Quantum tells him to stuff it. "I'd prefer a burial at sea if I'm not completely vaporized," Reed meanders. "I thought you were afraid of the water!" Quantum snaps and demands he hand over his scanner. What exactly, pray tell, is Quantum going to do with Reed's scanner? He doesn't have the slightest clue what to look for or even how to turn it on. Reed tells Quantum that it's futile. "We'll dismantle this thing piece by piece if we have to," Quantum butches. "That'll take days," Reed says. "My schedule's open," Quantum tells him. So's your fly. Reed doesn't think the Romulans understand that patience is a virtue. "As much as I appreciate all your efforts, you have to detach the hull plating -- it's the only option," Reed pants. "I'm not about to leave one of my crew behind!" Quantum growls. "You're putting Enterprise at risk!" Reed bawls. "We're wasting time -- help me figure out a way to get you outta here -- that's an order!" Quantum bawls back. Reed detaches his oxygen pump. And seems to become subconscious immediately. That oxygen leaked out for all of forty seconds. Don't argue, I timed it. Wimp. I know Japanese Pearl Divers -- not personally, you understand -- who can hold their breaths for eight minutes. After noting that Reed let ALL his oxygen go, Quantum hooks Reed up to his auxiliary hose and shares his life's breath. "If I were the kind of Captain you think I should be, I'd bust your ass back to crewman," Quantum snaps. "Begging your pardon, sir, but if you were that kind of captain, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You'd have cut me loose by now," Reed rasps. Quantum assures him he's not going to do that. I would. Quantum wants to know, "When we triggered that sub-detonator, why didn't the mine explode right away? How many seconds went by before I re-armed it?" Reed doesn't remember, "Ten, maybe twelve." "If felt more like twenty," Quantum says. "Ten...twenty -- what's the difference?" Reed wonders. A lot if you're some miners trapped in a mineshaft. Now, how's that for Twilight Zone Next Generation? Last week I dish a rant about twelve versus twenty miners, and now they're dealing with a mine and arguing about ten/twelve or twenty seconds! Not only that, but 1220 is the address of my culinary school! I'm so creeped out, I need another Post Road. "If it had exploded, how big would the yield have been?" Quantum wants to know. Reed hazards it would have been a quarter of a kiloton and wants to know what the hell Quantum is getting at, Sir.