From outer space, we see Mega Maid blow up with incredible effects.

Enterprise. T'Pol enters her Acting CRACK WHORE'S starlog on February 14, 2152 and says they are holding their position at the rendezvous, but there's been no word from Degra's ship. I'm thinking there's been no word since T'Pol seems to be writing in her log TWO YEARS IN THE PAST! In "Countdown" -- a mere week ago, mind you -- Quantum entered a log on February 13, 2154. Which do you think is addling T'Pol's brain more, that she's a CRACK WHORE, or that it's Valentine's Day and she's worried Trip won't give her a "U R Logical" candy heart?

Stella Cartography. T'Pol tells Trip that long-range scans are showing no evidence of the spheres, and all spatial anomalies in their scanning range have vanished. "What about the thermobaric cloud barrier?" Trip asks. T'Pol says that too has been dissipating. "Looks like we kept our end of the bargain," Trip sighs. T'Pol comments that the Expanse seems to be returning to normal space. "We shoulda hurd somethin' by now -- what if they failed? Earth could be --" Trip says, pacing a bit. T'Pol grips his shoulder. Oh, boy, here we go again -- this is going to be another "rough patch" we're going to hear until Kingdom Come that she helped him through, isn't it? Trip looks down at T'Pol's hand, but since it has a "rough patch" of its own on it, it's more like he's all, "Ew! Don't touch me with that hand!" T'Pol pleads with him to be patient. Trip relaxes and sighs. And looks at her hand again. Because it's still there. And he's still grossed out. Trip comments that his skin is healing faster than hers. He takes her hand and examines it: "I guess you Vulcans aren't so tough after all." "Doctor Phlox says we should all be back to normal in two to three days," T'Pol CRACK WHORES. "I'm only kidding," Trip assures her gently. He looks at her hand again: "Yew look nice lak this." He waves his hand to encompass her face in his statement. "Kinda lak an old oil paintin'." I could not stifle the "AWWWW" that forced its way out of my throat. The cats took cover, expecting more unlooked-for sentiment. Trip walks over to the controls while T'Pol stands there, stunned. She keeps her hand in the same position it was in when Trip was holding it and stares at it. "I'm not old," she quavers. "I will only be sixty-six years old on my next birthday." She continues to examine her hand as Trip gets all gimlet-eyed. "I can't believe you tol' me that," he says. "You accused me of looking old," T'Pol CRACK WHORES defensively. "That's not what I'm talkin' about -- I've bin tryin' to git yew to tell me yer age since we lef spacedock," Trip explains. "Why now?" Okay, ONCE! You tried ONCE to discover her age! T'Pol mutters something about age-telling being intimate. "Innamint? Hmm," Trip ponders. May-Rainy-Day-Woman-#12 comms that a vortex just opened for Degra's ship.