Captain's log, stardate 57436.2.
The Cerritos has docked at Douglas Station
for routine maintenance and re-supply.
We will soon set course for the capitol planet
on the Galar System, where we're scheduled to make
second contact with the Galardonian High Council.
First contact is a delicate, high stakes operation
of diplomacy. One must be ready for anything
when humanity's interacting with an alien race
for the first time.
But we don't do that. Our specialty is second contact.
Still pretty important, we get all the paperwork signed,
make sure we're spelling the name of the planet right,
get to know all the good places to eat.
Oh my God, what are you doing?
Ah, nothing, nothing, nothing.
Oh no, oh no, no, no, no, no!
Are you pretending to do a captain's log?
We're all supposed to keep logs.
Okay, let me listen to it.
No, go away, leave me alone.
I can't believe you're wasting
your shore leave on this.
Privacy, please.
Okay, time to go, come on,
get out of that little closet. Let go, come on!
Are you drunk?
Yeah dude, you should be too. I mean, this station
is amazing, and they have Romulan whisky,
and I bet you thought it was gonna be green,
but it is actually blue, it's this very beautiful color.
Romulan whisky is against regulation.
Yeah, 'cause it's awesome!
Oh man, they got all sorts of great stuff.
Oh, oh, come on, check this out.
Be careful with that!
Oh yeah, pretty sweet, right?
Yeah, it's a Klingon ba, um, ba, uh, bat...
I don't know, I'm not a scientist, it doesn't matter,
shut up. I got it from an old guy
with an eye patch.
Come spar with me, come on.
Oh, we're gonna be Klingons.
We can have crimped hair, wrinkled foreheads.
Worf, Worf, Worf! -: It's got crusty blood on it!
I love honor!
-: Hey, stop! -: I demand honor!