordination.

Be my guest!

I could use a little
less responsibility.

Now, get down here!

Who the hell
do you think you are?

Your Armory Officer,
and perhaps your friend.

Friends don't shoot each other!

You know, I'm not a doctor,

but I'm pretty sure
you use up a lot more oxygen

when you shout like that!

So what are you saying?

That you'd rather
have Enterprise

find the two of us dead in here?

That's exactly what I'm saying.

If there's one chance
in a thousand

that they saw
our impulse drive explode,

that they increased their speed,

I'll take that chance.

I've invested far too much time

trying to figure
you out, Mr. Tucker.

I'm not about to accept
that it was all for nothing.

We're back.

How did...?

Easy, Malcolm.

You fellows had
a nice little bout

with hypothermia.

The Commander.

He's going to be fine.

It took nearly three hours

to get your body temperatures
back to normal.

You must have
seen the explosion.

Hard to miss.

You know, you guys

only had two or three
hours of air left.

You don't say.

We saw debris from Enterprise

on one of the asteroids.

We assumed...

We thought you were all...

I'll tell you
all about it in the morning.

Right now, the Doctor needs
to warm you up a few degrees.

Subcommander.

Yes.

Isn't there something

you're supposed to say to me?

About what?

Heroics.

Something about heroics.

Good night, Lieutenant.

Trip?

Mind if I call you Trip?

Sleep well, my friend.