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Last Wills and Testaments from the NX-01


To T'Pol: A long and sincere apology.

To Trip: My water polo game tapes. He really seemed into it at one point. Also my collection of Del Stevens novels. (I swear, if you just finish the first one, you'll be hooked!)

To Malcolm: My Scout badges. He's the only one who'll appreciate them.

To Hoshi: Porthos. After me, he seems to like her best. It's a Brie thing, I think.

To Travis: My ship model.

To Phlox: The assurance that I did indeed take those matters we discussed to the grave with me.

To Soval: My statue of Zephram Cochrane, with a motion-activated voice chip in it which plays my voice saying "Neener neener neeeeeener!"

To Shran: The last two bottles of Tennessee whiskey I have hidden, to pay him back for the Andorian ale.


To Captain Archer: Acceptance of his apology after an appropriate length of time for him to feel properly ashamed of himself.

To Commander Tucker: A long and sincere apology.

To Lieutenant Reed: A sincere apology.

To Ensign Sato: A good calculus primer.

To Ensign Mayweather: A brief apology that I never gave him reason to need a sincere apology from me.

To Doctor Phlox: A moderately long and sincere apology.

To Porthos: I direct that monies from my estate be used to make certain that this canine is bathed a minimum of once a week for the remainder of his life.

To Ambassador Soval: You were wrong. Apologize.


To Captain Archer: Copies of the poems Sim wrote in my personal logs.

To T'Pol: My terrycloth bathrobe -- poor girl always looked so cold in those skimpy pajamas.

To Malcolm: An adoption certificate making him an official member of the Tucker family. Now you don't have to hate the holidays any more. Bring Madeline, too.

To Hoshi: The letters my Nonna sent me when I was in high school -- not that they're all that interesting, but she spoke Sicilian with an Oklahoma drawl, which is practically a dialect all by itself.

To Travis: My Xerox pin. He knows why.

To Doctor Phlox: My people have a saying...revenge is a dish best served cold.

To Mike Rostov: Forget it, I'm having that spanner cremated with me.


To Captain Archer: My vintage Scouting manual. I suggest that rather than attending any memorial service held on my behalf, he study it and determine how to apply some of its principles to the remainder of his life. Perhaps it will be more memorable than whatever manual he skimmed to attain the badges he claimed to have earned.

To Subcommander T'Pol: An apology that I ever said she had a nice bum. I was exceedingly inebriated at the time.

To Trip: My weapons collection -- Lord knows he needs to defend himself from harm more than anyone I've ever known. He's also the only one I trust to keep everything clean and in working order.

To Hoshi: A good poker manual.

To Travis: That drink I owe you? Go to the White Stag pub in London, ask for Telly the bartender, and tell her you're having a pint on me.

To Doctor Phlox: I suppose I should return those emergency sedative hypos I kept in my quarters in case we were boarded again.


To Captain Archer: A Morse code manual. Don't ask why, just memorize it.

To Subcommander T'Pol: My hair clips, as an incentive. I bet you'd look gorgeous with long hair.

To Commander Tucker: My Hawaiian shirts. Because your closet isn't nearly loud enough.

To Lieutenant Reed: My aloe plant. It really helps with the Lokek flare-ups.

To Travis: Have a big bowl of strawberry jello, on me.

To Phlox: My copy of Cinema Paradiso.

To Liz: My Hawaiian skirts. You haven't returned most of them anyway, so you may as well complete the set.


To Captain Archer: My rutter. Yes, I still keep one.

To Subcommander T'Pol: An apology for toilet-papering you. I'm not going to tell you who else was in the group, though.

To Trip: My rubber stamp.

To Lieutenant Reed: My sister's comm code, so you can buy her the drink you owe me.

To Hoshi: The dictionary of slang I picked up on Draylax, if you promise not to use it in mixed company.

To Phlox: Maddie the lizard.


To Captain Archer: Prescriptions for lithium and Prozac, as necessary.

To Subommander T'Pol: A long and sincere apology.

To Commander Tucker: A very long and sincere apology, and a promise that my family will be at the service of yours until the end of days.

To Lieutenant Reed: A supply of Mylanta.

To Ensign Sato: My collection of Denobulan novels, so you can keep your accent sharp.

To Ensign Mayweather: Mention my name at any Denobulan medical center and they will check that your vocal chords are working, free of charge.

To Crewman Cutler: My medical texts, for reference.


To Alpha Male: Everything I don't leave to anyone else, plus my undying love. If I'd sired puppies I would have left you them too.

To Silent Female: My bed, so she won't forget what I smelled like.

To Fixit Male: My Frisbees and my aerobie. Please make sure Alpha Male gets out for a walk regularly.

To Guardian Male: A recording of my angriest barking and snarling, which he's free to incorporate into any alarm or early warning system.

To Talking Female: My collection of Oxford literary magazines.

To Silent Male: The bell from my collar, so people know when he's coming.

To Healer Male: I have considered your request, but I must respectfully decline. Even in the interests of science and medicine, the thought of any part of me ending up in a potion gives me the willies.

To Healer Female: My Trivial Pursuit games. Keep studying.

To Hunter Male: The name and comm code of my ricotta source in Brooklyn.


To Hoshi: My jewelry box, including my gramma's dragonfly-in-amber brooch. Plus your skirts back.

To Phlox: My father's tisane recipes. Guaranteed to work faster than aspirin, completely organic, and completely animal-free.

To Porthos: My Scattergories game. Keep working at it.


To Commander Tucker: Just put the spanner in my hands for a minute before the funeral. My spirit will know I got to hold it once.