Mess Hall. May-Neselrode munches on something that looks remarkably like a McDonald's cherry pie with the air of one who find himself treading on life's banana skins. Mum-Weather enters, grabs a cuppa, and starts to console her son. She first twits him for not consulting with her, the chief engineer, on his modifications. After telling her he didn't want to put her in the middle of it, May-Neselrode gestures at his cherry pie and comments, "I never thought I would miss these." "Nutri-Paks?" Mum-Weather questions. Why does leaving off the "c" in "paks" make it seem that much more space-agey? I was just wondering. Apparently, he's actually eating a strawberry shortcake, something he loved so much growing up that when he had a real one in San Francisco, it just wasn't the same to him. See, that's exactly how I feel about Stouffer's Macaroni and Cheese. I got something the other day at Cambridge Common that described itself as "gourmet homemade macaroni and cheese," but the pasta was stiffish, the cheese had no flavor, and -- travesty of travesties -- there were herby breadcrumbs sprinkled on top of it! I'm sorry, but there are just some things that the frozen section does better, so people should stop pulling on Mother Nature's apron strings. Mum-Weather chuckles and says, "I think they've ruined your taste buds." Really? Usually this show just ruins my appetite. Nevertheless, I like Mum-Weather a whole lot.
May-Lompoc hints a great deal about giving up his commission and coming back to Horizon full-time, something Mum-Weather puts a quick kibosh on. May-Neselrode doesn't think his brother is ready to command the ship; Mum-Weather tells a little tale about Pop-Weather being younger and greener than Bro-Weather when he took command. "He wanted to quit, I wouldn't let him. Your brother just needs some time," Mum-Weather finishes. Seriously, in a few months I'm sure he'll have his own gazelle speech. But good. And not involving gazelles at all. Then she plucks up her son's bruised ego by telling him that everyone on Horizon is proud of May-Neselrode: "Even Bro-Weather, though he won't admit it." Mum-Weather tells him not to let his guilt over leaving Horizon all those years ago influence his current decision to abandon Starfleet. May-Neselrode thanks her and kisses her goodnight.
Enterprise. Captain's Table. Trip can't believe nobody on Vulcan's ever heard of a horror movie. "There is something similar -- a discipline known as tarul-etek. It uses disturbing imagery to provoke an emotional response," T'Pol informs Trip and Quantum. "They try to scare you to see how well you suppress your emotions," Quantum states, waving a crust of bread around. Without really answering, T'Pol says she doesn't get why humans would want to intentionally frighten themselves. Trip sits gape-jawed as Quantum says, "It gets the heart pumping." T'Pol thinks aerobics would be more effective. Trip and Quantum really want to know what T'Pol's impression of the movie was. "There were many medical inaccuracies," T'Pol begins. "What did you think of the story?" Trip demands. T'Pol sips some water and says she thought the protagonist was interesting. "Dr. Frankenstein," Trip affirms. "No, his creation," T'Pol corrects. Trip, being a micro-brain, is confused as to how the monster could possibly be the protagonist. Quantum keeps his mouth shut at this point, so I still have hopes for the size of his brain. Not high ones, though. "From my perspective, this was the story of a person persecuted by humans because he was different," T'Pol lectures, and I smack myself with a cinderblock several for not seeing this coming when they said they were going to be screening Frankenstein. "That's one way of lookin' at it," Trip sneers. Trip, does it have to be this way? Our valued friendship ending with me cutting you into long strips and telling the Captain you walked over a very sharp cattle grid in an extremely heavy hat? T'Pol continues, "In many ways the film seemed quite prophetic." This finally tears Quantum's attention away from his food -- what are they eating, anyway? I thought dinner was before the movie. Is it suddenly morning? The dark space outside makes it way too confusing and damned inconvenient. T'Pol goes on to say that the villagers' reaction to the monster paralleled the reactions humans had to the Vulcans when they first contacted them. Quantum tries to laugh at his Science Officer by saying that history doesn't recall Vulcans being greeted by torches and pitchforks. "Nevertheless, many humans reacted with fear and anger," T'Pol reminds him. "They didn't know what to expect," Quantum argues. Keep treading that hot water, fathead. T'Pol smartly ignores this and says that she's going to recommend to Soval that all Vulcans recently arrived on Earth be shown Frankenstein as part of their training. Trip rolls his eyes over to Quantum, who says, "Maybe inviting her to movie night wasn't such a great idea." Maybe putting you in the captain's seat wasn't such a good idea -- shut up, ass. T'Pol says, "On the contrary, I'm looking forward to The Bride of Frankenstein." Trip looks very, very sorry he ever had a hand in this whole event. Good, because he's an ass, too. Hoshi comms Quantum to tell him to look out the window. Apparently, they were so engrossed in Siskelling that they didn't notice the large amounts of flame outside the window.
Bridge. Malcolm reports lots of hot stuff in the old town tonight happening on the planet, and Quantum orders the ship taken further away from the pyros. T'Pol finishes with her scans and says, "I'm reading bio-signs on the planet -- to quote Dr. Frankenstein, it's alive." Okay, a little too gratuitous and easy, but maybe this show needs more of that, so I'll give it a conditional "heh." After Quantum furrows that he thought the planet was uninhabited, T'Pol tells him that some microbial species which normally live underground are movin' on up due to the global warming. Quantum orders her to learn more. And as far as we know, she doesn't, since we never hear about this microbial species again.