T'POL: Margaret Mullin. You met her when you were twenty four years old, during flight school in San Francisco. The night before you graduated, you asked her to marry you, outside of her apartment on Westgate Avenue. She turned you down. She said she didn’t want to become a Starfleet widow.
PHLOX: You didn’t tell him? After this settlement was established, it became clear that I was never going to find a treatment for your condition if I remained here, so I returned home and consulted with some of the finest neurosurgeons and quantum theorists on Denobula. My colleagues believed there was no way to destroy these parasites short of vaporising you in a subspace implosion. They assured me the technology to do what was required did not exist, and they were correct. It took almost a decade to develop, but now I’m ready to put it to the test. The procedure requires tremendous amounts of energy, levels that can only be produced in the reactor of a warp powered starship.
^ Missed a line TUCKER: Old habits. I apologise for the low lighting. We’re running on reserve power. Antimatter’s at a premium these days. (ARCHER: How long has it been since you took command?) TUCKER: Nine years. I’ve got some people who’d like to say hello.