Star Trek: Enterprise

Boy: "Where no man has gone before."

Dr. Cochrane would be proud of you.

I know the whole speech by heart.

Boy: When's it gonna be ready to fly? Father: Let the paint dry first.

No, I mean your ship.

Not for a while. It's not even built yet. You know that.

- How big will it be? - Pretty big.

Bigger than ambassador pointy's ship?

His name is soval, and he's been very helpful.

And I told you not to call him that, Jonathan.

Well, Billy cook said we'd be flying at warp 5 by now

if the vulcans hadn't kept things from us.

Father: Well, they have their reasons.

God knows what they are.

Drop your weapon. I mean it.

I don't understand a word you're saying,

but I guarantee you, I know how to use this.

The ventral plating team says they'll be done in about three days.

Be sure they match the color to the nacelle housings.

Planning to sit on the hull and pose for some postcards?

Maybe.

God, she's beautiful.

And fast.

Warp 4.5 next Thursday.

Neptune and back in six minutes.

Archer: Let's take a look at the lateral sensor array.

Trip: Give me a sec.

Slow down.

Those are the ports that buckled during the last test.

They need to be reinforced.

Great. You scratched the paint.

Sorry.

Orbital 6.

- Com voice: Captain Archer, sir? - Go ahead.

Admiral for rest needs you at Stan'leet medical right away.

- Who was chasing him? - We don't know.

They were incinerated in the methane explosion,

and the farmer's description was vague at best.

How did they get here? What kind of ship?

They were using some kind of stealth technology.

We're still analyzing our sensor logs.

I'd like to see those logs.

The klingons made it very clear they want us to expedite this.

It happened on our soil.

That's irrelevant.

Ambassador,

with all due respect, we have a right to know what's going on here.

You will be apprised of all pertinent information.

And just who gets to decide what's pertinent information?

- Admiral. - Jon.

I think you know everyone.

Not everyone.

It's a "klingot."

A klingon.

- Where did he come from? - Oklahoma.

Corn farmer named Moore shot him with a plasma rifle.

Says it was self-defense.

Fortunately, soval and I have maintained close contact with kronos

since the incident occurred.

- Kronos? - It's the klingons' homeworld.

This gentleman's some sort of a courier.

Evidently, he was carrying crucial information back to his people.

When he was nearly killed by your farmer.

Ambassador soval thinks it would be best if we push off your launch

until we've cleared this up.

Well, isn't that a surprise.

You'd think they would have come up

with something a little more imaginative this time.

Sarcasm aside, captain, the last thing your people need

is to make an enemy of the klingon empire.

If we hadn't convinced them to let us take klaang's corpse back to kronos,

earth would most likely be facing a squadron of war birds

by the end of the week.

Corpse?

Is he dead?

Excuse me. Is this man dead?

His autonomic system was disrupted by the blast,

but his redundant neural functions...

Is he going to die?

Not necessarily.

Let me get this straight.

You're gonna disconnect this man from life support,

even though he could live.

Now, where is the logic in that?

Klaang's culture finds honor in death.

If they saw him like this, he'd be disgraced.

They're a warrior race. They dream of dying in battle.

If you understood the complexities of interstellar diplomacy...

So that's your diplomatic solution? To do what they tell you?

Pull the plug?

Your metaphor is crude, but accurate.

We may be crude, but we're not murderers.

You're not gonna let them do this, are you?

The klingons have demanded that we return klaang immediately.

- Admiral? - We need to defer to their judgment.

We've been deferring to their judgment for 100 years.

- Jon. - How much longer?

- Until you've proven you're ready. - Ready to what?

To look beyond your provincial attitudes and your volatile nature.

Volatile?

You have no idea how much I'm restraining myself

from knocking you on your ass.

These klingons, they're anxious to get their man back. Fine.

I can have my ship ready to go in three days.

We'll take him back home. Alive.

This is no time to be imposing your ethical beliefs.

- Dan? - What about your crew?

Your com officer's in Brazil.

You haven't selected a medical officer yet.

Three days, that's all I need.

We've been waiting for nearly a century, ambassador.

This seems as good a time as any to get started.

Listen to me. You're making a mistake.

When your logic doesn't work, you raise your voice?

You've been on earth too long.

I had a feeling their approach wouldn't sit too well with you.

Don't screw this up.

I heard this platform's been approved for bio-transport.

I presume you mean fruits and vegetables.

I mean armory officers and helmsmen.

I don't think I'm ready to have my molecules

compressed into a data stream.

They claim it's safe.

Do they indeed?

Well, I certainly hope the captain doesn't plan on making us use it.

Don't worry.

From what I'm told, he wouldn't even put his dog through this thing.

This is ridiculous.

I ask for plasma coils, and they send me a case of valve sealant.

There's no chance I can have these weapons online in three days.

We're just taking a sick man back to his homeworld.

Why do we need weapons?

Didn't you read the profile report on these klingons?

Apparently, they sharpen their teeth before they go into battle.

No doubt Mr. Tucker will reassure me

that my equipment will be here tomorrow,

"keep your shirt on, lieutenant."

Is it me or does the artificial gravity seem a bit heavy?

Feels all right. Earth sea level.

My father always kept it at .89.

Thought it put a little spring in his step.

Being raised on ships, it must have felt like you had

lead in your boots when you got to earth.

Beautiful. Lock it off right there.

Reed: I believe you missed a spot.

Commander Tucker, ensign Travis Mayweather.

- He just arrived. - Our space boomer.

- How fast have you gotten her? - Warp 4.

We'll be going to 4.5 as soon as we clear Jupiter.

Think you can handle it?

4.5?

Pardon me, but if I don't realign the deflector,

the first grain of space dust we come across

will blow a hole through this ship the size of your fist.

Keep your shirt on, lieutenant.

Your equipment will be here in the morning.

Very good.

Carlos.

Hoshi: Tighten the back of your tongue.

Keep trying, you've almost got it.

I'll be right back.

There's two more weeks before exams.

It's impossible for me to leave now.

You've gotta have someone who can cover for you.

If there was anyone else who can do what I do,

you wouldn't be so eager to have me on your spaceship.

- Hoshi... - I'm sorry, captain,

I owe it to these kids.

I could order you.

I'm on leave from star fleet, remember?

You would have to forcibly recall me, which would require a reprimand,

which would disqualify me from serving on an active vessel.

I need someone with your ear.

And you'll have her, in three weeks.

What's that?

Klingon. Ambassador soval gave us a sampling of their linguistic database.

I thought you said the vulcans were opposed to this.

They are. But we agreed to make a few compromises.

What do you know about these...

- Klingons? - Not much.

An empire of warriors.

With 80 polyguttural dialects constructed on an adaptive syntax.

Turn it up.

Think of it. You'd be the first human to talk to these people.

Do you really want someone else to do it?

Since when do we have vulcan science officers?

Since we needed their star charts to get to kronos.

So we get a few maps, and they get to put a spy on our ship?

Admiral for rest says we should think of her more as a chaperone.

I thought the whole point was to get away from the vulcans.

Four days there and four days back. Then she's gone.

In the meantime, we're to extend her every courtesy.

I don't know. I'd be more comfortable with Porthos on the bridge.

Here we go.

Come in.

This confirms that I was transferred to your command at 0800 hours.

T'pol: Reporting for duty.

Is there a problem?

No, sir.

Oh, I forgot. Vulcan females have a heightened sense of smell.