Boconn's main concourse was busier than the day Proxima had left for Othallia and Picard found it a little claustrophobic. As he walked along the access tunnel, he could see the crowds of curious onlookers, squeezed up against the viewing gallery windows, to survey the worn torn Starfleet vessels that were docked there. The ships had been docked at the station for a few hours and repair crews were still assessing the amount of damage from the battle; which was extensive. The Titan was docked next to Proxima and Picard was on his way to meet Riker and Deana on board.

As the three of them sat in Six Forward, the Titan's recreation area, Picard had explained everything he had learned from Brey, concerning the Othallians.

Riker shook his head in dismay. "Are they continuing to get sick?"

"Yes Will," said Picard. "Everything the Starfleet medical team has tried so far, just isn't working. All they have been able to achieve is a temporary stabilisation of the symptoms."

"There has to be a way to help them," said Deana. "Or, thanks to the Romulans, the Othallians really could become extinct."

"I'm going to do whatever I can to prevent that from happening." Picard looked at his friends. "With your help, of course."

Deana took his hand. "Whatever we can do."

Suddenly, their attention was drawn to a commotion near the entrance. Several crewmembers had been pushed aside, as Vash came rushing in.

"Jean Luc," she said, breathlessly. "I know what to do." She was about to elaborate but something was wrong. As she reached the table, Vash slumped forward into Picard's arms.

"Vash," he said, putting his hand to her forehead. He looked up at Riker. "She's burning up."

Riker tapped his com badge. "Riker to Ogawa, medical emergency in Six Forward. Computer, inter-ship transport, four to beam to sick bay."

Six Forward winked out around them to be instantly replaced by much more sterile surroundings plus a concerned Doctor Alyssa Ogawa.

The moment the transporter exclusion field deactivated, the medical team went into action.

"Put her on the bio-bed," said Alyssa.

Picard carried Vash's lifeless form over to the bed and lay her gently down. He stepped back as Alyssa and two nurses tended to his friend.

Riker and Deana came to stand by his side. None of them spoke.

As he watched her laying there, Picard couldn't help remembering their first encounter. He had been bullied into taking a holiday by the Enterprise's senior staff. He had never visited Risa before and had only just arrived when this complete stranger walked up and kissed him. Of course, as was the case whenever Vash was involved, it was the start of a far more adventurous time than he had been expecting. The devious woman, was always so full of life and vitality, so seeing her unmoving seemed wrong.

The doctor came over.

"She's stable," said Alyssa.

Picard tried to sound relieved. "Thats good but what's wrong with her, Alyssa,"

Alyssa looked awkwardly at Deana and Picard could tell that it wasn't good news.

"Admiral Picard," she said. "There's no easy way to say this but your friend is dying."

The words were like a knife stabbing into his gut.

"Dying?" He was incredulous. "Of what?"

"From what I can tell, Peluis Syndrome."

"How can that be? That's a disease native to Malacon Five and it was eradicated over fifty years ago," said Picard, studying Vash for the telltale blotches around the neck and upper torso.

Riker nodded. "Besides that, I thought it was curable?"

"If your Malaconian it is," said a frail voice. Vash had opened her eyes and was smiling at Picard. "Don't look so sad, Jean Luc. Look on the bright side, you won't have to worry about me anymore."

He walked over to the side of the bed and took her hand. It felt like ice; another symptom that he recognised.

"Vash," he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"

A tear ran down her cheek. "Because I didn't want this," she said. "I've known for a long time that I didn't have long. Remember, when I came aboard the ship?" Picard nodded. "My limp, it is one of the advanced signs of the disease." She gasped, obviously in pain.

"Vash," Picard began, but she stopped him.

"Jean Luc, I need to tell you," she said. "I wanted to come to France with you, I really did." Her face straightened and Picard realised that she was struggling to breathe. "I need to tell you." Her words came out in a rapid irregular judder. "The Othallians... they are the answer." She coughed and a little trickle of blood ran out the corner of her mouth. Picard wiped it away.

"Answer to what?"

She was fighting to stay awake. "Translation is the answer," she spluttered. More blood. "Jean Luc." Her hand gripped his tightly. "The Othallians don't need a matrix...they....they." Her eyes fluttered shut then opened. "Something else...I...I...love you." She breathed out and her hand went limp in his hand.

Tears ran down Picard's face and suddenly, he didn't have the strength to wipe them away.

Deana's hand appeared on his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she said. His hand patted hers.

"These things happen," he said, absently. "But I wasn't expecting..."

Riker looked equally concerned. "Did she have any family?"

Picard looked up at his old friend. "Do you know something, Will, I don't actually know."

Molly appeared at the door. "Jean Luc, what's happened to Vash?"

"She's gone, Molly," said Picard, tearfully.

Without a word, she walked forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. The Rikers left them alone.

"I didn't really know her that well but she meant a lot to you, didn't she?"

Picard nodded. "A contradictory woman who was full of surprises. On one hand, a thief and on the other, someone who would risk everything to do the right thing. The last thing she said was the biggest surprise of all."

Molly looked up at him. "And what was that?"

"She said that she loved me and...Translation." Picard snapped out of his daze. "Vash said that the Translation is the answer. It just occurred to me. Some Othallians don't need the matrix to travel between worlds."

Deana frowned. "So in some of the people it is a natural ability."

"Yes, thats what Vash was trying to tell me," he said, wiping another tear. "We don't need another mosaic to open a doorway. We need, what the Triathian scribes referred to as, a Projector."