Star Trek Favorite Lines
Shore Leave
The Galileo Seven
The Squire of Gothos
Arena
Tomorrow is Yesterday
Court Martial
The Return of The Archons
Space Seed
A Taste of Armageddon
This Side of Paradise
The Devil in the Dark
Errand of Mercy
The Alternative Factor
The City on the Edge of Forever
Operation: Annihilate!
“Shore Leave”
SPOCK: (Kirk stretches and groans) Something wrong?
KIRK: A kink in my back. (behind his back the Yeoman starts to massage it) That’s it. A little higher, please. Push. Push hard. Dig it in there, Mister–
(Spock steps forward and Kirk realizes who is massaging his lower back)
KIRK: Thank you, Yeoman. That’s sufficient.
TONIA: You need sleep, Captain. If it’s not out of line
KIRK: I have enough of that from Doctor McCoy, Yeoman. Thank you.
SULU: Beautiful, beautiful. No animals, no people, no worries. Just what the doctor ordered. Right, Doctor?
MCCOY: I couldn’t have prescribed better. We are one weary ship.
SULU: Do you think the Captain will authorize shore leave here?
MCCOY: Depending upon my report and that of the other scouting parties. You know, you have to see this place to believe it. It’s like something out of Alice in Wonderland. The Captain has to come down.
SULU: He’d like it.
MCCOY: He needs it. You’ve got your problems, I’ve got mine. He’s got ours, plus his, plus four hundred and thirty other people’s.
RABBIT: Oh, my paws and whiskers! I’ll be late.
ALICE: Excuse me, sir. Have you seen a rather large white rabbit with a yellow waistcoat and white gloves here about?
TONIA: Sir, I don’t see your name in any of the shore parties.
KIRK: I may be tired, Yeoman, but I’m not falling apart. Dismissed.
MCCOY: Either our scouting probes and detectors are malfunctioning, and all us scouts careless and beauty-intoxicated, or I must report myself unfit for duty.
KIRK: Explain.
MCCOY: On this supposedly uninhabited planet, I just saw a large rabbit pull a gold watch from his vest and claim that he was late.
KIRK: That’s pretty good. I got one for you. The rabbit was followed by a little blonde girl, right?
MCCOY: As a matter of fact, yes. And they disappeared through a hole in a hedge.
KIRK: All right, Doctor, I’ll take your report under consideration. Captain out. That’s a McCoy pill, with a little mystery sugar-coating. He wants to get me down there. I’m afraid I won’t swallow it.
KIRK: Yes, Mister Spock, what is it?
SPOCK: I picked this up from Doctor McCoy’s log. We have a crewmember aboard who’s showing signs of stress and fatigue. Reaction time down nine to twelve percent, associational reading norm minus three.
KIRK: That’s much too low a rating.
SPOCK: He’s becoming irritable and quarrelsome, yet he refuses to take rest and rehabilitation. Now, He has that right, but we’ve found–
KIRK: A crewman’s right ends where the safety of the ship begins. That man will go a shore on my orders. What’s his name?
SPOCK: James Kirk. Enjoy yourself, Captain. It’s an interesting planet. You’ll find it quite pleasant. Very much like your Earth.
KIRK: Bones, know any good rabbit jokes lately?
MCCOY: As a matter of fact, I do, but this is not one of them. Look at this. I saw what I saw, or maybe I hallucinated it, but I want you to take a look and tell me what you think about it.
KIRK: Footprints. Could be a rabbit. It would have to be an unusual creature to make this size tracks.
KIRK: What’s the matter, Bones, you getting a persecution complex?
MCCOY: Well, yeah, I’m beginning to feel a little bit picked on, if that’s what you mean.
KIRK: I know the feeling very well. I had it at the Academy. An upper classman there. One practical joke after another, and always on me. My own personal devil. A guy by the name of Finnegan.
MCCOY: And you being the very serious young–
KIRK: Serious? I’ll make a confession, Bones. I was absolutely grim, which delighted Finnegan no end. He’s the kind of guy to put a bowl of cold soup in your bed or a bucket of water propped on a half-open door. You never knew where he’d strike next.
MCCOY: Feeling better?
TONIA: A little, but I wouldn’t want to be alone here.
MCCOY: It’s a beautiful place. A little strange, I’ll admit.
TONIA: That’s just it. It’s almost too beautiful. I was thinking, even before my tunic was torn, that in a place like this a girl should be, oh let’s see now, a girl should be dressed like a fairy-tale princess, with lots of floaty stuff and a tall hat with a veil.
MCCOY: I see what you mean, but then you’d have whole armies of Don Juans to fight off. And me, too.
TONIA: Is that a promise, Doctor?
CARETAKER: This entire planet was constructed for our race of people to come and play.
SULU: Play? As advanced as you obviously are, and you still play?
KIRK: Yes, play, Mister Sulu. The more complex the mind, the greater the need for the simplicity of play.
“The Galileo Seven”
SCOTT: What a mess.
SPOCK: Picturesque descriptions will not mend broken circuits, Mister Scott. I think you’ll find your work is cut out for you.
SCOTT: You don’t really expect to get an answer, do you?
SPOCK: I expect nothing, Mister Scott. It is merely logical to try all the alternatives.
MCCOY: Traces of argon, neon, krypton, all in acceptable quantities. However, I wouldn’t recommend this place as a summer resort.
SPOCK: Thank you for your opinion. It will be duly noted.
MCCOY: Well, I can’t say much for the circumstances, but at least it’s your big chance.
SPOCK: My big chance? For what, Doctor?
MCCOY: Command. Oh, I know you, Mister Spock. You’ve never voiced it, but you’ve always thought that logic was the best basis on which to build command. Am I right?
SPOCK: I am a logical man, Doctor.
MCCOY: It’ll take more than logic to get us out of this.
SPOCK: Perhaps, Doctor, but I know of no better way to begin. I realize command does have its fascinations, even under circumstances such as these. But I neither enjoy the idea of command, nor am I frightened of it. It simply exists. And I will do whatever logically needs to be done. Excuse me.
SCOTT: Very bad, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: In what way?
SCOTT: We’ve lost a great deal of fuel. We have no chance at all to reach escape velocity. And if we ever hope to make orbit, we’ll have to lighten our load by at least five hundred pounds.
SPOCK: The weight of three grown men.
SCOTT: Aye, you could put it that way.
MCCOY: Or the equivalent weight in equipment.
SPOCK: Doctor McCoy, with very few exceptions we use virtually every piece of equipment aboard this craft in attaining orbit. There’s very little excess weight, except among the passengers.
BOMA: You mean three of us must stay behind.
SPOCK: Unless the situation changes radically, yes.
BOMA: And who’s to choose?
SPOCK: As commanding officer, the choice will be mine.
BOMA: You wouldn’t be interested in drawing lots?
SPOCK: A very quaint idea, Mister Boma, but I do believe I’m better qualified to make the selection than any random drawing of lots.
BOMA: All right, Mister Spock. Who?
SPOCK: My choice will be a logical one, arrived at through logical means.
MCCOY: Mister Spock, life and death are seldom logical.
SPOCK: But attaining a desired goal always is, Doctor.
BOMA: If any minor damage was overlooked, it was when they put his head together.
MCCOY: Not his head, Mister Boma, his heart. His heart.
BOMA: There’s a man lying there dead, and you talk about stone spears. What about Latimer?
SPOCK: My concern for the dead will not bring him back to life, Mister Boma.
MEARS: We should be able to scrape up another hundred pounds.
SPOCK: Which would still leave us at least one hundred and fifty pounds overweight.
MCCOY: I can’t believe you’re serious about leaving someone behind. Now whatever it is that’s out there
SPOCK: It is more rational to sacrifice one life than six, Doctor.
MCCOY: I’m not talking about rationality.
SPOCK: You might be wise to start.
SPOCK: I hear them. They’re directly ahead of us. Several, I believe. Direct your phasers to two o’clock and to ten o’clock.
GAETANO: I say we hit them dead on.
SPOCK: Yes, I know. But fortunately, I’m giving the orders. Take aim please, and fire when I give a signal.
CHIEF: Captain, it’s a big planet. It’ll be sheer luck if our landing parties find anything.
KIRK: I’m depending on luck, Lieutenant. It’s almost the only tool we have that’ll work.
SPOCK: Most illogical reaction. We demonstrated our superior weapons. They should have fled.
MCCOY: You mean they should have respected us?
SPOCK: Of course.
MCCOY: Mister Spock, respect is a rational process. Did it ever occur to you they might react emotionally, with anger?
SPOCK: Doctor, I am not responsible for their unpredictability.
MCCOY: They were perfectly predictable to anyone with feeling. You might as well admit it, Mister Spock, your precious logic brought them down on us.
BOMA: All right, Spock, you have all the answers. What now?
SPOCK: Mister Boma, your tone is increasingly hostile.
BOMA: My tone isn’t the only thing that’s hostile, Mister Spock!
SPOCK: Curious. Most illogical.
BOMA: I’m sick and tired of your logic!
MEARS: We could use a little inspiration.
SPOCK: Strange. Step by step, I have made the correct and logical decisions. And yet two men have died.
MCCOY: And you’ve brought our furry friends down on us.
SCOTT: Mister Spock, you said a while ago that there were always alternatives.
SPOCK: Did l? I may have been mistaken.
MCCOY: Well, at least I lived long enough to hear that.
MCCOY: It may be the last action you’ll ever take, Mister Spock, but it was all human.
SPOCK: Totally illogical. There was no chance.
MCCOY: That’s exactly what I mean.
KIRK: There’s really something I don’t understand about all of this. Maybe you can explain it to me. Logically, of course. When you jettisoned the fuel and ignited it, you knew there was virtually no chance of it being seen, yet you did it anyhow. That would seem to me to be an act of desperation.
SPOCK: Quite correct, Captain.
KIRK: Now we all know, and I’m sure the doctor will agree with me, that desperation is a highly emotional state of mind. How does your well-known logic explain that?
SPOCK: Quite simply, Captain. I examined the problem from all angles, and it was plainly hopeless. Logic informed me that under the circumstances, the only possible action would have to be one of desperation. Logical decision, logically arrived at.
KIRK: I see. You mean you reasoned that it was time for an emotional outburst.
SPOCK: Well, I wouldn’t put it in exactly those terms, Captain, but those are essentially the facts.
KIRK: You’re not going to admit that for the first time in your life, you committed a purely human emotional act?
SPOCK: No, sir.
KIRK: Mister Spock, you’re a stubborn man.
SPOCK: Yes, sir.
“The Squire of Gothos”
SPOCK: The precise meaning of the word desert is a waterless, barren wasteland. I fail to understand your romantic nostalgia for such a place.
MCCOY: That doesn’t surprise me, Mister Spock. I can’t imagine a mirage ever disturbing those mathematically perfect brain waves of yours.
SPOCK: Thank you, Doctor McCoy.
UHURA: Mister Spock. Look.
(Words are appearing on the monitor above her head, in gothic script. Spock reads them out loud)
SPOCK: Greetings and felicitations. Hmm. Send this, Lieutenant. USS Enterprise to signaler on planet surface. Identify self.
(The reply comes up on the monitor)
SPOCK: Hip hip hoorah? And I believe it’s pronounced tally ho.
DESALLE: Some kind of a joke, sir?
TRELANE: You must excuse my whimsical way of fetching you here, but when I saw you passing by I simply could not resist.
TRELANE: DeSalle, did you say? Un vrai Francais?
DESALLE: My ancestry is French, yes.
TRELANE: Ah, monsieur. Vive la gloire. Vive Napoleon. You know, I admire your Napoleon very much.
KIRK: This is Mister DeSalle, our navigator. Doctor McCoy, our medical officer. Mister Sulu, our helmsman, and Carl Jaeger, meteorologist.
TRELANE: Welcome, good physicianer and honorable sir. (bows low)
SULU: Is he kidding?
TRELANE: Und Offizier Jaeger, und der deutsche Soldat, nein? (gives a little Prussian salute then marches around) Eins, zwei, drei, vier. Gehen vir mit dem Schiessgewehr.
JAEGER: I’m a scientist, not a military man.
TRELANE: Oh come now. We’re all military men under the skin. And how we do love our uniforms.
KIRK: This drawing room, did you create it by rearranging matter on this planet?
TRELANE: Quite.
KIRK: I see. How did you manage–
TRELANE: Dear Captain, your inquiries are becoming tiresome. I want you to be happy. Free yourself of care. Let’s enjoy ourselves in the spirit of martial good fellowship.
KIRK: Come on, let’s go. We’re getting out of here.
TRELANE: Tut, tut, tut. You’re being quite rude. You can’t go. Apparently, you need another demonstration of my authority. Yes, quite.
SPOCK: Apply a fine tuning on our sensors. Locate any life forms in that stable area.
SCOTT: If we find any, it doesn’t follow that it would be our people.
SPOCK: Affirmative. But if the Captain is down there and alive, that’s where he’ll have to be. We’ll attempt to transport up any living beings our sensors detect.
SCOTT: Shooting in the dark, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: Or stand by and do nothing, Mister Scott.
KIRK: If your admiration is genuine, you must have respect for our sense of duty too. Our ship has need of us. We have tasks to perform.
TRELANE: Oh, I can’t let you go now. I was getting a bit bored until you came. You must stay. I insist.
TRELANE: Yes, of course. I forget that I shouldn’t frighten you too much. But I warn you, you can’t provoke me again. Come, everyone. Let’s forget your bad manners. Let’s be full of merry talk and sallies of wit. We have victuals to delight the palate and brave company to delight the mind. Come, Doctor, do partake. Ah, you’ve been quite derelict in your social duties, Captain. You haven’t introduced me to the charming contingent of your crew.
KIRK: Lieutenant Uhura of communications.
TRELANE: Ah a Nubian prize. (he kisses her hand) Taken on one of your raids of conquest, no doubt, Captain.
KIRK: No doubt.
TRELANE: She has the melting eyes of the queen of Sheba. The same lovely coloring. And this. Is this the face that launched a thousand ships and burnt the topless towers of Ilium? Fair Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
TRELANE: Oh, Mister Spock, you do have one saving grace after all. You’re ill-mannered. The human half of you, no doubt. (to Ross) Ah, come, my little wood nymph. Won’t you dance with your swain? (to Uhura) Give us some sprightly music, my dear girl.
MCCOY: You should taste his food. Straw would taste better than his meat, and water a hundred times better than his brandy. Nothing has any taste at all.
SPOCK: It may be unappetizing, Doctor, but it is very logical.
MCCOY: There’s that magic word again. Does your logic find this fascinating, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: Fascinating is a word I use for the unexpected. In this case, I should think interesting would suffice.
KIRK: You don’t find this unexpected, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: That his food has no taste, his wine no flavor? No. It simply means that Trelane knows all of the Earth forms, but none of the substance.
TRELANE: Ah, my dear, don’t we make a graceful pair? Except for one small detail. That dress hardly matches this charming scene.
(Suddenly she’s wearing an empire line dress with feathers in her hair. Idealized Jane Austen)
TRELANE: Ah, yes, that’s more what we want. The dashing warrior and his elegant lady.
KIRK: Don’t be too upset by what you see, gentlemen. After all, his actions are those of an immature, unbalanced mind.
TRELANE: I overheard that remark, Captain. I’m afraid I’ll have to dispense with you.
KIRK: You only heard part of it. I just started.
TRELANE: Oh?
KIRK: Yes. I want you to leave my crewmen alone. I want you to leave my crewwomen alone too. (to Ross) You’re not to dance with him. I don’t like it.
TRELANE: Does it actually make you angry, Captain?
KIRK: (removing one of her long gloves) I don’t want you accepting his gifts, either.
ROSS: Captain, please don’t do this.
TRELANE: Well, I do believe the dear Captain is jealous of me.
KIRK: I don’t care what you believe, just keep your hands off her!
TRELANE: Oh, how curiously human. How wonderfully barbaric.
TRELANE: Oh, how fascinating. I’m party to an actual human duel.
KIRK: Are you ready?
TRELANE: Quite ready, sir. We shall test each other’s courage and then, and then we shall see.
KIRK: Enough talk. Let’s get on with it.
TRELANE: As you will, sir. Honor will be served, eh?
ROSS: May I take a moment to change?
KIRK: Yes, I think you might. Turn in your glass slippers. The ball is over.
ROSS: Gladly, Captain.
SPOCK: That was the planet Gothos, Captain.
KIRK: Gothos? Mister Sulu, have we been going in circles?
SULU: No, sir. All instruments show on course.
SPOCK: Gothos again, Captain.
KIRK: Hard over, Mister Sulu.
SPOCK: Cat and mouse game.
KIRK: With us as the mouse.
KIRK: I’ve had enough of your games.
TRELANE: Oh, the absurdity of these inferior beings.
KIRK: We’re living beings, not playthings for your amusement.
TRELANE: Silence! This trial is over. You are guilty. On all counts, you are guilty. And according to your own laws, this court has no choice in fixing punishment. You will hang by the neck, Captain, until you are dead, dead, dead!
TRELANE: Until a moment ago, I didn’t think it possible, but it was. (takes off his robes and wig) I did it. I was angry. I actually experienced genuine rage. This experiment has been successful.
KIRK: I’m glad you weren’t disappointed.
TRELANE: Why, Captain, you’re still angry. Would that I could have sustained that moment. Ah, no matter. Do you have a last request?
KIRK: Trelane, if you think I’m going to cheerfully and obediently stick my head in that noose
TRELANE: You still haven’t learned. You have no choice. Oh, this is becoming quite tiresome. It’s all so very easy.
KIRK: That’s your problem, Trelane. Everything is easy. It’s given you a bad habit. You’re not aware of it, but you have it. You don’t think, Trelane. That’s your problem. You miss opportunities, like your anger before and mine right now. Oh, you enjoy it, but you couldn’t have accomplished it without me, and you know why? Because you’re a bumbling, inept fool.
TRELANE: Take care, now.
KIRK: Here you have an opportunity to experience something really unique, and you’re wasting it. You want to commit murder? Go ahead, but where’s the sport in a simple hanging?
TRELANE: The sport?
KIRK: Yes. The terror of murder. The suspense. The fun.
TRELANE: Oh, I’m intrigued. Go ahead, Captain. What do you suggest?
TRELANE: I order you! I order you! (Kirk disarms him and snaps the sword across his knee) You broke it! You broke my sword!
KIRK: You’ve got a lot to learn about winning, Trelane.
TRELANE: You dare to defy me!
KIRK: In fact, you’ve got a lot to learn about everything, haven’t you?
(Kirk slaps his face)
TRELANE: I’ll fix you for that! You cheated! You haven’t played the game right. I’ll show you!
MOTHER: You’ll grow up, Trelane. You’ll understand. Now come along.
TRELANE: Oh, but you said I could. You promised. I never have any fun.
FATHER: Stop that nonsense at once, or you’ll not be permitted to make any more planets.
TRELANE: Oh, but you saw. I was winning. I would have won. Honest.
SPOCK: For the record, how do we describe him? Pure mentality? Force of intellect? Embodied energy? Superbeing? He must be classified, sir.
KIRK: God of war, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: I hardly find that fitting.
KIRK: Then a small boy, and a very naughty one at that.
SPOCK: It will make a strange entry in the library banks.
KIRK: Then he was a very strange small boy. One the other hand, he was probably doing things comparable to the same mischievous pranks you played when you were a boy.
SPOCK: Mischievous pranks, Captain?
KIRK: Yes. Dipping little girls’ curls in inkwells. Stealing apples from the neighbors’ trees. Tying cans on
(He’s stopped by the look of horrified incredulity on Spock’s face.)
KIRK: Forgive me, Mister Spock. I should have known better.
SPOCK: I shall be delighted, Captain.
“Arena”
KIRK: You’ll enjoy Commodore Travers. He sets a good table.
MCCOY: I wonder if he brought his personal chef along with him to Cestus Three.
KIRK: Probably. Rank hath its privileges.
MCCOY: How well we both know that.
MCCOY: Spock, isn’t it enough the commodore is famous for his hospitality? I, for one, could use a good non-reconstituted meal.
SPOCK: Doctor, you are a sensualist.
MCCOY: You bet your pointed ears I am.
KIRK: It was a trap. Getting the Enterprise to come to Cestus Three, getting us and our whole crew to come ashore.
SPOCK: Very clever. As to the reason?
KIRK: The reason is crystal clear. The Enterprise is the only protection in this section of the Federation. Destroy the Enterprise, and everything is wide open.
SPOCK: You allude to invasion, Captain, yet positive proof
KIRK: I have all the proof I need on Cestus Three.
SPOCK: Not necessarily, sir. Several possible explanations
KIRK: How can you explain a massacre like that? No, Mister Spock. The threat is clear and immediate. Invasion.
SPOCK: Very well, then. If that’s the case, you must make certain that the alien vessel never reaches its home base.
SPOCK: A sustained warp seven speed will be dangerous, Captain.
KIRK: Thank you, Mister Spock. I mean to catch them.
SCOTT: We’ll either catch them or blow up, Captain. They may be faster than we are.
KIRK: They’ll have to prove it. Yes, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: You mean to destroy the alien ship, Captain?
KIRK: Of course.
SPOCK: I thought perhaps the hot pursuit alone might be sufficient. Destruction might be unnecessary.
KIRK: Colony Cestus Three has been obliterated, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: The destruction of the alien vessel will not help that colony, Jim.
KIRK: Do I make myself clear?
SPOCK: Very clear, Captain.
KIRK: I’m delighted, Mister Spock.
MCCOY: What are you going to do, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: I’m going to wait, Doctor. There’s little else I can do.
MCCOY: What about the Captain?
SPOCK: If I could help him, I would. I cannot.
MCCOY: Now, you’re the one that’s always talking about logic. What about some logic now? Where’s the Captain, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: He’s out there, Doctor. Out there somewhere in a thousand cubic parsecs of space, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do to help him.
KIRK: You’re a Metron?
METRON: Does my appearance surprise you, Captain?
KIRK: You seem more like a boy.
METRON: I am approximately fifteen hundred of your Earth years old.
SULU: It’s impossible, but there’s Sirius over there when it should be here. And Canopus. And Arcanis. We’re. All of a sudden, we’re clear across the galaxy, five hundred parsecs from where we are I mean, were. I mean
KIRK: Don’t try and figure it out, Mister Sulu.
KIRK; You saw what happened down there?
SPOCK: Most of it. I would be interested in knowing what finally happened.
KIRK: We’re a most promising species, Mister Spock, as predators go. Did you know that?
SPOCK: I’ve frequently had my doubts.
KIRK: I don’t. Not anymore. And maybe in a thousand years or so, we’ll be able to prove it. Never mind, Mister Spock. It doesn’t make much sense to me either.
“Tomorrow is Yesterday”
KIRK: Auxiliaries?
SPOCK: If Mister Scott is still with us, auxiliaries should be on momentarily. (Uhura is just stirring on the floor) Are you all right, Lieutenant?
(He helps her back to her seat, and the lights come on.)
SPOCK: Mister Scott is still with us.
CREWWOMAN: Good morning, Captain.
KIRK: Morning. (drags Christopher along) Captain.
CHRISTOPHER: A woman?
KIRK: Crewman.
CHRISTOPHER: I never have believed in little green men.
SPOCK: Neither have I.
KIRK: Feel free to look around, Captain. Don’t touch anything, but I think you’ll find it interesting.
CHRISTOPHER: Interesting is a word and a half for it, Captain.
KIRK: Very well, Mister Spock. Anything else on your mind?
SPOCK: Captain Christopher.
KIRK: What about him?
SPOCK: We cannot return him to Earth, Captain. He already knows too much about us and is learning more. I do not specifically refer to Captain Christopher, but suppose an unscrupulous man were to gain certain knowledge of man’s future? Such a man could manipulate key industries, stocks, and even nations. and in so doing, change what must be. And if it is changed, Captain, you and I and all that we know might not even exist.
KIRK: Your logic can be most annoying.
KIRK: Computer on. Record.
COMPUTER: (in a low, breathy voice) Recording.
KIRK: Come.
(Spock enters with Christopher, who is now dressed in Command gold)
KIRK: Captain’s log, supplemental. Engineering Officer Scott informs warp engines damaged, but can be made operational and reenergized.
COMPUTER: Computed and recorded, dear.
KIRK: Computer, you will not address me in that manner. Compute.
COMPUTER: Computed, dear.
KIRK: Mister Spock, I ordered this computer and its interlinking systems repaired.
SPOCK: I have investigated it, Captain. To correct the fault will require an overhaul of the entire computer system and a minimum of three weeks at a Starbase.
KIRK: I wouldn’t mind so much if it didn’t get so affectionate.
SPOCK: It also has an unfortunate tendency to giggle.
CHRISTOPHER: I take it that a lady computer is not routine.
SPOCK: We put in at Cygnet Fourteen for general repair and maintenance. Cygnet Fourteen is a planet dominated by women. They seemed to feel the ship’s computer system lacked a personality. They gave it one. Female, of course.
CHRISTOPHER: Well, you people certainly have interesting problems. I’d love to stay around to see how your girlfriend works out, but…
COMPUTER: Recommendation for his disposition, dear?
KIRK: Maintenance note. My recording computer has a serious malfunction. Recommend it either be corrected or scrapped. Compute.
COMPUTER: (petulant) Computed.
MCCOY: Jim, what if we can’t go back? What do we do, sit up here and wait for our supplies to run out, our power to die? It has to eventually, you know. We certainly can’t go back to Earth. It would be worse than the Captain being returned. There are four hundred and thirty of us, and that means four hundred and thirty chances of altering the future.
KIRK: Yes. But we’re not in that position yet.
MCCOY: I’m glad to hear it.
KIRK: And if we do get back to where we belong, then he won’t belong. We’re roughly about the same age, but in our society he’d be useless. Archaic.
MCCOY: Maybe he could be retrained, reeducated.
KIRK: Now you’re sounding like Spock.
MCCOY: If you’re going to get nasty, I’m going to leave.
KIRK: You all right?
CHRISTOPHER: Yeah. I see physical training is required in your service, too.
SPOCK: Crude methods, but effective.
CHRISTOPHER: What does he mean by that?
MCCOY: It’s just a joke, Captain.
KIRK: We’re going to have to go back and get those reports and photos. If the Captain feels duty bound to report what he saw, there won’t be any evidence to support him.
CHRISTOPHER: That makes me out to be either a liar or a fool.
KIRK: Perhaps.
SPOCK: Not at all. You’ll simply be one of the thousands who thought he saw a UFO.
KIRK: I want you to keep him in the transporter room. No sense in letting him see more of the ship than is necessary.
SPOCK: I don’t believe there’ll be trouble in that respect, Captain.
(The Sergeant still hasn’t hardly moved a muscle when McCoy gently takes the gun and communicator out of his hands.)
SPOCK: Our guest seems quite satisfied to remain where he is.
SPOCK: (examining a roll of film) Poor photography.
MCCOY: Blast your theories and observations, Mister Spock. What about Jim? He’s down there alone, probably under arrest. He doesn’t have a communicator, and we can’t locate him or beam him back aboard without one.
FELLINI: Now, look, Mister. You and I had better start communicating. I want to know how you got in here. That’s a simple question. Give me a simple answer. Nobody saw you. You got all the way inside without tripping any alarm. How did you do it?
KIRK: Believe me, Colonel, you wouldn’t believe me.
FELLINI: Don’t try to be funny. How did you get in?
KIRK: I popped in out of thin air.
FELLINI: You seem to think this is some kind of a game.
KIRK: No, Colonel. I know it’s no game.
KIRK: Colonel, would you mind being careful with that?
FELLINI: That worries you a little bit, huh? What is that, a radio? Transmitter of some kind?
KIRK: Of some kind.
FELLINI: You can be more specific than that, Kirk. I don’t like mysteries.
KIRK: If you don’t stop being careless with that, you’ll have one. A big one.
FELLINI: All right, Kirk. Maybe this will make you laugh. Sabotage, espionage, unauthorized entry, burglary. How are those for starters? And I can think up lots more if you don’t start talking.
KIRK: All right, Colonel. The truth is, I’m a little green man from Alpha Centauri. A beautiful place. You ought to see it.
FELLINI: I am going to lock you up for two hundred years.
KIRK: That ought to be just about right.
SULU: Shall I issue phasers?
SPOCK: One for you, one for me. Set them on heavy stun force.
SULU: Yes, sir.
CHRISTOPHER: You don’t trust me, Spock.
SPOCK: In fact, I do. But only to a certain point.
CHRISTOPHER: What if you can’t pull free of the sun?
SCOTT: Oh, we’ll do that all right, Captain. We’ll not be getting so close that my engines couldn’t pull us out. What I am worried about, sir, that we may not have much control when we’re thrown forward again.
CHRISTOPHER: I never thought I’d make it into space. I was in line to be chosen for the space program but I didn’t qualify.
KIRK: Take a good look around, Captain. You made it here ahead of all of them.
SPOCK: Fifty years to go.
SULU: Engines cutting back, sir. No decrease in speed.
SPOCK: Forty, thirty.
KIRK: Never mind, Mister Spock.
“Court Martial”
KIRK: So that’s the way we do it now? Sweep it under the rug, and me along with it? Not on your life. I intend to fight.
STONE: Then you draw a general court.
KIRK: Draw it? I demand it. And right now, Commodore Stone. Right now.
KIRK: Areel. Doctor McCoy said you were here. I should have felt it in the air, like static electricity.
SHAW: Flattery will get you everywhere.
KIRK; It’s been, how long has it been?
SHAW: Four years, seven months, and an odd number of days. Not that I’m counting.
KIRK: You look marvelous. You haven’t changed a bit.
SHAW: But things have changed for you, haven’t they?
KIRK: Oh, you’ve heard about that, have you?
KIRK: Areel, you still haven’t told me how you know so much about what the prosecution’s going to do.
SHAW: Because, Jim Kirk, my dear old love, I am the prosecution, and I have to do my very best to have you slapped down hard. Broken out of the service, in disgrace.
COGLEY: You Kirk?
KIRK: Yes. (Notices the piles of books everywhere) What is all this?
COGLEY: I figure we’ll be spending some time together, so I moved in.
KIRK: I hope I’m not crowding you.
COGLEY: What’s the matter? Don’t you like books?
KIRK: Oh, I like them fine, but a computer takes less space.
COGLEY: A computer, huh? I got one of these in my office. Contains all the precedents. The synthesis of all the great legal decisions written throughout time. I never use it.
KIRK: Why not?
COGLEY: I’ve got my own system. Books, young man, books. Thousands of them. If time wasn’t so important, I’d show you something. My library. Thousands of books.
KIRK: And what would be the point?
COGLEY: This is where the law is. Not in that homogenized, pasteurized, synthesizer. Do you want to know the law, the ancient concepts in their own language, Learn the intent of the men who wrote them, from Moses to the tribunal of Alpha 3? Books.
KIRK: You have to be either an obsessive crackpot who’s escaped from his keeper or Samuel T. Cogley, attorney at law.
COGLEY: Right on both counts. Need a lawyer?
KIRK: I’m afraid so.
SHAW: Then how can you dispute the finding of the log?
SPOCK: I do not dispute it. I merely state that it is wrong.
SHAW: Oh? On what do you base that statement?
SPOCK: I know the Captain. He is in–
SHAW: Please instruct the witness not to speculate.
SPOCK: Lieutenant, I am half Vulcanian. Vulcanians do not speculate. I speak from pure logic. If I let go of a hammer on a planet that has a positive gravity, I need not see it fall to know that it has in fact fallen.
SHAW: I do not see what that has to–
SPOCK: Gentlemen, human beings have characteristics just as inanimate objects do. It is impossible for Captain Kirk to act out of panic or malice. It is not his nature.
SHAW: In your opinion.
SPOCK: Yes. In my opinion.
SHAW: The prosecution concedes the inestimable record of Captain Kirk.
STONE: Mister Cogley?
COGLEY: I wouldn’t want to slow the wheels of progress. But then on the other hand, I wouldn’t want those wheels to run over my client in their unbridled haste.
KIRK: Charges of malice have been raised. There was no malice. Lieutenant Commander Finney was a member of my crew, and that’s exactly the way he was treated. It has been suggested that I panicked on the bridge and jettisoned the ion pod prematurely. That is not so. You’ve heard some of the details of my record. This was not my first crisis. It was one of many. During it, I did what my experience and training required me to do. I took the proper steps in the proper order. I did exactly what had to be done, exactly when it should have been done.
COGLEY: You did the right thing, but would you do it again?
KIRK: Given the same circumstances I would do the same thing without hesitation, because the steps I took in the order I took them were absolutely necessary if I were to save my ship. And nothing is more important than my ship.
COGLEY: Your witness, Miss Shaw.
MCCOY: Well, I had to see it to believe it.
SPOCK: Explain.
MCCOY: They’re about to lop off the captain’s professional head, and you’re sitting here playing chess with the computer.
SPOCK: That is true.
MCCOY: Mister Spock, you’re the most cold-blooded man I’ve ever known.
SPOCK: Why, thank you, Doctor. I’ve just won my fourth game.
MCCOY: That’s impossible.
COGLEY: I can’t tell you, I’ll have to show you.
SHAW: Mister Cogley is well-known for his theatrics.
COGLEY: Is saving an innocent man’s career a theatric? i
STONE: Counsels will kindly direct their remarks to the bench.
SHAW: How long will it be this time before I see you again?
KIRK: At the risk of sounding like a mystic, that depends on the stars.
SHAW: Sam Cogley asked me to give you something special. It’s not a first edition, just a book. Sam says that makes it special.
KIRK: I didn’t have much of a chance to thank him.
SHAW: He’s busy on a case. He’s defending Ben Finney. He says he’ll win.
KIRK: I wouldn’t be a bit surprised.
SHAW: Do you think it would cause a complete breakdown of discipline if a lowly lieutenant kissed a Starship Captain on the bridge of his ship?
KIRK: Let’s try. (a gentle but lingering kiss) See? No change. Discipline goes on.
SHAW: And so must the Enterprise. Goodbye, Jim.
KIRK: Goodbye, Areel. Better luck next time.
SHAW: I had pretty good luck this time. I lost, didn’t l?
(She leaves, blowing him a final kiss. He pulls himself together, goes to his chair and sits between two stony-faced officers.)
KIRK: She’s a very good lawyer.
SPOCK: Obviously.
MCCOY: Indeed she is.
“The Return of The Archons”
KIRK: Landru.
SPOCK: There is no Landru, Captain, not in the human sense.
KIRK: You’re thinking the same thing I am. Mister Spock, the plug must be pulled.
SPOCK: Sir?
KIRK: Landru must die.
SPOCK: Captain, our Prime Directive of non-interference.
KIRK: That refers to a living, growing culture. Do you think this one is?
KIRK: Where is Landru?
MARPLON: No, no.
KIRK: Where do we find him?
MARPLON: We do not see him. We hear him, in the Hall of Audiences.
KIRK: In this building?
MARPLON: (reluctantly) Yes.
KIRK: You’re going to take us there. (the two men are terrified at the prospect) Spock, call the Enterprise.
MARPLON: No.
KIRK: Snap out of it! Start acting like men.
KIRK: Scotty, stand by. We’re doing the best we can. How’s Mister Sulu?
SCOTT: He’s peaceful enough, but he worries me.
KIRK: Put a guard on him.
SCOTT: On Sulu?
KIRK: That’s an order. Watch him. Captain out.
SPOCK: Marvelous.
KIRK: What?
SPOCK: The late Landru, Captain. A marvelous feat of engineering. A computer capable of directing the lives of millions of human beings.
KIRK: But only a machine, Mister Spock. The original Landru programmed it with all his knowledge but he couldn’t give it his wisdom, his compassion, his understanding, his soul, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: Predictably metaphysical. I prefer the concrete, the graspable, the provable.
KIRK: You’d make a splendid computer, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: That is very kind of you, Captain.
LINDSTROM: I just wanted to say goodbye, Captain.
KIRK: How’s it going?
LINDSTROM: Couldn’t be better. Already this morning, we’ve had half a dozen domestic quarrels and two genuine knock-down drag-outs. It may not be paradise, but it’s certainly human.
KIRK: Sounds most promising. Good luck.
SPOCK: How often mankind has wished for a world as peaceful and secure as the one Landru provided.
KIRK: Yes. And we never got it. Just lucky, I guess.
“Space Seed”
KIRK: We’re reading it, Lieutenant. I thought you said it couldn’t possibly be an Earth vessel.
SPOCK: I fail to understand why it always gives you pleasure to see me proven wrong.
KIRK: An emotional Earth weakness of mine.
MCCOY: The Eugenics Wars.
SPOCK: Of course. Your attempt to improve the race through selective breeding.
MCCOY: Now, wait a minute. Not our attempt, Mister Spock. A group of ambitious scientists. I’m sure you know the type. Devoted to logic, completely unemotional…
KIRK: All right, all right, gentlemen.
KIRK: The Bridge is yours, Mister Spock. Care to join the landing party, Doctor?
MCCOY: Well, if you’re actually giving me a choice…
KIRK: I’m not.
KIRK: You ready, Bones?
MCCOY: No. I signed aboard this ship to practice medicine, not to have my atoms scattered back and forth across space by this gadget.
KIRK: You’re an old-fashioned boy, McCoy.
MARLA: A man from the twentieth century coming alive.
MCCOY: Maybe. Heart beat dropping.
KIRK: Botany Bay. That was the name of a penal colony on shores of Australia, wasn’t it? If they took that name for their vessel
SPOCK: If you’re suggesting this was a penal deportation vessel, you’ve arrived at a totally illogical conclusion.
KIRK: Oh?
SPOCK: Your Earth was on the verge of a dark ages. Whole populations were being bombed out of existence. A group of criminals could have been dealt with far more efficiently than wasting one of their most advanced spaceships.
KIRK: Yes. So much for my theory. I’m still waiting to hear yours.
SPOCK: Even a theory requires some facts, Captain. So far I have none.
KIRK: And that irritates you, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: Irritation?
KIRK: Yeah.
SPOCK: I am not capable of that emotion.
KIRK: My apologies, Mister Spock. You suspect some danger in them?
SPOCK: Insufficient facts always invites danger, Captain.
KIRK: Well, we’d better get some facts.
MCCOY: Well, either choke me or cut my throat. Make up your mind.
KHAN: English. I thought I dreamed hearing it. Where am I?
MCCOY: You’re in– You’re in bed, holding a knife at your doctor’s throat.
KHAN: Answer my question.
MCCOY: It would be most effective if you would cut the carotid artery, just under the left ear.
(Khan releases him.)
KHAN: I like a brave man.
MCCOY: I was simply trying to avoid an argument.
KIRK: What was the exact date of your lift off? We know it was sometime in the early 1990s, but–
KHAN: I find myself growing fatigued, Doctor. May we continue this questioning at some other time?
KIRK: The facts I need, Mister Khan, will take very little time. For example, the nature of your expedition.
MCCOY: Jim. A little later might be better.
KIRK: Would you estimate him to be a product of selective breeding?
SPOCK: There is that possibility, Captain. His age would be correct. In 1993, a group of these young supermen did seize power simultaneously in over forty nations.
KIRK: Well, they were hardly supermen. They were aggressive, arrogant. They began to battle among themselves.
SPOCK: Because the scientists overlooked one fact. Superior ability breeds superior ambition.
KIRK: Interesting, if true. They created a group of Alexanders, Napoleons.
KHAN: I’ve been reading up on starships, but they have one luxury not mentioned in the manuals.
MARLA: I don’t understand.
KHAN: A beautiful woman. My name is Khan. Please sit and entertain me.
KIRK: Lieutenant McGivers’ idea to welcome Khan to our century. Just how strongly is she attracted to him?
MCCOY: Well, there aren’t any regulations against romance, Jim.
KIRK: My curiosity’s official, not personal, Bones.
MCCOY: Well, he has a magnetism. Almost electric. You felt it. And it could over power McGivers with her preoccupation with the past.
KIRK: Name, Khan, as we know him today. (Spock changes the picture) Name, Khan Noonien Singh.
SPOCK: From 1992 through 1996, absolute ruler of more than a quarter of your world. From Asia through the Middle East.
MCCOY: The last of the tyrants to be overthrown.
SCOTT: I must confess, gentlemen. I’ve always held a sneaking admiration for this one.
KIRK: He was the best of the tyrants and the most dangerous. They were supermen, in a sense. Stronger, braver, certainly more ambitious, more daring.
SPOCK: Gentlemen, this romanticism about a ruthless dictator is
KIRK: Mister Spock, we humans have a streak of barbarism in us. Appalling, but there, nevertheless.
SCOTT: There were no massacres under his rule.
SPOCK: And as little freedom.
MCCOY: No wars until he was attacked.
SPOCK: Gentlemen.
KIRK: Mister Spock, you misunderstand us. We can be against him and admire him all at the same time.
SPOCK: Illogical.
KIRK: Totally.
SPOCK: Surprised to see you, Captain, though pleased.
KIRK: I’m a little pleased myself. Situation?
SCOTT: It’s a shame for a good Scotsman to admit it, but I’m not up on Milton.
KIRK: The statement Lucifer made when he fell into the pit. ‘It is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.’
SPOCK: It would be interesting, Captain, to return to that world in a hundred years and to learn what crop has sprung from the seed you planted today.
KIRK: Yes, Mister Spock, it would indeed.
“A Taste of Armageddon”
SPOCK: Computers, Captain. They fight their war with computers. Totally.
ANAN: Yes, of course.
KIRK: Computer don’t kill a half million people.
ANAN: Deaths have been registered. Of course they have twenty four hours to report.
KIRK: To report?
ANAN: To our disintegration machines. You must understand, Captain, we have been at war for five hundred years. Under ordinary conditions, no civilization could withstand that. But we have reached a solution.
SPOCK: Then the attack by Vendikar was theoretical.
ANAN: Oh, no, quite real. An attack is mathematically launched. I lost my wife in the last attack. Our civilization lives. The people die, but our culture goes on.
KIRK: You mean to tell me your people just walk into a disintegration machine when they’re told to?
ANAN: We have a high consciousness of duty, Captain.
SPOCK: There is a certain scientific logic about it.
ANAN: I’m glad you approve.
SPOCK: I do not approve. I understand.
SCOTT: Aye, aye, Captain. We’ll start forming shore parties immediately. Scott out. Well now, what do you think of that?
MCCOY: I don’t know.
SCOTT: Well, I do. Computer, last message received and recorded from Captain Kirk.
COMPUTER: In place.
SCOTT: Run it through analyzer. Question. Is it or is it not the Captain’s voice?
COMPUTER: Negative. A close copy.
SCOTT: A voice duplicator?
COMPUTER: Ninety eight percent probability.
SCOTT: Well, they’ve got them, Doctor, and now they’re trying to get us.
SPOCK: Sir, there’s a multi-legged creature crawling on your shoulder.
(He neck-pinches him, as the rest just stare.
MCCOY: They’re holding our Captain.
FOX: We have no proof of that.
SCOTT: I’m responsible for the safety of this ship.
FOX: And I’m responsible for the success of this mission, and that’s more important than this ship. Is that clear? We came here to establish diplomatic relations with these people.
SCOTT: But they’re the ones who’re looking for a fight, Mister Fox.
FOX: This is a diplomatic matter. If you check your regulations, you’ll find that my orders get priority. I’ll try to make contact with the planetary officials. Lieutenant, open up a channel and keep it open. Tell them to expect a priority one message from me. There will be no punitive measures, gentlemen. Those are my orders.
SCOTT: Diplomats. The best diplomat I know is a fully activated phaser bank.
MCCOY: Well, Scotty, now you’ve done it.
SCOTT: Aye. The haggis is in the fire for sure, but I’ll not lower my defenses on the word of that mealy-mouthed gentleman down below. Not until I know what happened to the Captain.
SPOCK: The Captain is overdue. We’ve suffered no casualties among us. This is important. Under no circumstances shall any one beam down from the Enterprise. They’d be killed the moment they arrived.
SCOTT: That ties it. That popinjay Fox went down a couple minutes ago.
SPOCK: The Ambassador?
SCOTT: I knew it had a rotten ring to it.
SPOCK: Please, Mister Fox. Ladies and gentlemen, please move quickly away from the chamber or you may be injured.
FOX: What are you doing, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: Practicing a peculiar variety of diplomacy, sir.
(He uses the disrupter to destroy the disintegration chamber)
SPOCK: I had assumed you needed help. I see I’m in error.
KIRK: No. I need the help. In there, Mister Spock.
SCOTT: Aye, aye, Captain. Is there anything else we can do?
KIRK: Cross your fingers.
MCCOY: But you didn’t know that it would work.
KIRK: No. It was a calculated risk. Still, the Eminians keep a very orderly society, and actual war is a very messy business. A very, very messy business. I had a feeling that they would do anything to avoid it, even talk peace.
SPOCK: A feeling is not much to go on.
KIRK: Sometimes a feeling, Mister Spock, is all we humans have to go on.
SPOCK: Captain, you almost make me believe in luck.
KIRK: Why, Mister Spock, you almost make me believe in miracles.
“This Side of Paradise”
MCCOY: On pure speculation, just an educated guess, I’d say that man is alive.
SPOCK: Captain, this planet is being bombarded by Berthold rays, as our reports indicated. At this intensity, we’ll be safe for a week if necessary. But–
KIRK: But these people shouldn’t be alive.
SULU: Is it possible that they’re not?
MCCOY: You shook hands with him, Jim. His flesh was warm. He’s alive. There’s no doubt about that.
SPOCK: There’s also no question of the fact that Berthold rays are incontrovertibly deadly. There’s no miracle connected with it, Doctor, you know that. No cures, no serums, no antidotes. If a man is exposed long enough, he dies.
KIRK: Gentlemen, we’re debating in a vacuum. Let’s go get some answers.
KELOWITZ: What exactly are we looking for anyway, sir?
SULU: Whatever doesn’t look right, whatever that is. When it comes to farms, I wouldn’t know what looked right or wrong if it were two feet from me.
KELOWITZ: (opening up the barn door) Hey.
SULU: What is it?
KELOWITZ: No cows. This barn isn’t even built for them, Just for storage.
SULU: Come to think of it, we haven’t seen any animals. No horses, no pigs, not even a dog. Nothing.
LEILA: That can be explained.
SPOCK: Please do.
LEILA: Later.
SPOCK: I have never understood the female capacity to avoid a direct answer to any question.
LEILA: If I tell you how we survived, will you try to understand how we feel about our life here? About each other?
SPOCK: Emotions are alien to me. I’m a scientist.
LEILA: Someone else might believe that. Your shipmates, your Captain, but not me. Come.
SPOCK: You’ve not yet explained the nature of this thing.
LEILA: Its basic properties and elements are not important. What is important is it gives life, peace, love.
SPOCK: What you’re describing was once known in the vernacular as a happiness pill. And you, as a scientist, should know that that’s not possible.
KIRK: Excuse me. My orders are to remove all the colonists. That’s exactly what I intend to do, with or without your help.
ELIAS; Without, I should think.
MCCOY: Would you like to use a butterfly net on him, Captain?
KIRK: Spock!
SPOCK: Yes, what did you want?
KIRK: Spock, is that you?
SPOCK: Yes, Captain. What did you want?
KIRK: Where are you?
SPOCK: I don’t believe I want to tell you.
MCCOY: That didn’t sound at all like Spock, Jim.
KIRK: No. I thought you said you might like him if he mellowed a little.
MCCOY: I didn’t say that.
KIRK: You said that.
MCCOY: Not exactly.
KIRK: Mister Spock. Are you out of your mind? You were told to report to me at once.
SPOCK: I didn’t want to, Jim.
KIRK: You…? Yes, I can see that.
MCCOY: Ready to beam up. Hiya, Jimmy boy! Hey, I’ve taken care of everything. All y’all gotta do is relax. Doctor’s orders.
KIRK: How many of those did you beam up?
MCCOY: Oh, must be nigh onto a hundred by now.
CHIEF: Hey, Doc, I’m ready to energize. Everything okay with those plants?
KIRK: This is the Captain. Beam me up.
CHIEF: Well, sure, if you want.
KIRK: I most certainly do.
KIRK: Get back to your stations. Get back to your stations.
LESLIE: I’m sorry, sir. We’re all transporting down to join the colony.
KIRK: I said get back to your station.
LESLIE: No, sir.
KIRK: This is mutiny, mister.
LESLIE: Yes, sir. It is.
MCCOY: I’m not interested in any physical-psychological aspects, Jim boy. We all perfectly healthy down here.
KIRK: I’ve heard that word a lot lately. Perfect. Everything’s perfect.
MCCOY [OC]: Yeah. That’s right. That’s just what it is.
KIRK: I’ll bet you’ve even grown your tonsils back.
MCCOY: Sho’nuf. Hey, Jim boy, y’all ever have a real cold Georgia-style mint julep, huh?
KIRK: Look, Bones, I need your help. Can you run tests, blood samples, anything at all to give us a lead on what these things are, how to counteract them?
MCCOY: Who wants to counteract paradise, Jim boy?
KIRK: Where’s McCoy?
SPOCK: He went off to create something called a mint julep. That’s a drink, Jim.
KIRK: All right, you mutinous, disloyal, computerized, half-breed, we’ll see about you deserting my ship.
SPOCK: The term half-breed is somewhat applicable, but computerized is inaccurate. A machine can be computerized, not a man.
KIRK: What makes you think you’re a man? You’re an overgrown jackrabbit, an elf with a hyperactive thyroid.
SPOCK: Jim, I don’t understand.
KIRK: Of course you don’t understand. You don’t have the brains to understand. All you have is printed circuits.
SPOCK: Captain, if you’ll excuse me.
KIRK: What can you expect from a simpering, devil-eared freak whose father was a computer and his mother an encyclopedia?
SPOCK: My mother was a teacher. My father an ambassador.
KIRK: Your father was a computer, like his son. An ambassador from a planet of traitors. A Vulcan never lived who had an ounce of integrity.
SPOCK: Captain, please don’t
KIRK: You’re a traitor from a race of traitors. Disloyal to the core, rotten like the rest of your subhuman race, and you’ve got the gall to make love to that girl.
SPOCK: That’s enough.
KIRK: Does she know what she’s getting, Spock? A carcass full of memory banks who should be squatting in a mushroom, instead of passing himself off as a man? You belong in a circus, Spock, not a starship. Right next to the dog-faced boy.
KIRK: Good. Let’s get to work.
SPOCK: Captain. Striking a fellow officer is a court martial offense.
KIRK: Well, if we’re both in the Brig, who’s going to build the subsonic transmitter?
SPOCK: That is quite logical, Captain.
ELIAS: Well, Doctor, I’ve been thinking about what sort of work I could assign you to.
MCCOY: What do you mean, what sort of work? I’m a doctor.
ELIAS: Not any more, of course. We don’t need you. Not as a doctor.
MCCOY: Oh, no? Would you like to see how fast I can put you in a hospital?
ELIAS: I am the leader of this colony. I’ll assign you whatever work I think suitable.
MCCOY: Just a minute. You’d better make me a mechanic. Then I can treat little tin gods like you.
MCCOY: Well, that’s the second time man’s been thrown out of paradise.
KIRK: No, no, Bones. This time we walked out on our own. Maybe we weren’t meant for paradise. Maybe we were meant to fight our way through. Struggle, claw our way up, scratch for every inch of the way. Maybe we can’t stroll to the music of the lute. We must march to the sound of drums.
SPOCK: Poetry, Captain. Non-regulation.
KIRK: We haven’t heard much from you about Omicron Ceti Three, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: I have little to say about it, Captain, except that for the first time in my life I was happy.
“The Devil in the Dark”
VANDERBERG: This is Ed Appel, chief processing engineer.
KIRK: Describe it.
APPEL: I can’t. I only got a glimpse of it, but it’s big and shaggy.
VANDERBERG: Ed shot it.
SPOCK: Oh. You mean shot at it.
APPEL: No. I mean shot it. With this. (a hand phaser)
SPOCK: Fascinating.
APPEL: A good, clean shot. Didn’t even slow it down. Well, I’ve made my report to you. Production has stopped, nobody will go into the lower levels, and I don’t blame them. If the Federation wants pergium, then you’re going to have to do something about it.
KIRK: That’s why we’re here, Mister Vanderberg.
APPEL: You’re all pretty tough, aren’t you? Starship, phaser banks. You can’t get your starship down in the tunnels.
SPOCK: (examining a large globe from Vanderberg’s desk) Mister Vanderberg, what is this?
VANDERBERG: It’s a silicon nodule. There are a millions of them are down there. No commercial value.
SPOCK: But a geological oddity, to say the least. Pure silicon?
VANDERBERG: A few trace elements. Look, we didn’t call you here so you could collect rocks.
VANDERBERG: Without the pump mechanism, the reactor will go supercritical. It could poison half the planet. We can’t shut it down. It provides heat and air and life support for the whole colony.
KIRK: Mister Spock, we seem to have been given a choice. Death by asphyxiation or death by radiation poisoning.
SPOCK: Life as we know it is universally based on some combination of carbon compounds, but what if life exists based on another element? For instance, silicon.
MCCOY: You’re creating fantasies, Mister Spock.
MCCOY: Silicon-based life is physiologically impossible, especially in an oxygen atmosphere.
SPOCK: It may be, Doctor, that the creature can exist for brief periods in such an atmosphere before returning to its own environment.
MCCOY: I still think you’re imagining things.
KIRK: You may be right, Doctor, but at least it’s something to go on. Mister Spock, have Lieutenant Commander Giotto assemble the security troops and arm them with phaser number two. You make the proper adjustments. You seem fascinated by this rock.
SPOCK: Yes, Captain. You recall that Vanderberg commented there were thousands of these at a lower level, the level which the machinery opened just prior to the first appearance of the creature.
KIRK: Do they tie in?
SPOCK: I don’t know.
KIRK: Speculate.
SPOCK: I have already given Doctor McCoy sufficient cause for amusement. I’d prefer to cogitate the possibilities for a time.
KIRK: I’ll be right there. Kirk out. Scotty, ride herd on it. Kind words. Tender, loving care. Kiss it. Baby it. Flatter it if you have to, but keep it going.
SCOTT: I’ll do what I can, sir.
SPOCK: This tunnel. My readings indicate it was made within the hour. Moments ago, in fact.
KIRK: Are you certain?
SPOCK: Positive.
KIRK: This tunnel goes back as far as the eye can see. Our best machinery couldn’t cut a tunnel like this, not even with phasers.
SPOCK: Indeed, Captain. I’m quite at a loss.
KIRK: One creature in a hundred miles?
SPOCK: Exactly. Captain, there are literally thousands of these tunnels in this general area alone, far too many to be cut by the one creature in an ordinary lifetime.
KIRK: Then we’re dealing with more than one creature, despite your tricorder readings, or we have a creature with an extremely long life span.
SPOCK: Or it is the last of a race of creatures which made these tunnels. If so, if it is the only survivor of a dead race, to kill it would be a crime against science.
KIRK: Mister Spock, our mission is to protect this colony, to get the pergium moving again. This is not a zoological expedition. Maintain a constant reading on the creature. If we have to, we’ll use phasers to cut our own tunnels. We’ll try to surround it. I’m sorry, Mister Spock, but I’m afraid the creature must die.
SPOCK: I see no alternative myself, Captain. It merely seems a pity.
KIRK: Mister Spock, you are second in command. This will be a dangerous hunt. Either one of us by himself is expendable. Both of us are not.
SPOCK: Captain, there are approximately one hundred of us engaged in this search, against one creature. The odds against you and I both being killed are 2,228.7 to 1.
KIRK: 2,228.7 to 1? Those are pretty good odds, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: And they are of course accurate, Captain.
KIRK: Of course. Well, I hate to use the word, but logically, with those kind of odds, you might as well stay. But please stay out of trouble, Mister Spock.
SPOCK: That is always my intention, Captain.
SPOCK: Captain, I just read some fresh signs.
SPOCK: The creature is in this area. I’ll take a lifeform reading.
KIRK: It’s not necessary, Mister Spock. I know exactly where the creature is.
SPOCK: Where, Captain?
KIRK: Ten feet away from me.
SPOCK: Kill it, Captain, quickly.
KIRK: It’s not making any threatening moves, Spock.
SPOCK: You don’t dare take the chance, Captain. Kill it.
KIRK: I thought you were the one who wanted it kept alive, captured if possible.
SPOCK: Jim, I remind you that this is a silicon-based form of life. Doctor McCoy’s medical knowledge will be totally useless.
KIRK: He’s a healer, let him heal.
KIRK: It’s wounded. Badly. You’ve got to help it.
MCCOY: Help that?
KIRK: Go take a look.
SPOCK: The end of life. Murderers.
MCCOY: You can’t be serious. That thing is virtually made out of stone!
KIRK: Help it. Treat it.
MCCOY: I’m a doctor, not a bricklayer.
SPOCK: Except for one thing. The Horta is badly wounded. It may die.
MCCOY: It won’t die. By golly, Jim, I’m beginning to think I can cure a rainy day.
KIRK: Can you help it?
MCCOY: Help it? I cured it.
KIRK: Well, Spock, I’m going to have to ask you to get in touch with the Horta again. Tell her our proposition. She and her children can do all the tunneling they want. Our people will remove the minerals, and each side will leave the other alone. Think she’ll go for it?
SPOCK: It seems logical, Captain. The Horta has a very logical mind. And after close association with humans, I find that curiously refreshing.
SPOCK: Curious. What Chief Vanderberg said about the Horta is exactly what the Mother Horta said to me. She found humanoid appearance revolting, but she thought she could get used to it.
MCCOY: Oh, she did, did she? Now tell me, did she happen to make any comment about those ears?
SPOCK: Not specifically, but I did get the distinct impression she found them the most attractive human characteristic of all. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that only I have–
KIRK: She really liked those ears?
SPOCK: Captain, the Horta is a remarkably intelligent and sensitive creature, with impeccable taste.
KIRK: Because she approved of you?
SPOCK: Really, Captain, my modesty–
KIRK: Does not bear close examination, Mister Spock. I suspect you’re becoming more and more human all the time.
SPOCK: Captain, I see no reason to stand here and be insulted.
“Errand of Mercy”
SPOCK: Minor, Captain. We were most fortunate. Blast damage in decks ten and eleven, minor buckling in the antimatter pods, casualties very light.
KIRK: Maintain surveillance, Mister Sulu.
SULU: No contact, Captain. He blew up all right.
KIRK: Well, we’ve been anticipating an attack. I’d say what we’ve just experienced very nearly qualifies.
SPOCK: Yes. It would seem to be an unfriendly act.
UHURA: Automatic all-points relay from Starfleet Command, Captain, code one.
KIRK: Well, there it is. War. We didn’t want it, but we’ve got it.
SPOCK: Curious how often you humans manage to obtain that which you do not want.
KIRK: So we’re stranded here, in the middle of a Klingon occupation army.
SPOCK: So it would seem. Not a very pleasant prospect.
KIRK: You have a gift for understatement, Mister Spock. It’s not a very pleasant prospect at all.
KIRK: I have a tongue.
KOR: Good. You will be taught how to use it. Where is your smile?
KIRK: My what?
KOR: The stupid, idiotic smile everyone else seems to be wearing. A Vulcan. Do you also have a tongue?
SPOCK: I am Spock, a dealer in kevas and trillium.
KOS: You do not look like a storekeeper. Take this man. Vulcans are members of the Federation. He may be a spy.
KIRK: He’s no spy.
KOR: Well, have we a ram among the sheep? Do you object to us taking him?
KIRK: He’s done nothing. Nothing at all.
KOR: Coming from an Organian, yours is practically an act of rebellion. Very good. (to the Council) So you welcome me. (to Kirk) Do you also welcome me?
KIRK: You’re here. There’s nothing I can do about it.
KOR: Good honest hatred. Very refreshing.
SPOCK: Captain, I strongly suggest we direct our energies toward the immediate problem. Accomplishing our mission here.
KIRK: You didn’t really think I was going to beat his head in, did you?
SPOCK: I thought you might.
KIRK: You’re right.
KIRK: It’s a very large universe, Commander, full of people who don’t like the Klingons.
KOR: Excellent. Then it shall be a matter of testing each other’s wills. Of power. Survival must be earned, Captain. Tell me about the dispersal of your Starfleet.
KIRK: Go climb a tree.
KIRK: Well, what are the odds now?
SPOCK: Less than seven thousand to one, Captain. It’s remarkable we’ve got this far.
KIRK: Less than seven thousand to one. Well, getting better. Getting better.
KIRK: Even if you have some power that we don’t understand, you have no right to dictate to our Federation
KOR: Or our Empire!
KIRK: How to handle their interstellar relations! We have the right–
AYELBORNE: To wage war, Captain? To kill millions of innocent people? To destroy life on a planetary scale? Is that what you’re defending?
KIRK: Well, no one wants war. But there are proper channels. People have a right to handle their own affairs. Eventually, we will have–
AYELBORNE: Oh, eventually you will have peace, but only after millions of people have died. It is true that in the future, you and the Klingons will become fast friends. You will work together.
KOR: Never!
KIRK: Well, Commander, I guess that takes care of the war. Obviously, the Organians aren’t going to let us fight.
KOR: A shame, Captain. It would have been glorious.
SPOCK: You’ve been most restrained since we left Organia.
KIRK: I’m embarrassed. I was furious with the Organians for stopping a war I didn’t want. We think of ourselves as the most powerful beings in the universe. It’s unsettling to discover that we’re wrong.
SPOCK: Captain, it took millions of years for the Organians to evolve into what they are. Even the gods did not spring into being overnight. You and I have no reason to be embarrassed. We did, after all, beat the odds.
KIRK: Oh, no, no, no, Mister Spock, We didn’t beat the odds. We didn’t have a chance. The Organians raided the game.
“The Alternative Factor”
KIRK: What was that?
SPOCK: What my instruments read is totally unbelievable, Captain. Twice, for a split second each time, everything within range of our instruments seemed on the verge of winking out.
KIRK: I want facts, not poetry.
SPOCK: I have given you the facts, Captain. The entire magnetic field in this solar system simply blinked. The planet below, the mass of which we’re measuring, attained zero gravity.
KIRK: That’s impossible. What you’re describing–
SPOCK: Is non-existence.
KIRK: Well, what is it, this object? Its physical makeup?
SPOCK: A living being. Body temperature 98.5 Fahrenheit. Mass, electrical impulses, movement. It is apparently human, Captain.
KIRK: And its appearance coincided with this cosmic winking-out?
SPOCK; Almost to the second.
KIRK: Explanation.
SPOCK: None.
KIRK: Speculation. Could this being present any danger to the ship?
SPOCK: Possible. Very possible
MASTERS: Whatever that phenomenon was, it drained almost all of our crystals completely. It could mean trouble.
KIRK: You have a talent for understatement, Lieutenant. Without full crystal power, our orbit will begin to decay in ten hours. Re-amplify immediately.
BARSTOW: I’m evacuating all Starfleet units and personnel within a hundred parsecs of your position. It’s going to be tough on you and the Enterprise, but that’s the job you’ve drawn. You’re on your own.
KIRK: I see. You mean, we’re the bait.
LAZARUS: I told you it was a thing. All white, black and empty. A terrible emptiness.
KIRK: Let’s get back to the ship.
LAZARUS: He’ll kill us all if we don’t kill him first! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill!
MCCOY: Well, say he’s got the constitution of a dinosaur, recuperative powers ditto. As we both know, I’m a bright young medic with a miraculous touch. Why then, when I returned, there wasn’t a trace of that wound on his forehead. Not even a bruise. It was like he had never been injured.
KIRK: Where is he?
MCCOY: I don’t know, Jim. This is a big ship. I’m just a country doctor.
LAZARUS: Is something wrong?
KIRK: No. I have a ship’s physician with a strange sense of humor.
MCCOY: This is no joke, Jim. I know what I saw.
KIRK: Take a look at Lazarus. One minute he’s at the point of death, the next he’s alive, well, strong as a bull.
SPOCK: The cut on his forehead. First he has it, then it’s gone, then he has it again.
KIRK: Which is physically impossible for one man.
SPOCK: Quite right. Unquestionably, there are two of him.
KIRK: What’s going on? This leaping from universe to universe. This wild talk about a murdering creature who destroys civilizations What’s the purpose?
SPOCK: Jim, madness has no purpose or reason, but it may have a goal. He must be stopped, held. Destroyed if necessary.
KIRK: I don’t follow you.
SPOCK: Two parallel universes project this. One positive, the other negative. Or, more specifically, one matter, the other antimatter.
KIRK: Do you know what you’re saying? Matter and antimatter have a tendency to cancel each other out. violently.
SPOCK: Precisely. Under certain conditions, when two identical particles of matter and antimatter meet
KIRK: Like Lazarus. Identical. Like both Lazarus’, only one is matter and the other antimatter. If they meet.
SPOCK: Annihilation, Jim. Total, complete, absolute annihilation.
KIRK: Of everything that exists, everywhere.
KIRK: Surely Lazarus must realize what would happen if you should meet face to face outside the corridor.
LAZARUS: Of course he knows, Captain, but he’s mad. You heard him. He’s lost his mind. When our people found a way to slip through the warp and prove another universe, an identical one, existed, it was too much for him. He could not live knowing that I lived. He became obsessed with the idea of destroying me. The fact that it meant his own destruction, and everything else, meant nothing to him.
KIRK: So you’re the terrible thing, the murdering monster. The creature.
LAZARUS: Yes, Captain. Or he is. It depends on your point of view, doesn’t it?
“The City on the Edge of Forever”
KIRK: Tricky stuff. Are you sure you want to risk–
(The hypo is administered and Sulu opens his eyes.)
MCCOY: You were about to make a medical comment, Jim?
KIRK: Who, me, Doctor?
KIRK: Communications, emergency medical team.
MCCOY: (screams) Killers! Assassins! I won’t let you! I’ll kill you first! I won’t let you! You won’t get me! Murderers! Killers!
KIRK: What is this thing, Mister Spock? It seems to be pulsating with power of some kind. Analysis, please.
SPOCK: Unbelievable, Captain.
KIRK: That’s funny.
GUARDIAN: I am the Guardian of Forever.
KIRK: Are you machine or being?
GUARDIAN: I am both and neither. I am my own beginning, my own ending.
SPOCK: I see no reason for answers to be couched in riddles.
SPOCK: A time portal, Captain. A gateway to other times and dimensions, if I’m correct.
GUARDIAN: As correct as possible for you. Your science knowledge is obviously primitive.
SPOCK: Really.
KIRK: Annoyed, Spock?
SPOCK: Theft, Captain?
KIRK: Well, we’ll steal from the rich and give back to the poor later. I think I’m going to like this century. Simple, easier to manage. We’re not going to have any difficulty explaining–
POLICEMAN: Well?
KIRK: You’re a police officer. I recognize the traditional accoutrements.
SPOCK: You were saying you’ll have no trouble explaining it.
KIRK: My friend is obviously Chinese. I see you’ve noticed the ears. They’re actually easy to explain.
SPOCK: Perhaps the unfortunate accident I had as a child.
KIRK: The unfortunate accident he had as a child. He caught his head in a mechanical rice picker. But fortunately, there was an American missionary living close by who was actually a skilled plastic surgeon in civilian life.
POLICEMAN: All right, all right. Drop those bundles and put your hands on that wall there! Come on!
KIRK: Oh, how careless of your wife to let you go out that way.
POLICEMAN: What? Where?
SPOCK: Oh, yes, it’s quite untidy. Here, let me help you.
KIRK: You were actually enjoying my predicament back there. At times, you seem quite human.
SPOCK: Captain, I hardly believe that insults are within your prerogative as my commanding officer.
KIRK: Couldn’t you build some form of computer aid here?
SPOCK: In this zinc-plated vacuum-tubed culture?
KIRK: Yes, well, it would pose an extremely complex problem in logic, Mister Spock. Excuse me. I sometimes expect too much of you.
KIRK: Excuse us, miss. We didn’t mean to trespass. It’s cold outside.
EDITH: A lie is a poor way to say hello. It isn’t that cold.
KIRK: No. We were being chased by a policeman.
EDITH: Why?
KIRK: These clothes. We stole them. We didn’t have any money.
KIRK: Radio tubes and so on. I approve of hobbies, Mister Spock.
MAN: You’ll be sorry.
KIRK: Why?
MAN: You expect to eat for free or something? You got to listen to Goody Two-shoes.
EDITH: Now, as I’m sure somebody out there has said, it’s time to pay for the soup.
MAN: Not that she’s a bad-looking broad, but if she really wanted to help out a fella in need–
KIRK: Shut up. Shut up. I want to hear what she has to say.
KIRK: Development of atomic power is years away, and space flight years after that.
SPOCK: Speculation. Gifted insight.
KIRK: I find her most uncommon, Mister Spock.
KIRK: We have a flop.
SPOCK: We have a what, Captain?
KIRK: A place to sleep.
SPOCK: One might have said so in the first place.
SPOCK: Captain, I must have some platinum. A small block would be sufficient, five or six pounds. By passing certain circuits through there to be used as a duodynetic field core…
KIRK: Mister Spock, I’ve brought you some assorted vegetables, baloney in a hard roll for myself, and I’ve spent the other nine tenths of our combined salaries for the last three days on filling this order for you. Mister Spock, this bag does not contain platinum, silver or gold, nor is it likely to in the near future.
SPOCK: Captain, you’re asking me to work with equipment which hardly very far ahead of stone knives and bearskins.
EDITH: What? What on Earth is that?
SPOCK: I am endeavoring, ma’am, to construct a mnemonic memory circuit using stone knives and bearskins.
KIRK: Spock, I believe I’m in love with Edith Keeler.
SPOCK: Jim, Edith Keeler must die.
MCCOY: The most common question to ask would be, where am I? I don’t think I’ll ask it.
EDITH: Why not?
MCCOY: The only possible answer would conclusively prove that I’m either unconscious or demented. This looks like old Earth around 1920 or 25.
EDITH: Would you care to try for 30?
MCCOY: I am unconscious, or demented.
MCCOY: I’m a surgeon, not a psychiatrist. I am Leonard McCoy, Senior Medical Officer aboard the USS Enterprise.
EDITH: I don’t mean to disbelieve you, but that’s hardly a Navy uniform.
MCCOY: It’s quite all right. It’s quite all right dear, because I don’t believe in you, either.
KIRK: Edith.
EDITH: Are you following me, sir?
KIRK: With ulterior motives. Does that please you?
MCCOY: You deliberately stopped me, Jim. I could have saved her. Do you know what you just did?
SPOCK: He knows, Doctor. He knows.
UHURA: Captain, the Enterprise is up there. They’re asking if we want to beam up.
KIRK: Let’s get the hell out of here.
“Operation: Annihilate! ”
MCCOY: Jim, did you know who that woman was?
KIRK: Yes. You were right a while back. My brother Sam lives on Deneva. He’s a research biologist. That woman sounded like his wife Aurelan.
KIRK: Did you hear what they said, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: Indeed. They seemed most concerned for our safety.
KIRK: They tried to brain us with these clubs. Check them out, Bones.
SPOCK: Their attitude was inconsistent with their actions.
KIRK: To say the least.
SPOCK: These restraints will no longer be necessary. Nor will your sedatives, Doctor. I’ll be able to return to duty. I apologize for my weakness earlier when I tried to take control of the ship. I simply did not understand.
What is there to understand, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: I am a Vulcan, Doctor. Pain is a thing of the mind. The mind can be controlled.
KIRK: You’re only half-Vulcan. What about the human half of you?
SPOCK: It is proving to be an inconvenience, but it is manageable. And the creature, with all of its thousands of parts, even now is pressuring me. (the pain indicator hits the top of the monitor) It wants this ship, but I am resisting.
MCCOY: Jim, that man is sick. Don’t give me any damnable logic about him being the only man for the job.
KIRK: I don’t have to, Bones. We both know he is.
SPOCK: I regret I see no other choice for you, Captain. We already know this thing has destroyed three civilizations. Perhaps more.
MCCOY: Gentlemen, I want it stopped, too, but not at the cost of destroying over a million people.
SPOCK: Including myself, Doctor, and Captain Kirk’s young nephew. Understandably upsetting, but once it spreads past here, there are dozens of colonies beyond and billions of people.
MCCOY: If killing five people saves ten, it’s a bargain. Is that your simple logic, Mister Spock?
SPOCK: Captain, you’ll need a host for the next step in the test to determine whether the creature can be driven from the body. I am the logical choice.
MCCOY: Do you know what one million candlelight per square inch can do to your optic nerves?
KIRK: There’s no other way, Bones. We have to duplicate the brilliance that existed at the moment the Denevan declared himself freed.
MCCOY: Oh, no.
KIRK: What is it?
MCCOY: I threw the total spectrum of light at the creature. It wasn’t necessary. I didn’t stop to think that only one kind of light might’ve killed it.
SPOCK: Interesting. Just as dogs are sensitive to certain sounds which humans cannot hear, these creatures evidently are sensitive to light which we cannot see.
KIRK: Are you telling me that Spock need not have been blinded?
MCCOY: I didn’t need to throw the blinding white light at all, Jim. Spock, I–
SPOCK: Doctor it was my selection as well. It is done.
KIRK: Spock. You can see.
MCCOY: The blindness was temporary, Jim. There’s something about his optical nerves which aren’t the same as a human’s.
SPOCK: An hereditary trait, Captain. The brightness of the Vulcan sun has caused the development of an inner eyelid, which acts as a shield against high-intensity light. Totally instinctive, Doctor. We tend to ignore it, as you ignore your own appendix.
KIRK: Mister Spock. Regaining eyesight would be an emotional experience for most. You, I presume, felt nothing?
SPOCK: Quite the contrary, Captain. I had a very strong reaction. My first sight was the face of Doctor McCoy bending over me.
MCCOY: ‘Tis a pity your brief blindness did not increase your appreciation for beauty, Mister Spock.
MCCOY: Unusual eye arrangement. I might’ve known he’d turn up with something like that.
KIRK: What’s that, Doctor?
MCCOY: I said, please don’t tell Spock I said he was the best first officer in the fleet.
SPOCK: Why, thank you, Doctor McCoy.
KIRK: You’ve been so concerned about his Vulcan eyes, Doctor, you forgot about his Vulcan ears.
Transcript Excerpts from Chrissie’s Transcripts Site
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