hi. i'd like a klabnian fire tea, two cardassian sunrises and three earth beers, no slim-shots, anything on draft.
and a shot of jack, straight up.
her shot's on her. thanks but no thanks.
i'm good without it.
uhura.
just uhura.
uhura is my last name.
xenolinguistics. lemme guess: you don't know what that means.
and for a moment i thought you were just a dumb hick who only has sex with farm animals.
you think you're smart.
beyond belief, but nothing i can't handle.
hey -- jim: enough.
enough! stop!
and you never will.
i was supposed to be, but it was crazy, i picked up an emergency transmission from a klingon prison planet -- there was an escape and a ship stolen from th-- .  you okay?
were you running simulations with the mouth-breather hiding under the bed?
the hell are you doing with him in here?
get outta here -- it's my ass too if administration catches you in this dorm.
you're gonna fail.
no. good night.
-- we are receiving a distress signal from the u.s.s. kobayashi maru. the ship has lost power and is stranded. starfleet command has ordered us to rescue them.
and how do you expect us to rescue them when we're surrounded by klingons?
-- the kobayashi maru is still in distress.  but.  the klingons have stopped firing.
commander, a word?
was i not one of your top students?
did i not receive a gold rating for exolinguistic skills, giving starfleet first place over kyoto and mit at the oxford invitational?
-- and did i not, on multiple occasions, demonstrate exceptional aural sensitivity and, i quote, "unparalleled ability to identify sonic anomalies" in subspace transmission tests?!
and while you were well aware that my unqualified desire was to serve on the u.s.s. enterprise, i was assigned to the farragut.
no. no. i am assigned to the enterprise.
what are you doing here-- what happened to your hands?!
sir, i-- i intercepted and translated the message myself. kirk's report is accurate.
uhura, sir. all three dialects.
captain, i pick up no romulan transmissions -- or transmissions of any kind in the area. there seems to be something jamming all communication around vulcan.
captain, we're being hailed!
the jamming signal's gone -- communications are re-established --
what? spock, wait --
-- where are you going?
-- you can't beam them out?
i'm so sorry.
what can i do? tell me what you need.
their trajectory suggests no other destination, captain.
 an alternate reality.
i sure hope you know what you're doing.
i want some answers.
right now. where the hell'd you get trans-warp technology?
do i look simple to you?!
no.  i've been monitoring all channels.
we'll be monitoring your frequency.
communications and transporter inoperative --
dock control reports ready. yard command signalling clear.