PARIS STEELED HIMSELF as he watched Jiterica lumber toward him in her containment suit, her ghostly features visible through her transparent faceplate.

Normally, she made those features reflect what she was feeling, so she could better communicate with the humanoids around her. But at the moment, her expression was blank—chillingly so.

It was if Jiterica had lost the desire to make herself appear human. Or maybe what she was feeling was just so intense that she couldn’t translate it.

Either way, it wasn’t a good sign.

Still, Paris stood there and waited for her. After what he had done, he had to.

Finally, Jiterica caught up with him. They stood face-to-faceplate, his flesh-and-blood eyes locked on her spectral ones. He opened his mouth to apologize, to beg her forgiveness.

But before he could do that, she spoke first. And what she said, in the tinny, artificial voice that her suit afforded her, was “I’m sorry.”

Paris looked at her. She was sorry? “For what?”

“For…” She hesitated. “For what happened in my quarters. I didn’t think it would be a problem if I came out of my suit for a few minutes.”

He didn’t know what to say.

Jiterica seemed to search for words. “It’s just that it’s so difficult to live inside something.”

“I’m sure it is,” he responded numbly.

“If I had known you were going to come in—”

“I shouldn’t have—”

“I thought the door—”

“I was afraid you were in trouble, or I—”

Their words tumbled over each other’s, making the entire mess unintelligible. Suddenly, they stopped and looked at each other, each reluctant to speak lest he or she interrupt the other.

Finally, it was Jiterica who broke the silence—even though she was the newcomer in terms of spoken communication. “I just wanted you to know that our…contact…was unintentional.”

Paris nodded. “On my part as well.”

Now the Nizhrak’s features did take on a humanlike expression. It was one of relief.

“Next time,” he promised her, “I’ll think twice before barging in.”

“And I will never leave my suit again. It was wonderful getting out of it, even for a short time. But getting back in was…torture.”

Paris couldn’t even imagine.

Existing in a drastically condensed form couldn’t have been comfortable for her. But achieving it in the first place had to be…well, Jiterica had said it, hadn’t she?

Torture.

“So we have achieved an understanding?” she asked.

Paris smiled at the awkwardness of her question. “Yes. I guess we have.”

“Good,” said Jiterica. “I would hate to think I had damaged our friendship.”

He was touched by her concern. “Don’t worry,” he assured her. “You didn’t.”

She continued to look at him. “If I could ask you a favor…?”

“Of course,” he said.

“I do not wish anyone else to know what happened just now. The suit and the difficulties I have with it are my problems—no one else’s. I can cope with them if it allows me to remain a viable member of the crew.”

Paris nodded again. “It’ll stay between us.”

If her expression was any indication, she was pleased with his response. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “Don’t mention it.”

Picard woke with a start, not knowing where he was. Then, gradually, it came back to him.

The bomb and his aborted rendezvous. His imprisonment and escape. His slow, careful progress through the orbital city until Guinan finally brought him to—

Guinan, he thought. Where was she?

The captain got up and looked around the container-filled warehouse, but his companion was nowhere in sight. It was hardly a comforting observation.

Has she been captured? he wondered. But if she were, why wouldn’t he have been taken as well?

No, Picard told himself. Not captured. But she might have left him there for a moment, perhaps to get some food.

No sooner had he completed the thought than he heard a shuffling sound in a corner of the compartment. Dropping out of sight, he picked up his stolen phaser pistol. Then he listened—and heard the shuffling sound again.

It was coming from one of the corners of the room—an area hidden from the captain. Negotiating a path among several stacks of containers, he made his way toward the sound.

Careful, he thought.

He was little more than halfway there when he heard someone say, “Relax. It’s just me.”

Picard recognized the voice as Guinan’s. Taking a deep breath, he renewed his quest until he caught a glimpse of her. She appeared to be kneeling beside something—a much smaller and rounder container than the others in the room, made of what appeared to be white plastiform.

“Can I give you a hand?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Guinan told him.

As the captain joined her, he noticed that one of the larger containers was open, its lid flipped up and back. Peering inside it, he saw a number of other small containers, each a different shape and color.

“My food stash,” Guinan explained.

Picard nodded. “How convenient.”

Obviously, his companion had foreseen the need for a hiding place. For all he knew, she might even have hidden here on some previous occasion.

He watched her close the open container by pressing a stud in its side. Then she picked up the smaller container and slid back a rounded panel, exposing its contents.

“I hope you like feh’jennek,” Guinan said, referring to a Vobilite foodstuff that would have been indistinguishable from soy cake were it not for its lush, scarlet color.

“Love it,” the captain assured her.

“You’re lying,” she told him as she reached into the container, extracted a healthy chunk of the stuff, and handed it to him. “Actually, I don’t like it much either, but it keeps better than most anything else.”

He waited until she had taken out a piece for herself. Then the two of them sat down and had their breakfast.

“What made you stock this place with food?” Picard inquired after a while.

Guinan shrugged and looked at the floor. “I need to be alone sometimes—more alone than I can be in a hotel room.”

He sensed that she didn’t want to say any more than that, so he restrained himself from probing further. However, her response was of a piece with the sadness he saw in her eyes.

Something had happened to her, he thought, something that affected her to the depths of her soul. Perhaps if they knew each other long enough, she would tell him about it.

But for now, the captain had other concerns on his mind. “That fellow I was supposed to meet…”

“You need to start looking for him, I suppose.”

“Yes. It’s rather important.”

Guinan frowned. “Important enough to risk getting recaptured by security?”

“Yes,” said Picard, giving out more information than he cared to. “That important.”

She gazed off into the distance. “Steej will have your description posted all over the place. You won’t get very far before someone recognizes you.”

“I’m sure you’re right, “he said. “Nonetheless, I have to make the attempt.”

Guinan regarded the human for a moment. Then her brow began to bunch above the bridge of her nose, giving him the impression that she was getting an idea.

“It could work,” she said.

“What could?” he asked.

“Everyone will be looking for a human with a healthy head of brown hair and a woman in a big hat. I can always get rid of the hat, but…”

“But what?” he prodded.

“But the hair…” she said.

The captain had a feeling he wasn’t going to like this.