|
"Archer, Get Your Goat," by xeyes
Trip: ...But Cap'n, what's wrong with the
replicated stuff? Ah can't tell the difference.
Archer: You haven't had it on crackers, Trip. You only
eat it in grilled cheese sandwiches.
Trip: One of mankind's greatest inventions.
Archer: I can't argue with that. But some of us are
more choosy. You'll eat anything.
Trip: Yeah, but some of us don't get explosive
indigestion from half the stuff we eat.
Archer: Hey! That's not fair. Some stomachs are...
delicate.
Trip: And some stomachs are really spoiled. He eats
better than we do.
Archer: Well, he didn't sign up for this, but
he's here anyway, and I owe him. Anyway, as Captain, it's
my responsibility to take care of my crew, and take care of
them I will.
Trip: What are you going to tell Chef? "Chef,
here are some goats. You have to take care of them so Ah can
have fresh cheese for Porthos." He's gonna love
that.
Archer: He saw what happened last time I fed Porthos
replicated cheese. He'll understand.
Trip (low): If he doesn't poison your food first...
Archer: What?
Trip: Nothin', Cap'n.
 Trip:
Tucker reporting to the bridge, Cap'n. What's so urgent?
T'Pol: {raises one eyebrow} Mr. Tucker, although
your promptness is appreciated, a few more minutes' delay
for appropriate attire would have been acceptable.
Trip: Ah...uh...wasn't in my quarters, so it woulda
been more than a few minutes.
Everybody: {stares}
Trip: Don't go gettin' any ideas. Ah was in Cargo Bay
Two.
Malcolm (sotto voce): Oh, like telling us that
really helps.
Trip: Ah heard that, Mal. Ah was with the goats.
Malcolm: {crosses arms and leans back in chair --
this is going to be good}
Trip (sighs): Ah woke up a few hours ago and realized
that they were running around loose in there without a pen,
and that there was gonna be a huge mess unless Ah built them
one. And that Chef was gonna kill me if he stepped in any...
Archer: We get the picture, Trip. Good idea.
Trip: Thank you, sir. {makes face at Malcolm}
Archer: So, have you built the pen yet?
Trip: That's what Ah was going to do after Ah changed
into something more appropriate.
Malcolm: Such as...
Trip: My EV suit. When Ah got to Cargo Bay Two, Ah
realized Ah'd miscalculated the...
T'Pol: Productivity of the animals?
Trip: That, and the smell.
Archer: Ahem. Well, Mr. Tucker, get to it. Take two
HazMat crewmen with you.
Trip: Cap'n, why did you call me to the bridge anyway?
Archer: Well, Zobral contacted us to see if we liked
the goats, and to offer us more if they pleased us. Given
what you've just told us, I'm going to refuse the offer.
Everybody: Thank you, sir.
Trip: Dammit. Shoulda known that the
Cap'n's brilliant idea wouldn't work...they never do... and
now we're stuck with a buncha goats, and Porthos's cheese
problem is a lot worse.
Archer: Eurgh.
T'Pol, you have the bridge. I'll be right back.
Trip: Cap'n, are you OK?
Archer: I will be in a minute. I'm really second-guessing
the whole goat thing. {runs to ready room}
Trip: Yeah, we all are. First Porthos, now him...
Malcolm: Something will have to be done, Trip.
T'Pol: Indeed, Commander. Not only is Chef's goat cheese causing severe
digestive problems for the Captain and his dog, but the animals' smell is
more than my nasal inhibitors can handle.
Trip: Well, Mal, Ah guess you get to put your mutiny plan into action.
Malcolm: {rubs hands together gleefully} I've been waiting for this.
T'Pol: It might be more prudent to instead find a way to dispose of
the animals.
Malcolm (deflating): Damn. You're right, Sub-commander.
T'Pol: Lieutenant, I leave the project in your capable hands.
Trip: Let me know if you need anything. We've all got a stake in this.
Malcolm: All right, but it won't be nearly as much
fun as the alternative.
Travis: ...You know, the Captain's never
going to believe us.
Trip: Whaddya mean?
Travis: How exactly are we going to explain how his
goats ended up at the bottom of a pit?
Malcolm: That's a good question, actually.
Trip: And since it was your idea, you get to
go get them back.
Malcolm: Hey, Travis, you found the problem, you
get them back.
Travis: This is because you both outrank me, right?
Trip: Well, that, and it gets you three more minutes
of screen time.
Travis: Three more? I could make this take up
the whole episode.
Malcolm: Don't push it.
Trip: Mal, they're goats, not elephants.
Isn't that overkill?
Malcolm: Trip, when it comes to weaponry, there's no
such thing.
Trip: Anyway, can't we just give 'em to these nice
desert miners? They're used to the heat.
T'Pol: Commander, we are trying to win these people's
trust, not drive them screaming to the hills.
Trip: Good point.
Malcolm: And Sub-commander, you should also know this
will eliminate the smell once and for all.
T'Pol: Proceed, Lieutenant.
Trip: Well, Ah'm not gonna be the one hosin'
down the walls of Cargo Bay Two once you're done.
Phlox: Phlox
to Tucker.
Trip: Tucker here. What's up, Doc?
Phlox: Don't make me hurt you, Commander.
Trip: Sorry, Doc. Whatcha need? Ah've got T'Pol on the line too.
Phlox: I think that the goat problem may be moot after all. I have
reason to believe that the Captain may have finally realized that feeding
Porthos cheese isn't such a good idea. So there's no need for you to go to
any effort to dispose of them.
Trip: Um...well, it's a little late for that, Doc. Malcolm already
blasted 'em to smithereens in Cargo Bay 2.
T'Pol: ...Commander? Where did you say the goats were?
Trip: Cargo Bay 2. But they're all over the walls by now.
T'Pol: In that case, I believe that we will be hearing from the Captain
very soon.
Phlox: Is there a problem, Sub-commander?
T'Pol: I am speaking to you from the transporter area. One-point-five
minutes ago, I used the pad to transport the Captain as part of our deception
of the Triannons.
Trip: Yeah? So?
T'Pol: I had to transport him to...
Phlox: ...Cargo Bay Two. Oh dear.
Trip: Oh, no. The Cap'n's going to be...
Archer>>AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!
What the HELL happened to my goats?
Phlox: Interesting. I didn't know that humans would go to the trouble
of typing out a scream.
T'Pol: He didn't. Our transcription
program is very good.
Phlox: Indeed.
Trip: Well, at least the damn goats are gone. And Mal got to blow
something up.
Phlox: From the sound of things, that's not all that blew up.
T'Pol: I believe it would be appropriate to say that we got his goat.
Phlox: Don't make me hurt you, Sub-commander.
(xeyes)
"In The Air Tonight," by xeyes
 Trip:
Chief Engineer's log, um...whenever this is. Yet another away
mission has gone horribly wrong, and Ah'm stuck on this rock
with an alien who makes Ah'Len look like a Neutrogena model.
Fortunately, due to my enormous supply of charisma, Ah've
managed to not only repair Shuttlepod One using winning smiles,
puppy-dog eyes, artful sweat, and this USB SuperDrive, but
Ah didn't get killed by Eczema Boy. Or knocked up. Feelin'
good. Oh yeah, Ah'm too sexy for my shirt... too sexy for
my shirt... so sexy, it hurts... ba dum, ba dum, ba dum dum...
T'Pol (over MacGyvered transceiver): Commander? Commander Tucker?
Please respond.
Trip (singing): "Hey, if you like my body, and
you think Ah'm sexy, come on, sugar, let me know...ba dumpa,
dumpa, dumpa..."
T'Pol: {closes comm link} Captain, is rescuing the Commander
absolutely essential?
Archer: I'm afraid so. Phlox needs him for an experiment.
Malcolm: If I may ask, sir, what sort of experiment?
Archer: Charisma
graft. The sample from Viggo Mortensen didn't keep, and Phlox thinks
that Trip should be able to spare some of his. If this works, Travis gets
more lines, and we might have a marketing miracle on our hands.
T'Pol: Will it shut the Commander up?
Archer: Well, he'll be in Sickbay for a while, as Phlox hasn't
figured out just what parts need to be removed. Tell you what, T'Pol,
we can put
that geeky headband from "Marauders" back on him to prolong
his embarrassment. That should do the trick.
T'Pol: That would be acceptable. {opens comm link} Commander,
prepare for transport to Sickbay.
Trip: Sickbay? Ah'm feeling fine... well, a little
thirsty, but Ah'm okay.
Travis (sotto voce): Not if I have anything to say about it.
Malcolm: ...which doesn't seem likely.
Hoshi: Ouch.
 Shran: You're
telling me...
Pinkskin: I'm sorry, Mr. Shran, but the records are quite clear. There's
nothing I can do.
Shran: That's not possible. We're much more advanced than the pinkskins,
but they've patented the charisma-graft technique before us?
Pinkskin: Well, they had Viggo Mortensen first, and now they're working
with Commander Tucker.
Shran: Damn. I forgot about that. We're stuck, aren't we?
Pinkskin: Sure looks that way. But I'm sure that we can swing a few
free samples...
Shran: Shut up.
 Archer: Phlox,
are you sure this is really necessary?
Phlox: It won't last long, Captain. Testing is a vital part of the
research process.
Archer: But are the ropes? And the Pyrithian bat...ugh.
Phlox: Sorry about that. She became...unusually excited.
It appears the charisma material works across species.
Archer: The quartermaster's going to kill me. Well, let's get this
over with.
Phlox: To answer your earlier question, the ropes are needed to control your physical
reactions during the testing.
Archer: How come? Wait...I'm not the one receiving the graft, am I?
Phlox: Of course not, Captain. I couldn't take the risk. It's bad
enough having Commander Tucker out of commission. I can't have both of you
in Sickbay at the same time.
Archer: Well...hang on...so if I'm not the one getting the graft,
why am I locked up and tied up in Decon?
Phlox: Captain, may I introduce Mr. Barclay? He received the
graft. I'm assuming that as long as he doesn't start turning into a spider
again, the FDA will okay the project.
Archer: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!
Phlox: {exiting Decon and locking the door} Did you get that,
Sub-commander?
T'Pol: Yes, Doctor. The transcription
program is consistently excellent.
Trip: That'll teach him to make me talk to aliens in my bathrobe.
T'Pol: Commander, your personal revenge has nothing to do with this.
Trip: T'Pol, Ah'm having a moment here. Don't ruin it. {All three
look through the Decon viewscreen.}
Phlox: Fascinating. I didn't know that was possible.
Trip: Hey, at least we know that the stuff works.
T'Pol: Most certainly.
 Malcolm: Captain,
this is it. The ultimate "Enterprise" collectible. They're rolling
off of the assembly lines as we speak.
Archer: Excellent, Malcolm. It's a lucky break that Phlox was able to
create an aerosol version of the charisma... it's a lot easier to sell this
way.
Malcolm: Especially since surgery isn't required.
Archer: The bottle is...unusual. Looks like an environmental filter
or something.
Malcolm: The marketers at Paramount insisted on something which would "harmonize" with
the DVD packaging.
Archer: Let me guess...it costs a fortune, too.
Malcolm: According to the marketers, people will pay a pretty penny
for "Eau de Tucker."
Archer: And that's the best name they could come up with?
Malcolm: I'm afraid so, sir. The runner-up was "Essence of the
Male."
Archer: Well, I guess spitting stuff out of your mouth at high velocity
does count as aerosol, in a way...
 Archer: Lieutenant,
how much longer is this going to take?
Malcolm: I've got all of my people on it, Captain, and most of Mr.
Tucker's. Doctor Phlox is on his way. Don't worry, sir, we'll find it as
soon as possible.
Phlox: Captain, Lieutenant. How did this happen?
Archer: Doctor, as you remember, the packaging for "Eau de Tucker" is
very realistic.
Phlox: Yes, Captain. It looks just like an environmental systems filter.
Malcolm: Yes, Doctor. Very much so. So much so, it seems, that Mr.
Tucker could not tell the difference...
Phlox: Oh, no. He didn't...
Archer: I'm afraid so, Doctor. Malcolm and his people are looking
for the unit now, so we can get it out of the ship's main air supply as soon
as possible. Still, we're going to have to stop this stuff from spreading,
before things get out of hand.
Malcolm: I've locked Trip in his quarters, with the Captain's permission.
He was muttering something about somebody named "Xander," a spell,
and "they're all out to get me." Seemed the best idea.
Archer: Is he going to be okay?
Malcolm: I hope so. I offered him a cigarette, but he told me he doesn't
smoke. Something in his past, it seems. He was very adamant about it.
Phlox: Neither do I. It's very bad for you, Lieutenant.
Malcolm: I don't smoke them, Doctor. They were a souvenir from
Risa.
Archer: Phlox, can you come up with an antidote?
Phlox: Captain, it wouldn't hurt to let things...develop for a short
while, would it? I'd love to write a paper about this for the IME journal.
Archer: Sorry, Phlox, I can't allow, that. After "Singularity," we
can't justify any more "Naked Time" episodes. Anyway, we have to
hush this up before the distributors get wind of it.
Malcolm: Actually, sir, this might be the best publicity possible. "As
used by the crew of Enterprise" and all that. "If we can't
resist it, neither can you."
Phlox: How about, "If you don't smell good, we don't look good"?
Malcolm: Um...it's been done, I think. Anyway, we've got proof that
the stuff works.
Archer: Good point, Lieutenant. Let's find that bottle anyway, but
Phlox, don't worry about the antidote just yet. You'll have your paper. {walks
to comm} Archer to Ensign Sato.
Hoshi: Sato here, sir.
Archer: Hoshi, can you get Liz to fire up the popcorn machine again?
I'll bring the ginger ale.
Archer:...and
so, we thought that it was just the sort of publicity we needed to kick
off "Eau de Tucker."
Marketing Exec: You know, you should really let my people make the
calls on these things.
Archer: Of course. Sorry. Still, my doctor and first officer here
can testify to the...
T'Pol: Effectiveness of the substance.
Phlox: Absolutely. My colleagues at the IME are very enthusiastic
about the prospect of further testing.
Marketing Exec: Are you testing it on animals? We can't have that.
Phlox: No, not at all. Humans only. So far, the Captain, Barclay,
and most of the ship apart from Commander Tucker, who is recovering nicely.
Marketing Exec: Tell you what. I'll let your people handle the development
of a version of the scent targeted at women.
Archer: But it works on both men and women. Right, Phlox?
Phlox: Correct, Captain.
Marketing Exec: Well, put it in a different container, and it's "Eau
de Tucker, for Women."
T'Pol: Highly illogical.
Marketing Exec: But lucrative. I'll let you develop the packaging.
Archer: And I know just the person to head this project...
 Trip: Chief
Engineer's log, no idea when. It's been a long week. Ah'm still beat up
from being on that rock with Iguana Boy, and...well, let's say that after
this past Thursday, Ah'm never touching cologne again. Never. Well, except
that now the Cap'n wants me to come up with "female-friendly packaging" for
this stuff. You shoulda heard Mal sniggering when Cap'n popped that one
on me. And Ah have never seen T'Pol's eyebrow go up that high...that Vulcan
sense of humor is damn annoying. Plus, it's kinda weird having some part
of you extracted, duplicated, and put into little bottles. Anyway, this
prototype is just about ready, and then Ah'm done. Kinda wish Hess would
tell me what she finds so damn funny about it. It's just a test tube. Nothin'
special. Ah'm an engineer, not a designer. Anyway, she says it's just the
thing so Ah will have to take her word for it. At least nobody's figured
out where Ah hid that godawful headband yet. One thing's for sure though...somehow,
someway, whatever's gonna go wrong with this, it's inevitably gonna be
my fault.
 Head
Marketing Executive: Ah, Captain, Ensign. Please, have a seat.
Archer: {sits} Thanks for meeting with us.
Travis: {looks around} Um...
Head Marketing Executive: My pleasure. We have received the prototype
for the packaging.
Archer: What did you think?
Head Marketing Executive: It's good to go. We're going to make a lot
of money from this, Captain.
Archer: What are the prospects for our ratings?
Head Marketing Executive: Well, we can't promise you anything, but
things are looking great right now.
Archer: Thank goodness. Let's hope that all of this will be worth
it.
Head Marketing Executive: There's just one more bit of testing we
want to do.
Archer: Really?
Head Marketing Executive: Yes. This has been tested exclusively on
humans, yes?
Archer: As far as I'm aware, yes. And Phlox's bat likes it.
Head Marketing Executive: We'd like to test it on non-humans. Increases
the distribution potential.
Archer: Makes sense.
Head Marketing Executive: As it happens, I have a...captive pool of
volunteers here. Not much diversity, but at least we'll know if it's a humans-only
thing.
Archer: My doctor has a wide range of alien animals in our Sickbay...I
can ask him to see what he can do with them.
Head Marketing Executive: Oh no, we can't do "animal testing."
Archer: Um, what about if we managed to accidentally drop a five-liter
bottle of the stuff near the air circulation system of the Orion slave processing
center on Verex III?
Head Marketing Executive: Sounds good. We'll be in touch.
 Archer: Phlox?
Are you all right?
Phlox (frantic): Captain, that testing you've asked me to do...
Archer: Yes, for "Eau de Tucker." How's it going?
Phlox: Depends how you look at it...
Archer: Phlox, what's going on?
Phlox: I can report that the substance is effective on multiple species.
Very effective. Very, very effective.
Archer: ...This is good, right?
Phlox: In that we'll be able to sell it to every inhabited planet
in the galaxy, yes...
Archer:...but?...
Phlox: Captain, I hope that none of your crew plans on getting anything
more than a hangnail any time soon, as Sickbay is in no condition to be used.
Archer: Oh.
Phlox: And I have absolutely no idea what I will find when I can go
back in again.
Archer: I'm sorry, Phlox. Perhaps we can pipe in something to stun
them?
Phlox: That might just work.
Archer: Great. I'll call Trip.
Phlox: Captain, having Commander Tucker down here might not be the
best idea at the moment.
Archer: I'd forgotten. Of course. I'll do it myself.
Phlox: Thank you, Captain. Remember, it's for the ratings.
Archer: Yes, Doctor. Anything for the ratings. Although I'm not sure
if this will be enough.
Phlox: {with creepy grin} Optimism, Captain!
(xeyes)
"Ev'ry Guy's Crazy 'Bout a Sharp-Dressed
Officer," by xeyes
 Travis: Sir,
we can't run forever.
Malcolm: We can bloody well try, can't we?
Travis: We're going to run out of food and air eventually.
Malcolm: Death would be a preferable fate to...to this.
Travis: People have survived this before. We will too. I'm sure the
captain knows what he's doing.
Malcolm: Speak for yourself. You look good in everything.
Travis: Yes. Yes, I do.
Malcolm: And you saw what they did to the Red Sox. We're doomed.
Travis: Remember, Malcolm, we're just doing this "Queer Eye" appearance
to boost our ratings.
Malcolm: The ratings...
Travis: Anything for the ratings, right?
Malcolm: You're right. The ratings. Back to the pod, then. We'll manage
somehow.
Travis: That's the spirit.
 First
Suliban: Well, the humans may not be glad to see the "Queer Eye" guys,
but we are. Do you know how hard it is to come up with new biometric costume
ideas? And I don't care what they say, but I don't think that fuschia is
really our color. Just because it works on their Vulcan doesn't mean all nonhumans
can wear it.
Second Suliban: I mean, how can anybody take us seriously when we
look like orchids?
Third Suliban: And the color really brings out our blemishes. With
skin like this, you have to be careful of these things.
First Suliban: This can't help but be a good thing. Don't you think,
guys?
Second Suliban: Oh, yes. Mmm-hmm.
Third Suliban: Absolutely.
 Archer: Captain's
Log, who knows when. I'm starting to think that perhaps being on "Queer
Eye" might have not been one of my better ideas. This thing's hot. And
not in a good way. They made Porthos give up his favorite cushion for some
Indian-embroidered silky thing. Said it would liven up the place. He just
slides right off of it. No butt
traction at all. Somehow, they think that I'm supposed to wear a lot
of leather jackets and jeans...don't know where they got that idea. Something
about "Ziggy." And I don't know what they've got against
my Zephram Cochrane statue. I think it looks heroic on my shelf. T'Pol's
catsuits have been replaced with Prada. Actually I can't complain about that
-- people are starting to get work done on the Bridge again, and T'Pol's
a lot more alert now that she's getting oxygen to her brain regularly. But
Hoshi's locked herself in quarters until her hair grows out. And I think
Malcolm and Trip went AWOL in Shuttlepod One. They've taken this pretty hard.
At least Travis looks good in Armani...but he'd probably look good in anything.
Now I have to figure out a way to explain to Admiral Forrest that this is
in no way my fault. Or Trip's. That's always his first question now.
 Malcolm: I told Travis
that we were going to die.
Trip: Mal, we're not dead yet. Hang in there. We're gonna make it.
Malcolm: They...were so... mean... {sniffle}
Trip: It's okay. You couldn't have known. Neither of us could.
Malcolm: It's only because we lost our best stuff on Risa. They
didn't have the complete picture.
Trip: Ah still miss that suit. 1980s vintage, cost me a fortune. And
the shirt.
Malcolm (sotto voce): You're the only one who does.
Trip: For what it's worth, Mal, Ah think you have good taste
in your civvies. Maybe a little monochromatic, all those blues and greys,
but they go with your eyes.
Malcolm: Thanks. I think.
Trip: Don't mention it.
Malcolm: Believe me, I shan't. As your friend, though, I have to admit,
I can't say the same about those shirts of yours.
Where do you find those monstrosities, anyway?
Trip: Mal, can Ah borrow your phase pistol for a sec?
Malcolm: That depends. Why?
Trip: You insulted my shirts. You're goin' down.
 Phlox: Lieutenant,
I really don't understand why you're so upset.
Malcolm: First, the Captain invites this set of flaming --
Phlox: Mister Reed --
Malcolm: -- idiots onto a working starship to judge the "fashion
fitness" of the bridge crew. Then, they take away all of my nice blue
and grey things and put me in...
Phlox: It's all right, Lieutenant. Please put down the phase pistol.
Malcolm: And then, when Trip and I escaped, he called my things "monochromatic." Trip,
who has possibly the worst taste in shirts in Starfleet. Then he has
the untimigated gall to get offended when I bring up those shirts.
I can't take this any more.
Phlox: They didn't do anything to me. Apparently Denobulans have innate
good taste.
Malcolm: I think you're the only one who hasn't been completely made
over. They even threw out all of my lip gloss.
Phlox: No! They didn't!
Malcolm: They did. Apparently, I'm not a pink type. They say I should
wear burgundies instead. Something about being an "autumn." The
nerve. The sheer cheek!
Phlox: Absolutely, Lieutenant.
Malcolm: Thank you. I'm obviously a winter. I'm supposed to
wear pink.
Phlox: I thought everybody knew that.
Malcolm: I barely escaped the coloring, highlighting, and trim. Oh,
the humanity...
Phlox: Perhaps I should get a hypospray.
Malcolm: Doctor, I don't need a sedative. I need to get to the source
of this problem and fix it. Look what it's done to this crew...to me.
Phlox: Well, you have a point, there, Lieutenant. Let me know if I
can help.
Malcolm: No worries, Doctor. I finally get to use my mutiny plan...
Phlox: Ah, Lieutenant? The gentlemen from "Queer Eye" aren't
Starfleet...how can you mutiny against them?
Malcolm: {looks at Phlox with evil grin}
Phlox: Oh...
 Trip: ...AND
THIS WAS THE BEST YOU COULD DO? KHAKI? YOU'RE A BUNCHA...
Archer: They're gone, Trip. They can't hear us any more.
Trip: Why us? Why abandon us down here?
Archer: Malcolm said that it was because I invited the "Queer
Eye" guys here.
Trip: And why me?
Archer: Something about your shirts posing a threat to the crew's
health.
Trip: Ah knew Phlox had something to do with this.
Archer: Maybe they'll come back for us. After all, if the ratings
weren't going anywhere before, things can only get worse without the two
of us.
Trip: Did you see how healthy T'Pol looked in her Prada? And Travis
looks good in anything.
Archer: Good point. Maybe not.
Trip: So, what do we do now, Cap'n? Sit around and wait for 'em to
come back?
Archer: You know, I'm not sure what's worse...having my crew mutiny,
or having to explain all of this to Forrest once it's all sorted out.
Trip (sadly): My shirts...
Archer: Trip, I'm sorry.
Trip: Do you know how long it took me to build up that collection?
And they're all gone...
Archer: When we get back, I'll make finding that shirt-stuffed torpedo
casing my first priority.
Trip: Thanks, Cap'n. It means a lot. Ah hate khaki.
Archer: I know.
(xeyes)
The Script
Doctors part 1
The Script
Doctors part 2
The Script
Doctors part 3
The
Script Doctors, Classic Trek
The
Script Doctors, Voyager
The Script
Doctors, Battlestar Galactica 2K |
