Captain's Log: We're approaching Valandria on a diplomatic mission. I think some things happened on the way, but damned if I can remember what.
Cortez: Remember, crew, this species is like the Jarada. They demand a very precise greeting, so we have to get it right.
(ZAP ZAP ZAP)
Rol: How's that?
Cortez: Needs more punctuation.
Lorhrok: Okay, let's get repairing. T'Kala, deliver these schematics. Yubari, be mysterious. Adow, go work somewhere I don't have to see you. Westlake, at large.
Westlake: Aye aye!
T'Kala: Do you have to let the annoying kid work here?
Lorhrok: You know what's a lot more annoying? Not having your deus ex machina handy when you need the ship saved.
Dovan: Grrrrr. Species like this that communicate through violence... I just want to beat them all to death!
Cortez: Better control that Bolian anger, Commander.
Dovan: There's nothing specifically Bolian about my anger.
Cortez: I know, but this is audio. It wouldn't be fair not to mention it at some point.
Harkless: So what's the best thing about being senior staff?
Helder: I'd have to say the job security. You cannon-fodder types could get killed any time, but not me.
Harkless: Lucky. Hey, check out those satellites!
Helder: Oooo. Bridge to Cortez: Better get up here quick if you don't wanna miss the music swell.
Cortez: Did I miss --
Helder: Yeah, sorry. But check out that unexpectedly-advanced space station.
Cortez: That must be where their leaders are. Let's try to contact them.
Dovan: Wait, why haven't they contacted us long since? Shouldn't that have happened right after the battle?
Rol: Oops. I think I left the ship on silent.
Sorid-Gee: (over the comm) Finally! Do you know how many times we've tried to --
Betra-Na: (over the comm) Let it go, Sorid-Gee. Humans, as the Premier of Valandria, I greet you in peace.
Cortez: Thank --
Betra-Na: Peace and RAGE! How dare you attack our ships? Is this how your people introduce yourselves?
Cortez: What? But... but we...
Betra-Na: Nah, just kidding. Come on over.
Cortez: Commander, you have the bridge. I'll be heading over there with some female security guards.
Amara: And me, I trust. In case there's danger or a shoe store or something.
Cortez: I'm afraid not. As you know, it's Federation policy to kowtow to local customs, and the Valandrin are raging sexists.
Amara: What? Since when? Nobody mentioned that until you did just now! I bet you're making it up so you can be one of those hands-on, risk-taking captains!
Cortez: Relax, Lieutenant. There's absolutely no chance of danger on this mission, whether for me or anyone else. Hastings, say.
Sorid-Gee: We must kill the humans before it's too late! Heed the words of the prophecy!
Betra-Na: The prophecy can be taken many ways. I like to think of it as a living prophecy, subject to reinterpretation over the years.
Sorid-Gee: Oh, so it means whatever we want it to?
Betra-Na: Don't be silly. It means whatever I want it to.
Astrin-Sa: I take it she's still not heeding the words of the prophecy.
Sorid-Gee: And she'll regret it. Be prepared!
Astrin-Sa: Sure, I'll be prepared. ...For what?
Sorid-Gee: For the death of the Premier! I know it sounds sordid, but you'll be rewarded. The future is littered with prizes! A shining new --
Astrin-Sa: Okay, lyrics are fun and all, but do you really think you can pull off a coup right under Betra-Na's nose?
Sorid-Gee: It'll be easy. She wouldn't have made me vizier if she didn't trust me.
Cortez: Okay, this is a mission of peaceful diplomacy. We need phasers. Lots of phasers.
Amara: I've got Types I and II. It would be best not to confuse -- wait, never mind. The Type Is just fell down that crack in the floor.
Cortez: Considering that the Valandrin are lizard-like, what setting do you suggest?
Amara: There you go again! This is the first I've heard about lizards! Pick your own setting, I don't care!
Betra-Na: We welcome you to our station, Captain.
Sorid-Gee: With RAGE! The Oracle prophesied that you would come to kill us!
Cortez: It did? Well, you know Oracles. They just tell you what they think you need to hear.
Sorid-Gee: Lies! Premier, heed the words of the prophecy! Heed the words of the prophecy!
Betra-Na: That's qu--
Sorid-Gee: HEED THEM!
Betra-Na: Enough! I'm taking the humans to the Cave of the Oracle. You wait in the Corner of Standing.
Sorid-Gee: Brigadier, we will wait five cycles. Then we will make our move... and bring the mighty Kublai Khan to his knees!
Brigadier: (over the comm) Okay, I know I'm asking for it with this rank, but seriously, Doctor Who references? From a serial that doesn't even exist except in audio form?
Sorid-Gee: In case you've forgotten, neither do we.
Amara: I'm getting an odd energy reading from the station.
Dovan: Is the captain's team in danger?
Amara: God, I hope so. Lizards, my ass!
Cortez: Is that the Oracle?
Betra-Na: That's a statue.
Cortez: Is that the Oracle?
Betra-Na: That's a wall.
Cortez: Is that --
Betra-Na: Right, we're beaming straight there. I don't care if it gives you all transporter sickness.
Dovan: Already? How the hell long is a cycle?
Dovan: Never mind. Red alert!
Lorhrok: Captain, something here is making my tricorder go wonky. I can't get a reading.
Betra-Na: Well, of course you can't.
Cortez: Because the Oracle won't let him?
Betra-Na: Because he's male. Now come, the Oracle is this way.
Lorhrok: What a bunch of sexist ser-nakes!
Cortez: I'm going to pretend you're just making up words again.
Dovan: Get us away from that station so we can fight back!
Amara: The docking port won't release! If we force it, she'll fly apart!
Dovan: Fly her apart then!
Amara: Done. Deck 10 reports three hundred casualties.
Oracle: Please state the nature of the temporal inconsistency.
Cortez: What the --? The Oracle is an EMH?
Lorhrok: But that can't be! He doesn't look like Robert Picardo or Andy Dick!
Oracle: After the economic downturn of the 2390s, Starfleet could no longer afford likeness rights.
Cortez: The 2390s? Lorhrok, do you realize what this means?
Lorhrok: He's from the future... and we're getting an economy!
(CRASH BOOM BASH)
Amara: We're taking a lot of damage. Especially through that big hole you made in the ship.
Dovan: Then there's no choice! Get us out of here!
Amara: And the away team?
Dovan: Let's just say I'll make an official entry in the ship's record for them.
(The Excelsior scampers off at Lagomorphic Speed)
TO BE CONTINUED...
Dovan: We'll get better at doing the voices, right?
Amara: If we live long enough. The way you run this ship...
Cortez: Excuse me, I run this ship. And you'll be pleased to hear I plan to record audio episodes forever.