Three aliens interrupt a pleasant shuttlepod excursion to an uninhabited world, warning about a very perilous space storm. They join the crew taking refuge in the osmium-lined maintenance catwalks inside the nacelles. Eight crazy days of cramped camping turns to action however as a militia, apparently chasing the three "guests" as deserters, arrives to impound NX-01. Archer has an old western shoot-out, nearly shakes the ship apart, and in so bluffing frightens Miss Militia away.

The premise was engaging even if it took a drenching of dreary technobabble to set up. There's only so much to be done with a corridor redress, but the access tubes didn't seem cramped at all - so much for the submarine feel. The evacuation carried definite urgency as the crew transferred the shop, moved the driver's seat, whatever; but it's odd the senior officers left the bridge from the forward starboard access corridor (to where?). One presumes a natural "neutronic wave front" should not be superluminal but in any case Archer's right - the storm (effect) was beautiful. And wouldn't it really ruin the river-raftable planet below?

When not annoying his first officer (first among the rest of us, that is) with his water sports Archer made the best of it, helping the crew with crossword clues and calming a claustrophobic communications officer. Trip saved the day using only half his magic suit-minutes but Hoshi didn't do much but complain, as so with gassy Reed and his motion sickness. Mayweather however, survivor now of both Class III and V storms, gets a fine chance to shine as pilot and gets special recognition for his precious permanent record. And Chef! How nice to not quite see you.

Maybe the proximity to the beagle, maybe not enough Tuesday night movies, but whassup with T'Pol? I guess she was trying to pacify the crew "singing a song" about what she knew about the earlier storm-fried Vulcan ship, with an excuse that she "must have remembered incorrectly." She clumsily just can't seem to disable the dilithium sequencers while the rest of the crew microwaves. Nice to hear her mention the "Kahs-wan" though.

Quipping: "You're in my chair," once again the Great Warrior - heroic eponym of the USS Archer - increments our enemies list with another ticked-off new race. (Who should look more like Ben Grimm, with a thick hide clearly resistant to "radiolytic isotopes.") I think we can safely expect more victims of their corruption to seek sanctuary under the Great one's wing … with likely more militia to follow.