Episode Report Card Keckler: B | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT Mucus of Borg
By Keckler | Season 1 | Episode 22 | Aired on 04.30.2002
Outside, the Kreetassan Sonic Care ship slides away, and a webby, translucent, amoeba-like thing slips aboard Enterprise just as the second airlock door closes.
Did you know you can't hear the song if you bang your head against the wall really hard? Bonus side effect: You can scare away all the spiders in your house that way, too.
Bridge. Hoshi sulks over her linguistic failure, but brightens up when she thinks she hears something. May-Wah-Wah thinks it's static, but Hoshi tells him it's "frequency distortions" blended in with the static and coming from the comm system. T'Pol asks if she's run a diagnostic. "Twice," Hoshi says. "I guess it's just not my day." This prompts May-Wound-Salt to ask how her translation is coming along. Hoshi tells him "slowly," and informs everyone who cares that the slightest inflection on a syllable can change a word from "eat" to "mate." Mayweather says he can understand how that might be a tricky thing at the dinner table. Hoshi shakes her head at herself and says, "Context is critical in every language, but Kreetassan has the most subtle variations I've ever seen. The same word can have a dozen different meanings." T'Pol tells Hoshi it's her job to learn all the meanings, and Hoshi takes this as a personal attack, asking the Vulcan if she's saying that the Kreetassan debacle was her fault. T'Pol tells her she didn't say that, but Hoshi tells her it was "implied." "I simply noted that linguistic matters fall within your responsibility," T'Pol states blandly. "For all we know," she continues, "It could have been Mr. Tucker's table manners that offended them." Oh, shout-out! How many times have I ranted about how Trip talks with his mouth full? Hoshi continues to look for implied criticism, and T'Pol tells her to simmer down. "Learn from failure, it could help your next first contact be more successful," she tells the pouty communications officer. Trip steps on the bridge, and Hoshi tells him about the scrabbling in the walls she's hearing. Trip leans over and asks if it's a problem. "Mostly just irritating," Hoshi says. Like you, Trip. Trip says he'll "track it down" later, and asks T'Pol if "he's in there." T'Pol says, "Yes." We can assume they're talking about Quantum, since Trip next asks, "How's his mood?" "Now might not be the best time," T'Pol says. Trip says he'll take his chances and rings Quantum's bell.
"It better be important," Quantum thunders. Man, everyone's so sulky tonight! Is he still sore about the botched tea party with the Kreetassans? Trip walks in and tells him there's prime rib on the menu with "real horseradish." So, the beef's not real, but the horseradish is? Quantum decides to cop the attitude of some well-born English lady who's having a fit of pique and decides to take all of her meals on a tray instead of mingling with her weekend country houseguests. He tells Trip he'll have his fake beef and real horseradish sent to his quarters, and continues staring at his laptop screen. He points out a "brown dwarf" system that looks interesting. Trip says he can hardly wait, and asks the captain to "shoot a little nine-ball." Trip gets no joy from Quantum, so he brings in the big guns, reaching into his pocket and saying, "I wuz gonna save this for a rainy day, but…" He pulls out a clear, plastic square. "Stanford versus Texas," Trip says. Quantum boggles at the plastic square. "The finals?" he asks. "Fresh outta the subspace mailbag," Trip confirms. "Yew've been threatenin' to teach me the finer points of the game." He flips the disk to Quantum, who catches it. "Unless yer too busy with your brown dwarves," Trip teases. Heh. Image of brown garden gnomes, smegging around space. Quantum finally smiles and moves to switch off his computer. I guess we've established that Quantum went to Stanford. Depressing to hear the university's admissions standards have relaxed so much in the twenty-second century.
Meanwhile, in the Captain's quarters, Porthos is lying on his bed, devising a way to stage a teen rebellion to get his father's attention. His cute ears hear something scuffling in the ducts above him, so he jumps on the bed and barks. Clever puppy. Up in the vents, the phlegmy web thing creeps along squishily. Wow, that's almost e.e. cummings.