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The Chute Line-by-Line

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Neelix: Akritirian Patrol. Er, am I in Akritirian space? Oh, dear. I, I thought this was the Heva Seven refuelling port. You wouldn't by any chance be able to recommend a respectable establishment where I could have my navigational array repaired?
 
NEELIX: Acknowledged. I know it's a little cramped back there, so if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable.
 
NEELIX: Of course, Captain. Talaxian vessel to Akritirian Patrol. My apologies for the little mix-up. I'll departing now as per your orders.

(Neelix undocks from the space station.)
 
NEELIX: Er, what was that, Patrol? That last message was garbled.

(Bang! Neelix flies his ship away very quickly.)
 
[Sickbay]

NEELIX: I've always thought of my piloting skills as modest at best, and the conditions were extremely dangerous. Still, I did outmanoeuvre those Akritirians, didn't I?
 
NEELIX: I'm glad to hear you say that, Captain, because I've been thinking. Until Tom here gets back on his feet, perhaps I could, er, try my hand at conn for a while.
 
EMH: That won't be necessary. Lieutenant Paris is just fine, thanks to excellent doctoring. I've finished analysing these implants, and you'll be happy to know that the treatment I've provided will successfully counteract their effect on you.
 
EMH: My readings indicate that the implants are designed to stimulate the production of acetylcholine in the hypothalamus.
 
EMH: Hmm. Acetylcholine is a brain chemical common to the neural structures of most humanoids. Essentially, it helps stimulate one's aggressive tendencies.
 
PARIS: Come on, Harry. We're overdue for that steak dinner.
 
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