T'Pol verifies that they are indeed in danger from the wavefront: "A Vulcan vessel encountered a Class Five over a century ago, the vessel was...nearly destroyed." They only have four hours to batten down the hatches and ride it out, but Reed thinks they can reinforce the hull and structural integrity with no problem. Phlox steps in to inform all and sundry that the qrew will still be in mortal danger from the resulting radiation, so they need another solution: "Sickbay is the most heavily shielded section, it's possible some of the crew could survive there." Quantum calculates that not all eighty-three members could fit in there, and he's not about to draw lots. May-Back-To-The-Future is relieved. You know, I think Scott Bakula's been seeing himself in Feria recently -- his hair looks several shades lighter. Trip looks at some e-blueprints and offers up "the catwalk" as a possible fall-out shelter: "You know, the maintenance shaft, running the length of each nacelle." After some verifying technobabble between Phlox, Trip, and himself, Quantum agrees, and tells T'Pol to take charge of the evacuation. Since the catwalk can reach three hundred degrees when the warp coils are online, it's agreed that the main reactor has to be powered down. Plot Device shows us his new Leaving Yourself Vulnerable To All Manner Of Wacky Hijinks boots -- he got them on sale at The Men's Wearhouse. He likes the way he looks.

Trip susses out the storm shelter with May-Backhanded-Compliment, who says, "Maybe we should open a window!" What a dumb comment from a "boomer." Shut up, May-Baklava. Trip tells him not to get too finicky too soon, what with the rest of the ship's humanity they still have to cram in there. May-Bacteria adds Porthos and Phlox's flora and fauna to the list. Trip asks if May-Backfleet-Boy ever ran into a storm like this before. The Boomer did, and says they had to take shelter in the ship's core for six weeks. Trip's impressed. "Any idea about a latrine?" May-Back-In-Black inquires. Trip hadn't thought of that yet. Don't know why, considering that subject seems to occupy his thoughts an awful lot of the time. Good ol' Malcolm Peed would have thought of it right away. I watched the Firefly pilot tonight, so now I can safely call two spacemen by that name. Trip thinks they can convert some storage lockers for that purpose. As long as he really means "convert" and not just "use." The two outriders walk to the new command central. "This'll be our Bridge," Trip says, shining a flashlight around and talking about fiddling with some panels to re-route all command functions. May-Backside makes a dumb aside about room for a captain's chair. What is the deal with their obsession with Quantum's chair? Trip comments how scary "that storm" must've been for May-Back-To-Basics. "We only got worried when the generators went down. We lost the grav plating, life support -- I'll never forget that look in my father's eyes. He knew we were in trouble," May-Backhand muses. "Why don't YOU have that look in your eyes, Bermaga?" Mathra demands, taking Plot Device's Feather Boa Of A Natural Phenomenon That Can Travel Faster Than Light out of his pint of Wexford's. Trip looks worried.