Enterprise
The Xindi

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Xinderella

Bridge. Hoshi reports that both sh'pods are on their way back, with all persons accounted for plus one. The warships are seven minutes away, so T'Pol orders the sh'pods to dock simultaneously and prepares the ship for warp. Which Enterprise does, leaving a tri-colored warp trail that wasn't seen last season. And by the looks of this blow-out-the-special-effects-budget episode, it won't be seen again.

Quantum's Quarters. Phlox enters to tell Quantum that the Nine-Fingered Xindi died: "I realize how important it would've been to have a Xindi help us." Quantum snaps that he wasn't exactly a helpful Xindi. Phlox shrugs and hands over an e-pad, saying, "You'd be surprised. It was extremely difficult and painful for him to speak but he managed to dictate this to me before he died. He said you'd know what it meant." "I'll be damned," Quantum mutters, "they're the coordinates." Would you like a little Worcestershire sauce with that foot, Quantum?

Trip and Reed walk through the corridors -- Trip in some civvies, Reed still in uniform -- and Trip gripes about his shower not getting all the "gunk" out of his hair and nails. He asks after the two Uh-Ohs who collected some cuts and scrapes on the planet, and Reed reports that Phlox already wiped them down with a moist towelette and bandaged them and sent them back to their cabins. Oh, sure, those two guys they care about, but that one who catapulted over the catwalk as a result of a plasma explosion during last season's finale? Nary a word on his quite serious-looking condition. Trip goes on to say that the Uh-Ohs did a pretty impressive job on the planet, but amends that to add, "Not that your guys couldn't have done just as well." Reed smiles that he's not so sure of that -- what, military angst gone already? -- and says goodnight to Trip. Trip goes to Sickbay for his nightly doping. Phlox hyposprays him and asks him to take some bio-scans to T'Pol's quarters for him. Trip leaves with the faux scans, and Phlox comms T'Pol. "Commander Tucker is on his way to your quarters. He believes I gave him a sedative but it was only a placebo. He's had a rather difficult day. I believe you have your work cut out for you," Phlox chuckles.

Wearing a cobalt blue silky robe from page twelve of the Victoria's Secret catalog, T'Pol answers her door. Trip apologizes for the late hour. T'Pol thanks him for the faux e-pads and asks him to sit down. Trip doesn't want to sit down. Oh, I think you're going to want to sit down for this. T'Pol offers Trip some tea. Some sex tea. Trip refuses the tea, saying it might keep him awake since Phlox just gave him a sedative. "You're having trouble sleeping as well," T'Pol states, sits on her bed and makes a pained face. "I never woulda pegged you for an insomniac," Trip comments. "I believe the Expanse has been disrupting my REM patterns," T'Pol tells him. Now, is this actually true, or is she making it all up to influence Trip? Trip suggests she go get doped up in Sickbay too, but T'Pol tells him that Vulcan science teaches them to "prompt [their] bodies to create their own medicines." Trip asks why she's still having problems sleeping, then. "The neural nodes that need to be stimulated are difficult to reach," T'Pol says. T'Pol's got an itch that she can't scratch! Trip "hmms" over that and gets up to leave, but T'Pol quickly removes her robe and asks him to help her. No, she's not nekkid under the silky robe, but she's wearing her silky jammies that have an unreasonably cropped top. Trip's a bit flummoxed and doesn't think he would know how to help her. While motioning her hand behind her back, T'Pol quickly Mapquests the Vulcan g-spot: "Three centimeters on either side of the fifth vertebrae." Trip grunts his agreement and sits down on the bed behind T'Pol. T'Pol lifts up her shirt slightly, and Trip slips his hands (Gawd, I feel like I'm writing fanfic -- I have to go take a Softscrub shower now!) under the shirt. T'Pol unbuttons the shirt -- unnecessary if Trip's hands are already against her bare skin -- and tells Trip he can apply "considerable pressure." She takes off her shirt, and the viewing audience gets a gratuitous and revealing shot of the full side of one breast. No nippleage, though.

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