[T'Pol's quarters]

T'POL: I'm continuing my analysis of the condition that's stricken the crew. Without Doctor Phlox's assistance I'm not hopeful about reversing its effects. I'm documenting my findings so that Starfleet will at least have a record of what happened. The symptoms began not long after we set a course for the trinary system. That was nearly two days ago.

[Situation room]

ARCHER: You're sure it's a black hole?
T'POL: A class four.
ARCHER: According to the Vulcan star charts, your people have surveyed more than two thousand of these things.
T'POL: That's correct, but none of them were part of a trinary star system.
ARCHER: How close can we get?
T'POL: The gravitational shear between the stars is extreme. We'd have to drop to impulse, but we should be able to approach to within five million kilometres.
TUCKER: Close enough to get some nice pictures.
ARCHER: How long would it take to reach the system at impulse?
T'POL: Two days.
ARCHER: Set a course.
(T'Pol leaves them.)
ARCHER: Trip. If you've got some free time, I'd love it if you take a look at my chair.
TUCKER: Sir?
ARCHER: The Captain's chair.
TUCKER: Wh-What about it?
ARCHER:: You may have noticed that I don't sit in it very much.
TUCKER: Is there a problem?
ARCHER: It's uncomfortable. When I lean back I feel like I'm about to slide out of it. I have to sort of perch on the edge.
TUCKER: I always assumed it was the best seat in the house.
ARCHER: Take a look at it for me?
TUCKER: I was going to purge the impulse manifolds.
ARCHER: The chair first, if you don't mind.
TUCKER: Aye, aye, sir.

[Ready room]

(The monitor shows a portion of text about Henry Archer, Jonathan Archer's father.)
ARCHER: Come in.
T'POL: Good morning.
ARCHER: Morning.
T'POL: Am I interrupting?
ARCHER: No, no. Just thinking about something.
T'POL: Today's duty roster.
(She hands over a PADD.)
ARCHER: Thanks.
T'POL: Lieutenant Reed has a new security protocol he'd like to discuss with you.
ARCHER: I'll drop by the Armoury. Anything else?
T'POL: Chef didn't report for duty this morning. He's ill.
ARCHER: Is it serious?
T'POL: Doctor Phlox said it's a simple virus. He should be fine after a few days' rest. Ensign Sato has offered to take charge of the mess hall. Apparently, she spends some of her free time in the Galley and is eager for an opportunity to cook for the crew.
ARCHER: If it's all right with Chef. Let me ask you a question. I received a manuscript from Earth. A biography of my father. I've been asked to write the preface. Would you mind reading it when I'm done?
T'POL: I'd be happy to.
ARCHER: If I can ever get it finished. I've been putting it off for weeks.
T'POL: The next two days should provide you with ample opportunity.
ARCHER: It's not that I haven't had the time. They only asked for a page. How am I supposed to sum up my father's life in a page? It would've been easier if they'd asked me to write the book.
T'POL: Perhaps by focusing on one incident, a single event that exemplifies your relationship with your father, you'll be able to condense your thoughts.
ARCHER: A logical approach. Maybe you'd like to write it for me?
T'POL: I'm hardly qualified.

[Galley]

CUNNINGHAM: Chef was planning to make fried chicken tonight with scalloped potatoes and some of the Minaran spinach we picked up on Risa.
HOSHI: The orange spinach?
CUNNINGHAM: He's convinced there's a way to make it edible.
HOSHI: Why don't we let him tackle that when he gets back? I have something else in mind.
(She calls up an oriental recipe on the monitor.)
HOSHI: It's one of my grandmother's specialties. The recipe's been passed down for generations.
CUNNINGHAM: I'll need a translation before I can programme the protein resequencer.
HOSHI: Oh no. You can resequence all the chicken and potatoes you want, but I am making this from scratch.

[Sickbay]

(Phlox is grinding herbs with pestle and mortar when Travis enters.)
PHLOX: Ensign. Is there something I can do for you?
TRAVIS: I've got a little headache. Nothing serious.
PHLOX: Why don't you let me have a look?
TRAVIS: I was hoping you could just give me something. I'm right in the middle of upgrading the navigation sensors.
PHLOX: It would be irresponsible to dispense medication without examining you first. Please. Any other symptoms? Dizziness, blurred vision?
TRAVIS: No.
PHLOX: How long have you had it?
TRAVIS: A couple of days, on and off.
PHLOX: Well, I've been meaning to have you drop by Sickbay in any case, to see if you've had any problems since I removed the neural implants you received at the repair station.
TRAVIS: You think it could have something to do with that?
PHLOX: Oh, I never rule out anything. Then again, it could be as innocuous as muscular tension. On the other hand, Terrellian plague starts out with a simple headache, then all manner of nasty things begin to happen.

[Bridge]

(Tucker is using what looks like a dentist's drill on the base of the Captain's chair, and annoying T'Pol with the noise at the same time.)
T'POL: Commander. Commander.
TUCKER: (to his assistant) Push it forward. That's good, hold it there.
T'POL: (raising her voice) Commander.
(He turns off the drill.)
T'POL: Perhaps you could finish that later.
TUCKER: This may not be as glamorous as a black hole, but the Captain gave me an order.
T'POL: He also requested detailed sensor readings of this trinary system.
TUCKER: I thought Vulcans had all this mental focus and discipline.
T'POL: We also have sensitive hearing.
(Tucker resumes drilling and my teeth start aching.)
T'POL: I'll be in my quarters.
TUCKER: We'll let you know when we're done.

[Armoury]

REED: Keep those target discriminators aligned. We don't want a torpedo mistaking one of our own nacelles for an enemy vessel.
ARCHER: You asked to see me, Malcolm?
REED: I would have come to you, Captain.
ARCHER: It's no problem. What's on your mind?
REED: I've been reviewing our encounters with hostile species. The crew's response has been admirable but I feel we can do better, sir.
ARCHER: And you have a proposal?
REED: I've been thinking about a ship wide emergency alert. Something a bit more comprehensive than battle stations. We're taking far too long to react to potential threats. With a single order from you, or an impact to the hull, the plating could be polarised, weapons brought online, critical systems secured.
ARCHER: I appreciate your concern, Malcolm, but this isn't a warship.
REED: That's obvious, sir. During our last run-in with the Suliban we were unprepared for their boarding parties. When the Mazarites attacked they disabled our aft sensors with their first shot. The list goes on.
(He hands over a PADD.)
ARCHER: I can see that. Run this by the senior officers, get some feedback, and we'll talk again.
REED: Yes, sir.
ARCHER: And Malcolm, don't call it battle stations. Think of something less aggressive.

[Mess hall]

Tthe tables are full with people eating from bowls, using chop sticks. Hoshi is walking amongst them.)
HOSHI: How is it?
(A crewwoman nods.)
REED: Condition Red?
TUCKER: (reading) Huh?
REED: What about Condition Red for the new security protocol?
TUCKER: Why don't you just call it Security Protocol?
REED: Well, that's not very dynamic.
TUCKER: Do you think a cup holder's too much?
REED: I beg your pardon?
TUCKER: For the Captain's chair. He just wanted the seat adjusted but I figured as long as I'm working on it.
REED: Just what the captain needs in a crisis, a place to rest his beverage.
TUCKER: I'm also upgrading the status displays. He'll be able to access tactical data from the armrest.
REED: If you really want to improve tactical readiness, why don't you help me with this protocol?
TUCKER: I'm a little busy right now, Malcolm.
REED: It's a chair.
TUCKER: It's the Captain's chair. It's just as important as your Reed Alert.
REED: Reed Alert. That's not bad.
HOSHI: Enjoying your lunch?
TUCKER: Yeah. Thanks. It was terrific.
HOSHI: It's called oden. Every Japanese family has their own way of preparing it.
TUCKER: Well, it seems to be a big hit. Congratulations.
HOSHI: Thank you. Lieutenant, you barely touched yours.
REED: It was lovely.
HOSHI: I'll get you a fresh bowl.
REED: That's not necessary.
HOSHI: It's no problem.
REED: Please. Not hungry.
HOSHI: Are you sure there's nothing wrong with it?
REED: Well it was a bit salty.
HOSHI: Salty?
(She takes a sip.)
HOSHI: It tastes fine.
REED: Well, it just must be me, then. Everybody else seems to be enjoying it.
(The pair get up to leave, still intent on their PADDs.)

[Sickbay]

(Travis is lying on the gurney that goes into the body scanner.)
TRAVIS: How much longer is this going to take?
PHLOX: That depends.
TRAVIS: On what?
PHLOX: Hold still, Ensign.
TRAVIS: I have to get back to the Bridge.
PHLOX: I'm afraid you won't be returning to duty today.
TRAVIS: The Captain needs those upgrades, Doctor.
PHLOX: When it comes to medical matters my authority overrides the Captain's. I'm keeping you overnight for observation.
TRAVIS: But your scans didn't show anything.
PHLOX: That's what concerns me. Whatever's afflicting you may be laying dormant. I'm going to run a full biomolecular scan to see if we can find where it's hiding. Now, lie back and don't move.

[Archer's quarters]

(He is dictating his preface, and the computer is putting it up on screen, including punctuation.)
ARCHER: When I was about eight years old, my father took me on a tour of the Warp Five facility outside of Bozeman, Montana. He introduced me to the people he worked with. Scientists with names like Tasaki and Cochrane. At the time, I didn't realise the significance of those names or the significance of my father's work. (Porthos barks) Computer, pause. I'll feed you in a minute. Computer, resume recording. In a way, creating a stable warp field mirrored the, the flux of emotions my father felt when he embarked on. Computer, pause. Delete the last paragraph. Hell, delete the whole thing. (Porthos barks again) Quiet.
(The little dog goes to his cushion and sulks.)

[T'Pol's quarters]

T'POL: Come in.
TUCKER: Here's your sensor interface. What's the emergency?
T'POL: This trinary system is emitting some unusual radiation. I'm trying to identify it.
TUCKER: You dragged me up here so you could identify radiation?
T'POL: Correct.
TUCKER: You said it was urgent.
T'POL: I said it was important.
TUCKER: I get it. You're paying me back. Making me jump through hoops because I was making too much noise. Well, you'll be happy to know I moved the Captain's chair down to Engineering. So it's nice and quiet on the Bridge now.
T'POL: I prefer to work here. I'll need your assistance with this.
TUCKER: Weren't you listening to me? I don't have time to cater to your whims. You want to get your name immortalized in the Vulcan database, get someone else to help you do it.
T'POL: Are you feeling all right, Commander?
TUCKER: I know you don't think this chair is important, but you're wrong. What's the most critical component on this ship? The main computer? The warp reactor? Uh-uh, it's the crew. And the most important member of the crew is the Captain. He makes life and death decisions every day and the last thing he needs to be thinking in a critical situation is, 'Gee, I wish this chair wasn't such a pain in the ass.'

[Sickbay]

TRAVIS: Doctor?
(Phlox is staring intently at the body scanner monitor.)
PHLOX: Shush.
TRAVIS: When are you going to
PHLOX: Wait!
TRAVIS: I have just enough time to shower and get changed.
PHLOX: I haven't discharged you, Ensign.
TRAVIS: I haven't slept all night and I'm supposed to go on duty in fifteen minutes.
PHLOX: I need to perform a cerebral micro-section.
TRAVIS: A what?
PHLOX: Lie down.
TRAVIS: No more tests. I have to get to the Bridge.
(Phlox blocks his way.)
PHLOX: I'm giving you an order.
TRAVIS: If I don't finish those upgrades, I could get a reprimand. It'll be in my permanent record.
PHLOX: You have far more to worry about than a blemish on your record. Do you see there? Your cortical scan shows elevated levels of serotonin and several other neurotransmitters.
TRAVIS: What does that mean?
PHLOX: I'll let you know once I've completed the micro-section.
TRAVIS: Can't it wait until after my shift?
PHLOX: Absolutely not.
TRAVIS: If the Captain doesn't think I can handle my duties, I'll be scrubbing plasma conduits on D Deck for the next five years. I could be court-martialed.
PHLOX: And what if you're carrying a protocystian spore, and you infect the rest of the crew? How will that reflect on you? Or what if you suddenly suffer a seizure at the helm because you've contracted Andronesian encephalitis? Now there is something wrong with you, Ensign, and I intend to find out what it is.
TRAVIS: Not today. Not during my shift. Unless you're ready to tie me to a biobed, I'm going back to my helm.
PHLOX: At least let me give you an analgesic for the headache.
TRAVIS: That's all I wanted in the first place.
PHLOX: If it gets any worse, or you suffer any other symptoms, return here immediately.
(Travis nods, Phlox injects him and then -)
TRAVIS: What did you
(Travis passes out.)

[Engineering]

(Trip is working on the Captain's chair when Malcolm bursts in.)
REED: I've been working on the new security protocol. Obviously, the reactor must be secured immediately during a Tactical Alert.
TUCKER: Tactical Alert?
REED: I considered your suggestion, Reed Alert, but it seemed a bit narcissistic.
TUCKER: Hand me that hyperspanner, would you?
REED: I've also been working on a new alert signal. Tell me what you think. (a klaxon) Or this one? (more like a buzzer) Well, which do you prefer?
TUCKER: For what?
REED: A Tactical Alert.
TUCKER: They both sound like a bag full of cats.
REED: Well, they were designed to get your attention.
(He takes the PADD off Reed and puts it on a shelf.)
TUCKER: I'll look this over and get back to you.
(Reed picks it up again.)
REED: I also need your help on an emergency shutdown procedure for the EPS grid.
TUCKER: I said I'll get back to you.
REED: Fine. Let's hope we don't suffer a catastrophic reactor breach in the meantime.
TUCKER: Malcolm. One of your boys borrowed my laser micrometer. If you're heading to the Armoury, could you get it back for me?

[Galley]

CUNNINGHAM: Ensign, if we don't serve something soon we're going to have a riot on our hands.
HOSHI: Is this too salty? Something's not right. Hand me the Kreetassan spice. I'll add it to the stock. Oh, I'm out of carrots.
CUNNINGHAM: There are twenty five people
HOSHI: Carrots!
CUNNINGHAM: (bringing the carrots) With all due respect, you've been cooking the same meal over and over again.
HOSHI: I believe I'm in charge of the galley.
CUNNINGHAM: I understand
HOSHI: You're relieved.
CUNNINGHAM: Ma'am.
HOSHI: Get out!

[Armoury]

T'POL: Lieutenant, I need your
REED: Clearance code.
T'POL: I beg your pardon?
REED: What is your clearance code? The Armoury is a restricted area.
T'POL: Even to the First Officer?
REED: How do I know you are the First Officer? We've encountered species that can alter their appearance. They could masquerade as any one of us. I've issued codes to all senior officers to reveal if the ship's been infiltrated by impostors.
T'POL: Part of your new security protocol?
REED: It was sent to your console as a voice-encrypted command packet.
T'POL: I haven't been to the Bridge for several hours. As I was saying, I need assistance establishing a sensor interface in my quarters. I've asked Commander Tucker, but he became agitated. It was uncharacteristic, even for him. Have you noticed anything abnormal about his behaviour?
REED: Why do you want to access the sensor array from your quarters?
T'POL: I was asked to run detailed scans of the trinary star system.
REED: I wasn't informed.
T'POL: It isn't a tactical issue. Lieutenant, why are you armed?
REED: From now on, security personnel are to wear side arms in all restricted areas.
T'POL: Have you cleared this with the Captain?
REED: It's in my proposal.
T'POL: Has he approved your proposal?
REED: I've been trying to get him to pay closer attention to security since we left spacedock, but he's more interested in fraternising with the crew. Inviting them to breakfast, and to watch water polo. I intend to implement some long-overdue changes, and if the Captain won't approve them then I'll go directly to Starfleet Command. Was there anything else?
T'POL: No.

[T'Pol's quarters}

(Continuing the dictation from the start of the story.)
T'POL: It wasn't long before I realized the odd behaviour wasn't limited to Commander Tucker. In fact, everyone I encountered was acting strangely, growing consumed with matters that seemed trivial at best. I also discovered that although I appeared to be immune, the Captain was not.

[Engineering]

(Archer enters, gazing at the PADD he's writing the book preface on.)
ARCHER: What happened to my chair?
TUCKER: Did you know that this chair is the exact same model used on Neptune class survey ships?
ARCHER: Is that why you called me down here?
TUCKER: Enterprise is the first warp five vessel in human history, the pride of the fleet, and you're sitting in a chair they've been using on warp two ships for over a decade. You deserve better, so I'm starting from scratch. I'm going to build you a throne. Stand right there. I need to get a few parametric scans to get your exact dimensions. This baby is going to fit like a glove.
(Archer backs away from the thing Trip is pointing at him.)
ARCHER: Isn't that used for aligning phase coils?
TUCKER: You won't feel a thing.
(Trip takes his scan.)
ARCHER: As long as I'm down here, maybe I can get your opinion.
TUCKER: Don't move.
ARCHER: (reading from PADD) How does one measure a man's legacy? Is it defined by the works he's created, the technological advances that will forever alter the course of human history?
TUCKER: Turn around.
ARCHER: If so, then no man since Zephram Cochrane, himself has made a more lasting contribution to the future of humankind than my father, Doctor Henry Archer.
TUCKER: All done.
ARCHER: What do you think?
TUCKER: Sounds good.
ARCHER: Let me read you the rest. (Tucker is intent on the scan results on his monitor.)
TUCKER: I really need to get to work on this.
ARCHER: It's just a few more pages.
TUCKER: How many more?
ARCHER: Nineteen.
TUCKER: Nineteen? Are you writing the preface or the book?
ARCHER: I've got a lot to say.
TUCKER: No kidding.
ARCHER: What's that supposed to mean?
TUCKER: If I may, sir, it's a little longwinded.
ARCHER: You're lucky you're a decent engineer because you obviously don't know anything about writing.
TUCKER: I'm not the only one.
(Archer storms out.)

[Galley]

HOSHI: I have eighty three people to feed, not just senior officers.
T'POL: All I requested was a bowl of Plomeek broth.
HOSHI: I don't have time for special orders. Anyway, you'll like this better.
ARCHER: Where's lunch?
HOSHI: It'll be ready in one minute, sir.
ARCHER: I don't have a minute.
HOSHI: If you're so hungry, fix yourself a sandwich.
T'POL: Captain? May I speak with you?
(Archer takes the pot of oden off the stove and starts to help himself.)
HOSHI: That is a very complex recipe. I will not serve it till it's just right. My family's reputation is at stake.
(Then the klaxon goes off)
REED [OC]: This is a Tactical Alert. All hands report to your stations. I repeat, this is a Tactical Alert.

[Bridge]

ARCHER: Report!
(Reed stands with his arms folded, shaking his head.)
REED: The crew's response was unacceptable. Thirty eight percent of them failed to report to their stations. Critical systems haven't been secured. I haven't even heard from Engineering.
ARCHER: Shut off that damn noise. Shut it off. I don't recall authorising a tactical drill.
REED: It wouldn't be much of a drill if everybody knew about it, sir. One minute and fifteen seconds.
ARCHER: What?
REED: It took you one minute and fifteen seconds to reach your post. I'd expect more of our Commanding Officer given that the crew just might follow his example.
TUCKER: Captain.
REED: One minute and forty nine seconds.
TUCKER: You might want to see this, sir.
(he leads them back to the )

[Situation room]

(Where he calls up the plans for the new Captain's chair on the central display.)
TUCKER: Interactive status displays, secondary helm control. It's even got inertial micro-dampers. The ship could be shaking apart and you'd hardly feel a thing.
REED: You ignored a tactical alert for this?
TUCKER: I want to run some colours by you for the headrest.
REED: This is all a big joke to you.
TUCKER: Give it a rest.
REED: This isn't a bloody pleasure cruise. Without proper discipline on this ship, this mission is doomed.
TUCKER: Why don't you go play soldier somewhere else?
(Archer becomes engrossed in his preface again.)
REED: If this were a military situation you'd be taken out and shot.
(Tucker grabs Reed and pushes him up against the bulkhead. Archer has to break them up.)
ARCHER: Hey, hey, hey, hey.
(He shoves Tucker against the bulkhead himself.)
ARCHER: I don't care what colour the headrest is, or whether it can serve me iced tea. I just want a place to sit when I'm on duty.
(Then he does the same to Reed.)
ARCHER: And if I hear that alarm one more time I may have you taken out and shot. (to T'Pol) Unless there's a real emergency, like a reactor breach, I don't want to be disturbed.

[Archer's quarters]

(He is barefoot and slumped in a corner when the doorbell chimes.)
ARCHER: Go away.
(T'Pol comes in anyway.)
ARCHER: Do I have to start locking my door?
T'POL: You said to interrupt you if there was an emergency. I believe there is.
ARCHER: Is that right?
(he goes over to the monitor, which shows the words he read to Tucker earlier.)
T'POL: The crew's behaviour has become erratic. Even by human standards, they've grown distracted. Everyone I've encountered appears to be preoccupied with trivial matters. Ensign Sato's recipe, for example. Your preface. We should declare a medical emergency and have Doctor Phlox examine the crew. I suggest he begin with you.
ARCHER: I'm busy.
T'POL: Captain.
ARCHER: Dismissed.
T'POL: Your crew is in danger.
ARCHER: I gave you an order.
T'POL: Captain.
ARCHER: I suggest you follow it, or I'll have you confined to your quarters, until, until a Vulcan ship can come and get you.
(He manhandles her out of the room.)

[Sickbay]

(Phlox is in full latex surgery gear, with Travis strapped to a table.)
PHLOX: You're just in time, Sub-Commander. There's a surgical gown in the compartment by the microscope. This is a rare opportunity to explore the human brain.
T'POL: Was he injured?
PHLOX: A headache. At first, I thought it was a simple vascular dilation but then I discovered a chemical imbalance in his prefrontal cortex. I'm going to begin by extracting the first twelve millimetres of his parietal lobe. A sub-cellular analysis of the tissue should shed some light on the mystery.
T'POL: Doctor, you may want to delay the procedure. We have a larger problem. The entire crew is ill.
PHLOX: They'll have to wait.
(T'Pol stops him from cutting into Travis's head.)
T'POL: You've been affected, as well.
PHLOX: Please remove your hand.
(He moves his fingers so the laser scalpel is pointing at her eye.)
PHLOX: I won't ask you again. (she lets go) I'll let you know when I've completed the surgery.
(T'Pol administers a quick neck pinch and he crumples to the floor, then she goes to study Travis's brain scans.)

[Galley]

(T'Pol uses a medical scanner to check Hoshi's brain.)
T'POL [OC]: The crew's bio-signs were growing erratic. I began to doubt any of them would survive more than a few hours.

[T'Pol's quarters]

T'POL: (continuing to dictate her log) Ironically, Dr. Phlox's obsession with Ensign Mayweather's headache has provided some useful data. His cerebral scans have helped me determine that the radiation coming from the trinary system is causing (a computer alert sounds) Computer, pause.
(A scan of the star's radiation fields comes up.)
T'POL: Computer, resume log. My radiometric analysis is complete. As I suspected, reversing course won't take us out of danger quickly enough. The radiation appears to extend outward at least half a light year in every direction except one. If I can chart a course between the stars we could escape the radiation before the crew succumbs. But I won't be able to pilot the ship alone.

[Archer's quarters]

(Archer is slumped over his desk.)
T'POL: Captain? Captain Archer! You're needed on the Bridge.
ARCHER: I told you not to disturb me.
(T'Pol hauls him to his feet.)
T'POL: We have very little time.
ARCHER: What are you doing?
T'POL: Your crew may be dying.
ARCHER: What?
T'POL: Do you remember that trinary star system?
ARCHER: The one with the black hole?
T'POL: It's emitting a dangerous form of radiation. It's affecting your prefrontal cortex.
(She gets him into his shower cubicle.)
T'POL: I believe that's why you and the crew have been exhibiting obsessive behaviour. Some of the crew's biosigns are already unstable. If you're exposed to the radiation much longer you won't survive.
(She props him against the wall, gets out and turns on the cold water.)
T'POL: Do you understand what I'm telling you?
ARCHER: Turn it off.
T'POL: Do you understand?
ARCHER: Yes. Radiation. Tell Phlox, if the the crew's sick. Tell Phlox.
T'POL: He's been affected as well.
ARCHER: But not you?
T'POL: Vulcan physiology seems to be immune.
ARCHER: Bring us about. Turn the ship around.
(She turns the water off and gets him a towel.)
T'POL: It's not that simple. If we go back the way we came we'll spend two more days in the radiation field. I've charted a course that'll have us clear of the radiation in less than seventeen minutes.
(T'Pol pours him coffee from a thermos that was on his desk.)
ARCHER: Lousy coffee.
T'POL: But we'll have to pass within two million kilometres of the black hole. There's considerable debris and gravitational shear. Someone needs to pilot Enterprise while I determine the course corrections.
ARCHER: Travis.
T'POL: He's been sedated.
ARCHER: I'm in no condition to fly a starship.
T'POL: We have no other choice.

[Bridge]

(Enterprise sails serenely through gas and boulders as Reed sleeps at his post.)
T'POL: More gravitational shear. We're too far to port.
ARCHER: (at the helm) But you said bearing two point four.
T'POL: Twelve point four.
ARCHER: My mistake. Twelve point four.
(There's a lot of juddering feedback from the joystick.)
ARCHER: How much longer is this going to take?
T'POL: Six minutes.
ARCHER: I'm good for that.
T'POL: Another shear front. We need to rotate our longitudinal axis by twelve degrees and bring our flight vector to zero one four mark two seven.
ARCHER: Hold on, hold on. Zero what?
T'POL: Zero one four mark.
ARCHER: Mark two-seven.
(The hull echoes as boulders bounce off it.)
T'POL: Just minor debris. The hull plating is holding. Our lateral vector is drifting. Captain!
ARCHER: Hang on a second. I feel like I'm in flight school again.
T'POL: You're doing well. New heading. Zero zero six mark four.
(A huge lump of rock drifts into their path.)
T'POL: Captain!
ARCHER: I see it.
(The rock shatters as they approach.)
ARCHER: We need phase cannons.
T'POL: They'd take too long to charge.
(A big hit, and the alert klaxon sounds.)
T'POL: All weapons are online. It must be part of the new security protocol.
ARCHER: Fire!
(Two shots clear their path of danger.)
ARCHER: Could you shut that off?
(The klaxon stops.)
ARCHEHR: How much longer?
T'POL: Less than ten seconds. Five more seconds.
(They clear the gas cloud and are in open black, starlit space again.)
ARCHER: Any more surprises?
T'POL: Nothing on sensors.
(Tucker wakes and gets up off the floor.)
TUCKER: Did we get some nice pictures of the black hole?

[Sickbay]

(Phlox is checking out the crew for residual effects.)
PHLOX: How are you feeling?
TRAVIS: A little tired, but the headache's gone. What'd you do?
PHLOX: Very little, fortunately. You're free to go.
(Archer and T'Pol enter.)
TRAVIS: Captain.
(Travis leaves.)
ARCHER: How's the crew?
PHLOX: Oh, I'm continuing to monitor vital signs. But I've detected no lingering effects from the radiation. Mostly just rattled nerves, a few bruises and sprains from when some of them lost consciousness. I appreciate your intervening before I got any further with Mister Mayweather's procedure.
T'POL: I wasn't certain it would work on a Denobulan.
PHLOX: It worked quite effectively, I can assure you.
ARCHER: What procedure on Mister Mayweather?
PHLOX: The radiation affected my nervous system rather severely.
(More crewmembers enter.)
PHLOX: I'll be with you in a moment. I'll provide you with a full report when I've finished treating the crew.

[Ready room]

REED: You wanted to see me, Captain?
ARCHER: I did. When T'Pol and I were navigating the debris field your Tactical Alert went off.
REED: I heard, sir. I've already deactivated the new protocols.
ARCHER: You shouldn't have. They brought the weapons online right when we needed them. If you have no objection I'd like to make it standard procedure.
REED: No objection, sir.
ARCHER: You still need to work on that alarm.
REED: I'll get right on it. 

[Bridge]

(Trip has just finished putting the Captain's chair back in its place>)
ARCHER: It doesn't look any different to me.
TUCKER: Give it a try.
(Archer sits and pauses.)
ARCHER: It feels better. What'd you do?
TUCKER: Cross your legs.
ARCHER: What did you do? It seems totally different.
TUCKER: I lowered it, by one centimetre.
ARCHER: That's all?
TUCKER: Didn't have time to install the new status displays or the inertial micro-dampers, but if you give me a couple of days.
ARCHER: I think this'll be fine, Commander. Thanks.
TUCKER: How about I just attach the cup holder?
ARCHER: This'll be fine.
(Tucker leaves, giving a thumbs up to Archer, which is returned. After a couple of moments, Archer gets up and goes over to T'Pol with his PADD.)
ARCHER: How does this sound?