On the Scarab Ship, T'Pol emerges from her hiding place and asks Krispy Krem, "Have you come to rescue me?" Krispy Krem jumps, points his weapon at her, and asks how she woke up. T'Pol tells him that whatever knocked everyone else out didn't work in the same way on her. "My body works differently than the humans," she says, seductively. "Hoo-manns?" Krispy Krem repeats. T'Pol says, "That's the name of their species, they're a terrible race. Deceitful, cruel." Krispy Krem asks why she lives with them. "It wasn't my choice," T'Pol says, looking at him limpidly. "I'm a captive here, they've enslaved me." Blalock's voice cracks convincingly on the "enslaved" part. T'Pol takes a step closer to Krispy Krem, who lowers his gun. "Please, take me with you," she pleads. "You would make a handsome wife," Krispy Krem breathes, "Do you know how to perform oo-mox?" T'Pol says, "I'm well-trained in the arts of pleasure [is that part of the distribution requirements on Vulcan?] but I'm unfamiliar with oo-mox." Krispy Krem tells her to stroke his lobes. Eww! "Like this?" T'Pol says, stroking. Krispy Krem makes ooky sighing noises. T'Pol continues to stroke his lobes down to his neck, and administers the second Vulcan nerve pinch we've seen on Enterprise. Krispy Krem falls to the ground, and T'Pol holds up a ring of keys. She pulls a phaser out of a suitcase and leaves the Scarab Ship. How many frontal lobotomies do Bermaga assume are out there watching this show? Do they truly think that viewers are going to react to this scene with, "Heh heh, boobies. Heh heh, pretty lady. Heh heh, sexual innuendo"? For crying out loud! Not only do I demand original plots, but I demand original scenes as well, not something that was recycled from TNG's "Menage a Troi." Hey, writers? Do you remember that you made T'Pol a Vulcan? You do? Well, good, because being a Vulcan means she could've knocked Krem's Krispy ass into the middle of next week without having to resort to secondhand sexual advances to distract him in order to give him a nerve pinch. Maybe you should go out and buy The Star Trek Encyclopedia and remind yourself of what it means to be a Vulcan so that you can stop making T'Pol the big-breasted patsy of your adolescent wet dreams.