Captain's Log: We've detected a distress call from a supposedly uninhabited M-class moon. I was about to ignore such an obviously boring mission, but Commander Riker enthusiastically seconded that idea so we immediately set a course in order to spite him.
Data: The signal appears to be a subspace distress call from the USS Essex, sir. It was lost with all hands one hundred and seventy years ago.
Riker: Why Captain, that must have been about when you were going through the Academy.
Picard: Oh, stop being petty, Number One. "Do The Opposite of Whatever Your First Officer Suggests" is a tried and true Starfleet command protocol.
Riker: I'm looking that up in the handbook.
Troi: There's someone alive down there!
Picard: And to think, Number One, you wanted to abandon those poor souls!
Riker: But it was your --
Picard: There's no use denying it. Now, we have no choice but to send down an away team into that awful looking ionic storm. Could be quite hazardous.
Riker: Well, sir, I know how you always like to lead away missions despite my objections, so I'll let you go just this once.
Picard: Shee-yeah, right. Try not to wreck my shuttle on your way down.
Riker's Personal Log: This bites. Stupid Picard. I oughta --
Shuttle: Bump! Bang! Zap!
Troi: Quit recording your log and pay attention!
Riker: Nag all you want, Deanna, but there's no way I'm letting you drive. You'd probably --
Troi: You were saying?
Riker: Shut up.
Worf: We've lost contact with the away team, sir.
Picard: What we need here are some recurring characters to the rescue. Ensign Ro?
Ensign Ro: Yes, Captain?
Picard: Get me Chief O'Brien.
O'Brien: I've brought some transport enhancers so we can beam out through the interference.
Riker: What about the shuttle?
O'Brien: The captain said to leave it here as a monument to your incompetence.
Data: We should proceed with the transport before the storm reaches us.
Troi: Yeah. It looks ominous and plot-furthering.
Away Team: OW!
Troi: Hey, floating light things!
Riker: Shh! We're supposed to be unconscious!
O'Brien: Data too? That doesn't make sense....
Crusher: Relax, Counsellor, you're all right.
Troi: Phew. What about the others?
Crusher: Will has a broken arm. Chief O'Brien and Data are fine... only they keep muttering "werc esirpretne eht llik" in their sleep.
Troi: I'm sure it's nothing.
Data: Sir, I believe we should begin our scan with the southern polar region.
Riker: Well, I know that as an android there's no way you could be possessed or unduly influenced....
Data: Of course not.
Riker: ...but still no. Ha!
Riker: If Captain Picard can do it, then so can I.
Troi: Take us... to the southern polar region! Mwahahahahahaha!
Troi: Right, right, subterfuge. Um, ignore that last part.
Ro: Sir? Something seems to be wrong with the computer. It's set a new course and it won't let me change it back.
Riker: Let me try.
Data: Yarrr! This ship be mine, and all the souls aboard her!
Troi: Ye scurvy dogs, ye be ruinin' the plan! What be we to do now?
Data: Arrr! Leave it to me, me hearties; this robot be takin' over the ship before. 'Tis easy!
O'Brien: But they be knowin' how to stop yar, seein' ye've done it before?
Data: Ye'd think so, but nar.
O'Brien: Arrr! They be stoppin' the turbolift!
Troi: To the galley!
Data: Thar be weapons?
Troi: Thar be rum.
Troi: Avast, ye scurvy dogs! Down on the floor, or ye be keelhauled by the scuppers!
Keiko: Miles? What's going on?
O'Brien: This be a mutiny! Now face to the deck before we make ye walk the plank!
Keiko: Oh, you are so sleeping on the couch tonight.
Troi: Yarrr! Move yer ship to th' southern polar region, or we be killin' Jack.
Picard: (over the comm) Actually, my name is Jean-Luc.
Data: Not you! We named the monkey Jack.
Worf: What did you call me?
Picard: Ensign, move the ship to the southern polar region. Very, very slowly.
Ro: Aye, sir. Activating Star Trek: The Motion Picture super slow motion.
Crusher: I've detected unusual synaptic activity in Troi, O'Brien, and Data --
Picard: Since when does Data have synapses?
Crusher: Don't interrupt my exposition. It could indicate possession by an alien life form.
Riker: I wonder why I wasn't possessed as well.
Crusher: Maybe the pain from your broken arm made you immune.
Picard: Or maybe they knew you were a wuss.
Picard: Will you release the wounded as a gesture of good faith?
Troi: (over the comm) Narrr, not unless ye be willin' to give us sometin' in return.
Picard: Very well. You may have me as a hostage.
Riker: (Told you he'd surrender within five minutes. Pay up.)
Ro: (Nice try. It was seven minutes.)
O'Brien: Yarr... this wench and little 'un be familiar.
Troi: Arrr! I be Bryce Shumar, Cap'n of the Essex! Where be my ship?
Picard: Did Captain Shumar always talk like a pirate?
Troi: Aye, he did.
Picard: Don't you mean "I"?
Troi: We be lost souls, trapped down below when our ship foundered.
Picard: Why didn't you just tell us this?
Troi: Dead men tell no tales, Cap'n.
La Forge: I can't believe the captain chose your plan over mine.
Ro: What, the plasma shock idea? Pfft. Too boring.
La Forge: But your plan is stupid.
Ro: You'd be surprised how effective dropping an oversized anvil on someone can be. Now, the trick will be to get them to stand on the giant "X" marked on the floor....
Troi: Look ye there, me hearties!
O'Brien: Yarr! "X" marks the spot! Thar be treasure here, lads!
Ro: Okay, they're all in place. Let's do it.
Data: I be countin' the paces again before we dig. One, Two...
Data: Arrr, that be no treasure! That be an anvil! Yarrrr!
First Officer's Log: Well, our anvil plan failed miserably. Now I wish I'd nabbed one of Captain Picard's pips from him before he left.
Picard: (over the comm) Number One, we will be moving to Cargo Bay 4 shortly.
Riker: Aye, sir.
Picard: Oh, and Commander, don't forget the blue penguin flies at midnight. Picard out.
Ro: Do you know what his plan is, Commander?
Riker: I have no idea what he's talking about: everybody knows penguins can't fly.
Picard: I know you're not really Captain Shumar.
Troi: Yarr, we be exiled criminals, marooned on this moon for ages. What be givin' us away?
Picard: Captain Shumar drank tea, chamomile, lukewarm, not rum.
Picard: If you don't stop this, I'll have no choice but to blow out the cargo bay doors.
O'Brien: Yarr! He be channelin' Janeway! We be in trouble now, lads!
Data: Arr! Ye'd sacrifice the lives of these poor scalleywags?
Picard: Of course! Endangering civilians is one of the things this ship does best.
Troi: Beam them up, me hearties.
Floating Lights: Yarrrr!
Troi, Data, and O'Brien: Yarrrr!
Troi, Data, and O'Brien: Narrrr!
Picard: Ha! Your pirate friends are trapped now. Leave, or we all die.
Troi, Data, and O'Brien: Arrrrr.
Troi: It was very strange. I could sense things, but I didn't really know what was going on and I had no power to do anything.
Picard: You're talking about your possession, right?
Troi: Yes, I -- hey!
Data: I am sorry I compared you to a primate, Lieutenant.
Worf: bortaS bIr jablu'DI'reH QaQqu'nay!
Data: "Revenge is a dish best served cold"? It appears I will have to ask Geordi to repair my translation matrix.
O'Brien: I'm so sorry. I can't believe I said and did all those horrible things.
Keiko: Well, you should be sorry. How would you like it if I were possessed by some evil being that made you do all sorts of horrible things?
O'Brien: You mean made you do all sorts of horrible things.
(The Enterprise sails away at Ludicrous Speed)