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Because of something vaguely masturbatory Reed says to him, Trip experiences buyer's remorse over his Neural Node Nudging with T'Pol but buries it when he, Reed, and Quantum go shopping for Trellium-D. In order to pay for this valuable commodity that could save all their lives and keep Quantum from oozing and scratching himself, they raid Chef's spice rack. After their buyer snorts several dime bags of saffron, Quantum impulse-buys a sex slave. Don't blame him -- she was close to the register! Unfortunately, the sex slave has major issues with bad hair, bad wardrobe, bad acting and hands that do way more than heal when she lays people -- I mean, when she lays them on people. Want more? The full recap starts right below!
Okay, either I'm going to have to get really drunk tonight, or I'm going to have to get really caffeinated in order to finish this thing. Currently, I am barely touching my iBook, because I am afraid it's going to completely flip on me. Nine months I've had this computer, and it's already had THREE logic boards. So I'm typing ever-so-gently in order to get this recap done so the Evil Dr. Mathra can take it in tomorrow to the Evil Apple Store, where they can not fix it all over again. This is a problem endemic to the iBook 800, and Apple will fix and fix and FIX but not acknowledge that there is something very wrong with the design, even though it is happening to thousands of people who SHELLED OUT HARD-EARNED CASH TO GET A DEFECTIVE MACHINE! After the fourth fix and subsequent break, Apple will replace the machine with a new one. But see, that doesn't get me anywhere when it's the iBook 800 that is having this very SPECIFIC ISSUE! Specific to the iBook 800 -- is there another way for me to convey this craptitude? I'm losing time and money whenever this machine spends a week in Memphis getting its face done, not to mention the time I eat when Memphis screws up and sends my machine back to Boston. Please, help me spread the word that APPLE SUCKS!Anyway, I'm typing in this really contorted position whereby my hands don't touch the part they're supposed to touch in order not to get RSI or CTS. And now my back is starting to hurt, and it's clear that I will need a three-hour hot rocks massage. I wonder if that counts as short-term disability...
The Xindi of the Round Table meet and argue about wiping out Earth with their new weapon. Again, it's Mr. Man, Monkey Boy, and Aqua Man who argue to keep the humans alive until they can do more research for their secret weapon, and it's Bug House and Snake Eyes who want the humans taken care of ASAFP. Since it's taking Mr. Man, like, forever to build his WMD, they other species mention that they should consider their "colleagues' proposal," which might be an allusion to the Suliban. Or it might be something that Bermaga put out there and never pick up again. At one point Aqua Man gets so into his whale song and swims so close to the glass window that I was half-convinced he was going to burst through it.
Oh, hey -- it's now Star Trek Enterprise in the credits. I didn't notice that last week when I stuck my head in our faulty gas oven to avoid the theme song. Poor Glark. Let's not rush to tell him, okay?
The candles, the darkened room, the groaning -- yes, it's the Neural Node Nudging hour! Trip gives pressure-specific requests, and T'Pol complies. You know, Trip's the only one getting his back scratched lately; when is it going to be T'Pol's turn? She mentioned that her Vulcanrhythms were all ruffled by the Expanse, so what's up with Trip being a careless lover? There's someone named "Tucker Smallwood" in the credits. Hee -- that's actually Trip's porn name. Trip impresses T'Pol with his breathing technique and then says, "T'Pol." "Don't speak," she tells him. "Relax your jaw." Okay, this is bad, because it's three seconds into the ep and already everything, including that last line, is reminding me of porn. Trip tells T'Pol that the qrew are starting to gossip about their Nocturnal Node Nudging. Even worse, Reed came onto him in Engineering. You don't think so? This is what Trip says: "Last week when we were purging a clogged injector assembly, Malcolm asked me why I didn't just massage it with my magic fingers." I don't even have to look at the menu to know that the special of the day is Corned Beef Slash. T'Pol tells him to get some meatballs and ignore Reed. Or slap a sexual harassment suit on him. T'Pol does comment that, even if they were "pursuing a romantic relationship," being senior officers means it's none of Reed's concern. Trip agrees, and they get on with their "platonic" massage. You know, I guess I don't mind these two getting cuddly as much as I would mind her furrowing under the covers with Quantum. I just hope they keep it unrequited for a long, long time.
Elsewhere, Quantum thrashes about in his bed. We could only see his legs and hear him panting at first, so I thought...well, I think you can guess what I thought. Quantum jerks awake and looks at himself in the mirror. He scratches his chin and then shows us a big, grey sore on his forearm. Ew -- what kind of disease leaves grey sores? He scratches another sore on his face. At least he didn't go blind or have hair sprouting from his palms, right?
Sickbay. "You've been scratching again," Phlox tells Quantum, examining his back. Quantum complains, "The itching kept me up all night." He also doesn't want to use the prescribed ointment, because the smell is "a little strong." Dude, stick a cinnamon stick up your nose and get over it. He's just hoping Phlox will prescribe the T'Pol Treatment for him as well. Quantum itches his shoulder, and Phlox slaps his hand away. Heh. "The more you scratch, the longer it will take to heal!" Phlox lectures. Phlox asks about Quantum's research with Trellium-D synthesis. Are we supposed to think Random Expanse Hijinks have something to do with Quantum's space herpes? Why don't any of the other humans seem to have it, then? Phlox hopes they will make progress on the Trellium-D, as Crewman Cutler broke her arm the other day. "Actually, that was just a result of rough sex with Phlox. 'Hey -- ouch!' 'Oh, don't worry, we'll blame it on a spatial anomaly,'" the Evil Dr. Mathra says. Phlox holds a tin of balm out to Quantum and asks after other "symptoms." "Just the dreams," Quantum admits, making balmy faces. "I keep seeing myself back at that alien city." Phlox says that he's not going to recover from his Loathe-ar transformation overnight. So maybe the sores are related to that? Quantum struggles into a tight, long-sleeved, button-up black shirt and leaves. Sigh -- Bakula in Black will melt my hate every time.
A sh'pod zips to a planet and lands in a marina. Trip, Quantum, and Reed avoid several Hickory Farms and incense kiosks before they find a Trellium-D synthesis-selling chemist. This scene reminded me of so many in Farscape. And because it's such a generic scene, I'm not at all saying that they ripped them off; it just brought back happy memories where sexual tension was real and character development happened in the first three episodes of the series. Sigh. After some establishing dialogue informing us that Quantum and the chemist (sounds like a strung-out Brothers Grimm fairy tale, doesn't it?) have already met, and that getting the formula for synthesizing Trellium-D is going to cost them a pretty penny, the chemist mentions that some Xindi recently passed through the Mall of Alienica. "What is your interest in them?" the chemist asks. "We're on a diplomatic mission," Quantum tells him. From God or from Alderan? For an additional fee, the chemist will tell them if the Xindi went to Mrs. Fields or to 1 Potato, 2. Trip shows him an e-pad of things they're willing to trade up on.
Other scantily-clad females modeling Gaultier's newest concubine line stalk around and flirt with each other. As Quantum walks up, the slave-driving pimp who looks incredibly like John Malkovich tells him he doesn't offer free samples. Quantum doesn't want sex, he wants information. And I want sex slaves with penises on display! What? I'm not allowed to window-shop? This one-sided belief that only men have sexual needs is disgusting and insulting in its Victorian worldview. John Malkopimp has a "don't ask, don't tell" policy where his clientele is concerned, but suggests Quantum purchase a woman and ask her about the Xindi. After thoughtfully surveying a few of the women, Quantum turns away. However, a blonde nymphet attired in an unraveled ball of fuzzy white yarn comes into focus over his shoulder, willing him to turn around. John Malkopimp compliments his taste, but Trip comms the captain, saying he's got to go back to ship to get the chemist's pay. To John Malkopimp's consternation, Quantum and Reed leave. Quantum stares one more time at the model from Joanne Fabrics before leaving. With the extra length of yarn in her hair and that Bangles getup, she looks like she stepped right out of an eighties video. "Centerfold" comes to mind for some reason.
Quantum tells John Malkopimp that they'd like to put the alien whore on get-laid-away, and walks off. Reed says he can't wait to get back to the ship and decon himself. Ahem. There's some hullabaloo, and the yarn sex slave runs after them and slo-mo hurls herself in Quantum's arms. John Malkopimp tries to make Quantum pay, he won't, there's a shoot-out over Quantum's moral high-ground, and Reed, Quantum, and the sex slave escape. "Wouldn't mall security have been on them long ago?" the Evil Dr. Mathra asks.
Sickbay. As the sex slave stares rudely at Phlox, the good doctor examines her and comments he's never met anyone with such a complex retinal structure. Quantum checks up on them, and Phlox admits to never having run across her kind before. The doc doesn't seem to be under any sort of thrall to me, just interested -- as he is in all new species. The sex slave says her name is "Rajeeen" and makes grand erotic gestures at how she can pay Quantum back for rescuing her. Quantum says, "Let's get something straight." Oh, please DON'T make me go there -- I already warned you that this was a porn in disguise! The captain tells Hellena Hand Job (the reasoning for that moniker will later become very clear) that no one is beholden to anyone else on his ship. In the grand tradition of when Oliver Twist was sold into prostitution, Hellena Hand Job admits to not knowing her family or home planet, since she was forced into slavery at such a young and tender age: "I've had many owners." So she's like that biting hamster I got when I was eight? Quantum tells her to feel free to move about the ship and proposition people, and orders Phlox to set her up in quarters. Hellena Hand Job is all kinds of grateful -- most of which we'll see later.
Back at the marina, Trip says, "On our planet, wars were fought over these." He presents the chemist with a padded metal briefcase full of vials. Ooh, I want one of those! I could handcuff it to my wrist when I run around San Francisco testing recipes! The chemist murmurs appreciatively, sticks his thumb in a vial, and snorts the contents. He sneezes violently. Trip and Reed draw back to a safer distance and advise him to be careful. The chemist wants to know what alien snuff this is. "Black pepper," Trip tells him, and bends over the case. "There's paprika, mustard seed -- I'm partial to the cayenne myself." Cute -- trading in spices that no alien would have. I like it. I just wish they could be that creative with the bulk of their writing. Since Trellium can only be synthesized in a liquid state, the chemist hands over the required formula and warns them how unstable it can be. As Trip and Reed leave, the chemist snorts some more spice, sneezes, and giggles convulsively. I giggle too when I think of all the times I've sneezed into things that were then served up to my Chef Instructor.
Enterprise. Quantum and Hellena Hand Job share an intimate dinner together. From the looks of it, they're eating taco salads -- can you see that big, puffy flour tortilla standing up in the lettuce? I hope her system can process beans better than the humanoid one. Hellena Hand Job says her quarters are nicer than what she's used to. She admits to never leaving the cargo hold on her last trip, except for a few trips to the captain's quarters. Oh, poor little whore -- she should talk to Inara about joining the Hookers with a Heart of Gold union. I hear they have benefits. Quantum is all disconcerted by this news. Has he never been to Amsterdam in all his water polo-ing about on Earth? Although they do treat their ladies of the night much better there. Okay, now what is she wearing? Last we saw, her dress came courtesy of the ever-so-trendy Cat's Attacking Toilet Paper line, but now she's wearing some blue spaghetti strap number. I didn't see her carrying a valise when she escaped from John Malkopimp, so I'm really curious as to where this saucy little disco number was regurgitated from. It would actually make sense if she was togged out in Starfleet issue. But then the sexiness would be taken away from the upcoming rape scene, right? Ech. And isn't she cold in something that skimpy? Upon closer inspection, I can say that she isn't cold. Well, at least Bermaga spared us that. Again, Quantum invites her to prowl around the ship at will. Because picking up random aliens on random planets makes them completely trustworthy, doesn't it? I guess in some Bermaga way, all the sex she's had makes her innocent again. And by the way? She's too virginal with her fuck-me eyes, little blonde curls, and paper shredder dress not to be very, very bad. Hellena Hand Job asks if all the crew are humans, and Quantum, again not suspecting that any sort of spy would come in such a pretty package, tells her all. Even about his Xindi mission. She affects not to know much about the Xindi, except that she was relieved when the reptilian ones weren't interested in her. Trip calls Quantum away.
Engineering. Trip and Quantum technobabble about how hard it is to synthesize the Trellium-D. According to them, it's only volatile in its liquid state, but once they slather it all over the hull in a solid form it's, well, solid. T'Pol offers to help Trip.
Quantum's Quarters. Quantum sits around in the top half of his Blue Tick Underoos. Hellena Hand Job comes to thank him personally for rescuing her. Okay, they obviously had time to collect her personal effects from her pimp, because she is now in her third outfit of the night. This one is a bluish stripy two-piece comprised of a sleeveless A-line top with flared pants. It is SO not flattering in that cut and chevron pattern. What is this, Sex in the Space? She bubbleheads that she wanted to talk to Quantum. Her voice reminds me of that chick who sings "'Cuz I'm a blonde, yeah, yeah, yeah!" It just screams, "And I want to be a veterinarian because I love children." Her bad perm, voice, and head movements are also very Kelly Preston in Only You. Yes, I had an Andrew McCarthy fixation -- what of it? When Quantum tells her that T'Pol has found her home planet, she's less than thrilled. The good captain is confused by this, until Hellena Hand Job tells him she was taken from her home at a very young age and doubts anyone put her face on a milk hypospray. Quantum thinks she's very memorable. So memorable, in fact, that she's about to leave fingerprints alllll over him. She even wants to thank Quantum in her own unique way, and tells him that she had to leave her planet because she had "special gifts." She puts her hands on Quantum's face and illuminates his skull -- like an X-ray. Quantum is transfixed as she kisses him. He doesn't even kiss back, and you know what's worse? He doesn't even rid himself of that tiresome furrow in all this! Hellena Hand Job runs her hands down Quantum's chest, lingering on his nipples, but there's no more illumination until she runs a hand up his spine. Suddenly, Hellena Hand Job is asking if Quantum's okay. Quantum looks up and sees the sex slave standing a good five feet away from him. She thanks him again and leaves casually. Oh, big whoop -- it's not like having an alien alter your memory is new or anything.
Trip and T'Pol work hard at synthesizing the Trellium-D. It doesn't work, and stuff explodes. "Isn't that how Jake 2.0 got started?" the Evil Dr. Mathra asks. Citing that they've been "at it" for six hours, T'Pol tells Trip to come to her quarters for a little NNN. Trip fusses at first but eventually gives in.
In the corridors, Hellena Hand Job finds the transporter pad and examines it. Hoshi stumbles upon her and asks what's up, and Hellena Hand Job starts flirting hard. Talking tongues, they step into the turbo-lift together. I'll bet Hoshi's question was, "Going down?"
T'Pol lights candles, turns on some music, greases up a sheet, and generally prepares for Trip as per usual. Hellena Hand Job steps out of T'Pol's closet (so that's where she's getting all those fugly outfits!) and says, "You must be T'Pol."
"Toe rag?" That's what Trip needs.
I'm going to need a whole 'nother drink for this scene. Did I tell you all the fabulous news? Due to research, lots of emails from readers, posts on the forum, and general Bloodhound Ganginess, I have found my pumpkin ale replacement. It's farewell, Post Road, and hel-LO Buffalo Bill's! The Evil Dr. Mathra and I even trekked out to Hayward, CA via BART -- not a quick and easy trip, let me tell you! -- to sample at the source. Buffalo Bill's is a microbrewery and restaurant. We had a few pints and took a jug (I think we used to called them "growlers" in the Midwest) home with us. Now, what was in the jug differed from what was in our pints -- all very good in their individual ways -- and what we can buy in six-packs (at Albertson's, believe it or not) is a third kind of difference. There's a lot more cinnamon in this one, whereas Post Road had definite clove in the dry down. It sort of tastes like visiting an apple orchard and sampling the cider. But not sweet and apple-y in the least. It's very good. What got me started on this tangent? Oh, right -- the fact I have to be sufficiently brined to deal with this scene...
So, Hellena Hand Job seducts her way around T'Pol, who tries to tell her it's not polite to break into people's private parts on the ship. Unfortunately, Hellena Hand Job whips out her Sex Hands -- like "jazz hands," but with orgasms -- and completely overpowers T'Pol. She really pats T'Pol down so thoroughly, I'm surprised she didn't get a Pap smear out of it. You think that's gross? It's nothing compared to Bermaga's exploitation of Jolene and her character. After asking Hellena Hand Job to leave four different ways, T'Pol says "Stop" and "No" exactly three times. I'd love for Bermaga to rewrite this scene with their mothers or sisters in T'Pol's place so they can see just how "sexy" being raped really is. T'Pol's body and internals get illuminated much more than Quantum's, which is either significant later or done just because T'Pol's got dinners. Speaking of dinners, Hellena Hand Job slightly grazes T'Pol's. Slightly. Outside, Trip comes a-courtin', but when T'Pol doesn't answer the door, he comms someone to locate her for him. The report comes back that she's in her quarters. T'Pol is still fighting off Hellena Hand Job, and at one point manages to fling her back physically or by some mental shove. I rewound the scene several times, and I'm still not sure. Whatever happened, Hellena Hand Job ends up straddling T'Pol and putting her hands back on T'Pol's head. I don't think she's trying to cleanse T'Pol of her original sin, do you? Trip overrides the door lock, finds T'Pol prone on the floor, and gets bashed over the head by Hellena Hand Job. "And the long Trek tradition of women using knickknacks as weapons continues!" the Evil Dr. Mathra announces as a vase shatters over Trip's noggin. Trip calls security as Hellena Hand Job runs out.
In the corridors, Hellena Hand Job comms someone requesting "assistance." When the person asks if she was successful, closed captioning identifies the speaker as "XINDI REPTILIAN." What a way to kill the nonexistent suspense. Hellena Hand Job says she has what they want, and tells him she's going to use the transporter. Snake Eyes tells her to give the signal when she's ready. Hellena Hand Job runs into a security guard, whose hand hovers over his phaser. Hellena Hand Job rubs him out of arresting her. I'll bet she's never gotten a speeding ticket. Reed and other security guards scuttle through the corridors and start firing at Hellena Hand Job, who runs away.
Hellena Hand Job gets a phaser and fires at security guards in a cargo bay. She even does a stupid slo-mo fire-and-fall-sideways move that smacks, slurps, and sucks of a really pathetic attempt to compete with Alias. She lands on her back and jumps up, unharmed, in order to fire, dodge, roll, and fire again. She gets her tackily-dressed ass to the transporter pad and tries to contact Snake Eyes. The fizziness of the comm makes it obvious she's not getting through to the Xindi. A gun-toting Quantum appears behind her and asks, "Leaving so soon?" Other security guards (no Uh-Ohs?) surround her as Quantum tells her they jammed her signal. Do you think you could ever peanut butter a signal? Think about it: you get jam in your hair, it comes out. You get peanut butter in your hair, and it's time to consider elective baldness. Oh, wait, that's gum. You use the peanut butter to get the gum out. Never mind. I'm drunk. Quantum tries to find out who her contact people are, but she's mummer than my ugly birthflower. He orders her off to the brig. Hellena Hand Job gives him what she thinks is an angrily sultry look, and allows herself to be led off.
Sickbay. Phlox examines T'Pol, who is unconscious, and tells Trip he wants to give him a neuro-scan. For a cut? Quantum paces between them as Phlox explains that T'Pol would be dead and gone if she weren't Vulcan. Wouldn't it be cool if the reason why she's not dead is because of her disease? Wouldn't it be cool if I were hired as a writer to come up with twists, explanations, and plots that were vaguely intriguing? Wouldn't it be cool if I got another beer to console myself because they're not banging down my door any time soon? Well, at least one of those things can come true. Pretending not to be aware that T'Pol is currently down for the count, Quantum seethes that he wants to talk to her. Phlox tells him he has to treat her injuries first. "How long?" Quantum peeves. "A few hours," Phlox says, and slides T'Pol into the SCAT. Quantum glowers. Dick, dick, GREY DICK! Shut up, that's how we played it in Minnesota. I mean, with "duck" for "dick," though. "Have Phlox take a look at your head," he orders Trip, and leaves. Trip glances at Phlox and then examines the teeny-tiny ball of cotton he was using to staunch the trickle of blood on his forehead. I can't explain it, but it was really funny -- as though Trip were like, "Yeah, okay, I'll have him take a look. At my bug bite." I'm starting to love Trip. But I can still tell him to shut up, you know.
Brig. Hellena Hand Job pouts in her cell. Outside the door, Quantum holds up her comm thing and asks who she was contacting. She won't tell him, but she does apologize. Oh, well, that makes everything okay! Except when it doesn't. Quantum asks what she did to T'Pol, but instead of answering, Hellena Hand Job says, "She shouldn't have resisted." Quantum storms into her cell. God, you're stupid. You didn't cut off her hands, so the chick should still be considered armed and dangerous! Other than what they already know -- that they're In Danger Will Robinson -- Quantum gets a whole lotta nothing out of Hellena Hand Job. And the reason why he hasn't taken her to the air-lock and started suffocating her is…why? Oh, right, she has dinners. Whatever, Captain Fraidy Cat -- this new, raw, cold persona of yours? THHHICCCCKKKUULLL GRRRECKRECKRECK...RECK. That's the sound of it going down the drain and being ground up in the disposal with the rest of the garbage. Hellena Hand Job decides to get real with him for a minute and says, "It's true that I deceived you, but that didn't make your decision to help me any less admirable. I don't want to see you harmed, Captain. The best thing for you to do is to let me go." Well, if you put it that way, of course -- please feel free to roam about and destroy all humankind. Quantum grabs her by the forearms and shakes her, demanding more info. Reed comms Quantum that there are a few ships approaching. Quantum lets Hellena Hand Job go, looking at her like he's trying to make sense of why he got violent with her. How many more times can I say "whatever" to this show? Just because she's got mammary tissue and fallopian tubes means he's suddenly going to have an attack of conscience for getting slightly rough with her? WHATEVER!!
Reed tells him that the genetic profiles in the approaching ships match the one in the Psycho Bocce Ball. Quantum gives general readiness orders and turns to Hellena Hand Job, saying, "The reptilian species -- they're the ones who sent you." Hellena Hand Job responds, "I didn't have a choice." I am SO SICK OF THAT LINE! Philosophical hang-ups aside, you ALWAYS have a choice, and repeating that line in every, single dramatic moment that has ever appeared on screen, tube, Tivo, or stage has robbed it of its accuracy and impact. Won't someone out there write a new line? A better line? Something?!
If I were ever on a diet and some co-worker, friend, husband, or passerby on the street tried to question my food choice, I'd ram said food down their throat and jump on their stomach until they gave it up again.
My, I'm violent tonight.
Outer space. There's the beginnings of a firefight.
Brig. Quantum assumes that their visitors are there to collect Hellena Hand Job, who repeats that they won't harm Enterprise if he sets her free. Quantum tells her seven million dead people in Florida won't let him do that. Reed comms Quantum that they're about to be boarded. Quantum decides to leave Hellena Hand Job alone after asking one more time what her mission was and getting nada back. Before he can actually leave, Hellena Hand Job tells him that the Xindi wanted information about him in order to build a bio-weapon. In the end, the only information Hellena Hand Job has to offer is that they need bio-data to build the bio-weapon, but she doesn't know where it's being built or when it will be fully operational. Quantum orders more security on Hellena Hand Job, and leaves.
Uh-Ohs run around the corridors. Every time I catch sight of those uniforms, I have this uncontrollable urge to take a lint brush to them. In a rain of cardboard, an airlock door explodes and the Xindi come in, firing. A female Uh-Oh orders, "Fall back!" and then gets hit and carted off by her team. A team of Snake Eyes proceeds through the ship. Reed and more Uh-Ohs stalk. Quantum splits off from him with his own complement of Uh-Ohs. A Bug House fires a serious weapon at one of Reed's Uh-Ohs and flies away (okay, not really, but you'd think that would be a cool effect) when Reed throws a citronella grenade at him.
Another team of Rent-a-Redshirts face down a team of Snake Eyes. One Snake Eyes launches a blob of something that sticks on the wall behind them like a wad of ABC gum. As they try to determine if the flavor of gum is lime julep or razzberry, the blob fires a ton of little red light darts at the Rent-a-Redshirts, striking them all over. AWESOME! Snake Eyes enter the brig, blow Hellena Hand Job's door open, and take her with them. While firing at Snake Eyes, Quantum witnesses this abduction and moves forward with his Uh-Oh. Who is subsequently attacked by another Snake Eyes, who then jumps on Quantum. As the air-lock door slides shut, Hellena Hand Job sees Quantum's predicament and screws up her little face into one of concern. An Uh-Oh gets the snake off Quantum's back and zaps him with a cattle prod. Quantum orders May-A-Line-Saved-Is-A-Line-Earned to go after the ships. The cattle-prod-wielding Uh-Oh tells Quantum that Snake Eyes is dead. Got a little too rambunctious with that zapper, did we? From the Bridge, May-A-Line-Saved-Is-A-Line-Earned reports that the Xindi ships entered "some kind of vortex." So did my tolerance.
Sickbay. Phlox reports that Snake Eyes had a cyanide capsule device built into his brain that allowed him to commit suicide. Walking by a Vermilion Veloured Vulcan (guess she's all better now), Trip wonders what kind of species has that sort of feature built into their system. Phlox says, "He was surgically-enhanced. If you can call it an enhancement." Okay, he's said the Suliban Magic Word twice now. That's gotta mean something, right? In the first scene, the Xindi of the Round Table mentioned a proposal from their "colleagues," and the Suliban are the ones who told Quantum and Qrew about the Xindi in the first place. So, that means no kind of follow-up whatsoever, right? Good. Just so we're clear. Quantum wants a full autopsy on Snake Eyes and his weapon. "And then we'll license them, make them in Korea, and sell them at conventions," the Evil Dr. Mathra finishes for him. Trip complies. Finally, Quantum asks if T'Pol is okay. She is, so he orders her to find out more from their scans of the Xindi ships and the vortex they exited on.
Xindi Round Table. The species argue again. Monkey Boy and Mr. Man are annoyed at Snake Eyes and Bug House's course of action. "You promised us more time -- you don't have enough data to construct the bio-weapon!" Mr. Man whines. "Don't we?" Snake Eyes growls, and shouts, "Bring her!" Another Snake Eyes brings in Hellena Hand Job, now suitably and attractively attired in a black onesie that sparkles slightly and has a racing stripe up the arm. She looks like a cat burglar. "Show them!" Snake Eyes orders, shoving her. When Hellena Hand Job hesitates, Snake Eyes hisses and orders her again. Hellena Hand Job walks over to a console, puts her hands on it, and a three-dimensional digital image of a humanoid form appears above them. Rotating, of course, because they always have to be rotating. "We couldn't proceed with the bio-weapon because we didn't have enough information on the humans," Snake Eyes says, sitting back down. "Now we do." Aqua Man whale-songs that they "must proceed on both fronts!" Mr. Man asks, "Do you expect us to reward you for this act of insubordination?" Snake Eyes hisses. "This has left us more vulnerable than we were before," Mr. Man says. "There's more to these humans than you can learn from a set of bio-metric scans," Hellena Hand Job interjects. Snake Eyes silences her and orders her out of the room. Oh, she's going to recur, all right. Just like a pernicious, unctuous disease. Remember that anguished look she gave Quantum when Snake Eyes attacked him? I'll bet that PDF she gave them of the human form was actually Vulcan, since she took far more scans of T'Pol than she did of Quantum and she loooooves Quantum. Which means that, based on Hellena Hand Job's "human" data, the Xindi will build a weapon configured for Vulcans when they think they're building a weapon to use against humans. That's my prediction and I'm sticking to it.
week, T'Pol goes off her walnut. Again. Oh, and Apple sucks.