In the half-lit corridors of destruction, T'Pol seems to be buggin'. Everything she sees is as though she's looking through an apartment peephole. Ditto for how we see her. I love how that sort of filming is supposed to get "freaking the hell out" or "drug-induced something-or-other" across. It even worked in Jumpin' Jack Flash when Whoopi busted into Elizabeth Arden. However, that happens to be one of my favorite movie scenes. The voices are all slowed down like when your Walkman starts running out of batteries. Remember Walkmans? Or would that be Walk-men? Regardless, with iPods, you have no warning you're running low on juice unless you put on quadfocals and squint through one eye at the eensy-weensy battery graphic. T'Pol stumbles into her room, falls into her bathroom, and shakily splashes water on her face. I'm really pissed they didn't make this about her Pa'nar Syndrome.

Enterprise gimps through the sky.

Situation room. The senior staff discuss why Quantum was released. The view from his quarters is most likely blocked by bulkheads, so Quantum turns the camera lens into his new Weight of the World Window and broods. Quantum stalks around and stiffly tells them about the Xindi infighting. Reed suggests they hide behind a dust cloud. Seriously, he does. T'Pol agrees with the technobabble safety of said dust cloud. Engineering comms them to say that they're picking up a surge in the EPS grid on their deck. There's a high whine, and stuff explodes. Rocks fall. The senior staff hits the floor. They can get to the dust cloud in three days. Course is set. Trip wonders why they aren't searching for the Weapon of Striped Bass Destruction, and Quantum tells him they have to get themselves patched up before they can worry about it.

Sh'bay. May-Still-Alive examines the aquapod. Hoshi listens to whale songs and tries to decipher them, bitching all the way. Hey, do you think the Aquamen are the ones who sent that volleyball to San Francisco looking for whales? Duuude, that would be AWESOME! I loved the sound of that probe: "Whonk, whonk, whonk." I'm unashamed about how much that movie makes me laugh. May-Still-Alive is still counting his blessings that the hiatus didn't replace him with a jar of Folgers crystals to see if any of us noticed, and comments that it almost sounds like music. The camera tightens up on Hoshi as she looks a shade more pissed than bored, and sulks that her mother always wanted her to take piano lessons: "I should've listened to her." May-Still-Alive says, "It's never too late. You can start when we get home. We're getting home." You go, Mr. Sunny Side of the Street! Hoshi doesn't respond. Because she's bored.