This vessel… I give, she takes. She won’t permit me my life. I’ve got to live hers.
That is not possible.
What would your favorite author say, captain? “Let us sit upon the ground and tell sad stories of the death of kings.” Tell us your sad story, Kirk. Tell us that you planned to take revenge for the death of your son.
I guess that’s the Vulcan way of telling me to hope for the best.
The joke is you.
You really want to know what my problem is? I’ll tell you: Las Vegas, 1962, that’s my problem; in 1962, black people weren’t very welcome there. Oh, sure, they could be performers or janitors — but customers? Never.
Perhaps another time.
The crew of the Enterprise will also mutiny.
We’re ready to ignite second stage propellants.
Spock… are you out of your mind? You were told to report to me at once.
…I ripped my shirt again.
So her name’s Nyota?
She is capable of running over sixty trillion calculations per second, and you have her working as a cocktail waitress.
You still haven’t changed that?
Temba, at rest.
Never lose you. Never.
Then use logic more quietly.
Why not just see it in your head?
A toast: to absent friends.
There’s always a clock.