The Catwalk

*** (3 stars out of 5)

Storm's a brewin', Jonnie. Storm's a brewin'. Batten down the hatches, there's a high-warp cloud front barreling in! And only one place big enough to hide from the radiolytics or whatever: the crawlspace alongside the engine tube. Stuffing in 80 people and Phlox's tiny zoo won't be too bad; Elliott Gould did it in The Last Flight of Noah's Ark!

We learn that Phlox doesn't find this scenario crowded: the 12 billion people of Denobula are packed onto one continent. (They had to move all the sardines to the moon.) Also we learn that Travis grew up on a spaceship and likes ghost stories. Well, we learn it again.

I hope no alien jerks immune to radiolytic neutron storms happen by and jack your ride! A minimal action sequence should take care of THEM, though. Man versus Nature should get a lick in now and again, although after eight days it will probably be Man versus Reek.

Our crew show pluck and fortitude while stinking up the joint with no showers or laundry. How DOES Chef Maris the Faceless One keep his whites so white? In fact, I just pictured why that guy's so quiet: he's a mutant. A jaunty Boyardee, all beard and no mouth. Terrible condition, only to be expected so soon after an atomic war...

Not to worry, he takes vicarious pleasure from all the meals he cooks and seethes with thoughts of vengeance on humanity very, very rarely!

"The Catwalk" is the 666th televised Star Trek story, despite the fact that it was Nemesis which was the devil's handiwork. I like this one. A slight upswing from the season in a holding pattern.