The humans are all tucked up asleep in their beds, with visions of The Sixth Sense dancing in their heads. Meanwhile, Phlox, T'Pol and Porthos are running the ship by themselves like three magical elves.
Dr. Phlox's pen pal Dr. Jeff Lucas lost colleagues in the Xindi attack, and was recalled to Earth. And when you have a big letter to write a big pen pal, you need a BIG iPad!
A few weeks after the trans-dimensional glob, they came across another and decided to shave some time off their life-or-death journey by diving into the toxic zone with every human in a protective four-day coma. It's up to the doctor to tend both the tiller and the talking props, while doing his best not to go mad with the responsibilities, crippling loneliness- and the gremlins lurking in the darkness out on the wings.
I must say, even though he starts hallucinating at the drop of a hat by comparison, I'd trust Phlox a hell of a lot further than I'd have trusted Seven of Nine when she did virtually the same thing. Up to and including any nocturnal nudity that earned audience ire. Frankly, if I have to put up with T'Pol's skinny butt, they can at least deliver the goods on Phlox. Or something. I forget what the fuss was about. People who live in glass houses... aren't obliged to wear pants just because YOU'VE got problems.
"Doctor's Orders" is way better than 'One'. And a clip of Danny Kaye in 'The Court Jester' for Phlox's solitary movie night reminds me why: I love a talented comedian. Way to go, John Billingsley!
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