Reed's outburst results in a fit of coughing. Quantum claps him on the back and suggests, "Try not to breathe." Hey, Quantum, try not to furrow. Quantum and Reed step into a mine and are met by some aliens wearing surgical masks. I believe The Daily Expanse is reporting that there's been an outbreak of SARS on this planet. Before Quantum finishes with the niceties of introductions, the SARS aliens bid them to follow. Deep, deep into the easily-recognized cave set, Quantum and Reed are led to the SARS aliens' leader. The SARS aliens' leader gasps and wheezes evilly as he says, "I've been told [loud exhale] you might be able to make it worth my while [gasp] if I were to arrange [gasp] a certain introductionnnn [wheeze]." The Wheezer wants liquified platinum. Quantum tells him they don't carry precious metals aboard their ship, but thinks there's something else they can offer him. Wheezer grabs at a face-mask that's on a swing-arm attached to his shoulder and breathes deeply from it before pushing it away and shouting that he doesn't make a habit of interrupting his workers. He sort of sounds like Christopher Lloyd here. Wheezer grabs his mask for another drag. He's giving me sympathy asthma. Quantum asks Reed about the anti-matter relays. "Their linings are coated with a cobalt-platinum alloy," Reed responds. Sure, but there's probably a good reason why they're coated with that, right? Couldn't removing it turn them into, I don't know, pro-matter? Reed thinks Trip could strip the linings and separate the metals. Wheezer wants half a liter of platinum. Quantum turns to Reed, who makes a "yeah, doable" shrug-face. Quantum insists on seeing and scanning the worker in question to make sure he's actually Xindi. Wheezer goes to a rickety cabinet thing -- maybe it's a fridge? -- and says, "That won't be necessary." He tosses over a cloth packet that lands with a distressing thump in front of them. Quantum opens the packet to find -- like some old campfire ghost story -- a bloody finger. Both Reed and Quantum react with revulsion. You're going to have to gird your loins better than that, boys, if you want to take out the entire Xindi race. Wheezer smiles at their discomfort. "Why would you do that?" Quantum demands. It's not clear if he's referring to scaring them with the finger or the fact that he had it severed in the first place. "Unfortunate accident," Wheezer drawls, and says he expects them back the next day with his payment. He bangs a pipe against a dusty radiator-thing and wheezes, "Good day." Something about this repulsive and unreputable personage bidding them "Good day" like a Victorian matron cracked me up.