Standing behind the Captain's chair, Trip relaxed the grip he had on the back of it. If he didn't loosen up a bit, soon he would snap like a string pulled too tight. He looked at Hoshi, and she just shook her head, while pressing on her earpiece.

"Travis?" he enquired.

"Three hours and forty-eight minutes, Commander," Mayweather replied, checking the ETA of the Shinx and Ravaja ships.

"Get me Admiral Forrest," Trip ordered Hoshi. As he started for the Ready Room, Phlox's voice came through the comm. system and Trip quickly amended, "Belay that."

"Commander Tucker, please report to Sickbay," the Doctor was saying.

His tone was reassuring, but Phlox had a way of sounding upbeat even in the direst of circumstances, so Trip didn't let his hopes rise too high yet. "On my way," he replied, and headed for the turbo-lift. "Keep those precious ears of yours pinned," he said to Hoshi, disappearing into it.


When he got to Sickbay, Phlox welcomed him with a smile. "I'm glad to say that the Captain will be fine, Commander," he informed him right away. "With a bit of rest, he'll be back on the carriage in no time."

"You must mean 'on the saddle', Doc," Trip corrected him with a smile, feeling relief spread through him.

"Ah, yes, of course."

"Can I speak to him?" Trip glanced in hope towards the curtain separating him from his C.O.

Phlox jerked his head to the side. "Indeed, you are here because he wants to speak to you; but make it brief."

It was more that Trip had expected, actually, and he hurried to Archer's bedside, before the good Doctor might have second thoughts.

"Trip," Archer welcomed him. His face was pale, and tubes snaked in and out of him. "Is Malcolm back?"

"No, Capt'n." Trip briefly lowered his gaze to the bedsheets before meeting Archer's concerned green eyes again. "And Hoshi has lost his biosigns…"

"Listen to me," Archer said, urgency in his voice despite his obvious weakness, "the planet is not uninhabited. Neither the Shinxes nor the Ravajas have a right to it."

Trip frowned. "Müller did say there were other aliens down there… And that Malcolm remained to help them."

"They're the ones who gave Malcolm those visions. They can see far and impress their thoughts upon people's minds. One of them was made captive and was just trying to help himself and us by what he was doing to Malcolm." Archer reached for Trip's arm and gave it a meaningful squeeze. "The planet is theirs, no one should claim it. Inform Forrest."

"Holy…" Trip straightened his shoulders. "Right away, Sir." And without ado he took off at a jog.


Everything was made of rock in Xrey's house, indeed, in the Thers' village. It did not look like these creatures spent very much time on land, for the dwelling was sparsely furnished. A pool of water large enough for the entire family to lie in, and communicating with the open sea, stood in the middle of the main room. Malcolm wondered why these people had above-water houses at all, and he was about to ask his host when Xaya came to take the empty cup from his hands.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yes, thank you."

With a silent smile, Xaya went off, taking with her a slightly recalcitrant Xrollit, who would much rather remain watching him from a distance, as he had up to now.

If truth be told, Malcolm wasn't feeling all that much better. Sure, the house was warm, and thanks to some hot rocks probably drawing heat from the underground, his tattered uniform had dried out. Xaya had given him something warm and nourishing to drink, which had, if not pleased his tastebuds, at least restored some of his fluids. But his arm was throbbing and beginning to feel hot to the touch, which wasn't a good sign, and he felt quite exhausted. But he could not rest; first he needed to know how Xrey meant to return him to the Enterprise, for if the man planned to make him go underwater again, he'd better think twice.

"Is there any way to the surface through the cracks at the top of the cave?" Malcolm finally summoned the courage to ask his host. Xrey looked at him in silence, and Malcolm read puzzlement on his face.

"We've never even thought of climbing up there," the Ther replied at length. "We are water creatures, not made for that sort of activity." And to stress the point, he raised a 'foot'.

"Of course," Malcolm muttered.

"The cave is very high and the rockface steep, and we don't know what you would find up there, even if you attempted the climb." Xrey's eyes twinkled. "But I have a plan."

"I was afraid so," Malcolm commented dryly. Realising how that could sound to Xrey's ears, he pinched his nose and hurried to add, "I'm sorry. What I mean is…" This was difficult. He licked his lips, feeling embarrassed, as much for his blunder as for what he was forced to reveal. "The truth is, saying that water is not my favourite element was an understatement." He grimaced. "Not something I'm proud of, but it makes me quite terrified."

One small blessing was that Xrey had no expressive features like eyebrows to furrow, so if he was appalled by Malcolm's admission of weakness, he did not show it. He simply tilted his head to one side, in what looked more like curiosity.

"Lieutenant," he said after a moment, "we all have our fears, and I know you're no coward. A lesser man would have left me and my family in that room and got back to his ship." He pushed to the edge of his seat, to command full attention. "Look, my strength is back, and with it my powers. You have lost your device, but I can be your communicator, so to speak. I will impress myself upon one of your crewmates, get him to come and retrieve you. By now your Captain will have told them about me." He waited a beat and added, with the hint of a smile, "But you will have to trust me to bring you back to the surface safe and sound…"

Malcolm let out a soft huff. Delightful choice: attempt to climb a steep rockface without any gear and with an infected arm, without even knowing if it was worth the risk, or trust Xrey but face his worst demons again. Actually, if it weren't for his phobia, the choice was easy. Well, sometimes a man had to grit his teeth.

He looked straight into Xrey's expectant eyes. "It would be foolish of me to attempt climbing that rockface with my bare hands and in my weakened state."

Xrey nodded once. "Trust me, Lieutenant. After what you've done for us, I will see that you get back on your ship, if it's the last thing I do."


"I will inform the Vulcans right away," Admiral Forrest said, a flush of irritation and concern colouring his cheeks. "Soval must know about this, and we need to take conjunct action to stop the Shinxes and Ravajas."

"Sir, those ships will be here in less than three hours," Trip replied. "What am I supposed to do in the meantime? I doubt the Vulcans can get here that soon."

Forrest narrowed his eyes. "Do what you can to hold them at bay without endangering your crew, Commander. From what I understand, both species are technologically less advanced than we are. Forrest out."

The comm link had just been cut when the doorbell rang. "Come," Trip called. T'Pol appeared in the doorframe. "Subcommander, come in," Trip said in surprise. "Are you feelin' better?"

Their Vulcan resident gracefully tilted her head to one side, as the door swished close behind her. "The Doctor's cure has accomplished a substantial improvement," she informed. "Given the circumstances, I have been given permission to return to duty."

Trip let out a sigh of relief. "You don't know how glad I am about that."

T'Pol's eyebrows lifted imperceptibly. "I too am pleased that my rest has ended."

Trip got up from Archer's chair and theatrically waved an arm towards it. "I officially and gratefully relinquish command of the ship to you," he said, his innate jollity coming for a moment to the surface. Immediately sobering up again, he added, "Let me bring you up to speed."


After checking with Hoshi one more time about Malcolm's lifesigns, with a heavy heart Trip took the turbo lift to go to Engineering. Now that T'Pol was Acting Captain, he supposed he ought to get down there to make sure everything was shipshape before those warmongers arrived. He also planned to pass by the Armoury, to see if Müller had everything under control, and in anticipation of their potential upcoming firefight. Trip bit his lower lip, concern flaring up within him again. Where the hell was Malcolm? Why had his lifesigns suddenly disappeared? He did not even want to entertain the idea that Malcolm might have been recaptured or worse… No, he refused to go there. Something, however had happened to him, because…

He interrupted the flow of his thoughts, distracted by a strange feeling that had coursed through him. Trip passed a hand over his face. The tension was finally getting to him, but now was not the time to rest.

"Commander?" a voice called.

Trip refocused on the here and now, namely the corridor in front of the open lift doors and the crewman who was looking at him in puzzlement.

"Dexter," he greeted, taking a step to vacate the cabin. "Sorry, my brain was in cottonwool."

"Yessir! I mean, no, Sir..."

"It's okay, crewman," Trip reassured the tongue-tied man, giving him a friendly push. "Happens in the best of families."

With a tentative smile and a quick nod, Dexter entered the lift and disappeared. Trip continued on his way shaking his head: the chain of command was important, of course, but more important to him was to establish easy relationships with his subordinates; some people, even Reed himself, found that strangely difficult.

Another wave of feeling, stronger this time, brought him to an abrupt halt. He blinked and swallowed hard. The corridor had disappeared, and he could see… Malcolm? The man was dripping wet and stood on a sandy beach, looking up at the sky. He felt an intense impulse to rush to the docking bay, jump on a Shuttlepod and fly down to the planet. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head and approached the closest comm link.

"Tucker to Hoshi," he paged.

"Yes, Commander."

"Anything?"

"No, Sir."

"Ya sure?"

"Yes, Commander…"

The answer had come after a beat, and Hoshi had sounded surprised. No wonder, Trip had left the Bridge no longer than a few minutes before, asking her the same question.

"'T's okay, Ensign. Sorry."

He cut the communication and rubbed his temples. If he didn't know any better, he would say that it had been one of those visions Malcolm had told him about. Maybe he ought to take this to the Captain, provided Phlox let him speak to the man. He turned to retrace his steps, and once again the scene before his eyes changed from Enterprise's corridor to a beach with Malcolm on it. The man was still looking up at the sky but now he was on his knees, cradling his left arm; his head suddenly fell forward, chin to his chest.

"What in heaven's…" Trip muttered.

And then he was swept by such an impelling urge to get to a Shuttlepod, that he found himself jogging towards the Launch Bay. Hell, what am I doing? He thought. He forced his feet to stop, but it was as if someone was calling him, pulling him…

He might lose a pip, or worse, but he had to do this...