Fullerton: That's right. Take a good look. I can only imagine what you must think of me. A middle-aged, ponderous academic, sweating under the hot Risian suns, wasting his time telling you things you don't want to hear. But you know what I see when I look at you? Children. Pampered, spoiled children. Somehow the citizens of the Federation have come to believe that they're entitled to lives of ease and privilege. If you want something to eat, you get it from a replicator. If you want amusement, you go to a holosuite. And if you need protection, you call for Starfleet. But someday, someday soon, you're going to have to learn to take care of yourselves. Because if I see you as helpless children, then how do you think the Borg see you? Or the Romulans or the Cardassians? Or the Klingons or the Dominion? These empires look at the Federation and they see a prize, a prize we've forgotten how to protect. And if we don't change our ways, they're going to take it from us.