Colonel Gaezhur led the prisoner into the tribunal chamber hastily set up in the officers' mess. Two Greater Raptors held Nishet between them, half-dragging him through the door. Gaezhur himself would be acting as accuser. There would be no defense. Buftanis's envoy had specifically named him as their spy. Nishet could not deny the charge.

Grand Raptor Ussa had requested to personally preside over the tribunal. He and two other senior Raptors would decide Nishet's fate.

"Colonel Gaezhur," Ussa stated formally, "present your case."

Gaezhur motioned the guards forward, and they brought the spy up. "Nishet, a Cold Raptor, stationed at Kennisatae Research Silo is accused of espionage in the employ of Buftanis."

"State your evidence," Ussa said, glowering at Nishet.

"He informed his guard partner of Buftanisian troop movements not publicly known," Gaezhur began, starting with the least damning evidence. It was all really just a formality. Nishet was guilty and would be convicted. The only real question was the kind of sentence he would receive.

Ussa stuck with the formalities, too. "He could not have learned of these movements during his duties?"

"His duties included night guard duty at Kennisatae Research Silo," Gaezhur explained. "His only legitimate knowledge of Buftanisian military moves would be to report spy drones."

Ussa bobbed his head in affirmation. One count done. The colonel continued to the more damning accusation. "He assisted the traitor, Enesh, in molesting a test subject and abetted tampering with surveillance equipment to hide the act."

"Has he confessed?" Ussa asked.

"No," Gaezhur reluctantly answered. Nishet had proven quite resilient. But then, Gaezhur admitted to himself, he had held back. He did not want Nishet to accidentally die before his death sentence was carried out.

"Did Enesh name him?" Ussa asked.

"No," Gaezhur said. Damning accusation, yes. Proven, no. Not exactly.

"Any other evidence?"

"Buftanis named him as their spy," Gaezhur said. "The envoy, Genad, named both he and Enesh. One as spy, the other as traitor."

"Noted and confirmed," Ussa stated, turning to the other judges. "I witnessed this naming." He now turned his attention back to Nishet.

"Accused!" he shouted. "Have you anything to say in your defense?"

"I have loyally served my country and its free people," Nishet said, finally opening his mouth. Blood spilled onto his chin as he did so. "I freely accepted my mission and the risks involved. I freely give up my life in service to my beloved homeland."

"And that homeland is Buftanis?" Ussa asked in return.

"What of Zheiren is free and beloved?" Nishet retorted.

The judge to Ussa's right rapped his fist against the table. "Guilty," he said.

"Guilty," the third judge agreed, slamming his fist down.

Ussa stood. "Concur," he said then punched the table. "Guilty of espionage in the employ of Buftanis. And as an abettor to Enesh's treason, who has escaped his just punishment, Nishet shall also abet that punishment. He shall die a slow death at Yekina, stripped bare and stryped as bait for predators. Perhaps, Colonel, he will be more forthcoming with information and earn himself a quicker execution."

Gaezhur bowed, chastened. He would get something useful out of Nishet before his bones were picked clean. He would see to it personally. And he'd enjoy it, too.

"Must be nice having three days off," Baezhu teased as he found Kahrae at their usual breakfast table.

"Not off," Kahrae corrected. "And you know it. Debriefings and desk duty for Major Nua. Not exactly fun times."

"Well, at least it was a change of pace," Baezhu said. "Either way, I missed you."

"Thanks. So how did the transfer go?"

Baezhu took a drink to wash down his bite of bread. "I don't know the details. Burha and Hinath took care of that while Dr. Bishtae and I conducted the posterior exploratory on the male with Dr. Geeben. He's an expert on primates brought in to replace the traitor." Baezhu couldn't even stand to say the man's name anymore. It was well within Zheiren's customs to refer to criminals by their criminal title rather than any they might have had before they lost their countrymen's esteem.

"He must have been quite surprised," Kahrae remarked, "when he got a look at the primate he was going to study."

Baezhu smiled. "It took nearly ten minutes for him to regain enough composure to hold a scalpel! Dr. Bishtae filled him in as we worked. He has all day to read up on the matter."

"Ah, not much to observe just yet, is there?"

"Alien in a coma," Baezhu affirmed quietly. "Not very exciting. He should be a help to us, though. Hinath and Burha have been moved to nights, too."

Kahrae did not wait to swallow before he replied, "No more lone doctor to get into trouble."

"No, they shifted Kenu to midshift, since there's no Lesser for Geeben."

"Well, a linguist beats Hinath, I'm sure," Kahrae smirked.

Baezhu laughed. "Hinath is competent," he stated, "just not very diligent."

"Bishtae has the better," Kahrae said. "We got another to replace the spy, too. Obek is his name. Quiet guy, thus far, but I got the idea something's eating at him."

"So what is to become of the spy?" Baezhu asked, half afraid to hear the answer. Nishet deserved his punishment, but punishment for high crimes in Zheiren could be gruesome.

"Yekina," Kahrae replied, setting down his empty bowl. "I'm sure you'd rather not know the details."

Nishet savored the sweetness of the hava fruit that would serve as his last bite of food in this life. He had known the risk, of course, when he joined Intelligence, and he knew he had done the right thing in bringing knowledge of alien life back to Buftanis. Still, he was a young man, really. His mortal life was not something he gave up easily. He wanted to live to see Buftanis again, to mate at Turn, and to raise a new Cold Raptor into a fine fellow citizen.

He was afraid, even as he sat calmly chewing his fruit on the rough bench in the underground cell they held him in. Afraid not just of death but of how they offered it, like ancient barbarians. Capital punishment happened in Buftanis. But even now it was controversial, and always the methods were usually quick and never brutal.

He shuddered, thinking through what they had planned. He hurt so badly already from their interrogation tactics that it wasn't hard to imagine the pain. It was more difficult to fathom the extreme agony of having stakes driven through his limbs and flesh torn from his body only to have predators and scavenges eat him alive while he baked in the desert sun. That was really what scared him. He was willing to die for Buftanis Really, he was. Just why couldn't it be a bullet to the brain?

"Enjoying your last meal?"

It was only his training that kept him from looking up in startlement at his unexpected visitor. Instead, he slowly lifted his head and faced Gaezhur with a calm set to his eyes. "It was edible," he replied. "Come to taunt me perhaps? You know I won't give you anything you don't already know."

"You will," Gaezhur replied, quirking up one side of his mouth. "Whatever training you've had cannot possibly have prepared you for what we'll do at Yekina."

"My training was quite sufficient, I assure you." Nishet imagined himself as a soul within an outer shell. The soul quaked with fear, moaned in grief for the lost home and family. The outer shell hid it all from his captor. "Besides, my country is smart enough not to tell its agents too much. So we can't tell you, no matter what you try. Oh, I can tell you all about our bicameral legislature, or who the president is and maybe even two of the High Judges. I wasn't the brightest student in Citizenship class, I'm afraid. But anything useful? I don't know anything useful you don't already know. So really there's little left to say to each other, Colonel. It's still only colonel, isn't it?"

Gaezhur growled. "Your beloved Buftanis doesn't deserve such devotion, Nishet. Your envoy requested Enesh from us. The only time he even mentioned your name was when he said you were the spy. Why was that, do you imagine?"

You lie! Nishet screamed. Inside. Not out.

"Or did you think they'd hail you a martyred hero back home?" Gaezhur continued. "For what? Alien life? Hmmm, do you think the public is ready for that? What will they say when your family asks how you died? What might have made you a hero? They'll lie, of course. Your father may never even know you died at all."

Nishet forced his breathing to stay even. To keep the shell intact in spite of his inner turmoil. His father. What would they tell his father? Had they really given him up so easily? Of course, his shell reminded. Zheiren could have traced Enesh to him. That's why the envoy had come. Zheiren would have realized he was the spy anyway. But they asked for Enesh, his soul cried. Why not me?

"Excuse me, Colonel," a new voice interrupted. A Shifting Monitor with a tray stood by the door. "I need to collect the dishes."

Gaezhur glowered but stepped back.

Nishet stood up slowly and carried his plate and bowl to the slot between the bars on the door. As the Monitor reached in to take them, their hands touched and something small was passed to him. Nishet stepped back and turned away from the door, taking a quick peek out of Gaezhur's sight. He held a small glass capsule, tipped with aluminum caps. On one of them was scratched a tiny letter B. B for Buftanis.

He tucked the capsule into his mouth before he turned to sit. The Monitor scuttled away.

"You're a liar," he said, unified now in his calm. "They did ask for me," he guessed. "But you turned them down. Buftanis doesn't need to earn my devotion. In freedom, I was born; in freedom, I live; and in freedom, I die. For Buftanis!"

He briefly worried about the broken glass cutting his gums and cheek, but dismissed it. It would not hurt for long, after all. He bit the capsule and it crunched, sending little shards of glass into his tongue as well. But then his breath was stolen, his heart seized. He fell. He saw Gaezhur slam his fist against the iron bars of the door but could no longer hear his howl of rage. He smiled. And then he died.

"Welcome, Doctor Enesh!"

Enesh stepped down the steps from the air ship's door to the land of his new home. He held the railing as he went. He felt rather dizzy. What had transpired in the last week seemed like a dream--or nightmare. He certainly had not planned on getting caught, but Nishet had told the truth, poor lad. He was now free of the stifling oppression of Zheiren and out from under Dr. Bishtae's shadow. Now, he was free and the leading authority of the aliens' biology. He would lead the Buftanisian research team here at this facility.

The female had already arrived, induced into a coma according to his specifications while he was in quarantine getting debriefed and introduced to the freedoms and privileges of the democratic society of Buftanis.

It was incredible! This was not what Zheiren had taught. Buftanisians had the freedom to choose their own professions and places of residence. They had the right to vote for their national and regional leaders each Turn-year before Turn. Those leaders had to change every two Turns, ensuring that no one person gained despotic power.

The language was very different, but he was certain he'd master it eventually. He had his whole life to learn. He might study more than language, too. He had always had an interest in drawing. Maybe he could take an art class. It amazed him to think Raptors could be scientists if they wanted. Monitors of all kinds could be soldiers, and Wingeds like himself could study art. Zheiren had termed it chaos. Buftanis called it freedom. Enesh now called himself a Buftanisian.

Smiling, he said, "Thank you. I'm very happy to be here. I do hope to learn the language soon. This is my country now."

"We'll see about getting you a tutor," the Winged who had welcomed him offered. "Until then, I'll serve as translator. I'm Dr. Besta, geneticist." He now pointed to the Lesser Raptor standing beside him. "And this is Goti, our Director. He oversees the research side of the compound."

Goti said something, which caused Besta to chuckle. "He says he's really just a glorified bureaucrat," Besta translated.

A Raptor stepped forward then. "Suna," he said in greeting. "Pedana se nurute."

"Suna oversees the entire compound," Besta explained. "Shall we go and see our other new guest?"

Enesh agreed. They said good-bye to the Raptors and walked toward the two-story brick building ahead. "I noticed fields just beyond the landing strip," Enesh said.

"Ah yes," Besta replied. "Even in a free society, there is a need for secrecy. The plantation serves as a cover. We are one of the nation's leading producers of raw fenite, what you would call cotton. We employ over one thousand females, mostly Wingeds and Monitors. Lesser Raptor arms are just too small for real digging. We bring some Lessers and Greaters in for harvesting though. We'll get Cold Raptors in for winter tasks. Suna is actually hoping we can find a use for the female alien, given her unique size and proportions. When she's not under procedures, of course."

"Doing what?" Enesh was not sure he wanted to expose her to other females. They might damage her.

"You can help determine that," Besta said as he opened the door and motioned Enesh inside. "You know more about her physiology than anyone else here. We'll arrange a tour so you can see what kinds of tasks the females do here."

A grand staircase met them at the end of the foyer. "There is also an elevator behind the stairs," Besta explained. "I take the stairs myself. Good exercise." He started up. "All of us researchers live here and all the residences are on the second floor. As is the gym. Yours is the second suite on the left. Ah, here we are."

Enesh was astonished. It was half again as big as his quarters back in Bethae Community. And that was just the front room.

"The bedroom and washroom are on the right," Besta said, pointing out the doors. "Your kitchen area is on the left. If you'd like, I can give you a quick tour then we'll check in on the alien."

Enesh set his bag down on the divan that sat in front of a television monitor. "You really have an independent press?" he asked, still amazed at what Buftanis had to offer.

"Yes, it's true," Besta replied. "Though the media sometimes panders to the administration."

"In Zheiren, we get our news from the administration." Enesh followed Besta back into the hall. "This is not at all what we've been told."

"It may take some getting used to," Besta said, laughing. "But I think you're going to like it here."

Darkness hung over him like a thick, heavy tarp. It reached into his mind and body, smothering all thought and memory of pain. The passing of time was meaningless. Time did not matter. Nothing did under the enveloping dark.

It began to lift, peeling back from his body to allow pinpricks of sensation to spread across his back. It retreated from his mind enough for him to notice, and Malcolm begged for it to swallow him again. But the darkness refused him.

The weight on his body, his limbs, his mind, grew lighter, less substantial. The pinpricks in his back sparked into little flames. Memories emerged from unconsciousness and he remembered where he was and what they had done. Now the darkness left him completely. The memories assaulted him full-force and pain washed over him in waves.

A familiar, hated beeping reached his awareness and Malcolm reluctantly opened his eyes. It took a minute before he recognized the patterned tile, the feel of padding around the edges of his face. His back. That's what they'd cut open this time. He was facing the floor.

The pain backed away, faced with the influx of drugs being pumped through the tube that was no doubt protruding from his neck. As if to confirm his thoughts, the beeping began to slow into a soft, regular rhythm. A resting heartbeat.

Darkness once again welcomed him, but he resisted, wanting to find Hoshi to reassure himself that she was still there. He tried to turn his head but he was too weak to lift it. He couldn't move his arms either. He barely managed to tap a few times on the hard mattress underneath his fingers.

He waited for an answer as long as he could, willing his eyes to stay open, his mind to stay sharp enough to hear. But the darkness, with its soothing numbness, was insistent. His eyes closed and he was lost once again.

Hoshi slowly came into awareness, feeling more than seeing the light beyond her eyelids. Her nose itched and she thought to lift her hand to scratch it, but her hand didn't come to her and the itch continued.

She wondered about that and her consciousness increased. She heard voices. One familiar, one not. The new one had an odd accent.

"generally lasts for ten minutes at our standard fenes," the accented one was saying.

"And how do you know the fenes for this one?" the familiar said. Radagast. "You could have killed her."

That alarmed her. She tried to open her eyes and was surprised when they opened. Radagast was there with someone else. "We were quite cautious. We tested her reflexes from the slightest fenes until we reached ten minutes of bunetan."

Radagast flashed a small light into her eyes. "Is it wearing off?"

"Just the sedatives. We still have about five minutes."

To do what? she wondered, but had a hard time panicking about it. Probably because of the sedatives. Or whatever kept everything but her eyes from moving. Her nose didn't itch really, she realized. It was more like pins and needles. Very light. Mere annoyance. She wished she could feel it in her fingers or toes.

She looked beyond Radagast and the new guy to the ceiling and the edge of the wall. She couldn't see the red lamps. The wall was smooth, not painted blocks like before.

"The bleeding has stopped," the new one said. "Seven days to that part of the garun. We need to chart the rest of it."

"May I see what equipment we have to work with?" Radagast asked.

"Of course, then we can chart tomorrow's work."

"And the female?"

"We have a small room for her after she wakes fully," the new Winged replied. "Just next door. She'll be fine there for the night."

Now that she was awake, she realized she had no memories like the last time. If they had cut her up again, they had gotten the anesthesia right. Hoshi searched her memory back past the blackness she awoke from, but, at first, all she got was the hunger she had felt along with fear. They had stopped feeding them again. The next day, one of the little orcs had come in to set up one of the machines at the back of the room.

Just one.

The door opened again and two orcs lifted her onto a gurney. Her head lolled to one side, and she used the opportunity to try and see the room.

Malcolm wasn't there.

The next time Malcolm Reed felt the darkness pressing down on him, he struggled to get out from under it. His mind was sharper this time around, and he remembered. Oh, he remembered what they had done and why he should want to be covered in suffocating darkness forever. But what he remembered that kept him fighting for consciousness was something he held more important than his own suffering.

Hoshi.

He opened his eyes. He saw a wall. White, painted concrete blocks just a few feet from the edge of the bed he was on. Somewhere beyond his head he heard the hated, familiar beeping of the life-support machine tracking his heart rate. Looking down, he could see his arms and the straps that held his wrists to the side of the bed.

The orcs had not restrained him before. Not after the last surgery anyway. Not even when he had tried to pull out the tubes in his neck. He had not tried that again though. Because of Hoshi.

He tried to turn over but the pain seared his back. He bit his lip and tried to keep his breathing and pulse steady so the machine wouldn't put him under again. He had to find her.

The machine. The beeping sped up as his heart rate increased. There was only one. One pulse-pattern of beeps. One machine.

Hoshi, he tapped against the metal bed he could just reach below the mattress. No answer. No second set of beeps.

"Frodo?" he whispered, wanting to shout but fearing the orcs might be listening.

His pulse kept rising. The machine clicked and his eyes grew heavy. She had not answered. She was gone. He let the darkness take him without resistance. He didn't want to feel the loss, the loneliness, the grief that was cascading down onto him. Hoshi. He needed her. Without her, he didn't want to wake up. The drug was mercifully quick and so much better than what they had used during surgery. His eyes rolled up and closed. His pulse slowed and his breaths came evenly. He was out.

"I think he realizes she's gone," Kenu stated.

"What did he say?" Dr. Bishtae asked.

"It sounded like Fro-doh,' Baezhu said, lisping a bit on the first part. He was impressed by the clarity of the new listening device Kenu had installed.

Kenu nodded and began to write on a piece of paper. "It might be the female's name." He showed them what he had written: SATO. "These were the unique symbols on her uniform. If it spells Fro-doh, we might have our first real clue to their language." Kenu came closer to pronouncing the difficult sound. "The first symbol occurs four more times on her uniform. The second only once more. The third occurs four times total and the last just this once. It's not a lot to go on, but it's at least something."

Baezhu studied the paper. The sounds of both syllables were very similar. The vowel sounds anyway. The squiggly symbol and the perpendicular lines were not the same and seemed to him to be in the places of the consonant sounds. "But if the vowel sounds are the same, why aren't the second and fourth symbols the same?"

"Good observation for a biologist," Kenu said, grinning, "and a Lesser Winged at that. Sometimes I think you crawled out of the wrong egg. But seriously, it's possible. Your name and the colonel's share a vowel cluster and yet those same clusters have different pronunciations."

"Fro-doh," Dr. Bistae said, tripping hard on the first consonant cluster. "His mouth has more movement, more flexibility. That's why we can't say it correctly."

Kenu nodded. "I did have a week with nothing to observe while you had him in a coma. So I studied the notes and drawings from your exploratories. You haven't really gotten into the speech centers, but there are some clues to be gained from your external observations. We have beaks, more rigid than Raptor's lips. The alien's are soft and pliable. If we can ever get him to talk, I'm certain we'll find a lot of sounds we simply can't replicate properly."

"That does not bode well for the colonel and his ilk," Bishtae concluded, though his tone did not carry any disappointment.

"Well, they might come closer," Kenu replied, "but they still might have difficulty asking him any questions."

"Unless we find a way to teach him our language," Baezhu said, thinking that Zheiren would be simple by comparison.

"Pronunciation shouldn't be hard for him," Kenu agreed. "But he'd have to be willing or forced. And then there are still the issues of vocabulary and grammar."

"Is it too much to hope that he'd learn more from more adult programs?" Bishtae asked.

"He'd still have to consciously relate the sounds he hears to their proper meanings," Kenu explained. "It would take a linguistic genius to put those things together organically, the way a child does. But we could at least work on vocabulary, nouns, or verbs."

"As long as we keep any monitors out of his reach," Baezhu joked.

The next morning, Dr. Besta met him for breakfast with a gift. "You said you wanted to learn," he explained.

Dr. Enesh opened the present, a rare thing in his life. Gifts just weren't done in Zheiren, except for very, very special occasions, like graduation. Enesh couldn't remember any other gift from his former life. This one was a book. A language book.

"'Buftanisian for Foreigners'", it says," Besta translated the title. "I'll help you with the first section and that should give you a good place to start. And I decided that I'll tutor you myself."

"How do you say Thank you'?" Enesh asked.

"Kelera katay," Besta replied.

"Kelera katay," Enesh repeated back to him. "It's a wonderful gift. I can't wait to leave Zheiren behind completely."

The first section began with a picture of a classroom and a paragraph describing it. Fortunately, Buftanis did not use a completely different alphabet and the sounds of the letters were at least similar. "At the front is a chalkboard," he repeated in Buftanisian. "At the back is a door. On the left, there are windows." A chair, desk and table were pointed out along with a few smaller items: a picture, a tape recorder, a radio.

"I think you'll find that page opens the door," Besta said. "I couldn't learn anything until I got that page. Then it all started to make sense."

Enesh looked up from the book. "You're not from here?"

Besta smiled. "Defected twenty years ago. Kethae Colony, northern Hashu province. Zheiren."

It was at the back of her neck. It had felt like a pinch, a shock. For no more than a second, maybe less. Then she felt nothing at all. Nor could she move anything but her eyes.

Hoshi was in some sort of tube, like the imaging chamber back on Enterprise but louder. After a few minutes, though it felt imminently longer to her, the tube suddenly went quiet. She was just starting to be able to wiggle her toes. Her neck pinched again and the toes were gone, pulled back into the nothingness that was her body.

At least it doesn't hurt, she thought and hoped it still didn't when the numbness wore off.

The noise resumed and she closed her eyes since there was nothing to look at, nothing to feel, and nowhere to go. Nothing to feel physically, anyway. She certainly could feel emotionally. She was lonely and confused and scared. Less scared than when they had come to take her away from Malcolm and Malcolm into God-knows-what this time.

They hadn't touched her. Not in that sense. No cuts, no stitches, no horrific agony of feeling scalpels slice her skin. Malcolm, though, probably had all those anew. One machine. If not for her, then for him.

But why? Why was she singled out? Or why was he? They never tried to get her to speak the way they had with Malcolm. They hadn't molested her the way they had him. Now another surgery, she guessed. While she was moved but relatively unharmed.

Moved to where?

The noise stopped again. The shock came. She hadn't even realized her toes had begun to tingle. They stopped. The noise started again.

Moved to where? she thought again, after the interruption. The orc with Radagast had a different accent. And hadn't the smaller one said Radagast would be punished? Had he simply been transferred? And allowed to take her with him?

She didn't even know how long it had been since she had last seen Malcolm. A day? A week? Worse, she didn't know when she would ever see him again. Enterprise was a lost hope. Malcolm was all she had left. What did she have now besides breath? Life devoid of hope, happiness, companionship, and even the respect due to one sentient being from another. She was a lab rat. And now she was alone.

Malcolm woke again and again. Each time his ability to think again awoke, he thought of Hoshi and tried to crane his neck to find her in the room. And when he didn't, he fought for the chance for the drugs to put him under again. It was too much without her. Without any friend or any hope. He was lost in a horrid, lifelong nightmare. He might as well spend as much of it as possible unconscious.

But the orcs had other ideas and each time he woke up, it was harder to go back under. They were weaning him off as his back healed. Each time he woke up, thinking came easier and feeling came deeper. The physical pain was still dulled by narcotics but the loneliness was amplified. His memory, too, became sharper and he tried to piece together where Hoshi had gone.

He remembered holding her when morning and midday passed with no meal. She was shaking. He focused on her, holding her as much for his own comfort as hers. They both knew what a fasting could bring and both still had vivid memories of before with imagination more than making up for what their closed eyes had not seen.

They had pulled her away from him, pushing a syringe needle into his arm as they lifted him onto a gurney. He kept his eyes on her until he couldn't help but let them close. He was pushed toward the one machine they'd prepared before he fell unconscious. Hoshi had still been there.

His next memories were the ones he didn't want: of knives slicing into his back, of fingers pulling skin from muscle, and of hands or hard instruments invading his body. Of screaming silently because he couldn't open his mouth or vibrate his vocal cords. Of fighting to move a muscle, to gasp or increase his pulse. To let them know he was there, awake, feeling everything, hearing their dispassionate, scientific babble.

That was enough, this time, to push his pulse beyond the limit. His chest hurt, pounding with it. But relief was coming, dragging down his eyelids once again. And he was gone.

Dr. Enesh found it disconcerting to have the female alien watching him while her body was otherwise immobilized by the electric shock Dr. Besta kept applying as needed. Besta's eyes questioned him as he put a cloth over the female's face but he didn't say anything. Relieved of her oddly piercing gaze, Enesh returned his attention to her lower abdomen.

"Our facilities aren't really designed for primates but we did manage to get some new equipment. Like this table." Besta took hold of each of the female's ankles. "Watch her arms." Then he pulled.

Enesh quickly grabbed the female's arms and folded them over her stomach as she slid down the table until her legs hung limply off. Besta then unfolded two extensions with stirrups on the ends. He placed the female's heels into them and extended her knees outward. Her genitalia were then fully exposed and easily reached.

Using the gloved fingers of his left hand, Enesh pulled open the folds of skin. "According to the magnetic scan, her urethra is at the forefront and the vaginal opening behind." He used the index finger of his right hand to probe the suspected area. It inserted too far to be confused with any other nearby structures. "Yes, this is it."

Besta handed him the cable with the small camera and Enesh used his left hand to guide it alongside his right index finger until the cervix was visible on the monitor that sat beside the table. He could then guide it externally into the uterus.

There were two openings ahead of them and Enesh recognized the tubes that led to what they hoped were ovaries. He chose the opening on the left and guided he camera through it. Besta placed a plastic sheet with gridlines onto the female's abdomen and a small area began to glow, telling them externally just where the camera was.

The ovary came into view on the monitor just as Besta turned on the full-size projection of the magnetic image. He slowly scrolled through the images so that it appeared they were looking deeper into her body. "There!" Enesh called. The light glowed now right beside the projected image of her right ovary. "Perfect."

"We'll need to determine the right hormone levels to increase the maturation of ova," Besta said. "I would imagine we'll have a number of failures before we succeed."

Enesh backed the camera into the uterus and then pressed the button to release it. He tested its wireless connection with the controller, turning it and driving it forward, backward, up, and down. "Brilliant," he breathed, marveling at the technology. More loudly, he said, "You do realize she'll likely shed it at the start of her next cycle."

"We might be able to keep it in one of the tubes," Besta said. He plunged a syringe into her uterus and extracted a sample of fluid. "However, even if she does shed it, we should be able to retrieve it from her rags. If not, well, a small sacrifice to pay for so great an advance in scientific knowledge."