T'Pol enters. Good god, what is she made up as? She's all decked out in crimson robes of Vulcan finery. Quantum nudges Nervous Alien to stand up and bows to T'Pol. Nervous Alien quickly bows as well. Hee. Quantum greets her, and T'Pol asks if "the accused" has been made aware of his charges. "Yes, ma'am," Quantum whispers. T'Pol asks and calculates Nervous Alien's height and weight before inquiring if his people have any particular post-mortem rituals that they observe. Heh. "This is not fair -- I demand to speak to someone from my government!" Nervous Alien shouts desperately. "He's got a point," Quantum says deferentially. "We've never tried an alien before. Maybe we should contact the High Command." T'Pol tells Quantum that she's been granted full autonomy in her position and is not expected to go running back to the High Command with needless questions. Then T'Pol stalks out, announcing that the Tribunal will convene at eighteen-hundred hours. I just want to point out that in this scene, T'Pol asked about Nervous Alien's height, weight, and death rituals. She also stated that she has been given complete autonomy in her position on Enterprise and does not need to go running back to her superiors at every opportunity -- none of these things even approaches a lie. Not that I feel like arguing these points too much -- Bermaga are so slipshod with what canon they choose to follow that all the energy is quickly getting leeched out of me. "As you wish," Quantum says. Wait a minute -- did he just tell her he loved her?! Nervous Alien insists that Quantum, as captain, cannot allow his execution. Quantum sighs mightily and reveals that T'Pol owes him a few favors, but he can't promise anything. However, he will plead for leniency on Nervous Alien's behalf. Quantum: "Of course, I'd want something in return. We still haven't found a way to locate your vessel. If you could remember that warp frequency?" Nervous Alien mugs.
"Only the most boring people can have an animated and prolonged conversations about what Tums Quick Dissolve does to their bodies. What had they been talking about previously? What will they talk about next?" Mathra really wants to know.
Alien sh'pod. Pod White complains about being hungry, and Trip tells her to check the storage compartment above her head. "YOU do IT!" she orders him, petulantly. Trip mutters that he's busy, so Pod White starts rummaging in the compartment. "Eef you find some water up there, I culd use sum," Trip says. Pod White tosses a bag of water at him and struggles to open a plastic container of something. "Allow me," Trip offers, and passes over his water bag. Pod White takes the bag's straw with a look of disgust. "I'm not contagious," Trip tells her. No, of course you aren't. It's not like you've had random sex with every female alien tossed in your path. Besides, what's to say there's not something in your human physiology -- like any number of the pathogens Phlox has inject you with as inoculations -- that's harmful to her alien one? Just like Porthos and the Kreetassan atmosphere. Poor baby. Pod White disregards Trip's self-proclaimed clean bill of health and wipes the straw mouthpiece clean with her hand. Trip finally busts the plastic container open and pulls out some pieces of wrinkled brown things. Beef jerky time! "Is it edible?" Pod White inquires. Trip gnaws off a piece and tells her it depends on how hungry she is. Pod White takes a flavored chew toy of her own. Trip looks around the pod and says it reminds him of his first car. Let me guess -- he had sex in the backseat of it? Of course, Pod White doesn't know what a car is. Trip sketches out the general concept and comments that the only thing they're missing is the ocean breeze. "I used to drive out to a place called Chatkin Point...park along the shoreline and stare at the moon with mah gurl-fren," Trip reminisces. I'm sure it was more like he stared at his girlfriend's moon, but whatever. Pod White squirms a bit, and Trip assures her that he won't make a pass at her. Yeah, not yet -- we don't want to waste all this heady animalistic lust too soon.