B'Elanna Torres: You don't think I'm hostile, do you?
Harry Kim: I, er... wouldn't describe you that way, no...
B'Elanna Torres: I know that I have a temper. But that doesn't mean that I'm always hostile, does it?
Harry Kim: [nervous giggle] No, of course not.
B'Elanna Torres: I am forthright, I speak my mind; that is very different from being hostile.
Harry Kim: [tensely] Very different.
B'Elanna Torres: [tetchily] And if someone described me that way, they'd be way off the mark, wouldn't they?
Harry Kim: [nervously] Way off.
B'Elanna Torres: Then why do you look like you're afraid for your life?
B'Elanna Torres: I've reconfigured the Doctor's optical sensors, and as soon as they're aligned he should be able to detect the microwave signature of the portals.
The Doctor: Then I can begin my new career as a tricorder.
[Torres and Paris have fled into a snow-covered wasteland]
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: My hands are completely numb!
Lieutenant Tom Paris: Here.
[warms her hands]
Lieutenant Tom Paris: I would have thought all that hot Klingon blood would have kept you warm.
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: [shivering] Shows how much you know about Klingons. They have much less tolerance for the cold than Humans do.
Lieutenant Tom Paris: Really? I thought that was Cardassians.
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: No, they just complain about it more.
Lieutenant Tom Paris: On your feet now, Torres, that's an order!
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: You can't give me orders, we're the same rank.
Lieutenant Tom Paris: I am a bridge officer, and I have seniority.
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: Oh, yeah, by about two days!
Lieutenant Tom Paris: On your feet, now! Come on, you've been wanting to take a swing at me for days. Now is your chance.
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: You're just trying to get me moving.
Lieutenant Tom Paris: You *will* keep moving. Or do I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out?
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: Don't even try it.
The Doctor: Lieutenant, I haven't seen any sign of a portal. Frankly, I'm getting tired of this.
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres: Holograms don't get tired. Keep looking!
Jarlath: The last inhabitants of this environment had no concept of a barter system. But you strike me as a much more, uh... uh, sophisticated group.
Captain Kathryn Janeway: If there were people here before us, maybe we could get out the same way.
Jarlath: Oh, I... I don't think you'd like their method of escape. Er, they all died from a plague.
Captain Kathryn Janeway: Something about this is wrong, I can smell it. Look at us - running around the ship, checking sensors and spinning theories, while the Nyrians slowly replace our crew. Consider this - there has been a consistent interval of nine minutes and twenty seconds between these exchanges. At that rate, our entire crew'll be gone in eighteen hours. Tell me that doesn't put a knot in your stomach.
The Doctor: [receiving clusters of displaced Nyrians] Welcome to sickbay. Take a number.
Commander Chakotay: How do you like your first day as Chief of Security, Ensign?
Ensign Lang: It's everything I dreamed of, sir.
Commander Chakotay: Who says there's no room for advancement on this ship?
Commander Chakotay: All right - I know when to quit.
[he disappears, as the last of Voyager's crew]
Commander Chakotay: I want access to all systems restricted to authorized voice prints only. Seal off any part of the ship that we're not using and place security force fields around sensitive areas. Warp core, armory, torpedo bays. And let's hope I'm just being paranoid.