Trip is marooned on a desert planet -- but instead of taking his top three favorite works of literature, he's got a reptilian alien to while away the hours. As so often happens on desert planets in outer space in the future, as soon as day breaks, it's going to be a badzilliker degrees. This means, of course, that Trip and his non-sweat-glanded matey are going to be needing some pretty serious Solarcaine with the extra-healing aloe additive come the sun also rising. Back on the ship, Quantum furrows a way to recover his Tripwrecked little buddy, which means getting in touch with the reptilian alien's mother ship.
Oh. Joy. Another Trip-centered episode. Because, of course, we certainly haven't had enough of those. I mean, it's not like he's overexposed or anything, or that certain other members of the cast are so underexposed they disappear literally and figuratively from the screen. In fact, Trinneer's drawlin' mug is so IN-frequently on the screen, I almost forgot what his bare chest looked like. Thank goodness I had this fast-paced, action-packed STELLAR episode to remind me -- it certainly would be tantamount to unforeseen acts of Greek tragedy if we were allowed to exist for one minute without being privileged to rest our eyes on an indifferent physique.
Mathra: So, what's the name of this ep?
Keckler: What the hell else would it -- actually it's D-O-N. The alien's name is Don.
And now it is.
Cruising alone in a sh'pod, Triptography talks to his log about testing the autopilot upgrades. Hm, shout-out? He looks out the window and muses, "This gas giant has dozens of moons -- it's like a gravitational jigsaw puzzle." Another Gas Giant? That makes three in the last two years. Man, Shatner does not want to let go, does he? "Watch out, Travis, these modifications are working so well, pretty soon we won't need pilots anymore," Trip tells his log. You guys don't seem to need them now. And how can that NOT be a shout-out? Poor ol' Micro-Weather -- the only one not laughing. Quantum tries to comm Trip that another vessel is headed his way, but his transmission fuzzes out. There's some urgent beeping on the console, and Trip is fired on by an alien sh'pod. Trip calls out, "Mayday! Mayday!" No, no -- it's "May-wither." Trip loses power and crash-lands on the planet.
You Watson bastard, you killed my ears!
Enterprise tries in vain to contact and locate Tripwrecked. Malcolm's frustrated with the "demmed interference" being the reason why they can't be exact about Tripwrecked's last known location. "Many of these moons have atmospheres that contain selenium isotopes -- that's most likely what's affecting our sensors," T'Pol explains. So, they have a Head & Shoulders atmosphere? I wonder if the three other people who saw Evolution will get my joke. Quantum puts on a stiff upper furrow and gives orders to search the sixty-two moons for signs of Tripwrecked. I wonder if I should start drinking in the morning.
In the darkness before yawn, Tripwrecked gets out of his crashed sh'pod and looks around. Not finding much, he Q-Tips his wounds and logs some more LiveJournals about his engines being neutralized by the moon's atmosphere, his lack of power, and his desperate dream to be performer with The Thunder from Down Under in Vegas. I might have made one of those up. In front of a roaring campfire that must have sprung from his loins since it's clearly established that he doesn't have a phaser, Tripwrecked blows on his hands and tries to fix his transceiver. I guess that's to anvil home the fact that he ran out of gas on a desert planet that is frigid at night and hotter than Beelzebub's bum at yawn's early light. Tripwrecked hears a noise, goes to investigate, and is set upon by a yelling Don the Alien, who shoots at him. Dodging blasts, Tripwrecked falls back into his sh'pod and closes the hatch. He peeks out the window and is not exactly ecstatic to note that Don the Alien stole his transceiver.