In this crossover with TNN, a bunch of fatigues run around shooting things, and we discover that the extent of Quantum's literary side is one line from Yeats. Unfortunately, it's not the one that fortells the Apocalypse. T'Pol hits rewind and again tells him something he's thinking of doing is "foolish," which, of course, Quantum knows to be Vulcanese for: "You have my blessing to make a complete ass of yourself." Meanwhile, Angel's Holtz makes a guest appearance as a hunter -- nice to know he's not typecast. Hoshi and Mayweather were too busy partying with me, Mathra, and the very last case of Post Road Pumpkin Ale in the state of Massachusetts, to show up for filming.
Stop the presses. My parents did it. I'm still in a great deal of shock that they actually did it. They've been threatening for years, but now it's all over. My father finally pouted and sulked and whined enough that he just plain wore my mother down -- they went out and bought a big honkin' RV. They're now threatening to throw all three cats -- hissing and spitting and shedding great gobs of fur -- into this Keckler Karavan and trek out to D.C. to visit Mathra's parents and then make a stop in Boston to visit us. There goes the neighborhood.
Enterprise Bridge. Our story tonight unfolds with Quantum sitting in his Porsche chair, looking as though someone absentmindedly left a crowbar in his fanny. Oh, we get it -- Trip's trying to take his picture so that Starfleet Command can use it to paint a portrait, and the Captain's Metamucilly look stems from being camera-shy and crabby. This from the guy who doesn't mind his image being blown up on alien viewscreens as he pimps his moronics around the galaxy. Trip gives some very un-Irving-Penn-y directions as he tries to capture his captain from the best angle. Gee, wonder why he's having difficulty finding that…Maywet gets his Line of the Week in by encouraging Quantum to consider this portrait-painting something of an honor: "Seeing those Starfleet captains every day gave us something to aspire to." Maywhack, when you're done polishing Quantum's boots with your tongue, you can go back to that wrinkle in time. Trip asks T'Pol to turn off all the monitors in the situation room to lessen the glare on the captain. I don't think T'Pol's facial expressions--oh, I get it, he means the glare from the monitors and not T'Pol's overly upholstered lips. Hey, it's early, and I'm punchy from boredom already! Quantum asks T'Pol if the Vulcan captains have their mugs done up in oils at the Vulcan High Command. T'Pol replies, "Vulcans are revered for their accomplishments, not for the way they look." Ouch. But it hurts so goood! This modesty shtick Quantum's strumming is getting annoying. I am just not buying it. "Except for the really important ones who get mummified," Trip zings back. That's a bit tacky considering what might have happened to all those mummified relics at P'Jem. But what do you expect from the resident rube? Reed reports that they're picking up readings of a small planet along their course. Quantum's confused because there weren't any signs of star system, and Reed tells him it's not an entire system; it's just one planet. Reed twiddles with some buttons, and the viewscreen displays a darkened planet. T'Pol tells everyone, "It's a rogue." Hoshi looks at her questioningly. "It's a planet that has broken out of its orbit," T'Pol explains. Trip slyly raises his camera and snaps a shot of Quantum-in-action as Quantum gives the order for a closer look. "Captain Archer, in command," he says. "Give it a rest, Trip," Quantum tells him out of the corner of his mouth, not moving his facial muscles in order to keep the pose. Urg, I think I've just discovered I'm lactose intolerant.