A Night In Sickbay
Original Airdate: 16 Oct, 2002

[Decon chamber, 8:47 pm]

(Enterprise is orbiting a planet. Hoshi is putting gel on T'Pol's back, while T'Pol is smothering Archer's back and he is treating Porthos.)
ARCHER: Starfleet didn't send us out here to humiliate ourselves. How long were we in orbit, grovelling? Six days?
HOSHI: Five, sir, and it wasn't exactly grovelling.
ARCHER: Apologising, asking forgiveness, just because we ate lunch in front of them on our own ship months ago. I call that grovelling.
HOSHI: They were offended.
T'POL: The Kreetassans manufacture plasma injectors. We need one.
ARCHER: So we spend six days grovelling.
HOSHI: Five days.
ARCHER: And when they finally agree to talk to us, we go down. And what do they do? They keep us waiting for twelve hours and then send us packing. No explanation, no plasma injector. Just leave, go back to your ship.
T'POL: We obviously offended them again.
ARCHER: Maybe my hair's parted on the wrong side. I'm exhausted, and I've had it with these people.
HOSHI: (answering comm.) Go ahead.
PHLOX [OC]: The three of you are clear to go, but I'm afraid I'll need to keep Porthos for a while.
ARCHER: What's the problem?
PHLOX [OC]: He picked up a pathogen of some kind on the surface. Neither decon agent has been effective.
ARCHER: What are you going to do?
PHLOX [OC]: I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know as soon as I run some tests.
HOSHI: (as she and T'Pol leave) Feel better, Porthos.
ARCHER: Doc'll have you good as new before you know it. I might even break the no-cheese rule tonight.
(Archer goes to leave, and Porthos whimpers.)
ARCHER: Sorry, fella. You got to stay.

[Engineering - 9:09 pm]

TUCKER: We're playing with fire, Captain. It's just a matter of time before this injector gives up the ghost.
ARCHER: You've got four more. The ship can run on four.
TUCKER: Yeah, but it can't run on three. You know what happens at warp speed when you've only got three plasma injectors online.
ARCHER: What are the odds of us losing another one before we find a replacement?
TUCKER: I'm not comfortable with four, Captain. We need five. What the hell happened down there, anyway?
ARCHER: T'Pol thinks we insulted them again.
TUCKER: How? You didn't eat cabbage before you left.
ARCHER: I was a perfect gentleman. We're going to have to go somewhere else to find you your injector, Trip. These people are impossible.
TUCKER: Their components are metallurgically sound, dependable. We could look for six months and not find anything half as compatible. You're a trained diplomat. Take the high road. There's got to be some way you can kiss and make up.
ARCHER: I'll have T'Pol see if she can find out what we did, but I'm not promising anything.


ARCHER: I went to decon. I thought you were there with Porthos. Is every
(He sees Porthos looking unhappy in an isolation box with rubber gloves to prevent direct contact.)
PHLOX: It's all right to pet him. You'll have to use the isolation gloves.
ARCHER: Did you run your tests?
PHLOX: His auto-immune system is collapsing. I've isolated the pathogen, broken down its protein sequence. I can't explain it, Captain. It shouldn't be affecting him like this, but it is.
ARCHER: So what are you doing?
PHLOX: Running more tests. I'm sure I'll come up with something.
ARCHER: How sure? Could this be life-threatening?
PHLOX: It's too early to tell.
ARCHER: Didn't we send his genome to the Kreetassans along with ours?
PHLOX: I transmitted them myself before you left Enterprise.
ARCHER: So shouldn't they have noticed there's a pathogen in their atmosphere that his immune system can't handle?
PHLOX: They should have, assuming they took the time to check.
ARCHER: I'm told I've offended these people twice. Once for eating in front of them, the second time, I don't even know what for. But if their carelessness has hurt Porthos or, God forbid, ends up killing him, they're going to find out what being offended is all about.
PHLOX: Porthos has no intention of giving up, and neither do I.
ARCHER: You hear that, boy?
(He uses a glove to rub Porthos' chest.)
ARCHER: We're all pulling for you.


ARCHER: Did you reach them?
T'POL: Yes.
T'POL: I think we should discuss this in your ready room.

[Ready room]

T'POL: Do you recall the stand of trees outside the Hall of Diplomacy?
ARCHER: What are you talking about?
T'POL: They're Alvera trees, over three hundred years old.
ARCHER: That's fascinating. Did you apologise for whatever we did wrong? Are we going to get our plasma injector?
T'POL: The Kreetassans consider the Alvera trees cultural treasures. Apparently, Porthos urinated on one of them.
ARCHER: And that's what they're insulted about?
T'POL: It is understandable.
ARCHER: Well, maybe if they'd bothered to read the genetic profile we sent they'd have told us to leave the dog on the ship, and then he wouldn't have had an opportunity to pee on one of their precious trees.
T'POL: I conveyed your sincerest apologies to the Chancellery. They're discussing possible acts of contrition.
ARCHER: Where the hell do you get off conveying my sincerest apologies? They're the ones who should be sorry.
T'POL: I don't need to remind you that Commander Tucker is relying on us.
ARCHER: There are some things more important than plasma injectors.
T'POL: Are you referring to your pride?
ARCHER: I'll tell you one thing, Sub-Commander. If anything happens to Porthos, I'll be the one watering their Alvera trees.
(Archer leaves. In his quarters at 10:32 pm he's bouncing a water polo ball against the wall a la 'Cooler King' while a game is playing on his monitor. Then he looks at Porthos's cushion, picks up a blanket and leaves.)


(Phlox watches Archer walk in with the blanket and pillow.)
PHLOX: If you were a married man I'd be wondering if your wife had thrown you out.
ARCHER: I just thought it might cheer Porthos up if I slept here tonight. That is, if it's all right with you.
PHLOX: I don't think your dog is in any condition to know whether you're here or not.
ARCHER: Well then, maybe it'll cheer me up.
PHLOX: Be my guest. Take your pick. (gestures to biobeds)
ARCHER: How's Porthos doing?
PHLOX: My sub-mammalian database contains no pertinent files on bugles, but there's sufficient information on similar chordata.
ARCHER: Beagles.

(Archer makes up his temporary bed.)

ARCHER: Let me ask you a question, Doc, just out of curiosity. Are there any dogs on your homeworld?
PHLOX: The Denobulan Lemur is highly sought-after. It's not exactly a dog, but you could say it's doglike. It has a tail, fur. Most have one head.
ARCHER: Did your medical training include any
PHLOX: Captain, please. You needn't be concerned. I hold six degrees in Interspecies Veterinary Medicine.
ARCHER: I thought you were just, you know, a people doctor.
PHLOX: As a matter of fact I've also earned degrees in dentistry, hematology, botanical pharmacology.
ARCHER: I'm impressed. So, how's he doing?
PHLOX: I believe I've eliminated the pathogen. The question is whether the treatment I've devised will stabilise his auto-immune system before
ARCHER: Before what?
PHLOX: In a few hours, I'll have a more detailed prognosis.
ARCHER: Before what, Doctor?
PHLOX: There are many harmless strains of bacteria that can become lethal when the immune system is compromised, but it is too early to be thinking about that. Now, we should both try to get a few hours of rest. If there are any changes in his vital signs the alarms are quite loud. Good night.

(Archer speaks to a patently fake beagle.)

ARCHER:  I would have brought you some cheese, but Doctor Phlox wouldn't have let me give you any.
(Archer goes to bed, draws a curtain around it, lies down and dims the lights. A metallic grinding sound gets him up again.)
ARCHER: Doctor, are you all right?
PHLOX: I'm sorry, Captain. Did I wake you? Just trimming my toenails. They grow quite rapidly. Have to keep them groomed at least once a week.
ARCHER: Just wanted to be sure you're okay.
PHLOX: Thanks for your concern. Good night.
(He carries on slicing about an inch of brown nail off his toes. Archer returns to his bed and Phlox feeds his nail trimmings to something in a cage. Then we're treated to the sight of Phlox scraping an extremely long tongue. Later, Archer wakes from sleep to the sound of animals chirping. He gets up to see Phlox doing a feeding round.)
PHLOX: I'm sorry, Captain. Did I wake you again?
ARCHER: What the hell's going on?
PHLOX: Feeding time.
(He sprinkles something into a tank of water and a mass of bubbles arises.)
PHLOX: Don't be greedy.
ARCHER: How long was I asleep?
PHLOX: Nearly an hour.
ARCHER: Does this go on every night?
PHLOX: Only when I'm here. They're very demanding when they know I'm in Sickbay.
ARCHER: Great. Porthos?
PHLOX: I'll still need at least a couple of hours.
ARCHER: Is he comfortable?
PHLOX: He's fast asleep.
ARCHER: I'm glad to see someone is. I'll check back in a couple of hours.
(Archer leaves.)

[Gymnasium - 12:09 am]

(T'Pol is running on a treadmill, no sweat, no heavy breathing.)
T'POL: How's your dog?
(Archer starts on another treadmill.)

ARCHER: Nice of you to ask. We'll know in a couple of hours.
(She speeds up her machine, he does the same.)
ARCHER: Have you heard from your friends on the surface?
T'POL: Not yet.
ARCHER: I guess they haven't finished compiling their list of punishments.
T'POL: They're not interested in punishing you. They only want an appropriate apology.
ARCHER: I'm sorry.
T'POL: For what?
ARCHER: Just practicing.

(T'Pol speeds up her machine again, so he does the same.)

T'POL: You shouldn't have brought your dog on a diplomatic mission, especially considering we had previously offended the Kreetassans.
ARCHER: They knew we were bringing him. We even sent his genetic specs.
(He is getting breathless.)
ARCHER: They could have asked us to leave him behind. They didn't. Porthos has the right to a little fresh air.
T'POL: You're once again ignoring the consequences of your actions.
ARCHER: What's that supposed to mean?
T'POL: You obviously place more importance on the quality of the air your pet breathes than on the quality of the plasma that drives your ship.
(She speeds up her machine again.)
ARCHER: What the hell does one have to do with the other? Isn't it logical I could care about my ship and my dog?
(He speeds up his treadmill.)
T'POL: I'm not questioning your pluralities. I'm questioning your priorities.
ARCHER: (sweating and panting) I really thought you were beginning to understand something about human feelings.
T'POL: Not when it pertains to primitive quadrupeds who haven't developed the ability to speak or to use a toilet.
(She stops her treadmill and gets off.)
ARCHER: What's the matter?
T'POL: I obviously can't keep up with you. (comm. beeps) T'Pol.
(Archer stops his machine and mops his brow.)
HOSHI [OC]: We've just received a transmission from the Kreetassans.


HOSHI: It's their reconciliation demands. The Captain's not going to believe this.
ARCHER [OC]: You'd be surprised, Hoshi.
HOSHI: Captain, I didn't.
ARCHER [OC]: It's all right, Ensign.


ARCHER: We're on our way.


(Hoshi hands over a PADD as he gets out of the turbolift. T'Pol is still cool and collected.)
ARCHER: Well, this isn't so bad. I was sure there'd be something in here about standing on one foot with my eyes shut, reciting The Night Before Christmas. I'm going back to Sickbay to see if I can get an hour's sleep before the Doctor's results come through. Let me know if this fits with your definition of an appropriate apology.
(he leaves.)
HOSHI: Do we have a chainsaw on board?

[Sickbay - 1:32 am]

(An alarm goes off.)
ARCHER: What's happening?
PHLOX: He's gone into anaphylactic shock. His body's rejecting the treatment I selected.
ARCHER: You said we'd know in a few hours if this would work.
PHLOX: Exactly. It's not working.
ARCHER: Is he going to die?

(Phlox hands Archer a hypospray.)

PHLOX: Fill this with five cc's of tetrasol. It's the blue fluid, second on the right. Five cc's.
ARCHER: Five cc's.

(Phlox gives the injection then checks the readouts.)

PHLOX: I don't think so.
PHLOX: You asked me if he was going to die.
ARCHER: Are you trying a different treatment? Let me guess. We'll know in.
PHLOX: A couple of hours, yes. How are things progressing with the Kreetassans?
ARCHER: They've got a perfectly good plasma injector sitting on a shelf somewhere. But will they share it with us? Not until I make a fool of myself by going through some series of ritual apologies. The fact that Porthos is on death's doorstep doesn't seem to bother any of them. They're the ones who should be apologising, not me. T'Pol thinks I care more about my dog than my ship. Isn't that delightful.
PHLOX: Why does T'Pol's opinion concern you?
ARCHER: She's my Science Officer, my second-in-command. She should know more than anyone aboard how dedicated I am to this mission. To every member of my crew.
PHLOX: You didn't answer my question.
ARCHER: Porthos has one paw in Beagle heaven because these jerks didn't bother to look at his genetic profile. Am I supposed to ignore that?
PHLOX: I would think you'd be more interested in Commander Tucker's opinion. You've known him for many years, if I'm not mistaken.
ARCHER: It would be nice to have all five plasma injectors working but it's not essential. We can do fine with four, and the fifth one just started to act up. We might get another ten light years out of it.
PHLOX: Have you considered that your anger may encompass more than just Porthos and the Kreetassans?
PHLOX: How long has it been since you were intimate with a woman?
PHLOX: How long has it been.
ARCHER: I heard you! I suppose you're going to tell me you have a degree in psychiatry, too.
PHLOX: Absolutely.
ARCHER: No way. Not a chance. Porthos is the only patient you're treating right now. You got that? Let me know if there's any change.
(He goes back to the biobed, draws curtain and tries to sleep.)

[Deleted scene- Sickbay]

ARCHER: Archer to Commander Tucker. Captain Archer

[Tucker's quarters]

ARCHER [OC]: to Commander Tucker.
TUCKER: (crawls out of bed) Something wrong, Captain?
ARCHER [OC]: Sorry to wake you, Trip, but I need to see you in Sickbay.
TUCKER: Give me a minute.


TUCKER: Captain wants to see me.
PHLOX: He's in there.
ARCHER: Come on in.
(Tucker comes through the curtain.)
TUCKER: What happened, sir? You look terrible.
ARCHER: I'm fine. It's Porthos who's not doing so well.
TUCKER: I'm sorry to hear it, sir. Is there something I could do?
ARCHER: How long has it been since you've been intimate with a woman?
TUCKER: Excuse me?
ARCHER: Forget it. I'm sorry I woke you up, Trip. I just need some more information on that faulty injector. If we take it offline, try to repair it, what kind of stress will that put on the other four?
TUCKER: It's a matter of time. The longer we have to rely on four injectors, the greater the stress. Problem is, I have no idea how long it would take to repair the one that's malfunctioning.
ARCHER: And if the stress gets too high?
TUCKER: Probably be down to three.
TUCKER: Well, with three injectors, we'd be lucky to reach warp speed.
ARCHER: Go get some sleep.
TUCKER: I had a grade school teacher who was certain I stole a pencil off her desk. I think it was a pencil. She wasn't going to let me go on the field trip to Pensacola unless I apologised. My mother told me I should tell her I was sorry, but I said I didn't steal the damn pencil. You know what she told me? It's okay to apologise when you shouldn't have to, just as long as you don't mean it.
(He leaves Archer to try and sleep again)


KREETASSAN [on viewscreen]: Why haven't you adjusted your time to our capital city?
HOSHI: I apologise. We weren't aware that it was required.
KREETASSAN [on viewscreen]: It isn't a requirement. It is simply a courtesy. Something your species doesn't seem to understand.
HOSHI: I'll explain it to the Captain immediately.
KREETASSAN [on viewscreen]: You might also explain to your Captain that it's been nearly three hours since he received our transmission. If he has the slightest hope of acquiring any technology from us, he'd be wise to pay us the courtesy of responding.
HOSHI: I understand. I'll
(The viewscreen reverts to the planet image.)
HOSHI: I'll let him know.


(Archer is woken by Phlox talking in an alien language, footsteps running around and chirps. He opens the curtain to discover the doctor is chasing a bat with a butterfly net.)
PHLOX: Keep your head down! No matter what I do to secure her cage she always finds a way to get out.
(So Archer joins in the hunt, holding the net while the bat is lured to a pile of food, and Phlox has an origami bird on a stick which he uses to try and scare it. However, the bat simply attacks the bird and flies off again.)
ARCHER: I thought you said your bat was supposed to be terrified of that thing.
PHLOX: It should have been. Pyrithian Moon Hawks eat these bats. I know I got the silhouette right, and I mastered the call years ago.
ARCHER: That stuff isn't poisonous, is it?
(Some liquid got spilt onto Phlox in the melee.
Phlox tastes it to be sure,)
PHLOX: No, I'll be fine.
ARCHER: What now?
PHLOX: We need to find her before we can catch her. She'll stay up high. Have you thought any more about why T'Pol's opinion is so important to you?
ARCHER: It's two thirty in the morning and I'm hunting an escaped bat. That's all I'm thinking about right now, Doctor. That and Porthos.
PHLOX: Sexual tension, Captain. There's no doubt in my mind.
ARCHER: By the air duct. Do you see it?
PHLOX: That's just the filter bracket. For the past few months I've noticed increasing friction between you and the Sub-Commander. You must understand that I'm trained to observe these things.
ARCHER: With all do respect to your training, you're wrong. T'Pol and I have been getting along just fine, so let it alone.
PHLOX: When one person believes their sexual attraction toward another is inappropriate they often exhibit unexpected behaviour. Such as inordinate anger toward comparisons made between their ship and their beagle.
ARCHER: Listen, Doc, there's no sexual attraction.
(The bat takes to the air again.)
PHLOX: She's coming back down! Watch out!
(Hoshi enters and gently plucks the bat out of the air.)
ARCHER: Don't let her in the corridor!
HOSHI: Hey, are you all right? What are they trying to do to you?
(Phlox takes the bat and puts her back in her container.)
HOSHI: The Kreetassans called, sir.
ARCHER: What for?
HOSHI: They're anxious to get your response to their last transmission.
ARCHER: It's the middle of the night.
HOSHI: They also suggested that we should synchronise our time to their capital city.
ARCHER: Did they?
HOSHI: It's not a requirement, sir, just a courtesy.
ARCHER: Thank you, Ensign.
HOSHI: How's Porthos?
ARCHER: I'll let you know in a couple of hours.
(Hoshi leaves.)
ARCHER: Everything okay?
PHLOX: Nothing new. I'll stay with him.
ARCHER: Thanks.
PHLOX: Unless you'd like to continue our discussion regarding Sub-Commander T'Pol.

[Pet Graveyard, pouring with rain]

(The senior staff are in dark suits under umbrellas.)
PHLOX: (in clerical collar) We are gathered here today to bid a final farewell to a faithful and kind colleague. A friend who would never hesitate to offer his paw in exchange for a simple smile or a slice of cheese. Like his namesake, this quadruped believed we should stand together. 'All for one and one for all'.
(T'Pol moves close to Archer and gazes into his eyes, then holds his hand.)
PHLOX: When one person believes their sexual attraction toward another is inappropriate they often exhibit unexpected behaviour.


(Situation as in the first scene.)
HOSHI: Go ahead.
PHLOX [OC]: Hoshi, you and the dog are clear to go, but I'm afraid I'll need to keep the other two for a while.
ARCHER: What's the problem?
PHLOX [OC]: You both picked up a pathogen on the surface. We'll have to try another decon agent.

(He picks up Porthos and leaves.)

HOSHI: Feel better.
(T'Pol isn't wearing a top when they face each other to massage decon gel into each others shoulders.)
PHLOX [OC]: Tell me, Captain, have you thought any more about why T'Pol's opinion is so important to you? How long has it been since you were intimate with a woman?
(They kiss.)

[Sickbay - 2:49 am]

ARCHER: I dreamt Porthos died.
PHLOX: Let's hope your dream wasn't prophetic.
ARCHER: Any indication on how your second treatment's doing?
PHLOX: It doesn't appear to be doing very well.
ARCHER: An old girlfriend's mother had this Beagle I was crazy about. Even after her daughter and I broke up, we stayed in touch. When the dog got pregnant, I was the first one she called. Four males in the litter. The four musketeers. I've had Porthos since he was six weeks old. I grew up with dogs. Can't remember not having one. You have any pets when you were a kid?
PHLOX: My people don't keep pets.
ARCHER: I thought you said something about the Denobulan Lemur being highly sought after.
PHLOX: Oh, very much so. Their kidneys are considered a great delicacy.
(T'Pol enters with a tray and two covered plates.)
T'POL: I thought you might be hungry.
PHLOX: How very kind.
ARCHER: Was there something on their list about apologising on a full stomach?
T'POL: You read the Kreetassan's document?
ARCHER: Sorry. Sorry, I'm a little on edge. I haven't slept very much but I'm doing the breast I, the best I can.
T'POL: I understand. Ensign Sato and I have broken down the reconciliation demands into specific categories, if you're interested in reviewing them.
ARCHER: My only concern right now is Porthos.
T'POL: I'm sorry to have interrupted.
ARCHER: No. No, it, it's okay. When you get back to the Bridge, why don't you send me your lips. Lisp. List.
(T'Pol gives him a long look and then leaves)
PHLOX: Two Pillarian slips within thirty seconds. Interesting.
(the alarm goes off on Porthos's monitor)
ARCHER: What are you doing?
PHLOX: My treatment was effective, at least partially. His immune system is stabilising but his pituitary gland was severely damaged. It's all but disintegrated. Bring me the small grey cage on the second shelf. The one with the blue top.
ARCHER: What's in here?

(Phlox is wheeling in a large transparent tank.)

PHLOX: A Calrissian Chameleon. Fill this for me.
(He hands a shower head to Archer.)
PHLOX: I'll need to alter its DNA to avoid rejection but its pituitary gland should be compatible with your dog's.
ARCHER: You're going to perform a transplant from a lizard?
PHLOX: Unless you have a better suggestion. It's a shame, actually. The chameleon secretes a rare toxin that's very useful in treating respiratory infections. She's the last one I have.
ARCHER: What's the tank for?
PHLOX: I'll need to super-hydrate the canine in order to minimize the shock to his pulmonary system.
ARCHER: You're going to drown my dog?
PHLOX: Only for an hour, Captain. There should be no problem resuscitating him once the surgery's complete.
ARCHER: How many times have you done this before?
PHLOX: Never.
ARCHER: Has anyone done this before?
PHLOX: Not to my knowledge.
ARCHER: You know, this isn't some guinea pig you're working on here. This is Porthos, my Beagle, my pal. From what you're telling me the closest thing your people have to pets are furry little things that go well with onions.
PHLOX: Perhaps you're right, Captain. Perhaps I'm insensitive to the bond between you and your subservient quadruped. I'll leave the procedure up to you. But whatever your decision, make it quickly.
(3:44 am, they are both wearing operating gowns. The chameleon is on a platter and Porthos is in the tank.)
ARCHER: Just for the sake of argument let's say that some of my anger toward T'Pol had a component of sexual tension to it. I'm not saying it does but just for the sake of argument.
(Phlox is transplanting the pituitary into Porthos's brain.)
ARCHER: What do you mean, yes? You're the psychiatrist. What am I supposed to do about it? Am I supposed I to ignore it? Am I supposed to say something to her?
PHLOX: Neither.
ARCHER: Neither?
PHLOX: If you were ignoring it, you obviously wouldn't be seeking my opinion especially under these circumstances. As for discussing it with the Sub-Commander that's entirely up to you, but I can't imagine an outcome that would do anything but make matters worse. Pass me the auto-suture, please. The yellow one.
ARCHER: When will we know if the transplant's working?
PHLOX: One step at a time. First we need to resuscitate him.
ARCHER: So I can't ignore it, and I can't talk about it. What do you suggest I do?
PHLOX: Be aware of it, Captain. Simply be aware of it. You'd be surprised what a difference that'll make. Lower the fluidic temperature twelve degrees.
ARCHER: If Porthos pulls through, will he need a special diet or treatments having a chameleon's pituitary gland?
PHLOX: You may have trouble finding him. He'll have the ability to blend into his background when frightened.
ARCHER: You're kidding.
PHLOX: Yes, I am.
ARCHER: Does your expertise on sexual tension come from professional training or firsthand experience?
PHLOX: I do have three wives.
ARCHER: And they each have
PHLOX: Two husbands, besides myself.
ARCHER: Sounds very complicated.
PHLOX: Very. Why else be polygamous?
ARCHER: So, these three wives.
PHLOX: Each have three husbands. A total of seven hundred and twenty relationships, forty two of which have romantic possibilities.
ARCHER: You told me you had five children. How many are there in this whole extended family?
PHLOX: Thirty one, at last count.
ARCHER: You must miss them. You've been away for over two years.
PHLOX: I'm ready for the synaptic inductor, the small blue one. My children all left the nest years ago, Captain.
ARCHER: I would have never guessed. You don't look that old.
PHLOX: I'll take that as a compliment. My two daughters, I'm proud to say, followed in my footsteps. One's a surgeon, the other's a biochemist.
ARCHER: How about the other three?
PHLOX: My eldest son's an artist. A potter, actually. He lives in the same town as his mother. Creates beautiful things.
ARCHER: And the other two?
PHLOX: My two younger sons and I never saw eye-to-eye. I'm afraid we haven't spoken in quite some time.
ARCHER: I'm sorry. I shouldn't have.
PHLOX: Perfectly all right. You asked me if I missed them. The answer is yes, every one of them. The children, the wives, even the other husbands. But we Denobulans live a long time, Captain, and right now there is nowhere I'd rather be than serving with the Interspecies Medical Exchange aboard this wonderful vessel of yours.
ARCHER: Listen, Doc, however this turns out I want to apologise for accusing you of being insensitive before.
PHLOX: As I recall, you accused my entire species of being insensitive. Then I apologise to you and all your fellow Denobulans.
PHLOX: Well, I can't speak for the others, but, on behalf of myself, I accept. And to think T'Pol told me you were incapable of apologising.

[Deleted scene - Bridge - 4:26 am]

ARCHER: I didn't think your shift began until oh nine hundred.
T'POL: I took the liberty of temporarily synchronising our clocks to the Kreetassan's capital city.
ARCHER: Just a courtesy? (to Hoshi) Ensign, will you join me?

[Ready room]

ARCHER: Have a seat. You've read the list?
HOSHI: Yes, sir. Sub-commander T'Pol and I broke it down and
ARCHER: She told me. The last part, just before the end, that little expression that gets repeated. Do you know what I'm talking about?
HOSHI: It's a couplet from one of their oldest political documents.
ARCHER: Their pronunciation guide doesn't make any sense. I'm going to need some help.

[Kreetassan Capital City]

(Archer is stripped to the waist with braids in his hair and alien symbols either side of his spine. He is taking a chain saw to a tree trunk while speaking alien. Then he picks up the slice of trunk and holds it out while declaiming something before placing it carefully on the ground with others. The Kreetassans don't look happy, so he checks his PADD and repeats the lines and gestures again, getting it exactly right this time. Now they sort of smile and nod.)

[Ready room - 9:15 am]

(Archer is eating breakfast)
ARCHER: Come in. Sub-Commander.
T'POL: Mister Tucker reports that the new plasma injector is operating well within Starfleet parameters.
ARCHER: Did he tell you they gave us two spares out of the kindness of their hearts?
T'POL: Evidently the finesse you exhibited outside the Hall of Diplomacy was appreciated.
ARCHER: Since I've been getting so much practice giving apologies I thought I might give you one.
T'POL: That's not necessary.
ARCHER: Yeah, it is. I've been under a lot of stress lately, haven't gotten much sleep. My dog
T'POL: There's no need to apologise.
ARCHER: Whatever friction there's been between us, I'd like to try to minimise it.
T'POL: Friction is to be expected whenever people work in close quarters for extended periods of time.
ARCHER: I guess that's always been true. Especially when the people are of the opposite sex.
T'POL: Then it's good that you're my superior officer. That we're not in a position to allow ourselves to become attracted to one another, hypothetically. If we were, the friction that you speak of could be much more problematic. 


PHLOX: No apologies, Captain.
ARCHER: I promise.
PHLOX: I hear things went very well on the surface.
ARCHER: I doubt I would have even gone down, there if it hadn't been for you, Doc. I owe you one.
PHLOX: You'll be pleased to know that while you were gone, things went very well up here, too.
ARCHER: The transplant?
PHLOX: Not the slightest sign of rejection.
ARCHER: Can I see him?
PHLOX: By all means.
(Porthos is now lying on his side.)
ARCHER: It's been one hell of a night, hasn't it? How soon can he leave?
PHLOX: Now's as good a time as any.
ARCHER: But he's
PHLOX: Unconscious? Nonsense. He's just asleep.
(Phlox taps the side of the box, and Porthos sits up.)
PHLOX: Porthos.
(Archer opens up the box and catches Porthos as he jumps out.)

Come on, boy. Yeah. We're going home. Sickbay's all yours.
(Phlox gives a very scary CGI Denobulan grin.)

PHLOX: You're welcome back anytime, Captain.

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