"Ahhhh, Mister Reed! What can I do for you?"

Malcolm took a tentative step into Sickbay and winced slightly at the sound of the doors swishing closed behind him, cutting him off from the more comfortable rest of the ship. A look at Phlox's jovial expression and he was already regretting coming here. Not that he had anything against their resident Denobulan, he was amiable enough and had proven to be quite competent, but… Well, doctors were rather low in his list of favourites. Physicians and health environments were a painful reminder of his far from health problems-free childhood. But here he was; because his conscience, as usual, had taken the driver's seat.

"I don't think it's time for your allergy shot yet, is it?" Phlox continued, unaware of Malcolm's thoughts.

"No, it's… It's just a little headache," Malcolm blurted out. He would take a wide approach, for he just didn't know what he was here to report, exactly.

Phlox let out one of his more thoughtful Mmms. He reached for his tricorder and passed it dutifully over Malcolm. Another, different Mmm punctuated his conclusions. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you, Mr. Reed." His intelligent gaze bore into Malcolm. "You do know that you can count on doctor-patient confidentiality…"

Malcolm licked his lips. Here goes. "It's that…" he began, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Well, are there any scientific studies on… premonitory… visions?"

Phlox's already very bright eyes seemed to get even brighter. For a long, uncomfortable moment he seemed to review his vast knowledge, then said, "There was Sigmund Freud, who thought that dreams had a-"

"Visions, Doctor," Malcolm cut him off, "not dreams…"

It did not take the clever man long to put two and two together. "Ahhh, the incident on the planet?" he wondered.

Malcolm nodded slowly. "I saw what was going to happen, before it did."

Phlox slowly pocketed his tricorder, frowning in thought. "Telepathy yes, but premonitory visions… I know of no scientific studies which have proved that they exist in Humans." Jerking his chin back, he wondered, "Are you positive that it's what happened? You are, after all, a Security Officer, trained to recognize danger from any minute little thing. You could have just noticed something and anticipated in your mind what was going to happen."

Malcolm winced. "It hasn't only happened on the planet," he admitted in a hoarse voice. "Half an hour ago, during a target practice session with the Senior Staff, I had another vision alerting me that the charge in Subcommander T'Pol's pistol was damaged. I saw it explode in her face…" He met Phlox's inquisitive eyes. "Twice in two days. It can't be a coincidence."

Phlox tilted his head, giving the matter some more thought. "It is odd, I admit."

"What's even stranger, given my training," Malcolm added, "is that I feel an uncontrollable urge to act on these foresights. I feel compelled to follow them, as if I knew without a shade of doubt that I should trust them."

"And nothing out of the ordinary happened to you just prior to these incidents, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing at all."

"Did you talk to the Captain about it?" Phlox enquired.

Malcolm felt a twinge of guilt. "Actually, not yet. Things happened so fast… and I first wanted to hear your professional opinion. Captain Archer's quarters is my next stop, this very night."

Phlox cradled his chin. "It's certainly something that warrants looking into it. I'll take a complete scan. Come, we might as well-"

"Senior staff, report to the bridge," Archer's voice came booming through the comm. link.

Malcolm started jogging towards the door. "Sorry, Doctor, it'll have to wait," he called over his shoulder.

"I'll be waiting, Mr. Reed," Phlox shouted back.


"Sorry for dragging you back to work after the end of your shift," Archer was saying as Malcolm entered the bridge, "but there is a ship on long-range sensors, and it's headed this way."

Malcolm slipped into his seat, promptly vacated by his SIC, and studied the information at his disposal. "Smaller than Enterprise but armed with phase particle weapons and photon torpedoes," he informed the Captain.

"Do you recognise the hull configuration?" Archer asked, turning the other way to his Science Officer.

T'Pol lifted her gaze on him from her console. "It is not in the Vulcan database."

"Looks like you might get a bit of practice, Hoshi," Archer commented, to which the Linguist replied a dutiful but rather tense "I'll do my best, Sir."

Hoshi's irrefutable skills had already saved their skins once or twice, but she remained quite wary of first encounters. Malcolm could not blame her. It wasn't as if they had bumped into many friendly aliens out there, and often the responsibility of a positive outcome rested heavily on her shoulders, on her ability to understand and communicate in languages she had never heard before. He envied her communication skills, given his own shortcomings in that area.

A light blinked on Malcolm's console. "They're raising their shields, Sir."

"We won't be raising ours just yet," Archer doggedly replied, pushing to the edge of his seat and leaning forward, hands on his knees. "Let's not give them the idea that we are willing to lock horns."

Malcolm felt his muscles tense. "Respectfully, Captain, I'd advise caution," he warned, trying not to sound too confrontational. "Raising shields is not likely to be considered an aggressive move. It's a standard defensive action." At times Archer seemed to like playing with fire.

"Noted," the man replied. "Just stand by weapons and shields, Lieutenant, but hold your horses."

"Twenty-thousand kilometres and closing," Travis Mayweather said, glancing up from his instruments.

A ship could now be seen on the viewscreen. It was flat and fierce looking, with in its middle section a fast string of blue dots of light chasing each other uninterruptedly.

In the silence on the bridge, only the voice of Travis and his countdown could be heard.

"Fifteen-thousand kilometres… Ten-thousand…"

The dots of lights turned to green.

"A ship of artists?" Archer quipped with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Malcolm somehow did not think so. The light that had lit up on his own console was alarmingly red. "They are powering weapons, Sir!"

"Raise shields," Archer ordered.

"Five-thousand kilometres," Travis said.

The lights on the ship became purple.

"Hoshi," Archer said, without looking at her, just lifting a finger.

Hoshi nodded. "All channels open, Sir."

"I am Captain Jonathan Archer of the Earth ship Enterprise," Archer said, loud and clear.

In response, the alien ship began a series of evolutions. It disappeared and reappeared on the viewscreen a couple of times, and its light were now a bright yellow.

"We're on a mission of peaceful exploration, please respond."

"Incoming!" Malcolm shouted.

A torpedo passed across their hull and then exploded, close enough to rock Enterprise.

"And another one!"

The second one did the same, and the viewscreen showed, at the point of deflagration, the darkness of the universe erupt into a cascade of colours. A white beam shot out of the alien cannon port.

"Brace for impact!" Malcolm warned. "Direct hit. Low yield," he said, sounding puzzled.

"Capt'n," Trip burst out, "Don't ya think it's time we showed them we can do some of that too?"

Archer smirked unhappily. "Go ahead, Lieutenant. A shot across their hull."

"With pleasure, Sir."

That only resulted in another particle weapon hit from the aliens, somewhat stronger. "Shields are holding, Sir," Malcolm reassured. "Frankly, they're no match for Enterprise."

"All the same, I think we've showed enough patience. Take out their weapons, Malcolm," Archer said, a hint of anger entering his voice.

Malcolm nodded, set the targeting sensors, and made to press the button to fire but, all of a sudden, his console disappeared from under his eyes, replaced by what he could only surmise was a vision of the alien ship's bridge. He tightened his jaw, mesmerized. These were no enemies, and the hell if he could tell how he knew that; he just did. Somehow, he felt compelled not to fire. Seconds ticked by.

"Lieutenant," Archer said tensely, standing up.

Cursing a silent streak, Malcolm shook his head to clear it. The vision faded. He lowered his finger on the fatal button again, and again he froze, overwhelmed by an irrational urge not to obey Archer's order. He lifted what he knew were confused eyes on his C.O.

Another hit of the alien's phase cannon sent Archer marching to the railing in front of Malcolm's station, which he grabbed with both hands. Narrowing his eyes, the Captain hissed, "I gave you an ord-"

"Captain, we're being hailed," Hoshi's voice interrupted him.

Archer pivoted, a frown of surprise creasing his brow. "Well. About time. Open a channel," he said, none too pleased.

"Welcome to this region of space!" a chubby alien sporting an improbable smile said, as soon as he appeared on the screen. Admittedly, he did not look very threatening.


"Well, that turned out alright, quite unexpectedly," Trip commented with a hint of irony as soon as the darkness of the universe had replaced the colourful bridge of the alien crew. He gave Malcolm a pointed look. "Who'd have guessed that those torpedoes and cannon hits were just their way to give us a joyful greeting…"

"Good thing their UT could manage English, or I would've had to get out my crayons," Hoshi said, sounding quite relieved.

Mayweather pivoted to glance at his Captain, excitement on his face now that the tension had left it. "A language of colours! Mind-blowing!"

Archer ignored the cheerful mood of his Bridge crew and turned rigidly to T'Pol. "Contact Chef. Tell him that we're about to have a couple of guests. To whisk up something… colourful." Filling his lungs with air, he then turned to the other side of the Bridge. "Lieutenant," he quietly said, and started for the ready room.

Malcolm slipped silently out of his seat and followed his Captain to what he knew would be a very uncomfortable conversation.


"Did you do it?"

The question had been barked at close distance and Xrey cringed under the onslaught of the loud, aggressive tone and angry face looming over him. His head was throbbing painfully, and he felt tired, as he always did after an impression. "Yes," he replied feebly.

"You have targeted the Captain again, right?" his tormentor insisted. "Given him nightmarish visions?"

Xrey licked his dry lips. There was no way he could have mistaken the man – every time he had seen the scene very clearly – and the impulse not to tempt fate and do as ordered, as always, had been powerful; but there was more at stake than his own life and that of his family, so, once again, he had targeted the Security Officer, a shorter, sinewy man who never seemed to be more than a few steps away.

"Answer me!" Pudgy hands grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a violent shake.

"Yes, the Captain," Xrey quickly put in, perspiration running down one side of his face, for, aside from his weakness, lying was not something he was accustomed to.

The bottomless eyes of the Shinx seemed to fathom his very heart, as they narrowed dangerously. Then his hands released him, and Xrey slumped back in his chair, feeling dizzy.

"Don't relax too much," the alien told him darkly, "you'll have to get back to work soon. By the time he gets here, I want him nice and scrambled."

That's not what I want, Xrey thought to himself as he passed a trembling hand over his brow.

The world both the Shinxes and the Ravajas coveted was his world, not theirs. His and that of the few hundreds remaining of his species, the Thers, a species that had lived undetected in the underwater caves of their planet until now. The Thers still possessed incredible powers. The adult males like Xrey could see light years away, move objects and even influence people, provided the latter possessed enough empathy to be receptive. Unfortunately, neither the Shinxes nor the Ravajas did: they were both cold and unfeeling. They would do anything to put their hands on the Thers' world, so rich in water, to solve the life-threatening droughts of their own planets.

The fighting between the two had been brutal; the Ravajas had recently asked the Vulcans to arrange for a mediation, and Enterprise was sent to the planet to negotiate a truce. The Shinxes had pretended to accept but, ruthless as they were, they did not want a peaceful agreement, they wanted war and the means to win it. When they had managed to capture Xrey and his family, and had found out about his powers, they had immediately thought of exploiting him to achieve their ends. Xrey was to give Enterprise's Captain, a man named Archer, disturbing visions to confuse his mind, images of his ship exploding, and his friends and crewmates dying horrible deaths, being sucked out of airlocks, or crushed by heavy bulkheads. He was to destabilise the man so that when he got to the negotiating table he could easily be overpowered, and kidnapped. Then they would use him as a bargaining chip to acquire a technological edge over their rivals. Once they conquered the Thers' planet, Xrey and his people, of course, would be in danger of being enslaved.

Xrey was not entirely at the mercy of his tormentors, though. He could not fake using his powers: the physical effort they took was in plain sight; however – and he was not surprised the Shinxes hadn't considered this, for their intelligence seemed inversely proportional to their arrogance – Xrey could always target someone else and for entirely different reasons. He had overheard the Shinxes say that a man named Reed was to accompany Archer on the mission, and to Xrey's relief the man had proved to be especially receptive. Reed being the ship's Security Officer was an unexpected blessing; Xrey had decided to give him forewarnings that would then prove true. Once Reed learnt to trust his visions, Xrey would alert him to the dangers in store for his Captain, hoping that he might thwart the Shinxes' plan. Xrey knew that this was complex and risky; but it was his only chance – the only chance for him, for his family, and for his people.

He closed his eyes, totally drained. These thugs thought that seeing light years away, influencing objects and giving visions was something he could do at the snap of their fingers. They did not understand the amount of energy and concentration it involved… Or rather, they just did not care if afterwards he felt sick with exhaustion for hours. The problem was, if they pushed him over the limit, he would be unable to make full use of his powers anymore. And if that happened, he knew that the Shinxes would force his child to replace him, would force him to use powers which, young as the boy was, he still did not fully possess. Xrey could not allow that to happen.