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Reed leaves a piece of technology behind, so he and Quantum have to turn the car around and go back to get it, but land themselves in the middle of two nooses. While playing around with May-waffle, Trip manages to remind me of an old boyfriend from college when he amputates his arm temporarily. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
How did I feel about this episode? Just "meh." I didn't whip myself up into too much of a frenzy over any particular thing, the threatening aliens weren't, Trip's Invisible Limb elicited a slight smile out of me, Malcolm "I" Peed got a haircut, and there weren't any Vulcan hysterics, so it was bearable. I mean, if you overlook the fact that "A Piece Of The Action" already did this, I guess it was an original story treatment. Although I'm dangerously close to turning into a broken record each time I admit that. All in all, I can definitely say it was slightly more amusing than your average Annual Actuarial Banquet. Oh, who am I kidding? This episode bored me right out of my door, down the steps, and into heavy traffic.
Sh'pod returns to the Mother Ship, and Hoshi, Reed, and Quantum congratulate one another on a mission well accomplished. They are wearing alien duds and alien prosthetics -- it seems the culture they visited had speckled butts for foreheads. Reed geeks out about the architecture of the place they visited, and I notice that he got a haircut to make him look like our friend Nate. 'Course, Nate doesn't kiss tortured goodbye by wearing the latest in Revlon's Liquid Lip, but the similarity is there all the same. In Decon, the three studiously peel off their latex spots and Cro-Magnon brows -- Quantum even hands around what looks like Stridex pads, and they stuff their used latex (ew!) into some sort of receptacle -- and I think, "What a nice touch that is -- kudos to the writers." Wow. I think I need some wine to steady myself after that admission. Reed begs to write the mission report to Starfleet, since he's just gotten his first go at visiting a pre-warp culture, and Hoshi comments, "I don't suppose it has anything to do with the tactical situation down there?" The three chuckle over Reed's transparent brown nose, and Phlox pronounces them cootie-free. They exit Decon, enter the changing room, and put their phasers, communicators, and tricorders in one of those trays you put your keys and cell phone in when going through the metal detector Gestapo at airports. Of course, at Logan, it's more of a metal detector Swiss cheese. Hoshi and Reed discuss the situation at a political rally they were present for. "His speech reminded me of Winston Churchill before the Second World War," Reed says, before grabbing at himself anxiously. Malcolm, you're not alone -- don't do that here. Quantum wonders what his deal is, and Reed admits to thinking he left his communicator on the planet. Don't worry, bud -- I'm sure there's nothing to fear but fear itself. Or something about the location of your communicator being wrapped in a plot inside a storyline already done thirty-some years ago.
The song, it tasks me.
Reed tears Decon apart, Quantum examines the sh'bay, and Hoshi looks in the seat crevices of the sh'pod but only comes up with a few peanut shells, a toy soldier, and a nickel. Trip has been hanging out there in his off hours again. No communicator. Reed freaks a bit, and Quantum asks him when he last remembers having it. "I don't know, I was drunk most of the time," Mathra slurs. On the bridge, Hoshi technobabbles a way to locate it by its power signature, then displays her technobabble on a computer screen. As she narrows the power signature down to three city blocks, Quantum and Trip get friendly with Exposition and talk about the potential war percolating on the planet. T'Pol points out the obvious by saying, "It's crucial we retrieve the technology. We can't risk contaminating a pre-warp culture." "The translator is the basis of all our technology -- this is Koik, now hand over your blowers to the pointy-eared mug in the corner or you'll all be wearing concrete galoshes!" Mathra Jimmy Cagneys. Oh, did I mention we watched "A Piece Of The Action" a few days ago? Well, we did. For once, Quantum gets it, and exaggeratedly nods his head at T'Pol, furrowing all the way home. Reed looks at Hoshi's MapQuest and points out the tavern where he thinks he left the piece of Advanced Culture. Quantum tells T'Pol to tell the good doctor they're going to need his "cosmetic services again." I thought Reed was the resident Mary Kay Lady -- why else does he have that pink shuttle pod? For the second week in a row, Trip tries to horn in on another mission and is shot down. Even his argument of "I'm a reg'lar bludhownd" is not happening. "By the way, beagle is the word around here, Tripper Bore," Mathra snaps.
Sh'pod. We get more of a look at Phlox's "cosmetic services" on Reed and Quantum. They seem to have lost their eyebrows, which makes Quantum look even more Neander-DAHL than usual, and Reed just looks sickly. After stiff-upper-lipping that his feet are up for another hike, Reed comments that he's ready to take any punishment. Quantum wants to spank him for losing his cell phone. I'm so not touching that one. Quantum says, "How about thirty years in the brig -- or maybe a good flogging?" I was thinking more along the lines of dinner and a movie, but that works, too. Wait, what's "flogging"? Does it involve hand-holding? Quantum tells Reed his screw-up was just an accident that could've happened to any of them. Besides, Self-Flagellation is always nice this time of year. Self-Flatulation, too. Reed reports the proximity of some army aircraft, and they hurriedly land in a wooded area. Thank god for forests. And caves. And Vasquez rocks.
Tavern on the Breem. Quantum and Reed pretend not to be conspicuously alien, so they shifty-eye themselves over to a secluded booth that Reed is positive was "the table." Aw, it's "their" booth. Reed immediately crawls under the table. Uh, I really don't think it's wise to kink out your first five minutes on an alien planet. Reed comes up with nothing and flips open his scanner. The barman comes over, welcomes them back, and asks for their order all friendly-like. Quantum says they need a few minutes, so the barman downshifts into small talk. "Where's your friend -- the young woman?" he asks. Quantum tells him he has a good memory, and Barman says she's not easy to forget. Finally, Barman tells them he just got some special Alien Visitor Ale in, and Quantum tells him to get them a couple. Barman leaves. Reed scans some more and determines that his communicator is in another room. Here's the catch -- it's a room he was never in! Duh duh DUH!
Barman goes over to a group of uniformed men and seems to give them an eye signal. Quantum saddle-sores it over to the room Reed was never in, while Reed watches his, uh, saddle before following him. Barman and uniformed men watch their every move. Behind a bead curtain, Reed does some more scanning and determines that there are two people on the other side of the door along with his missing communicator. Quantum thinks they should wait for them to come out, and starts to head back to his drink. But before he can get drunk, like me, the soldiered men jump to their feet in that highly effective confrontational method of shoving their chairs and standing up all in the same motion. Bet Quantum wishes he could Leap right about now. Quantum proves he's watched far too many old westerns as he uses a small cocktail table as a battering ram in an attempt to force their way out. You know, if you can lift it in one hand, do you really think it's going to be that effective against a bunch of thickly-muscled soldiers with blood-lust in their eyes and a song in their hearts? A bit of tussle, which Quantum and Reed get the worst of, before the two humans are hauled off for questioning. Two additional uniformed men -- who seem to be more senior then the rest, seeing as they were the ones who got to hang back in the special room -- hold up Reed's communicator and asks what kind of fancy heater it is. Quantum, choosing this moment to think that something directively prime is a good thing, plays dumb, and gets him and Reed roughed up for his trouble. This show has more hitting in it than any of the other Treks. I mean, there was very little in the way of fisticuffs with TNG, and in TOS, there didn't to be so many punches thrown because it took only one to knock anyone out. The soldiers -- who remind me of SS soldiers for absolutely no apparent reason -- confiscate their other fancy Speak and Spells and water guns and speculate that they are Alliance spies. Wait, does that mean Malcolm is on Malcolm's side or not?
Hey, Ferretarantella is on Twilight Zone! I wonder how she fit it into her busy schedule of sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.
Bridge. Trip worries about Reed and Quantum bonding and having fun without him, and thinks they should hail them to interrupt whatever they're doing. Smart-as-a-licorice-whip Hoshi tells him that if they're in a public place, the fact that their pants just started talking might cause comment among the naive natives. T'Pol -- always one for hailing Quantum's pants, or so they would have us believe -- thinks they should risk it. They hail, but get no response. Trip has Hoshi locate the communicator's whereabouts on her MapQuest. Apparently, it's a long ways away from Tavern on the Breen, and since the sh'pod hasn't moved, Trip doesn't think they could have traveled that far on foot so quickly. T'Pol wants bio-sign isolation, but Hoshi counters that the high population count of the city is a restrictive factor. Trip thinks they'd have more luck if they brought the ship in closer. "Any closer and we'd be detected," T'Pol reminds him. "Do your best," she says gently to Hoshi.
Stockade. Quantum watches a guard and wonders what planetary mall sold him such out-of-date clothes, while Reed picks at the corns on his feet and moans. Someone on this show has a foot fetish. "Still botherin' you?" Quantum asks. Reed wonders aloud if there's any hope of getting a pedicure and lavender hot wax treatment on his tootsies while they're there. Quantum gives him A Look. "If I asked politely," Reed amends. Reed lists how many pieces of Precious Post-Warp Equipment they've lost in trying to retrieve one measly communicator that never did anyone without a brain any harm. Quantum hopes the sh'pod stays hidden in Farmer Brown's barn. "If they really think we are spying for this Alliance, perhaps we should consider telling them the truth," Reed suggests. Quantum really doesn't think that "visitors from another world" holds much in the way of Perrier. It would if you took off your Furrow Condom; they just might hail you as their Messiah with your Mighty Brow Grooves. Just before another Buttheaded Nazi hauls them off for questioning, Quantum tells Reed, "The less we say the better."
Gen. Butthead Nazi lets them know that "someone calling herself T'Pol" was asking if her Captain could hear her now over his Verizon devil machine. Quantum admits to being "the captain," but beyond that, he and Reed play the children's game of Duck, Duck, Zip It! in response to Gen. Butthead Nazi's inquisitions into their Alliance connection. More smacking around of Quantum and Reed as they continue to refuse to tell the Butthead Nazis anything about themselves or their highly advanced calculators. "We're aware of your ancestral claim against our city -- must make tempting target," Gen. Butthead Nazi says, as Mathra discovers that our kitchen drain is clogged by a anvil wearing a name tag reading, "Hello, My Name Is The Israeli-Palestinian Conflict." Bitch-slapping of Quantum and Reed continues in earnest. As Gen. Butthead Nazi shoves Quantum back into his chair, he notices something. Quantum's brow is more than meets the eye. Captain Quantum, a furrow in disguise! The General peels off Quantum's latex and looks around at his second-in-command, who breathes forcefully out of each nostril a few times before peeling Reed's falsie off. It's no surprise that Quantum looks exactly the same as he did pre-acid peel. "They've been surgically altered!" Gen. Butthead Nazi announces. "That's not surgery -- that's Mrs. Doubtfire!" Mathra corrects him. Second-In-Command grabs Reed's face and examines his lip liner. "General, his blood...it's red!" he announces. The General orders they be taken to "Temec" for a full examination. You know what that means -- turn your head and cough time. Although it could be "pinch your nipple and burp" with these aliens. Reed and Quantum are led away. Wait, cut the Butthead Nazis open, I want to see what color their blood is -- black? Yellow with purple stripes? Come on!
Bridge. Hoshi has located the missing crew members on MapQuest. "Guard towers, gun emplacements -- it's not a hotel," May-wacky determines, looking closely. Trip thinks they could take Sh'pod Two down and bust Reed and Quantum out before anyone knew whose turn it was to grab a nipple. Trip just can't stand being left behind. T'Pol doesn't like this plan, saying, "If you were captured, you'd be giving the inhabitants more technology. It would undoubtedly affect the evolution of their society." "Whut if they dinnit see us commin'?" Trip suggests, "We still got that Suli-bon cell ship. The one we used to rescue Klaang from the Helix. I've been workin' on it in m'free time -- I'm pretty close to figgerin' out how it works. If I kin brang the cloak online, we can get past their de-fenses, grab our pee-pol and no one will see a thang." T'Pol tells him to work quickly, and Trip gives May-warm-up some more lines by saying he could use a hand. They scamper off together. T'Pol tells Hoshi they should monitor the communications in Cellblock Furrow, because it may tell them what's going down with the prisoners of their hearts.
Sh'bay. May-wombat and Trip fiddle around with the hatched-open cell pod; they don't appear to be getting very far with the cloaking mechanism. It might actually help if they shut the pod's door. I mean, it seems perfectly sound that the cell pod has some sort of safety trigger that didn't allow it to cloak until the door was securely fastened and cross-checked. Sort of like how you can't roll down electric windows in a car if the door is open. Trip tells May-wallplug to run the power sequence again. "This would be a lot easier if there were a button marked 'cloak,'" May-Waldorf-Salad grapes -- uh, gripes. Yeah, and it would be a lot easier if your name was just "extra"! "Celery, apples, walnuts, grapes -- in a mayonnaise sauce! Not out of a bottle!" Mathra Fawlty screeches, late in catching my reference. Trip thinks he's on the right technobabble track, and does something that gets him Zapped! and flung away from the pod. Did he turn into Scott Baio?! Alas, no -- Trip says he just got the wind knocked out of him. That'll happen when you go sticking your wire into alien wall sockets. Trip and May-waiver look around at some equipment that looks like it's desperately trying to cloak itself so it can sneak off the set and call its agent to get the hell off this stupid show. "Maybe a little more than that," May-wahoo says, staring down at Trip's lap. Okay, so he was staring at his arm, but don't tell me that thought didn't cross your mind. Trip looks around and sees that his lower arm is cloaked. It's the one-armed man Tim Daly's been looking for! No wonder he couldn't track him in all those filmed-on-location cities -- he was in space!
Sickbay. Phlox scans Trip and asks if he has any pain. "Tingles a little," Trip admits. "Can you move your fingers?" Phlox asks. Presumably, Trip does so, because he asks, "How's that?" "You tell me," Phlox deadpans. Trip thinks they feel okay, and asks what his scanner tells him. "Very little, I'm afraid," Phlox informs him. "Quantum [heh] physics is barely my specialty, but I'd guess that you received an intense dose of whatever particle radiation that ship uses to conceal itself." "Are ye sayin' I'm perminintly cloaked?" Trip whines. Yes, and if you go back and do exactly the same thing, maybe you won't miss the rest of your body the time. Phlox thinks his "appendage" will reappear eventually. "Eventually?" Trip blusters. Phlox tells him to check back in an hour or so. "Doesn't he have a slug for that?" Mathra wonders from his plate of Steak Morvandeau. Trip asks, "Whut am I s'posed to do in th'meentime? I kin't work lak this!" Why not? Presumably, he can still feel with and move The Invisible Hand, which means he can use it. I know this isn't the first time I've alluded to the deep inner workings of my heart, but I really have misgivings about Trip's admission to the Think Tank of the Human Race. Phlox has a remedy for Trip's crippled brain, and gives him a grey glove. "I'd also recommend a fresh uniform," Phlox smiles. Trip grudgingly thanks him, takes the glove so it hangs in mid-air, and leaves. Without the glove, he reminds me a lot of Black and Decker. Maybe that's because he didn't have an arm either; man, he was hot.
Cellblock Furrow. In an open area with a public gallows and lots of Rubbermaid barrels, the Butthead Nazis try out the phase pistol on the first setting. After getting used to the minor destructive force of "stun," they crank it up a notch and kill a wooden crate. The major explosion freaks them into having funny, okay-that-was-scary-but-I'm-cool looks on their faces. They discuss the Alliance having such advanced weaponry that they thought only existed In Theory. "Our Alliance friends seemed to have turned theory into reality," General Butthead Nazi tells Second Butthead In Command. When he says "friends," I really don't think he's being sincere. The Dr. Butthead Nazi enters to give the General the reports of the physicals he gave Reed and Quantum. He hands over some X-rays, which General Butthead Nazi checks out and asks, "How is this possible?" Dr. Butthead Nazi tells him the only explanation is that Reed and Quantum are another species.
Official-Looking Room In Cellblock Furrow. "Dr. Temec tells me your deformities are not the work of a surgeon. He found no obvious incisions or scar tissue. You're even more abnormal on the inside -- a redundant renal organ and you're missing four thoracic vertebrae." Yes, yes, an extra kidney and red blood and stuff -- why does this type of Inner Workings Of Trek Characters seem familiar? Oh, right -- because they ALREADY DID IT WITH SPOCK ON TOS! The fact that they reversed it to make the humans seem to be the "abnormal" ones doesn't make it any more original. The floor of UPN's offices must be stankier than Glamour's ladies' room, what with all the regurgitation going on. General Butthead Nazi pulls out a picture of the sh'pod hanging over their planet and says that Dr. Butthead Nazi has a theory about where they came from -- one which he found difficult to believe until he saw that paparazzi shot. "Can you explain?" the General asks. The Doctor tells them that none of the other planets in their system are capable of supporting life, and wants to know where they come from. "Our scientists tell me it's unlikely that a craft of this size could have traveled from another star system. They suspect a larger ship must be somewhere nearby, perhaps orbiting our planet," General Butthead Nazi says. Quantum says nothing, so the General grabs him, shakes him around a bit, demands to know his orders and if he's sending postcards to the Alliance, and punches him in the gut. In the interest of preserving a directive he hasn't penned yet, Quantum wheezes, "Our intelligence reports underestimate you, General." Then Quantum fake chuckles and looks at Reed, who bites his lip gloss to keep from singing, "Liar, liar, pants on fire. Furrow got caught in a telephone wire!" "Alien creatures," Quantum continues, "you're even more delusional than we thought. This isn't a spaceship. It's suborbital -- a highly experimental aircraft. We've been observing your territory for months." Quantum technobabbles away some more of the General's questions. "And your biological anomalies?" Dr. Butthead Nazi says, getting into the game. Reed speaks up: "We've been genetically enhanced." The General wants to know how enhanced they are. Well, since T'Pol's not there, I guess it's not immediately obvious. Reed explains, "Our immune systems are resistant to chemical and biological weapons and our internal organs have been modified to increase cellular regeneration by thirty percent. That way our wounds can heal more quickly." He's just having a ball with this Tall Tale Telling, isn't he? "Create the perfect soldier," Second Butthead Nazi In Command states. The General wants to know how many there are of them, and Quantum tells him that they and their toys are the only ones -- the prototypes. General Butthead Nazi orders them taken back to their cell. After they've left the room, the General asks Dr. Butthead Nazi and Second Butthead Nazi In Command if they believe the lies people tell. The Doc thinks it's plausible. "The Alliance could have thousands of soldiers with these mutations," Second Butthead In Command hypothesizes. The General wants to be able to verify what Reed and Quantum lied their wee-woes off about, and the Doc reiterates that he ran every possible test in the book. "If I were to extract the organs...I could study them in more detail," Doctor Butthead Nazi supposes his toeses are roses. "You be in charge of the execution," General Butthead Nazi tells his Second In Command. "I'll inform the prisoners." Why bother telling them?
Bridge. Hoshi tells T'Pol she's intercepted a message that conveniently lets them know Reed and Quantum have been captured as enemy spies and are on death row. T'Pol sucks her lips together.
Cell pod. Trip and May-wallaby keep fiddling, to no avail. I think they should stop messing around with things they don't understand -- what if they manage to accidentally cloak Enterprise, or T'Pol's dinners? Trip snaps back his rubber glove and peeks. "Any change?" May-wuzzzzzup asks. Trip shakes his head ruefully: "Still missing in action." "Having a cloaked hand could have its advantages. Be useful in a poker match," May-whiz-not suggests. How, exactly? He can't steal cards without people seeing the cards float around in the air, he can't read other people's cards, and he can't hide cards up his sleeve any better than he normally would. Do you even know what poker is, May-whelp? Trip sarcasms something about becoming a "world-class magician." Now that I could see, but he'd have to change his name. "The Incomparable Trip" doesn't exactly say "master of illusion" to me. "It might be helpful on movie night -- if you bring a date," May-wisenheimer cracks. I was so caught up in Anthony Montgomery's interesting tone of disbelief that Trip could even get a date that I didn't really realize what he was saying. Pig! Trip gives him a look of disbelief. "In case you wanted to steal some popcorn," May-who-me explains. Is that what the kids are calling it these days -- "stealing some popcorn"? I should remember that. Trip nods like, "Yeah, right, that's what you meant, Ensign Horny-weather," and tells him to try the technobabble again. The cell pod sort of wavers in and out of sight, and Trip tells Horny-weather to shut it down and do some more power rerouting. T'Pol enters the sh'bay to tell them that no matter what the cell pod status, they have to sweep in and save the captain and Great Lip from certain death. "We'll git it workin' on our way down if we have to -- look, invisible or not, this cell ship could take more of a beatin' than our shuttlepod," Trip thinks aloud. T'Pol tells them to prepare for launch.
Cellblock Furrow. Reed and Quantum don't do much but hang around their cell all day. "An upset stomach? Do you really think he'd fall for that?" Quantum asks Reed. "Well, it may be an old trick where we come from but maybe they haven't heard of it here," Reed argues. I think Quantum should fake constipation; he's had more practice. Quantum nixes the idea, saying they'd never get to the shuttle looking they way they look. Not with Reed's bunions, they won't. "'Genetic enhancements,'" Quantum states. "Very creative, Malcolm." Reed thanks him and intimates that he hasn't done much Second City. "You made us sound like Suliban," Quantum says. Is that actually a note of reproach in his voice? Get over it, buddy. Morbid Malcolm wonders what Enterprise will do "after." Quantum says, "If I know T'Pol, she won't want to leave any contamination behind. It may take some time, but she'll find a way to get everything back, including our...remains." Malcolm thinks "it's ironic" that they're giving their lives to protect a people who want to kill them. "It's a big planet, Malcolm, I'm sure they're not all like that," Captain Find The Silver Furrow consoles him. Morbid Malcolm whimpers that he's not afraid. Yes, yes, and how many times have we heard this from you, Martyr Pee-Pee Pants? "Shuttlepod One" and "Minefield" spring immediately to mind.
Quantum wonders what would happen if they told the truth, but Martyr Peed doesn't think their story would be believed. "If we show them to the shuttlepod, bring the General up to Enterprise, give them the grand tour, top it off with dinner in the Captain's Mess," Quantum dreams. And then get T'Pol to strip for them. "We'd probably all have a good laugh over how they almost sent us to the gallows," Quantum continues from his fantasyland where people aren't terrified of being taken up to a mother ship by creatures from another planet who have lied to them since the first moment they laid eyes on them. Quantum bitches that he's listened to lots of "lectures on cultural contamination," but T'Pol never mentioned that they should give their lives to prevent it. "If we did tell them who we are, it may do them a world of good. Look what the Vulcans did for Earth!" Malcolm Peed points out. "These people haven't even split the atom yet," Quantum re-points out. So they are trying to make this WWII-esque with The Manhattan Project allusion there, the Winston Churchill reference in the beginning, and the Nazi-ish threads. Oh, and this scene is lasting FOREVER! I wish they'd just execute them already. Quantum goes on to say that the Vulcans waited until humans were ready and had warp drive. The Oboe Of Self-Sacrifice plays as Quantum assures Malcolm that they're doing the "right thing" and claps him on the shoulder, saying he's sorry Malcolm didn't get a chance to write his Starfleet report. Anything to get out of paperwork. Morbid Malcolm turns a surprisingly optimistic cheek as he says, "It could still happen, sir. I'm expecting a rescue party to come barging through that door -- any moment." Don't you watch television, Peed? Rescue parties don't come until the very last possible second. Quantum stands tall, stalwart, and true. Is it over yet?
Cell pod. T'Pol reports their progress, and Trip and May-driver have problems getting the cloaking device to work.
Jailers come to take Malcolm and Quantum to their deaths. Can I join them?
Cell pod. More technical difficulties that are too boring to go into, but they are supposed to result in An Atmosphere Of Excited Anticipation, as we wonder how they will ever pull this rescue attempt off. T'Pol reports some military vessels on an intercept course. Oh. No. I wonder if the cloaking device will work Just In Time.
Gallows. Trap doors are tested. Prisoners are marched in. Nooses are at the ready.
Cell pod is under attack by Luke Skywalker's X-Wing Fighters. Cell pod cloaks. Whew. That. Was. A. Close. One.
Gallows. As Quantum makes a final, fruitless plea for Malcolm's life, I see that my patience has already strangled itself in one of the nooses. Reed and Quantum get fitted for a neck-snap, and Quantum just cannot take his eyes off Malcolm. Malcolm, however, can't bear to see the love-pain in his Captain's eyes, and stares straight ahead. There's the humming of an invisible craft landing invisibly, and dust flies around. A hand and phase pistol appear from nowhere and fire at the Executioner. Trip and T'Pol roll out and start a fight with their phase pistols against the Butthead Nazis' regular old bullet guns. In between shots, Trip cuts the nooses away from Quantum and Reed's necks. This is some of the best shooting I've ever seen on Trek -- they're actually consistently hitting people. "Yer ride's here," Trip tells them, gesturing to the cloaked hatch, opened to show May-peek-a-boo peering out. Reed reminds Quantum of their confiscated dangerous-to-pre-atom-splitting-cultures toys. Covered by E-Crew fire, Quantum runs back for those trinkets as well as their X-rays, and scrambles back to the place of public execution from whence he came. More firing. They all jump aboard the invisible cell pod, and the door closes. General Butthead Nazi, managing to be the only one of the Butthead Nazis not stunned (or killed, I guess) by phaser fire, stands there catching flies as we get the vantage from the cell pod taking off. In the cell pod, May-while tells him their sh'pod is right where they left it. Quantum checks his pockets for all the Advanced Technology, and freaks out a bit. "Sir, looking for this?" Malcolm smirks, retrieving a scanner from the floor. Oh, that Malcolm -- he makes me laugh so hard I pee in my pants!
Quantum's Ready Room. Cappy Quantum's really making up for lost furrowing in this scene as he schlumps over to his Weight Of The World Window. T'Pol enters to say that if they take a left, they can go cavort on a blue giant cluster where there are no people. "Sounds like nice change of pace. Have Travis set a course," Quantum orders, anxious to get back to pondering exactly how much of the galaxy he carries on his padded shoulders. T'Pol -- because the writers are trying to build an erector set of sexual attraction between these two, so they have her dialing up his emotion modem -- wants to know if there's something else Quantum wants to get off his chest and put onto hers. "Youtookarisk...coming down in that cell ship. Its cloaking device could have failed," Quantum tells her. It did fail. "A calculated risk," T'Pol tells him, "like the one I'm taking giving you my heart, right now!" She might not have said the last part, but I was distracted by the loud noise my head makes when I bang it against the radiator. Quantum says, "I'm glad you took it." Well, duh, of course you're "glad" -- otherwise you'd be dead. Quantum says that the important thing was getting all their techie toys back from the Buttheaded Nazis. "We could have done a lot of damage to those people if we'd left any of it behind," Quantum continues. Um, buddy? I know you're trying to show T'Pol how much you've grown since last season's massive amounts of civilization contamination, but you're really only showing how incredibly stupid you are. They've seen your redundant renal organ and red blood. They played with the techie toys. The damage is done. Unlike Bermaga, they aren't going to have convenient amnesia just because you left the planet. T'Pol agrees with me and says they already damaged the Buttheaded Nazis. "We've changed their perception of the Alliance," Quantum states. Among everything else about their perceptions you've changed, yes. "They now believe their enemy is capable of creating genetically enhanced soldiers," T'Pol finishes his thought. It's just a Private Little Eugenics War now, isn't it? "Not to mention particle weapons," T'Pol continues. If they haven't even split the atom, do you really think they're going to know what a particle weapon is when they see it? Quantum continues the list of Ah, Shits! and says that the cloaked Suliban pod is yet another thing the Buttheaded Nazis will think their enemies have. "You don't have to leave technology behind to contaminate a culture," T'Pol almost whispers. Why is she whispering -- is she afraid of hurting his feelings? Quantum hands T'Pol's e-pad back, and she starts to leave, but stops dramatically in the doorway: "You were willing to sacrifice your life to protect them -- I would not have expected that," she tells him. Quantum furrows The Furrow Of Okay THAT Must Mean She Wants To Have Sex Now Right? He puzzles it out with the Window.
Sickbay. Phlox announces that Trip is "making excellent progress," as he holds his fully visible hand. "Yeah? What about this?" Trip demands, indicating something we can't see. Phlox tuts that it's nothing. "It may be nuthin' to you!" Trip snaps. Phlox tells him to "give it time." Trip thanks him and goes to leave; he pauses as he pushes the button to open the door and looks at the dime-sized hole in his hand, through which you can see the bulkhead. Hey -- Trinneer's got nice hands. Long, tapering fingers, delicately boned -- ugh, what am I saying?! Excuse me while I go wash my head out with Drano. Trip frowns at the flickering hole and looks back at Phlox before leaving, shaking his head. Trip's expressions are so much better than Quantum's one.
week, something boring happens. Oh, wait, let me check again. Okay, the whole crew comes down with a mystery illness -- all except T'Pol, whose dinners seem to provide some sort of immunity barrier for her -- and they're just not feeling well. So, I was wrong -- not "boring," but rather "already done by TNG more times than I care to count." Guess Trip should've vaccinated everyone when he had the chance -- Captain Bubonic Plague it is!