Chapter 4

"Damn!" Beardy swore angrily.

Picard stopped, turning to watch as she shook her head violently. "Fogging up again?" he asked.

She nodded. "I'm sweating so much that there's water in my boots. I have to stop, Jean-Luc."

He sighed, then nodded.

Their idea – to follow the illuminated paths to the area of greatest concentration - had assumed that the parasites would be concentrated in one area. Instead, there had been dozens of pockets scattered throughout the caverns, each filled with thousands of the parasites – but no evidence of the presence of any of the researchers.

To their surprise and relief, however, the creatures seemed unimpressed by their passage through their homes, making no aggressive moves toward them. Quite the contrary, Picard thought as he watched the parasites: the insects darted out of their way as they approached, using the material on the walls and ceiling to hide themselves. Even so, they kept their armor and helmets on, unsure if – or when – the parasites' behavior might change, cautiously making their way from one cavern to the next, examining each and every corridor.

Protect them as it might, however, the skin tight body armor was also taking a toll of its own on the two; the suits had been calibrated for the ambient temperature of the planetoid interior – but the wherever the insects were gathered, the temperature rose markedly, overwhelming the suits' abilities to compensate. Sweating profusely and at the risk of overheating, they realized they had two options: cut short the first day's search – or vent the suits – and risk possible infection.

It had been a simple decision: after using their phasers to clear an area of insects, they had removed their helmets, venting the heat and moisture from their suits and extending the time they could continue their search – but it was a dangerous practice.

"We can't keep doing this," Picard announced. "We need to recalibrate the suits for the heat – and we can't do that here."

"I know. And we need to eat and sleep," she added. "This is the last break – and then we head back," she said, pulling out her phaser, aiming it at the tunnel ceiling, then looked at Jean-Luc. "Ready?"

He nodded.

The high pitched hum of weapons filled the area as they swept the beams over the area above, below and beside them, stunning the creatures around them into a temporary state of somnolence, and creating a small area of relative safety for themselves.

Beardy quickly unclamped her helmet and pulled it from her head. A gush of hot, moist air escaped into the room as she did so, revealing her exhausted face and sodden hair.

"Five minutes," he declared, knowing she needed more time – that they both needed more time – but acknowledging that every moment they were exposed put them in danger. Easing off his own helmet, he raised a hand to his bald scalp, grimacing as his muscles protested.

"Are you all right?" Beardy asked, running her gloved hands over her own wet hair.

"Just sore. I have to admit I haven't worked this hard in some time," he said, chagrined. "When this is over, I'm going to have to revise my exercise regime," he admitted.

Beardy grinned. "When this is over, Jean-Luc, you'll need a holiday, not a gym. I know this beach on Risa – just you and me and a week of sun and ocean..."

He gave a rueful smile then shook his head. "Would that it were so simple, Commander. Starfleet Command, however, frowns upon its officers going AWOL."

She shrugged. "Pah! Your superiors will owe you a holiday – and more! - when we find the researchers. Maybe you can even convince your Beverly to join you," she added with a smile.

Glancing down, she pushed aside enough of the papery material and unmoving bugs to clear a place for herself to sit.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I wasn't kidding about the water in my boots," she said, sitting down and unlatching one of the boots. Pulling it off, she upended the footgear, emptying the accumulated fluid onto the ground. Setting it down, she reached for the second boot, repeating the process.

"Don't leave them off too long," he advised. "The compression will cause your extremities to swell."

"This isn't my first time in exo-armor, Jean-Luc," she reminded him. She reached for the first boot, knocking over the second one in the process, then slid her foot in, grimacing as she secured the clamps. "Ugh. I hate wet boots," she grumbled – then glanced up at him. "You know... Wet boots and exo-armor aside, Jean-Luc, freelancing isn't bad way of life. I'm not a mercenary; I'm valued and appreciated by my people and yours. I can pick my employers and my work – and my vacations - and it can be damned exciting." She smiled at him. "You'd be good at it," she added – then rose to her feet, her second boot forgotten for the moment.

Moving close to him, she smiled. "And we'd make a good team. You'd provide the dour moral backbone, and I'd provide the unethical joie de vivre..."

He studied her for a moment – then shook his head. "Thank you – but I'm quite satisfied where I am."

She smiled. "You say that now – two years into sitting in the center seat of the flagship of the fleet. But things change. There may come a day when you want to be your own commanding officer , answering to no one – except me, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, then sobered. "For now, however, I'll stay where I am. Then again, if we don't find the researchers, I may be coming to you sooner rather than later."

"Which rather argues against my working for our success," she said lightly – then seeing his expression darken, raised a hand in silent conciliation. "I was joking. My people's safety is at risk, Jean-Luc – along with the more-than-considerable amount of latinum I stand to make. And I do want to find them – especially Dr. Crusher: after all, I can't have my future business partner being distracted by feelings of unrequited passion."

She turned, quickly spying her boot on the floor, and returned to it. Covering the area with a second round of phaser fire, she sat down and pulled on the boot, then her helmet – then looked at him and frowned. "Oooh," she murmured as she rose to her feet. "I hit a sore spot, didn't I?"

"Beverly and I were... friends," he countered. "Just friends," he added firmly.

"Of course you were," she sighed, shaking her head, rolling her eyes up in her head.

And then kept rolling them.

He stared at her, perplexed – then watched as her body suddenly stiffened, her limbs rigid, jerking as her body spasmed.

"Commander Regal!" he shouted, grabbing her as she began to fall to the ground. "T'Beera!"

For a split second, a swell of panic washed over him - then he pushed it back, his years of training taking its place. Lowering Beardy's convulsing body to the ground, he peered at suit's medical readout - and admitted he had no idea what he was looking at.

Had she taken too many of the stimulants? he wondered. Was it some sort of seizure?

Whatever it was, he knew only that he was out of his depth – and that she was in trouble.

He had to get her back to the shuttle – though the supplies they had there were little more than what their suits contained. But, he thought, I can get the shuttle back to Risa and the hospitals there.

With a quick glance at the map, he pulled on his helmet, then lifted Beardy over his shoulder, and began to jog down the tunnel, ignoring the ever growing numbers of parasites.

The jog was quickly reduced to a fast walk as he found himself slipping on the carapaces of insects beneath his feet – then to an even slower walk as the tunnel began to angle sharply upward.

Already exhausted by the hours in the suit, his muscles screaming in protest, he forced himself onward, moving as quickly as he dared, then felt Beardy give a massive shudder – and stop moving.

Horrified, he lay her down on the tunnel floor, pulling off her helmet.

He eyes, open and fixed, stared unseeing at the ceiling, thick white foam spilling from her mouth. Jerking off his own helmet, he brushed the foam from her lips, pressed his mouth to hers, and began exhaling his breath into her lungs.

The air, however, refused to enter.

Disgusted with his lack of expertise, he tried again, blowing harder.

A hand pulled him away.

"The suit is compressing her chest," a male voice said. Kneeling beside the body, he began to unfasten the exo-armor – then shouted down the corridor. "I found them! They're over here!"

A second figure, also suited in protective gear, quickly knelt beside Beardy's body, running a medical scanner over the unmoving figure as the first finished releasing the constricting gear. "Presence of larval neurotoxin..." said a feminine voice. "Did she take off her gloves? Boots? Both?"

"Helmet and boots," he replied.

She slid to the Romulan woman's feet, pulling off the footwear – then nodded as she saw a glaring red welt. "That's how it got her. The larvae love moisture. They got into her boot while it was off."

"We covered the area with phaser fire..." he began to protest.

"That will hold off the mature parasites for an hour or more, but the larvae aren't as susceptible. They recover in minutes: they can move quickly, and they're all but invisible in this light." She pulled a hypo from a pouch on her suit, made an adjustment, then pressed it to Beardy's bare foot. A moment later, a faint exhalation could be heard from the Romulan woman.

"She's breathing," the first responder said.

"Good," the woman replied. "Let's get her to base and begin treatment," she said to the others.

Two suited figures appeared carrying a makeshift stretcher; they lifted Beardy onto it, then began to carry her away.

The woman beside Picard turned to him. "We need to be going, too... Jean-Luc," she added softly.

Taken aback by the familiarity, he stared at the helmeted figure – then watched as Beverly Crusher removed her headgear.

"Beverly," he said, relief heavy in his voice. "Beverly."

"Jean-Luc," she replied, then smiled. "When we came around the bend, my first thought was that it was you – but then I realized that it was ridiculous: after all, what would Jean-Luc Picard be doing here?"

"I was supposed to be rescuing you," he informed her. "It rather appears, however, that you did the rescuing." He glanced worriedly at the figure on the stretcher. "Is she going to be all right?"

Beverly shook her head. "I don't know. Our research here has been extensive, and we have formulated experimental agents and vaccines for every stage of the parasites development – but our work has been in the theoretical, not the practical." She glanced anxiously at the ceiling. "Let's get out of here, Jean-Luc. We can talk when we get back to base."