Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Computer, I caution you. I have little love for Beta 5 snobbery.
Captain, can you read me?
I have never felt so helpless.
Mr. Seven. Mr. Seven, help! Help!
Second stage detaching.
If I could spot him, I could lock on and beam him up.
Begin malfunction of third stage.
Fifty-five seconds to impact.
- Earth. - That's impossible.
They can't dock you if they don't know you're late.
Yes, I think we could say that.
Retaliatory strike ordered on warhead impact.
Not even Spock's Vulcan neck-pinch could stop him.
Count by ten.
- Altitude: 450 miles. - Spock.
Navigation report.
One hundred forty. One hundred thirty.
I'm going as fast as I can.
Spock!
or even be certain if we should.
There are only seconds. I'll need time to set it.
using our ship's deflector shields to remain unobserved.
Lock the elevator at the top, lieutenant. Time to get out of here.
With 348?
- Live long and prosper, Mr. Seven. - The same to you, Miss Lincoln.
Simply begin search immediately.
Using the light-speed breakaway factor,
Stand by. I'm gonna beam him up.
Attention. Stand by for launch-area clearance.
Rocket veering from planned course.
Purpose: To maintain balance of power.
I am Supervisor 194, code name Gary Seven.
Attention. Twenty minutes to launch.
Altitude: 300 miles,
You're through monkeying around with my country's rocket!
Must have intercepted the Enterprise trying to beam me onboard.
All systems clear. All systems clear.
- Just like yard dogs, that kind of thing. - Yeah?
Analysis correct. Earth situation similar.
Stand by on destruct. Stand by to transmit destruct signal.