We're in space. How do we know? We see a thin shard of light just beginning to creep over a planet (Earth, we can assume). A space pod zips around the underside of the docked Enterprise piloted by the one, the only -- Caaaptaain Quantuuuuum! He looks through the pod's glass ceiling, checking out the underbelly of the ship. The guy in the next seat says, "The ventral plating team says they'll be done in about three days." Cpt. Quantum tells him to "be sure they match the color to the nacelle housings." "You planning to sit on the hull and pose for some postcards?" his fellow podling -- who we now see is Charlie "Trip" Tucker III -- cracks. "Maybe," Cpt. Quantum says, looking up with a smile and treating us to his profile. Man! He's got a chin even Dawsorian might be jealous of. How did I manage to miss something that big in my years of watching Quantum Leap? Cpt. Quantum sighs over the beauty of his spaceship. "And fast," Trip reminds him, "Warp 4.5 next Thursday." "Neptune and back in six minutes," Cpt. Quantum tells those of us who don't have any concept of warp. Cpt. Quantum instructs Trip to proceed with the rest of the inspection, and they find some lateral sensor array ports that "buckled during the last test." Cpt. Quantum tells Trip to reinforce them. Trip makes notes to that effect and neglects his piloting of the pod, which bumps up against the big X in the "NX-01" painted on the hull. "Great, you scratched the paint," Cpt. Quantum tells him, grinning. A message comes through telling them that Admiral Forrest (acknowledged shout-out to DeForest Kelley) requests Cpt. Quantum's presence in Starfleet Medical ASAP. Cpt. Quantum and Trip exchange rueful looks.
Nighttime shot of a future San Francisco skyline. Three Starfleet officials in dark blue uniforms with gold piping walk into an observation room, followed by three Vulcans in their typical quilted-blanket robe attire. "Who was chasing him?" Starfleet Official One asks. "We don't know. They were incinerated in the methane explosion and the farmer's description was vague at best," the thick-lipped and somewhat familiar-looking Vulcan answers. Standing behind a plate glass wall, the Vulcan and the Starfleet officials look into an examination room, which shows a Klingon strapped to an examination table with blue lights and tubes going in and out of the sides. Four white-smocked medical technicians hover around, adjusting equipment and readings. "How did they get here -- what kind of ship?" Starfleet Official Two asks. "They were using some kind of stealth technology," the other Vulcan official answers. "We're still analyzing our sensor logs." At this point, as everyone else looks in at the recumbent Klingon, T'Pol's pixie head is staring straight into the camera just in case we didn't notice her balloon lips tripping into the room with the other two officials earlier. Starfleet Official Three tells the Vulcans he'd like to see their sensor logs. "The Klingons made it very clear they want us to expedite this," Thick-Lipped Vulcan Official One -- whom I recognize as Gary Graham from Alien Nation -- says pompously. I didn't think I'd ever be using the word "pompous" to describe any Vulcan except the Laughing Vulcan from STV, but if the pointy ears fit "It happened on our soil," Starfleet Official Three states. "That's irrelevant," Vulcan Official Two says. "Ambassador," Starfleet Official One says, fixing Vulcan Ambassador Gary Graham in his gaze, "with all due respect, we have a right to know what's going on here." "You will be apprised of all pertinent information," Vulcan Ambassador Gary Graham tells him. "And just who gets to decide what's 'pertinent information'?" Starfleet Official Three says, getting irritated, just as Cpt. Quantum saunters up. He's informally clad in his civvies in order to convey how unconventional a Starfleet Officer he is.