Andromeda

Tyr: This is a farce! The captain's plan is killing us. I can feel my DNA being shredded, molecule by molecule.
Beka: Well, look on the bright side. Maybe some stray cosmic ray will zap just the right gene and give your children some killer mutation that will make all the other Nietzscheans weep with envy.
Tyr: You find this amusing? Even if we can repair the slipstream drive, the enemy will destroy us before we can get far enough away from the star's gravity well to use it. And nothing that... nothing Dylan is doing can prevent that.
Beka: I'll talk to him.
Tyr: And what will that accomplish? If the radiation is affecting me, what do you suppose it's doing to Harper? To Trance? And to you?
Beka: Tyr, I didn't know you cared.
Tyr: I care about survival. Do you?

Harper: Whew! Trance, is it my imagination or is it beginning to get really hot in here?
Trance: (over comm) Temperature readings are stable, and the bucky cables are still radiating heat perfectly. It's all in your mind.
Harper: Oh. Good. Insanity, I can deal with. Maybe I'll go to hydroponics afterward and run through the sprinklers. (He coughs, and notices blood on his hand) Nice.

Rev: We've lost the remainder of our sensor drones. We're blind. Tyr: Blind and crippled. If Andromeda were my child, I'd drown it.

Dylan: Any indication what we're up against? Rev: I can't tell. It could be anything. Trance: Maybe it's a baby space alien that thinks we're its mother. Harper: Come to momma, baby.

Dylan: Now hard left, ninety degrees positive, all ahead full. Beka: This must be the old nauseate your enemy ploy. Dylan: Keep it up. Random speed, heading, and attitude changes. I want Andromeda bucking like a drunken Vedran with a Nightsider on his back. Beka: Sounds like my last date.

Beka: Hey, what are those?
Harper: Minibots. I built them to, uh, clean that crap off the hull. Man, that stuff was tougher to get rid of than that virus I caught back on Kalderash 5. Not to mention I have to refurbish almost 30 of these AG coils, which is 24 hours work at least. And that's, you know, as long as I don't get any sleep or anything.
Beka: Well, if anyone can get this ship up and running, I'm sure it's you.
Harper: Wait a minute. Aren't you gonna chew me out for not siding with you up in command?
Beka: It's not you I'm mad at. It's Dylan. He almost got us killed back there.
Harper: 'Almost' being the operative word.
Beka: I just don't want to be there when his luck runs out.
Harper: Where would you rather be? Back on the Maru running cargo? Salvage? What makes you think that would be any safer?
Beka: Couldn't be any more dangerous.
Harper: All right. You wanna know what I think?
Beka: Oh, good. Now for another chapter in 'The World According to Seamus Harper'.
Harper: Hey, my favorite book. Chapter 12, Paragraph 8, Verse 3. The universe hates you. Deal with it.
Beka: That's comforting.

Dylan: Shots from behind this line are worth three. Any questions?
Tyr: One. All these rules...what's the point?
Dylan: Rules force you to out-think your opponent, instead of out-muscle him. Now isn't that a useful lesson for life-or-death situations?
Tyr: Certainly. And when the Magog unleash their dreaded bouncing ball attack, we'll make them rue the day.
Dylan: Are we gonna talk or play?
(Tyr punches Dylan and slam-dunks the ball)
Tyr: How was that?
Dylan: Maybe we should talk about the personal foul.
Hologram Andromeda: Dylan, you'd better come to command. Code Black.
Dylan: I'm on my way. (To Tyr) We'll save that for the next lesson.
Tyr: I can hardly wait.