Another first contact goes awry - two in a row. Three busybodies at (Earth's) Arctic Circle discover the ruins of a 600m sphere standing dozens of meters high, the only metal for miles, which no fly-over or scan has spotted for a century. Two frozen I scream drones are found, their bodies and arms taken back to thaw as a fabulously stupid famous last order. (Note to Trip: add "The Thing" to movie night roster.) This data is sent back to the Golden Gate where Starfleet waits three days in silence for an update. The drones regenerate and hijack the busybodies' transport, reconfiguring it to go slightly slower than Enterprise.

Speaking of, the situation details are sent to NX-01. Hoshi and her earpiece pick up the trail; as they move to intercept Phlox tells Reed about how nice involuntary resection can be. Archer hails and gets a proton burst for the trouble but the attackers flee and two infected Tarkaleans are brought aboard. (T'Pol advises Decon confinement but since they'd look terrible in tight briefs it's not used.) Fan-of-all-things-Cochrane Archer exposits a ninety-year old commencement speech wherein Zephram spilt the real beans about "First Contact," including cybernetic creatures come to enslave the human race and the humans from the future that fought them. Go figure.

Phlox starts hearing voices after being nano-stung by the awakened Tarkadrones, who rip into Enterprise trying to destabilize the ship. Archer calls one right - one in a row - jettisoning them into space (a fantastic effect!) then leaves the bodies floating. (Aren't we learning yet?) Reed soops up the phase pistols as Archer and T'Pol argue merits of blasting versus a rescue. Archer is called from his coffee and cream to sickbay as the doctor's infection spreads. Perhaps a puff of magic omicron particles will remove the infection but just in case he's prepared a poison pill, quite hypocritically after his earlier philosophizing.

They relocate the transport but the BORG use a prefix code to hail the crew with a cheery, "You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile." The hull plating is blasted and Enterprise is boarded and chop-shopped. Reed and Archer use the transporter - twice! - beaming through BORG shields to plant remote-controlled warp-core bombs. Brundle-Phlox fries in his frying tube as, at a button-press, the bombs work - there's another shock - destroying the BORG though a beaconing bitstream is dispatched homewards, some 200 years away. No one dies and even Phlox bears no marks.

Yep, a postponed invasion no one would judge worth remembering.