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Archer
To T'Pol: A long and sincere apology.
To Trip: My water polo game tapes. He
really seemed into it at one point. Also my collection of
Del Stevens novels. (I swear, if you just finish the first
one, you'll be hooked!)
To Malcolm: My Scout badges. He's the
only one who'll appreciate them.
To Hoshi: Porthos. After me, he seems
to like her best. It's a Brie thing, I think.
To Travis: My ship model.
To Phlox: The assurance that I did indeed
take those matters we discussed to the grave with me.
To Soval: My statue of Zephram Cochrane,
with a motion-activated voice chip in it which plays my voice
saying "Neener neener neeeeeener!"
To Shran: The last two bottles of Tennessee
whiskey I have hidden, to pay him back for the Andorian ale.
T'Pol
To Captain Archer: Acceptance of his
apology after an appropriate length of time for him to feel
properly ashamed of himself.
To Commander Tucker: A long and sincere
apology.
To Lieutenant Reed: A sincere apology.
To Ensign Sato: A good calculus primer.
To Ensign Mayweather: A brief apology
that I never gave him reason to need a sincere apology from
me.
To Doctor Phlox: A moderately long and
sincere apology.
To Porthos: I direct that monies from
my estate be used to make certain that this canine is bathed
a minimum of once a week for the remainder of his life.
To Ambassador Soval: You were wrong.
Apologize.
Trip
To Captain Archer: Copies of the poems
Sim wrote in my personal logs.
To T'Pol: My terrycloth bathrobe -- poor
girl always looked so cold in those skimpy pajamas.
To Malcolm: An adoption certificate making
him an official member of the Tucker family. Now you don't
have to hate the holidays any more. Bring Madeline, too.
To Hoshi: The letters my Nonna sent
me when I was in high school -- not that they're all that
interesting,
but she spoke Sicilian with an Oklahoma drawl, which is practically
a dialect all by itself.
To Travis: My Xerox pin. He knows why.
To Doctor Phlox: My people have a saying...revenge
is a dish best served cold.
To Mike Rostov: Forget it, I'm having
that spanner cremated with me.
Malcolm
To Captain Archer: My vintage Scouting
manual. I suggest that rather than attending any memorial
service held on my behalf, he study it and determine how to
apply some of its principles to the remainder of his life.
Perhaps it will be more memorable than whatever manual he
skimmed to attain the badges he claimed to have earned.
To Subcommander T'Pol: An apology that
I ever said she had a nice bum. I was exceedingly inebriated
at the time.
To Trip: My weapons collection -- Lord
knows he needs to defend himself from harm more than anyone
I've ever known. He's also the only one I trust to keep everything
clean and in working order.
To Hoshi: A good poker manual.
To Travis: That drink I owe you? Go to
the White Stag pub in London, ask for Telly the bartender,
and tell her you're having a pint on me.
To Doctor Phlox: I suppose I should return
those emergency sedative hypos I kept in my quarters in case
we were boarded again.
Hoshi
To Captain Archer: A Morse code manual.
Don't ask why, just memorize it.
To Subcommander T'Pol: My hair clips,
as an incentive. I bet you'd look gorgeous with long hair.
To Commander Tucker: My Hawaiian shirts.
Because your closet isn't nearly loud enough.
To Lieutenant Reed: My aloe plant. It
really helps with the Lokek flare-ups.
To Travis: Have a big bowl of strawberry
jello, on me.
To Phlox: My copy of Cinema Paradiso.
To Liz: My Hawaiian skirts. You haven't
returned most of them anyway, so you may as well complete
the set.
Travis
To Captain Archer: My rutter. Yes, I
still keep one.
To Subcommander T'Pol: An apology for
toilet-papering you. I'm not going to tell you who else was
in the group, though.
To Trip: My rubber stamp.
To Lieutenant Reed: My sister's comm
code, so you can buy her the drink you owe me.
To Hoshi: The dictionary of slang I
picked up on Draylax, if you promise not to use it in mixed
company.
To Phlox: Maddie the lizard.
Phlox
To Captain Archer: Prescriptions for
lithium and Prozac, as necessary.
To Subommander T'Pol: A long and sincere
apology.
To Commander Tucker: A very long and
sincere apology, and a promise that my family will be at the
service of yours until the end of days.
To Lieutenant Reed: A supply of Mylanta.
To Ensign Sato: My collection of Denobulan
novels, so you can keep your accent sharp.
To Ensign Mayweather: Mention my name
at any Denobulan medical center and they will check that your
vocal chords are working, free of charge.
To Crewman Cutler: My medical texts,
for reference.
Porthos
To Alpha Male: Everything I don't leave
to anyone else, plus my undying love. If I'd sired puppies
I would have left you them too.
To Silent Female: My bed, so she won't
forget what I smelled like.
To Fixit Male: My Frisbees and my aerobie.
Please make sure Alpha Male gets out for a walk regularly.
To Guardian Male: A recording of my angriest
barking and snarling, which he's free to incorporate into
any alarm or early warning system.
To Talking Female: My collection of Oxford
literary magazines.
To Silent Male: The bell from my collar,
so people know when he's coming.
To Healer Male: I have considered your
request, but I must respectfully decline. Even in the interests
of science and medicine, the thought of any part of me ending
up in a potion gives me the willies.
To Healer Female: My Trivial Pursuit
games. Keep studying.
To Hunter Male: The name and comm code
of my ricotta source in Brooklyn.
Cutler
To Hoshi: My jewelry box, including my
gramma's dragonfly-in-amber brooch. Plus your skirts back.
To Phlox: My father's tisane recipes.
Guaranteed to work faster than aspirin, completely organic,
and completely animal-free.
To Porthos: My Scattergories game. Keep
working at it.
Rostov
To Commander Tucker: Just put the spanner
in my hands for a minute before the funeral. My spirit will
know I got to hold it once.
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