I’m doing things a little differently this week, in that I have not yet viewed the episode I am about to recap. I will be seeing it for the first time as I describe it to you. I’m interested to see if there’s any noticeable difference in the result.
Dr. Phlox enters a darkened sickbay, reaches over, and flips on the lights. “Good morning, everyone,” he says, to no one we can see. He heads over to a cabinet and collects some items, which he puts on a tray and carries over to a cage which is making squeaky noises. “Be patient,” he chides the box. Maybe it’s his Zyrithian bat. He feeds whatever it is, then makes the rounds to all the other cages, tanks, and terrariums, giving each its individualized breakfast. He hand-feeds white grub-like things to one critter, pausing to scarf one himself in the process. I bet this is the Phlox-focused episode.
I taped this at the wrong speed, so commercials fly by faster.
Hoshi enters sickbay just as Phlox finishes up with his pets/medical equipment, bearing mail. “People are getting jealous. You get more letters from home than anyone on the ship,” she tells him. Phlox explains he’s a regular correspondent with Dr. Lucas, the human physician who traded places with Phlox in the interspecies medical exchange program that explains why the Enterprise wound up with an alien doctor in the first place. Hoshi relates a little story about how she had a pen pal when she was twelve, then asks, “Are we still on for later?” Phlox assures her that they are. On for what I have no idea. “If you think you’re up to it we can tackle gerunds today,” he tells her. Maybe he’s teaching her Denobulese. Hoshi’s psyched for the gerunds. She leaves and Phlox starts playing the voice recording that passes for a letter in THE FUTURE! It’s mating season on Denobula, which is apparently a complex process compared to human reproduction. Phlox is amused.
As Phlox walks down one of the Enterprise’s hallways, he begins the narrative voiceover I suspect will be following him throughout the episode. Phlox’s voice concurs about the difficulty of Denobirth as the rest of him enters Engineering, where a crewman has been struck down. He got first-degree burns from a blown seal. He shouldn’t have been doing that on duty in the first place. Phlox smears Vaseline™ on the guy while narrating his pleasure that people are getting used to him.
In the mess hall, Phlox sits alone, watching the humans mill about and writing, “I must admit I wasn’t planning to stay this long, but the opportunity to observe your species on their first deep space mission has proven irresistible.” Reed rushes past Phlox’s table, and Phlox invites him to sit, despite the fact that Reed isn’t carrying any food or looking for a seat. Reed begs off, mumbling something about having to dance naked in the armory or something. No one is willing to admit to Phlox that they can’t stomach watching him eat. Disappointed, Phlox begins to eat his meal alone. However, he takes solace in the fact that everyone gets sick eventually and must therefore talk to him. That’s possibly the most depressing thing I’ve ever heard.
Back in sickbay, Phlox tells Archer, “It’s just a little gastro-intestinal distress.” Archer, his brow heavy with the burden of command, walks over to the distressed patient. It’s Porthos the wonder dog! Oh, the humor. My sides are like unto bursting with vigorous delight. “You’ve been feeding him cheese again,” Phlox accuses, and tells Archer to knock it off. I can’t see how any of this could possibly evolve into a major plot line, but I can’t help enjoying seeing the pooch. Phlox finds humanity’s emotional attachment to pets fascinating. “I’ve noticed how the captain tends to anthropomorphize his pet. He even talks to the creature.”
It’s movie night on the NX-01. They’ve upgraded the fare from “Night of the Killer Android” to what looks like a Gary Cooper/Ingrid Bergman movie, but I’m not sure. Phlox is seated near the back, next to Ensign Cutler, the female ensign from the previous episode involving the psychotropic pollen. Phlox is spending more time looking around at the gathered crew than at the screen “We can go if you’re bored,” she whispers to him. Apparently, they are there as a unit. Phlox is happy to stay. “I’m sensing a rise in emotional undercurrent in the room. I’m curious to see if it culminates in some kind of group response.” The film is the soup. The audience is the art. Cutler asks if they have movies on Denobula, which they once did, “but they lost their appeal when people realized their real lives were more interesting.” Phlox, enjoying a mouthful of popcorn, leans forward to look at Trip, who is bawling like a little girl a few seats away. “I got something in my eye,” Trip lamely claims, amusing Phlox greatly. It seems Phlox is continually amazed at all the various and sundry things we humans allow ourselves to become emotionally affected by.
After the movie, Phlox and Cutler stroll down yet another hall. A hall is just a fancy cave to these people. Phlox is quizzing her on the circulatory system. Oh, yeah, he’s getting some action tonight. When Cutler makes a romantic, yet scientifically inaccurate, reference to the heart, Phlox asks her, “What could possibly make you people think it is the source of all emotion?” She replies, “You have a lot to learn about the human heart.” They arrive at Cutler’s quarters. Phlox says, “Good night,” and starts to walk away, but she stops him to thank him for a fun evening. “You’re welcome,” he responds and turns away again. She invites him to go see “Sunset Boulevard” next week. Why don’t you kiss him instead of talking him to death? Finally, she reaches out and puts her hand on his shoulder. She pulls it away quickly and apologizes. “I forgot Denobulans don’t like to be touched.” He pretends it didn’t bother him. “I’m trying to shed some of my cultural inhibitions.” “In that case,…” Cutler says, leans over, and lays a wet one on Phlox’s cheek. She then enters her quarters dreamily, leaving Phlox dazed and confused in the corridor. “Since we were on the subject of mating,” Phlox narrates as he continues on his way, “I think Ensign Cutler may be romantically interested in me. I can’t be certain, however.” Blind, deaf, persistently vegetative people know Cutler is hot for his ridged-for-her-pleasure bod. I thought this guy was a student of human nature.
Enterprise approaches the plot hook, a ship of unknown origin floating in space. On the bridge, Archer asks T’Pol, “Are there any inhabited systems near by?” There’s one. Hoshi can’t get them to talk to her, and Reed determines that the ship has no warp capacity. “Could be unmanned, possibly a probe of some kind,” Reed suggests. However, T’Pol detects two life signs, “very faint.” Archer orders the ship dragged aboard.
Phlox sprays something into the neck of an unconscious alien, dressed in the traditional silver jumpsuit. He awakens, and Phlox and Archer help him sit up. They explain what happened, and he responds in alienese. Luckily, Hoshi is right there with her translator. The alien says about six sentences, after which the translator is able to decipher everything he says. Honestly, the Babel Fish made more technical sense. Pleasantries completed, the alien asks, “Is this a warp ship?” So, he’s aware of warp travel even though his ship couldn’t do it. His and three other ships left his home world a year ago, their crews suffering from an illness affecting their entire species, looking for a more advanced species who might cure them. They know about warp travel because two other warp-capable species have visited his planet in the past, including the Ferengi. I guess Armin Shimmerman could use the work. The other aliens didn’t help. He asks Archer, “Will you allow [Dr. Phlox] to help us?” Archer has to confer with T’Pol. T’Pol thinks the aliens can’t get any more culturally contaminated after having met the Ferengi, so she greenlights the idea. “See what you can do,” Archer tells Phlox.
In a short little scene existing only to provide continuity, Phlox runs the aliens through his MRI. I just noticed my spell-checker doesn’t register “Phlox” anymore.
In the mess hall, Hoshi and Phlox sit opposite each other. She’s practicing speaking his language. It’s subtitled and banal. Switching to Galacticommon (English), Hoshi starts probing Phlox for the dish on Ensign Cutler. I guess Communications Officer is officialese for ship’s gossip. “I’ve noticed you and crewman Cutler spending a lot of time together.” He insists she pry in his tongue. That sounds dirtier than I meant it. “Are you two…mating?” She comes right to the point, don’t she? Phlox thinks she misspoke and corrects her. “I believe you meant ‘dating’.” Phlox can’t be sure if they are, so Hoshi gives him some, “How to know if she’s interested” tips. Remember, this is the same woman who accidentally hit on Lt. Reed last week. It’s in the form of a quiz.
1. Does she want to spend time with you?
2. Does she find little excuses to make physical contact?
And that’s it. All signs point to yes, so Hoshi approves, in Denobulan, “I think you two make a nice washboard.” I think it’s future slang.
Enterprise arrives at the planet of the mauve people, and everyone gathers on the bridge to make sure Mayweather doesn’t slam them into it. Phlox’s externalized internal monologue is “struck by [humanity’s] desire to help others.”
On the planet, which looks like SimCity 2150, Phlox and his entourage of Starfleet types are being given a tour/briefing of a hospital by the clinic director. One in three aliens has the illness, and it keeps evolving to counteract all attempts to cure it. Phlox takes charge, demanding case histories, lab work, the lot. Hoshi strays away from the tour group to check in on the guys Enterprise brought back from space. She stops a local to ask after them, but he speaks a language she hasn’t translated yet.
Meanwhile, it’s time for another command conference. T’Pol recommends to Archer, “We should assign some crewmen to watch Dr. Phlox and his equipment.” Archer, again, trusts in the basic goodness of people. T’Pol reminds him how naïve he is. “You might be surprised what a temptation our technology can be.”
Archer and T’Pol finally notice that Hoshi has run off, and go over to her. “Captain, the UT can’t translate his language,” she explains. The doctor/tour guide walks up. He explains that the non-understandable guy is a Menk, a less-evolved but hard-working separate indigenous species of person. Archer explains his confusion. “On most planets we’ve encountered only one humanoid species survived the evolutionary process.” In return, the tour doc is surprised to learn T’Pol and Archer aren’t from the same planet, to Archer’s amusement and T’Pol’s disgust at the very notion. Phlox asks to see the Menk patients. “They haven’t contracted the disease.” It turns out the Menk and Velochians are biologically different enough that disease doesn’t pass between them. “I’d like to see your data on the Menk,” Phlox requests.
A medical montage ensues while Phlox narrates what boils down to, Time passes, nothing gets better. “I have decided to enlist crewman Cutler’s help in my task,” he adds as segue.
Phlox and Cutler are loading up supplies. He invites her to come along down to the planet, because that worked out so well last time. “A trained exo-biologist? I’d find your assistance in the field invaluable,” he tells her. She reacts like he asked her to the prom. In response to Cutler’s ever more obvious affection for Phlox, he decides to talk to T’Pol about it next chance he gets.
T’Pol is in sickbay, flat on her back. Well, not flat. “That’s impossible,” she insists. It seems she has developed a cavity despite having her teeth capped 23 years ago. Must be all that sweet celery. “I’m sure you have more pressing matters,” T’Pol rationalizes as she tries to escape the horrors of Denobulan dentistry. “It’ll only take a moment to repair,” he assures her, motioning her back onto the table. While he has her at his mercy, he springs the Cutler issue on her. “You’ve lived among humans,” he starts. “Have you ever known them to mate outside their species?” Two minutes with an internet search engine would answer that question right now. The real question is, is there anything humans are known not to have tried to mate with? “Are you asking out of personal interest or scientific curiosity?” she asks him to keep him from shoving another sharp metal object in her mouth. She tells him, “In my opinion, humans lack the emotional maturity for interspecies relationships.” Ouch, sorry, Trip. Disappointed, Phlox get back to work, T’Pol unhinging her jaw to speed things along. He voiceovers, “I admire her logic, although she lacks the instinctiveness a more emotional response can provide.” Oh, God. He’s going to go around asking everyone’s advice, isn’t he?
The doorbell to Archer’s ready room rings. “Come in,” he says. It’s Phlox. I hope he’s here to talk about death and suffering. “You asked to see me, Captain?” Phlox begins. Ah, there may be hope yet. “[The clinic director] is eager to hear if you’ve made any progress.” In that dejected, roly-poly way of his, Phlox explains, “I’ve developed a medication to ease the symptoms of the disease. But…” And it’s a big but. “This epidemic isn’t being caused by a virus or bacteria.” It’s a genetic illness whose rate of incidence has greatly increased recently. “The Velochians will be extinct in two centuries.” Phlox thinks a cure is possible, but not very likely or simple. Archer gives him free reign. “Take all the time you need.” Something troubles Phlox, but he doesn’t explain.
Nighttime on the planet, and Hoshi and Phlox are being brought into a rough campsite kind of place, with torches burning and crude wooden structures, nothing like the shiny steel city they visited before. “Tell them we’d like to run some tests, get samples of their blood. It will be completely painless.” Phlox requests of Hoshi, who can apparently speak Menk even if her doohickey can’t. The animal-skin wearing, thick-skulled locals agree readily. The difference between the two intelligent species on this planet does not escape Phlox’s notice. “It’s their ability to co-exist that intrigues me most.” Cutler helps Phlox collect the samples while Hoshi translates. One of the locals asks what Phlox is doing. “Have you learned enough Menk to explain a molecular bioscan?” Phlox asks Hoshi. She wings it with, “The doctor is looking inside you.” The Menk seem curious and non-threatening. Someone brings food, which the local leader/liaison guy offers by saying, “Food.” They’re picking up English. Looking over the selection, Phlox considers, “I haven’t seen any crops or livestock. I wonder where they get this?” So, Hoshi asks. The alien explains that the Velochians “don’t let them live where the land is fertile.” But, they give the Menk all the food, clothes, and whatever else they need, so it works out.
The scanning continues in the Menk village, while Phlox’s voice outlines his human companions’ views on the Menk situation. “They think the Menk are being exploited by the Velochians, so their first instinct is to rise to their defense.” The Menk liaison, meanwhile, is rearranging the samples in one of the cases. Phlox notices, and has a look. “He’s grouped the samples together by family, cross-referenced by bloodline and marriage.” Okay, they’re smarter than the average bear. We get it. “Their abilities seem to have been underestimated, even by myself,” he adds to his letter.
The sample collection being completed, Hoshi, Cutler, and Phlox are standing around, waiting for the stewards to finish packing up so they can head back to the ship, and enjoying the night air. Hoshi excuses herself on some pretext, leaving the lovebirds alone. “This really doesn’t bother you,” Cutler asks, “the way the Velochians treat them?” “Why should it?” Phlox points out, on the basis that under most circumstances one species would have brought about the extinction of the other, so oppression is a preferable alternative. “The culture is different. It’s their way.” Cutler moralizes, “That doesn’t make it right.” Say, something smells like the Prime Directive around here. Phlox changes the subject. “Are you married, crewman?” She isn’t. “I would have told you.” Recognizing his faux pas, Phlox reveals, “I’m married. Three times.” Cutler is confused. “You have two ex-wives?” “I have three current wives, and they each have two husbands, not counting myself.” Beds must be huge on Denobula. Especially if the two extra husbands don’t have to be married to the same set of wives. Not to mention the greeting card industry. A house with a mother-in-law suite would have an attached apartment complex. It’s par for the course with Phlox’s people. Cutler wants to know why he brought it up. “I’ve been getting certain signals from you that suggest you may be interested in a romantic relationship with me. Unless I misinterpreted those signals.” I would have jumped through that loophole in a second, but Cutler denies nothing. “I still don’t know why you’re telling me this,” she adds. He’s got three wives. What’s one more? Whoops, the dialogue undid my joke. “I don’t want to be wife number four. I just want to be your friend.” Whom I have sex with whenever I want. “What do you mean by ‘friend’?” Phlox asks, sensing the ambiguity of the term. “Let’s just see where it goes,” she replies. So, like I said.
Archer enters the clinic, where there isn’t much activity, but there is one of the astronauts in a sick bed. “I’m glad you could come.” Archer says, “It was no problem.” The alien asked him to come? “The medication you gave us helps with the pain, but my prognosis hasn’t changed.” The dying man thanks Archer for bringing him home. Then he brings out the pathos hammer. “We need warp drive,” he explains, so they can go out and find a cure instead of waiting for other aliens to cruise by. If Phlox fails, so the pitch goes, either they go out in warp-capable ships to seek a cure, or they all die. And the minions of the Shadows will have gotten their revenge. Phlox calls on Archer’s communicator to tell him he’s ready to leave. They arrange to meet at the shuttle. Archer places a compassionate hand on the alien’s shoulder, and, without agreeing to anything, walks away.
Archer walks onto the bridge and asks for a status report. T’Pol informs him, “We’ve received 29 hails in the past two hours.” The rest of the planet has gotten word of the Enterprise’s presence and promise of hope, and are starting to work themselves into a mob frenzy. Archer asks to speak to T’Pol in private.
In the ready room, Archer tells T’Pol his situation. “The Velochians want our warp technology.” Archer has not rejected the idea. T’Pol points out a minor side issue. “Even if you give them our reactor schematics, they don’t have the technical expertise to build a warp engine.” There ya go. Crisis averted. “They’re not ready,” Archer agrees. “Then your decision shouldn’t be difficult.” Archer continues, “We could stay and help them.” Like the Vulcans helped the humans, as T’Pol reminds him. It wasn’t a great bargain for either of them. Archer achieves enlightenment. “I’m beginning to understand how the Vulcans must have felt.”
Phlox is in sickbay looking at DNA under a microscope. He straightens up, and if it were in his character to scream, “Eureka!” I think he would.
It’s nighttime, or the lights have gone out again, and Phlox enters the mess hall. Archer is already there, having a glass of something. “Trouble sleeping, Captain?” “Looks like I’m not the only one.” Phlox explains that, other than a six-day hibernation cycle, Denobulans require little sleep. “Any progress?” Archer asks. Phlox seems reluctant to talk. “Even if I could find [a cure],” Phlox says, “I’m not sure it would be ethical.” Beg pardon? Come again? Phlox doesn’t think he should interfere with the Velochian’s natural evolutionary progress, even if that progress is toward oblivion. Archer argues, “Every time you treat an illness you’re interfering. That’s what doctors do.” Phlox’s dilemma is a result of his study of the Menk. “I’ve seen evidence of increasing intelligence, motor skills, linguistic abilities.” In short, the Menk are evolving toward becoming the dominant species on the planet, but they can’t do it if the Velochians are already dominating. Isn’t that what war is for? Phlox wants to let nature choose which species gets to live at the expense of the other. “To hell with nature!” is Archer’s command decision. “You’re a doctor. You have a moral obligation to help people who are suffering.” Phlox retorts, “I’m also a scientist, and I’m obligated to consider the larger issues.” That’s a Star Trek scientist. A real life scientist wouldn’t be having this crisis of conscience, as long as the funding kept coming. Archer makes a point. “They asked for our help. I’m not prepared to walk away based on theory.” Phlox diagnoses, “I think your compassion for these people is clouding your judgment.” Kirk would have slugged him for that. Archer just says, “My compassion guides my judgment. Can you find a cure?” Phlox informs him, “I already have.”
Phlox explains in his letter that his conflict is between doing what he thinks is right for the peoples of this planet and doing what his captain tells him to do. Now that everyone’s on the same page, Archer walks into sickbay to speak to Phlox. “I’m going down to the Velochian hospital,” Archer tells him. Phlox asks him to reconsider giving them the cure. “I have reconsidered. I spent the whole night reconsidering. And what I’ve decided goes against all my principles.” In other words, no cures will be distributed today. And now, the message so subtly weaved throughout the episode gets hammered into us with the soliloquy I reproduce here. Archer speaks: “Someday, my people going to come up with some sort of a doctrine, something that tells us what we can and can’t do out here, should and shouldn’t do. But until somebody tells me they’ve drafted that DIRECTIVE, I’m going to have to remind myself every day that we didn’t come out here to play God.”
As Archer’s shuttle lands on the planet, Phlox’s voice expresses his shame at ever considering not telling Archer about the cure. Archer meets with the director of the clinic, handing over a supply of medicine. “Phlox tells me this medicine will help ease the symptoms for a decade, maybe more.” Trying to raise hopes, he continues, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you developed a cure on you own.” The clinic director again asks for warp drive technology to improve their odds. Archer wrestles with it, but eventually tells him, “I’m sorry.”
Phlox is perched on a counter in sickbay recording the end of his letter to Dr. Lucas. “I came very close to misjudging Jonathan Archer, but this incident has helped me gain a new respect for him.” The message finished, Phlox turns it over to Hoshi. She notices how down he is, and offers him advice. “Get out of sickbay.” After Hoshi leaves, Phlox heads over to the intercom and calls Cutler. “I know it’s short notice, but I was wondering if you might like to join me for a little snack in the mess hall. I could use a friend right about now.” She agrees, clinching her recurring character status. Finally, to properly bookend this whole sordid little story, Phlox tells his critters, “Sweet dreams,” shuts off the lights, and walks out of sickbay.