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May 23 2024


An archive of Star Trek News

Vox Sola

By Colin 'Zeke' Hayman
Posted at May 28, 2002 - 9:55 PM GMT

See Also: 'Vox Sola' Episode Guide

Captainís Starlog: The Kreetassans have left in disgust forty minutes after first contact. Since this is a new record for us, Iíve given the crew the day off.

Sato: Iím depressed about failing to understand the aliensí language. Somebody cheer me up.
Mayweather: Okay!
TíPol: Donít worry, Travis, Iíll handle this. Ensign Sato, I just want you to know that even though youíre an utter failure, my opinion of you hasnít changed.
Sato: Youíve always felt that Iím an utter failure.
TíPol: And that opinion hasnít changed.

Tucker: Hey, TíPol. Whereís the captain?
TíPol: Off sulking in his ready room. Not that the ďbrooding man of mysteryĒ thing doesnít work for him -- it does, a lot.
Tucker: Did you just lick your lips?
TíPol: Youíre seeing things.

Archer: Go away, Trip.
Tucker: Look, would it make you feel better if I told you TíPol was coming on to you? And that it makes me jealous, and I may cry?
Archer: Thereís only one thing thatíll make me happy. I think you know what it is.
Tucker: Oh no. Not --
Archer: Water polo.

Sato: Did anyone else just hear a blood-curdling scream of despair?
TíPol: Youíre hearing things.
Porthos: (over the comm) Ruff! RUFF!
Mayweather: Whatís that, boy? Youíre hearing things?
TíPol: Ignore the dog.
Mayweather: All r--
TíPol: I was talking to Porthos.

Rostov: The environmental systemís completely shot -- itís not just Engineering, itís the entire deck.
Kelly: Youíd better go investigate.
Rostov: Right. When Iím not back in ten minutes, send out a search party.
Kelly: A one-person search party?
Rostov: Thatís the spirit.

Mayweather: This movieíll have lots of explosions, I promise.
Reed: Yeah, but what are promises worth? Take that author guy: he promised at least one new fiver per day, and what came of it?
Mayweather: I think heís aiming to average one a day.
Reed: Optimist. Oh look, Phlox is on the screen.
Mayweather: What? Hey, this is supposed to be that movie with the explosions! You know, Citizen Kane!
Phlox: (over the comm) Iíve got stuff here I can blow up.
Mayweather: Youíre not helping.

Rostov: Investigating, investigating, la la la la la....
Alien Blob: If this gets any worse, Iím eating him.
Rostov: This is the song that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends....
Blob: Gyaa! I meant a little worse!

Tucker: I canít believe youíre making us watch this.
Archer: Have you got some kind of problem with a pool full of scantily-clad men?
Tucker: Add two letters to that sentence, and no. As it is, please, please kill me.
Archer: After polo.

Kelly: Paul? Paul?
Blob: I donít get the reference... better eat her too.

Archer: I donít think you were watching that last part. Iíll rewind and slo-mo it for you.
Kelly: (over the comm) AAAAA! Please, somebody save me!
Tucker: Welcome to my world, Crewman.

Blob: Iím getting hungry again.
Archer: Rostov! Kelly! Donít worry, Iím here now with redshirts!
Blob: You know, the timing on this ship is really good.

TíPol: Okay, this meeting will now come to order.
Mayweather: Does that mean no more paper airplane throwing?
TíPol: No, it just means throw them at Reed instead of me. Anyway, point one: the blob has Archer, Tucker, Bruce Campbell, and five valuable uniforms. Any ideas, gentlemen?
Sato: We could try communicating with it.
TíPol: Good idea. Next we could try communicating with the Crystalline Entity, then the Horta, then the bulkheads, and one day perhaps even Mr. Tucker.
Sato: All right, all right. You donít have to be sarcastic.
TíPol: How little you understand the Vulcan mind. Now does anyone have a good idea?
Reed: I do. First we evacuate the ship, right? Then we get to a safe distance and start throwing these really big rocks made of laser beams --
TíPol: Mr. Mayweather, if you would, please.
Reed: Ow! OW! That hurts! Stop it!
Mayweather: Mental note: the first test of the Extra-Sharp Paper Boeing NX-01 fleet has been a success.

Phlox: (over the comm) Phlox to senior staff. Please activate your screen on the Emergency Medical Holographic Channel.
TíPol: Youíre aware that youíre not trapped in Sickbay, right?
Phlox: Iím sure my programmer will find your theories fascinating, but for now, letís stick to procedure. Iím about to begin the alien autopsy.
TíPol: Then why are you wearing a containment suit? Aliens are safe.
Phlox: TíPol....
TíPol: Hey, just trying to run the ship the way Captain Archer would want me to.

Mayweather: Looks like an earthworm. Iím afraid.
Sato: Could be worse. Could be a bunny.
Phlox: (over the comm) Iím beginning the scan... oh my. This is no earthworm, Jim. The blob may well be sentient.
Reed: That means we can kill it, right?
TíPol: Donít make me sic Travis on you again.

Sato: So what do we do? Communicate, obliterate, or capitulate?
TíPol: You forgot ďdilapidate.Ē Anyway, my orders are to (a) shoot it and (b) shoot it.
Mayweather: What if that doesnít work?
TíPol: Then we try shooting it.

Archer: Everybody okay?
Rostov: Zabel and Kelly are unconscious.
Archer: We have a security guard named Zabel? With a Z and everything? Iím giving that guy a raise.
Rostov: Odd... I just heard Tucker thinking ďWhat a doofus.Ē
Tucker: Thatís not odd -- I think it at least six times a day.
Rostov: Youíre missing the point. I think our minds have been ďAttachedĒ in some way.
Archer: You mean someone or something has mentally ďAttachedĒ us?
Rostov: Okay, now heís thinking ďThe parallel is obvious enough without your help, people.Ē

Reed: Die, you mutant blobby freak! DIE!
Phlox: (over the comm) Oh no. Call off your men, Reed! Youíre hurting Archer and the others!
Reed: But Iím hurting the alien too, right?
Phlox: Yes, but --
Reed: So if I keep firing, it dies, right?
Phlox: Yes, but --
Reed: Die, blob! DIEDIEDIEDIE-- ow.
Phlox: Whew. Good thing TíPol sent Travis just in case.

TíPol: Okay, force isnít working. That leaves us eighteen other options.
Sato: Is communication one of them?
TíPol: Yes. Get to work, failure.
Mayweather: What about --
TíPol: The others are all force.
Mayweather: Ah.

Reed: Where am I?
TíPol: In sickbay, recovering from plane-related injuries. Weíll let you go, but you have to promise not to go berserk again.
Reed: What, never?
TíPol: No, never.
Reed: What, never?
TíPol: Well, hardly ever.
Reed: All right, I promise. I guess I can just invent the force field or something.
TíPol: Thank you, Lieutenant. Phlox, you can release the force field now.
Phlox: Okay, but I think thereís something a little odd about this....
TíPol: Youíre thinking things.

Tucker: AAAAA! Captain, for the love of God, PLEASE stop thinking about water polo!
Archer: Why? Itís not like you can hear my thoughts or something.
Rostov: Wow, heís really losing it.
Archer: He needs to follow my good example. Here I am, stuck in the belly of some giant alien gumwad, and yet Iíve remained a model of decorum and tranquility the whole time. And you know why?
Rostov: Why?
Archer: íCause Iíve got faith of the heart, baby.

Mayweather: Aha! Iíve found the Kreetassan ship.
TíPol: Youíre finding things.
Mayweather: No, seriously, itís them. I can tell by the bumper sticker that says ďGO AWAY.Ē
TíPol: You can read their bumper sticker? Wow, youíre doing better than Hoshi already.
Sato: Shut up! It takes a lot of very difficult work to --
TíPol: Difficult, eh? Sounds like fun. Iíll help.
Sato: Travis, if youíve ever cared about me, throw one of those planes at her.

Reed: Mind if I borrow your blobsicle? Iíd like to give it a lot of small electric shocks.
Phlox: I refuse.
Reed: Awwwww. Why?
Phlox: Havenít you seen ďThe AlternateĒ? Using shock therapy on a nascent amorphous lifeform will result in its biting you in the @$$ down the line.
Reed: Someday youíll have to show me how to do that talking-in-punctuation thing.

TíPol: Any luck?
Sato: No. Again. Next time, leave more than five minutes before asking.
TíPol: Sorry, I guess Iím pressuring you. Would you prefer this to be a touching scene of reconciliation between us?
Sato: To be honest, yeah, I would.
TíPol: Then I guess it sucks to be you.

Kreetassan Captain: You have offended us, mate-eaters! We demand satisfaction!
Mayweather: Sorry, you canít get none here. Say... donít I know you?
Captain: Of course not.
Mayweather: You look familiar, thatís all. Moving right along... where does the blob come from?
Captain: First, apologize immediately for eating in front of us!
Mayweather: You object to public eating?
Captain: Itís not so much that as what you were eating. I mean, what on earth was in that --
Mayweather: Never mind. I apologize for your mistake, and I offer a technological advancement in exchange for Blobobiaís location.
Captain: Intriguing. What do you offer?
Mayweather: Iíll explain. First, take a sheet of A4-size paper and a thin duranium razor blade....

Reed: Force fieldís ready, TíPol. Stay tuned for next week when I invent the lightsaber.
TíPol: Well done. Ready to translate, Ensign?
Sato: More or less. Iím still getting ďyesĒ and ďnoĒ confused.
TíPol: Iím not explaining it again -- one beep is yes, two beeps is no. Now letís talk to the blob.
Blob: Oh, so theyíre gonna do the translating thing. Iíll give íem a good show. (ahem) KROONY FOOGA!
TíPol: What did it say?
Sato: ďI will eat you and drink your bloodĒ... or possibly vice versa.
TíPol: Tell it itís willing things.
Sato: No.
Reed: I get the feeling this is going to take a while.

Captainís Starlog: After TíPol and Hoshi FINALLY got a good chat going with the blob, it released me, and Iíve resumed command. Oh yeah, it released other people too.

Mayweather: I still think we should call this planet Blobobia.
Archer: Youíve already got one reprimand for giving the Kreetassans paper-airplane technology; are you shooting for two? Now letís just unpack the blob and let it rejoin the Great Link.
Blob: Hey, thanks, guys. I can get back to plotting the destruction of all life now.
Archer: What did it say?
Sato: It wishes us all the best.
TíPol: Blob, youíre --
Blob: Wishing things. I know, I know.
(Enterprise heads off at Ludicrous Speed)


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Find more episode info in the Episode Guide.

Colin 'Zeke' Hayman has been parodying Trek for over a year now at his website, Five-Minute Voyager, where ST episodes are reduced to "fivers" of one-twelfth their original length. He could probably eat The Blob before it ate him.

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