Quantum logs that they're on their way to the planet o' magnesite. T'Pol approaches Quantum and ventures that she's been hearing some concerns from the crew. She thinks the Three Green Sisters are becoming disruptive. "You're telling me," Quantum murmurs dazedly before he shakes himself and says that people just aren't used to having Orions on board. "It's not just that," T'Pol elaborates, "our guests visited the Mess Hall this morning and, as a result, twelve crewmen reported late for their shifts." Wow. They had quads. Quantum gets the picture. "It's primarily their attire," T'Pol continues. "Or lack of it!" Quantum leers, but comically pulls an instant serious face when T'Pol boggles at him. You know, people who live in catsuits shouldn't throw stones at naked ladies. Quantum says he'll see about assigning them some clothes. Like that's gonna happen. T'Pol has more to say: "It might also be a good idea if you had a word with them." Quantum looks at her quizzically. "They're still under the impression that they belong to you," T'Pol explains. Quantum still doesn't get it. "Unless a new policy has been instated, I believe Starfleet doesn't condone slavery," T'Pol spells out for her green ham-addled captain. Quantum says he'll speak to them first chance he has. "Thank you," T'Pol says, and leaves. It's the clipped way Blalock delivers the line that make those two words priceless. It just reminds me of everything she's had to put up with from these testosterone-y freaks for the past four years.