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: Logic! I hate logic!
: Where are you going? Noss
: To repair the field generator. Tuvok
: I will accompany you. Noss
: No. You stay. Prepare for the attack. Tuvok
: You can't go alone. Noss
: Risking two lives... would be illogical.
[Tuvok tells Noss about Voyager
: Tell me about you there. Tuvok
: I am the Chief Tactical Officer. Noss
: What else? Tuvok
: Can you be more specific? Noss
: Your duties? Uh... where you sleep... what you eat. Music? Friends? Tuvok
: Why is any of that relevant? Noss
: Because it is you.
: [after an unsuccessful attempt to hunt a spider
] I don't know what's worse, catching them or eating them! Noss
: No poison. Tom Paris
: Well, they may not be poisonous, but they sure give me the creeps!