Enterprise. Trip and Quantum look at some chunks of Trellium. "Should be enough to line the foreward hull," Trip says. Quantum closes the metal case and says, "It may be awhile before Phlox finds away to inoculate T'Pol. Take this to cargo bay one, store it in the bio-hazard locker."

Sickbay. Quantum checks on T'Pol, and Phlox says they got her out in time; now her synaptic pathways are mending nicely, although it will be a few days before she's back to her old, repressed self. Can't you just see the crew tiptoeing around T'Pol until she can control her emotions again? She'll throw spoons when there's no plomeek soup and start crying at Kodak commercials. Quantum wants to talk to her, so Phlox hyposprays T'Pol awake. She looks naked under her blanket. Hey, writers, why is T'Pol naked under her blanket when the problems she's having are above the neck? Does her skintight velour interfere with the scans of her skull? Quantum tells T'Pol that she's going to be okay, but the Selaya went down with all hands. Do you think the band played "Nearer My Surak To Thee"? Quantum apologizes for not having a choice, and Phlox adds that their fate was sealed long before Enterprise arrived to blow them up. Phlox leaves and tells Quantum not to be long. Quantum explains T'Pol's allergy to the Trellium Trip successfully mined. "It's essential that you protect this ship," T'Pol says, staring up at the ceiling. I'm so certain Phlox has those "I hate Mondays" or "Hang in there!" posters taped to his ceiling. Although in his case, they're not Garfield or kittens, they're slugs and worms and bats with twelve eyes. "Leave me on the next habitable planet," T'Pol dramas. Quantum isn't going to do that. T'Pol sits up and passionately almost preaches the "needs of the many" speech. Quantum's got a thumb on her shoulder for some reason. Quantum assures her that they'll find a way through all this, and he's not planning on leaving people behind if he can help it. "I can't try to save humanity without holding on to what makes me human," Quantum tells her. Oh, barf. Go put it on a Franklin Planner page.