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ARCHER: Okay, we're recording. Go ahead.
TRAVIS: Hi there, everybody, and thanks for
joining us! I'm Ensign Travis Mayweather, here with the senior
staff of the starship Enterprise to discuss the filming
of "Dead Stop."
HOSHI: How do you rate doing the intro?
MALCOLM: Mister Tucker, the envelope, if you
would.
TRIP: And the Oscar for Best Performance by
the Deceased goes to...
PHLOX: It was a remarkable duplicate.
Pity it necrotized so quickly.
TRAVIS: This episode is my first death, so
the captain let me do the opener.
ARCHER: You're also the first official redshirt
of the series, and the first official recyclable ensign
of the timeline.
TRIP: You're a reg'lar Renaissance corpse,
Trav.
MALCOLM: A carcass of many talents.
PORTHOS: {barks}
T'POL: I have been studying Terran film critique
as a background for these analyses. I believe the appropriate
remark at this juncture is "Enough with the comments
from the peanut gallery."
HOSHI: Ouch!
TRIP: Mister Reed, Ah do believe we were just
insulted.
MALCOLM: Of course you realize this means war.
ARCHER: Yoikes! And away!
{Teaser. Pod flies over seriously damaged
edge of ship's hull.}
{"What's your guess?"
"...three or four months."}
ARCHER: Why so long?
TRIP: All the NCOs are union.
{"The subspace antenna's damaged."}
TRAVIS: Can't you just use a wire hanger and
some electrician's tape like Mom used to?
MALCOLM: What a clever fellow you are! Why
don't you ring up Gogmagog and ask if he's got a spare to
hand?
HOSHI: Doesn't the remote have a mute button
for those two?
T'POL: Only for the theme song, Ensign. Be
sure to engage it.
 {episode
begins. Sickbay.}
{"Push, Lieutenant!"}
TRIP: Congratulations! It's a Rarden cannon.
PHLOX: Thank goodness it wasn't breech.
{"He'll come out on his own... eventually."}
ARCHER: He did, didn't he?
MALCOLM: I'd rather not discuss it.
{ARCHER's quarters.}
{"Did you hear that?"}
PORTHOS: Two decks down. I'm surprised you heard
it. I didn't think humans' ears were that good.
T'POL: I was quite relieved when that disturbance
was repaired.
PORTHOS: Her, on the other hand...
{Bridge.}
{TELLARITE: "How may we be
of assistance?"}
PHLOX: That is not a Tellarite.
ARCHER: How do you know?
PHLOX: He didn't tell you to perform an anatomical
impossibility on yourself.
HOSHI: I always put on the FCC filter before
transmitting or receiving.
T'POL: A wise precaution.
{"We'd be grateful for any assistance
you could offer."}
TRIP: That and ten credits'll buy you a cuppa
coffee.
TRAVIS: The coffee wasn't bad, actually.
HOSHI: They ordered Tim Hortons. The production
assistants hogged all the donuts, though.
{"I'm detecting a liquid helium atmosphere.The
temperature's 270 degrees below zero."}
PHLOX: Then how did they keep their captives
alive? All those beings breathed approximately the same atmosphere
as our three species.
TRIP: Hey, this was written by Sussman and
Strong, not Bormanis.
 {Bridge
is scanned.}
TRAVIS {in Gizmo falsetto}: Bright light!
Bright light!
PHLOX: Marvelous effects in this sequence.
HOSHI: I think Dawson was a little embarrassed
by the way CGI came out in "Vox Sola," so she wanted
to make up for it.
MALCOLM: Why did the three top officers
of the ship go exploring on this thing, unarmed, without
a security detail?
ARCHER: Kirk didn't need to bring his
chief of security with him all the time.
MALCOLM: Kirk didn't have a regular
chief of security. Chekov didn't get promoted until Decker
took command.
TRAVIS: What a gorgeous set. You wouldn't think
white would be so creepy.
{The Big Three enter the station reception
area and study the diagnostic holo of the ship.}
HOSHI: Don't you think the computer's voice
sounds a lot like Dreadnought?
TRAVIS: I have to admit, if you're going to
have a computer whispering directly into your brain for the
rest of your life, it might as well be sexy.
{"If we agree to these terms, how long
will the repairs take?"}
TRIP: It's a contractor's estimate -- you can't
possibly take it seriously.
 HOSHI: Subcommander, isn't that belt uncomfortable
sitting so low on your hips?
T'POL: Wardrobe was quite insistent. Placing
it higher would compromise the empire waist of the catsuit.
ARCHER: If you'll pardon my saying so, isn't
it...illogical to design a uniform without pockets?
Or somewhere to hang a holster?
MALCOLM: I've complained about that myself.
PHLOX: The streamlined silhouette is much more
efficient. I predict Starfleet will adopt it for the next
generation
of their uniforms.
HOSHI: Not in my lifetime.
T'POL: Speak for yourself.
{Station's Mess Hall.}
{"I wonder what else is on the menu."}
PORTHOS: Cheese?
ARCHER: Pie.
TRIP: Definitely shoulda been pie.
HOSHI: I bet their oden wasn't as good as my
grandmother's.
{Sickbay.}
 PHLOX:
Having Mister Reed struggle to hold his leg aloft made no
sense. He should have been lying down so the muscles were
immobile.
MALCOLM: I was trying to get it to singe a
design into my leg hair.
{general snickering}
{Station Mess Hall.}
ARCHER: Hoshi, what were you and Travis laughing
about? You didn't have any official lines in this scene.
HOSHI: We were having a dirty joke competition.
TRIP: Jeez, Ah'm sorry Ah missed it.
{"A starship without a Tactical Officer?
I can't say I see the point."}
TRIP: There's this guy Daystrom you should
talk to about that.
MALCOLM: The chicken scallopini here was excellent.
HOSHI: Is that why you needed a dozen takes?
TRIP: No, that was because Ah kept stealing
from his plate. It really was good.
 {Station
corridor. MALCOLM boosts TRIP up into the ceiling.}
T'POL: Commander, it is highly improbable that
you were able to lift Lieutenant Reed off the floor and directly
into the duct with one hand.
MALCOLM: He didn't. I was standing on all
the subtext that had piled up.
{TRAVIS's quarters. TRAVIS is wearing Fruit
of the Blues boxer-briefs and a thoughtful expression.}
{general whistling, cheering, applause}
HOSHI: Rowr!
PORTHOS: {barks}
TRAVIS: Hey, when you look this good, you don't
need lines.
{Bridge.}
{"Evenin', Subcommander."}
ARCHER: Nice save.
TRIP: It's not every day a boy gets a chance
to whitewash an offense.
PHLOX: As Subcommander T'Pol's eyebrow goes
for the Emmy...
{Launch Bay One.}
{"Captain? Hello? Hello?"}
MALCOLM: A stunning soliloquy, Mister Mayweather.
TRAVIS: My next scene is much better. I had
a bet going with Porthos that I could play dead longer than
he could.
 TRIP:
Hey, the damage is in the shape of a heart!
ARCHER: Awww, Trav, the station had a crush
on you.
{Ready Room.}
{"You're both restricted to quarters
until further notice."}
ARCHER: Why do the writers do this to me? This
is the best punishment I can come up with? Grounding you
two?
TRIP: And sendin' us to bed without supper.
{"Did you notice anything interesting
when you were in there?"}
MALCOLM: Yes, their security system is much
better than ours.
{Launch Bay One.}
{"He's dead, Captain."}
PHLOX: I really tried, but it just doesn't have
the same ring, does it?
TRIP: Did you have a few mint juleps first?
PHLOX: I do have some Saurian brandy stashed
away, but I was on duty at the time.
{"It might be a good idea to check
his quarters as well."}
TRAVIS: Jeez, my corpse isn't even cold and
you're going through my stuff!
HOSHI: Anything we sell we don't have to ship
back to your mom.
{Station reception area.}
 TRIP:
Doesn't that gadget in the middle of the room remind you
of Nomad?
MALCOLM: Maybe if Nomad had a love-child by
the Romulan cloaking device.
TRIP {in robot voice}: "I am cloaked!
I am cloaked!"
{"I need to talk to a person."}
HOSHI: Dial zero twice. Usually gets you an
operator. Or at least a receptionist.
TRAVIS: Hey, have you ever called National
Discount Brokers to hear the duck quack?
{Sickbay.}
PHLOX: I watched several seasons of The
X-Files to prepare for this scene.
ARCHER: Well, Scully did a lot of autopsies
in the early years, but why not CSI?
PHLOX: You'll see in a moment.
{"He said that he brought some kind
of gelatinous life-form aboard."}
TRIP: Let's have a moment of silence to honor
the late great Mister Brando...
{TRAVIS's quarters.}
ARCHER: Is that model of the Phoenix
from First Contact?
TRAVIS: Probably. Props can be a pain in the
butt to make. Might as well reuse 'em.
ARCHER: I wonder if I can get it sent over to
my trailer.
PHLOX: It can't hurt to ask. Send a memo to
Herman Zimmerman.
{"Crewman Hayes says she passed him
on his way to the launch bay but they didn't speak."}
TRAVIS: Man, I don't even get lines in my off-hours.
T'POL: I was not aware that the Major had a
relative in Starfleet.
MALCOLM: Who do you think I've been using for
demonstration in my tae kwon do classes?
{Sickbay.}
{"This is not Ensign Mayweather."}
HOSHI: Ceci n'est pas une pipe, either.
ARCHER: Only art majors and museum curators
will get that one.
{"He came down with Rigellian fever."
"I inoculated the entire crew to prevent an outbreak."}
PHLOX: How fortunate that I happened to have
a large supply of ryetalyn, despite being hundreds of light-years
from Holberg 917-G.
MALCOLM: Hush! You'll wake the nitpickers.
ARCHER: Hoshi, did you want to try to read
the diagnostic displays?
HOSHI: Nah, it's all dummy text.
{"I believe that someone or something
has abducted Ensign Mayweather"}
PHLOX: You see? You're not going to get that
kind of background on a mere police show.
PORTHOS: Éí 'aaníígóó 'áhoot'é.
{Bridge.}
{"You and Trip managed to get pretty
far inside the station."}
TRIP: You can't prove that. It was all hints
and innuendo.
{Station reception area.}
 ARCHER:
You had a lot of fun with this scene, Trip.
TRIP: Talking a computer into a meltdown is
one of the great Star Trek traditions.
T'POL: Traditionally fulfilled by the captain.
ARCHER: Trip is much better at sweet-talking
women.
TRIP: Hey, say what you want about the Ice
Princess, but at least none of my lady friends have
turned out to be somethin' else after Ah got interested in
'em.
ARCHER: What's that supposed to mean?
TRAVIS: Sarin, the drayjin, Keyla, Raijin,
Bethany...
PORTHOS: Bitches, all of them. Don't worry about
it.
{Station primary data core room.}
HOSHI: It's like a Japanese cube hotel, only
with five times the living space.
MALCOLM: I thought this room was supposed to
be the size of the proverbial breadbox?
TRIP: Quiet! You'll wake the continuity editor.
ARCHER: A Klingon? What could he be running?
PHLOX: Given his cortical capacity...the doors.
 {ARCHER
yanks the tube out of TRAVIS's arm. Blood spurts everywhere.}
HOSHI: Wow, you didn't even flinch, Trav.
TRAVIS: As long as he didn't get the fake blood
into my mouth, I didn't care.
{Bridge.}
MALCOLM: We do make a good command team, don't
we?
TRIP: Half a loaf, my friend.
{"Our access codes have been scrambled."}
HOSHI: This was why I took those cryptography
courses.
ARCHER: No kidding!
PHLOX: Mister Mayweather, you would not have
been coordinated enough to walk out of the station immediately
after being disconnected from the computer.
TRAVIS: I know, but Dawson didn't want the
scene to drag on any longer than it had to.
{BOOM}
MALCOLM {sighs happily}: I love the
smell of --
TRIP: Don't say it.
{"And if Ah fired up the impulse engines
we'd probably tear off half the saucer section."}
ARCHER: T'Pol, you might want to make a note
of that.
T'POL: Sir, the saucer section is Counselor
Troi's problem. I have only consistently destroyed the starboard
nacelle.
{Sickbay.}
{"Essentially, the station was using
your brain to enhance its processing power."}
TRAVIS: They couldn't link up a bunch of G5s
or Sun stations like everyone else?
PHLOX: Just consider yourself an upgrade from
the Klingon.
ARCHER: I think that does it for our commentary
on "Dead Stop." Thanks for listening.
HOSHI: What's next?
TRAVIS: Can it be one where I don't end up
in Sickbay?
TRIP: Ah'll second that.
ARCHER: Well, that narrows it down. How about "Future
Tense"?
MALCOLM: That's a good one.
ARCHER: Well, that narrows it down. How about "Future
Tense"?
MALCOLM: That's a good one.
TRIP: Quit that! |
