Reed: What's wrong?
Archer: I'll tell you what's wrong! I was in my shower, and guess what happened?
Archer: Rain! Water started pouring from the ceiling inside the ship! How do you explain that? Huh?
Phlox: You should try different foods.
T'Pol: Hey, this catsuit is tight enough as it is.
Archer: We should take the ship out of w--say, why are you holding up four fingers?
Tucker: Just keeping track of something....
Crewman 1: My console's about to--AAAAAAAA!
Crewman 2: Oh my God, he's dead!
Tucker: There, that's five. We can drop out of warp now.
Archer: Reed, fire two aft torpedoes. No particular reason.
Xyrillians: (over the comm) AAAA! Don't shoot! We're so pathetic we can't even fix our own engines!
Archer: "Xyrillians"? Holy cow! That is absolutely the coolest alien name there will ever be!
Xyrillians: Were you listening? We said "we can't even fix--"
Archer: I mean, an X! An X right at the start! You guys are my heroes!
Archer: So anyway, we agreed to have you fix their engines in exchange for a big bag of nothing.
Tucker: Sounds fair. Will I need any special supplies?
T'Pol: They mentioned something about looking for things to make them go.
Trena'L: Welcome to the Ship of Confusion. Here, meet our only important character.
Ah'Len: Please note my T'Pol-style catsuit.
Tucker: Noted. Now let me just remember that first contact speech I'm supposed to make....oh yeah. (ahem) Greetings, little worms. I have come to discuss the details of your surrender!
Trena'L and Ah'Len: Ummm....
Tucker: Oops! Wrong speech. Pretend you didn't hear that.
Ah'Len: Here's our engine room.
Tucker: This is a fish tank with eels in it.
Ah'Len: Why, so it is. Maybe that's why we've had so much trouble with repairs.
Tucker: I don't feel so good, Captain. Everything looks--
Archer: Don't say it--
Archer: I'm warning you--
Archer: That does it. You've crossed the line. No dessert ever again!
Ah'Len: Have some jello, since we can't make water.
Tucker: That's not even worth making fun of. Let's develop some romantic tension instead.
Ah'Len: Sure -- but first you must answer a skill-testing question. What's the square root of 961?
Ah'Len: You pass.
Ah'Len: Check this out -- we have a room that creates holographic environments.
Tucker: Wow! Not even the Vulcans have technology this awe-inspiring and error-prone.
T'Pol: (over the comm) Oh, like we'd tell you if we did.
Ah'Len: Let's stick our hands in a telepathic box!
Tucker: I'm so nervous. This is my first time...what if I don't measure up? And what about the risks? Should we wear gloves?
Ah'Len: No no, that would lessen the experience. And let's not worry about...accidents. What are the odds?
Tucker: Well, I had fun, but it cost me all my desserts for the rest of my life.
Mayweather: Just desserts? You got off easy.
Tucker: ...and they also had this holodeck thing.
Reed: If you're not going to talk about weapons, don't talk to me.
Tucker: No no, I am. Just give your enemies a holodeck and they'll be too busy simulating Jolene Blalock to fight back.
Phlox: There's no easy way to say this: HA HA! You're pregnant! In your face! Loooooser!
Tucker: That looked pretty easy to me.
Phlox: Oh, it was.
Archer: He's pregnant? HA HA! In his--
Phlox: I got the gloating done already, sir.
Tucker: You can both shut up.
T'Pol: You know, you're an amazing person, Trip. Every single time I think the human race can't get any more pathetic, you manage to raise the bar.
Tucker: Never mind, guys -- you can talk again. See if you can drown out T'Pol.
Tucker: Hmmm...how can I make sure these random crewmen don't find out I'm pregnant?
Random Crewman: You could try not thinking out loud.
Tucker: Yeah, good idea.
Archer: How's the pregnancy coming?
Tucker: Not bad. I've been reading this male-pregnancy book Phlox loaned me: What To Expect When You're Expecting, Sucker. Which reminds me, I'm planning to kill Phlox. Want in?
T'Pol: We found the Klingons, sir.
Archer: We were looking for the Xyrillians, not the Klingons!
T'Pol: Oh, we found them too. I just didn't feel like telling you.
Archer: Hoshi, you speak Klingon. Say something diplomatic to them.
Sato: Okay. (ahem) Gkewsner sdpofw ekfis. aerFir skiu nerruspd kra!
Archer: What the--? They're firing at us! What did you say to them?
Sato: Just the standard first contact message. You know, "Greetings, little worms...."
Klingon: (over the comm) And why should we allow this girly man of yours to see the Xyrillians?
Tucker: I'll thank you not to mock my predicament!
Archer: Er, Trip? I haven't told them you're pregnant yet.
Tucker: You knocked me up. I suggested gloves, but nooooo....
Ah'Len: Sorry. Please accept my apology and reassurances that this whole thing will have no consequences whatsoever.
Tucker: Consequences? You're just lucky I wasn't smart enough to figure out how your holodeck worked and build one for myself.
Ah'Len: That was why I gave you the skill-testing question.
Klingon: (over the comm) Well, you're still scum, but thanks for enabling us to get holodecks.
Archer: No problem. So T'Pol, how many years do you think we've set the Klingon Empire back by? Fifty? A hundred?
T'Pol: Two hundred at the very least, sir.
Archer: This whole business has made me pity you, Trip. You can have your desserts back.
Tucker: Thanks. Oh, Phlox, I got you this book.
Phlox: What to Expect When You're Expecting to Be Assassinated?
(Enterprise blasts off at Ludicrous Speed)