This goo is you.
Genetically, he’s indistinguishable from Commander Riker.
He tasks me. He tasks me, and I shall have him. I’ll chase him 'round the moons of Nibia, and 'round the Antares Maelstrom, and 'round Perdition’s flames before I give him up.
Well, let’s play this out logically then, Mister Spock: firstly, I will kill your captain to demonstrate my resolve; then — if yours holds — I will have no choice but to kill you and your entire crew.
Vulcans never bluff.
Mother, how can you have lived on Vulcan so long, married a Vulcan, raised a son on Vulcan, without understanding what it means to be a Vulcan?
I’m fresh outta warp cores!
Shaka! Temba, his arms wide; Temba!
Everyone shut up and listen to Shaxs!
You haven’t got the lobes.
What have you done with Spock’s brain? Where’ve you taken it?
Coffee first.
Fascinating; your society is dedicated exclusively to the production of a single product!
Let’s get the hell out of here.
That’s–that’s enough.
You were about to offer a medical opinion, Jim?
You don’t understand what it is to live! Love and compassion are dead in you!
Who, me, Doctor?
I see now it was too simple a puzzle; generosity has always been my weakness.
Call Sick Bay. There’s about to be a medical emergency.