Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Me, sir. I'd like to volunteer.

commander of the flagship Fesarius of the First Federation.

But lives nevertheless. Captain out.

There must be something to do.

I regret not having learned more about this Balok.

His engines are out.

Our speed is down to 0.64 of light.

We're being towed, sir.

Radiation passing the tolerance level, entering lethal zone.

Point-five-oh, sir.

- "They're not machines, Jim?" - Well, they're not.

If you've examined our ship and its tapes,

Engage, Mr. Sulu. Quarter speed.

All engines, full stop.

Helmsman to engine room. Stand by.

However, it was well played.

Helmsman, engineering decks could have been faster too.

And I'd get a better officer in return.

Not visual yet.

I trust it has pleased your curiosity.

What's its mass, Mr. Spock?

Three days of this now, sir.

He's sneaked power down a bit.

plot us a spiral course away from the cube.

And if you're asking the logical decision to make...

I wanted to Wish you a Happy Birthday…

Balok's message, it was heard all over the ship.

Logically, we'll discover the intelligence which sent out the cube.

But my next decision, major. Probe on ahead or turn back?

- The men are tired. - Captain's quarters.

I've no time for you, your theories, your quaint philosophies.