Reed and May-New-Kid-on-the-Block investigate the bombed-out embassy. While Reed finds a security recording, May-Wise-Up lifts some massively heavy wreckage in order to identify a weak energy reading. What he sees gives him such a look of horror and the music such a tinge of Psycho that I fully expected there to be a rapidly decomposing body under there. It's a really nicely directed close-up of May-We-Do's face -- great angle, light, and everything. Unfortunately, since this isn't C.S.I., it's just a bunch of light sticks taped together. However, May-Leaving-Las-Vegas and Reed think it's a bomb. I guess they never went to sixth-grade roller skating parties. Reed determines that the timer might be broken, but the bomb's definitely armed. He orders May-Television-Man not to move. "The slightest vibration might set it off." Reed comms the ship and tells them to get a lock on them as they might need an emergency transport. So, instead of getting the hell out of there, Reed tells the ship to stand by and clutches his communicator between his shoulder and his ear. I should think they'd have hands-free devices by now. As May-We-Want-the-Airwaves strains and sweats and curses that foolhardy lay-up he attempted the day before, Reed scrabbles closer to the light sticks. Transporting the bomb out isn't an option because it will just explode when it detects the gravity change. "I'm going to attempt to scan it," Reed says. May-Wise-Up doesn't like the word "attempt." "If designed that bomb, I'd rig it to go off the instant a sensor beam made contact," Reed explains. May-Snowball-in-Hell glares at him. Reed tries to cheer him up by reminding him that if it does detonate, they will never know. You know that Reed isn't nearly as scared as he is fascinated by the light stick bomb. "Steady," Reed says as May-Who-Let-The-Dogs-Out shifts his weight a bit. I'm really nervous that the communicator Reed has trapped between his shoulder and his ear is going to slip out and land on the light stick bomb. I've done that enough times with phones to know it's not pretty. Apparently, it's not a good day to die, because Reed manages to complete his scan enough to find Vulcan DNA on the bomb's controls. He boosts the scan resolution, and the bomb arms. Reed bellows at Enterprise to beam them the hell out. They beam out, and the wall May-Bombs-Away was holding falls as the light sticks explode.
Sickbay. Phlox tells T'Pol, Quantum, and Cond'leeza that the Vulcan genome on the bomb belonged to some Vulcan who looks exactly like Helena Bonham Carter, the Branagh Years. "T'Pau," Phlox announces. My head -- which, after last week, was only being held together by Scotch tape and hope --explodes again. Quantum wonders who this woman is and what she does. Well, first there's the ahn woon and then there's the heart and soul and don't even get me started on the Wulcan vey. According to Cond'leeza, T'Pau is a well-known Syrrannite. Quantum's jazzed about getting a lead, but is quickly put in his place by Cond'leeza, who informs him that Vulcans will take care of this and he doesn't need help from T'Pol or Reed either. Oh yeah, he's as dead the Not Really Dead But Still Very Evil Admiral Forrest, which is to say, very.