The Enterprise is in a hurry. We have been called to Starbase 22 to deliver some medical supplies before they run out.
As a result, we are passing through the Harvalen System, a largely unexplored section of space. It's somewhat of a risk. Aliens don't like us intruding on their doorstep and tend to take offence. As a result, we are on Yellow Alert.
"How long will it be before we leave Harvalen Space, Number One?" I ask, somewhat nervously.
"Not long, Captain." Riker replies, "I estimate it is another 20 minutes."
"22.3 minutes to be exact, travelling at our current speed of Warp Nine, Captain" pipes up Data, in his determination to be just right.
"Approaching vessel coming up behind us." Worf tells me, "It is sending a voice hail."
"Let's hear it." I reply, and an authoritive message comes over the speakers.
"This is the Harvalen Speed Police" it starts, "You have been caught speeding in our region of space. You will have your starship come to a halt so that it may be boarded."
"What nonsense!" I comment.
"It may be advisable to stop, Captain." Data tells me, "After all, we are in their space, and it is us who may have been committing the offence."
I really dislike it when he is right!
The ship comes to a halt, and a figure beams aboard.
"I am Gira" he says, "The Space Traffic Officer in this area. I would like to speak to the driver of this starship."
"I suppose that's me." I reply, "I'm Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Stars.."
"Where are your papers to fly this?" Gira interrupts brusquely.
"I don't have any." I tell him, "I'm was appointed by Starfleet to be the Captain. If there is anything, look at the records on the computer. It tells you who I am."
Gira looks at the computer, which confirms what I said.
"We've been watching these Starfleet vessels from our system." Gira grumbles, "Going from one place to another at speeds, with no thought for anyone else. You do realise you were going at Warp Nine in a Warp Three restricted area of space?"
"We were unaware of those restrictions. We are on an urgent mission to deliver medical supplies to a Starbase." I protest.
"Ah, they all say that." Gira answers, "I'll have to write you a ticket."
"A ticket!" exclaims Worf, "That is unacceptable!"
"It might be wise to accept." advises Deanna, "In the interests of intergalactic co-operation."
Gira writes 'NCC-1701D' on the ticket, together with my name. He rips it off his pad and hands it to me.
"That will be three points on your interplanetary driving licence plus a fine which you can pay later." Gira informs me, then adds, "Mind how you go."
He beams off the ship.
"Starbase 22, Warp Three, Mr Data." I say glumly, "I'll send the ticket to Starfleet."