Picard: (over the comm) Geordi, we've found the science vessel Yosemite adrift in a plasma streamer. Can we get to them with the transporter?|
La Forge: We'd have to figure out how to cut through the ionic interference.
Barclay: How about connecting their transporter to ours with a very long extension cord?
La Forge: Great idea, Reg. We'll do that and beam over.
Barclay: I, ah, presume you mean the editorial "we"?
La Forge: Nor the royal one either, no.
Barclay: Oh joy.
O'Brien: Are you sure you want to transport first, Mr. Worf? It'll be a rough ride.
Worf: Do you know anything about Klingon mating practices, Chief?
O'Brien: Okay, I see your point. Who'll go after him?
Barclay: Not me. I'm not finished working on this computer console.
La Forge: What are you doing with it?
Barclay: Trying to locate the text of the Twenty-Third Psalm.
Troi: Reg, what made you run away like that?
Barclay: Transporter phobia. Actually, more like transporter freakoutia in my case.
Troi: You mean you've never used a transporter?
Barclay: Never. I prefer to travel by Starfleet shuttlecraft -- they're much safer.
Troi: Try tapping your fingertips behind your ear.
Barclay: Is that some kind of Betazoid relaxation technique?
Troi: Yes, it's called "plexing." It releases theobromine into the brain.
Troi: The psychoactive component of chocolate.
Barclay: All right, Chief -- I'm ready to have my body deconstructed, scrambled, squirted through a torrent of ionic interference and hopefully reassembled.
O'Brien: What changed your mind?
Barclay: Counselor Troi gave me a pep talk on positive thinking.
Riker: A broken sample jar, traces of an explosion, a burned body...what do you think this all adds up to?
La Forge: It's possible the Yosemite crew was trying to air-pop some popcorn by dropping it into a container of hot stellar plasma.
Riker: Why not just get it from the food replicators?
La Forge: You know how scientists are, sir -- always experimenting with new ideas.
Barclay: Has a flying sock puppet ever bitten your arm in the transporter beam?
La Forge: No. Why do you ask?
Barclay: It was, um, just sort of a nervous hypothetical question.
La Forge: Reg, get a grip on yourself. Transporters are the safest way to travel.
Barclay: Tell that to what's left of Commander Sonak.
Barclay: Computer, what are the symptoms of transporter psychosis?
Computer: Stuttering, social ineptitude, chronic jitters and hypochondria.
Barclay: I'm doomed.
Troi: Do you have the blues, Reg?
Barclay: My arm does, but not the rest of me.
Troi: I still think you should go off duty and run a stress reduction program.
Barclay: Must I? Those things always get on my nerves.
Barclay: I want you to beam me to the Yosemite and back again.
O'Brien: You want to use the transporter? Sir, are you feeling all right?
Barclay: Either there's something alive in there or I'm mentally unbalanced!
O'Brien: I think that covers all the bases.
Troi: Reg, why didn't you report that your arm had been ionized?
Barclay: I thought I was just imagining the blue glow.
Crusher: But we can see it too. Even your imagination's not powerful enough to do that.
Barclay: It was before the Cytherians took away my brain enhancements.
Data: Force field is now in place around the plasma sample.
La Forge: Okay -- initiating scan.
Sample container: KER-BLAM!
La Forge: Data... something in this plasma seems to be alive.
Data: Perhaps it is hungry. Should we give it some popcorn?
La Forge: If we suspend Reg in the transporter beam....
Data: ....we should be able to extract the quasi-energy microbes from his body....
Crusher: ....before his signal degrades enough to kill him! That's brilliant!
Barclay: Uh, can I express a few reservations here?
La Forge: Don't bother. We can outvote you three to one.
Barclay: Look what I found in the transporter beam!
La Forge: Hmm... that's one hell of a big microbe.
Crusher: A microbe with two arms and two legs? Geordi, it's one of the missing Yosemite crewmen!
La Forge: Hey, what do you want from me? I'm an engineer, not a biologist!
O'Brien: Meet my pet tarantula.
Barclay: She's kind of intimidating.
O'Brien: I thought so too until the day I tried to feed Data's cat.
(The Enterprise sails away at Ludicrous Speed)