Lasaya Katon was one of the last century's biggest actors. Though a Burftanisian, his films were popular even in the Zheiren capital--on the black market. Given, the last century ended twenty years ago, but it was recent enough that everybody--whether or not they liked the actor--knew exactly who he was.

Lasaya had conveniently become a bit of recluse. He hadn't made a film in more than five Turns. He was not a present star as actors went, but a waning superstar which made him perfect for Zhenah's plan.

"Are you certain about this, Major?" Kaife asked.

Zhenah was confident. "Doctor, what are our possible outcomes?"

Kaife sighed, "No one hears it."

"In which case there are no consequences."

Kaife sighed again. "Or someone does hear and we start a global frenzy."

Zhenah laughed. "Worst case? His spokesman informs the media of the truth."

"And someone mounts an investigation as to who began the lie."

Zhenah clapped him on the shoulder. "And what will they find? It will be over before they have a chance to even decide to trace it or record it."

"And if they managed anyway?" Kaife pushed.

Zhenah turned serious. "Then I will take responsibility. You are simply following my orders. Proceed with the transmission."

Kaife took the paper with the fake announcement and lifted the device. "An informant with the Setera District security forces has confirmed the death of renowned actor Lasaya Katon in his home in Petor Valley, Setera District, Buftanis. Homicide has not been ruled out." He snapped the device closed.

Zhenah clapped him on the shoulders again. "Now we wait."

Something was different. Hoshi followed Pipa and the rest of her barracks outside. It was now stifling hot with a deep blue sky clear of any clouds. The plants were getting big now. Weeds were still a threat, but watering and fertilizing were also part of the daily routine.

It wasn't that the work was different. It was, in a sense, but Hoshi wasn't concerned with the work. She didn't care really what they had planted and were now tending. She was slightly interested in the final produce as a clue to the society of the world she and Malcolm were stuck in. She was most concerned with what Radagast and the other Wizard were doing to her body, but since she had no control over that, she concerned herself with her mind. To keep sharp, she studied the culture, the interactions, the language, the politics she could witness from her position as slave and laboratory subject.

So what was different was the way the females were acting. Not Pipa. She was again curious about where Hoshi had gone. The other juveniles were likewise unaffected. The mature ones, though, they sniffed her and then walked away shaking their heads as if they had smelled something they didn't like. They kept it up, too. Anytime one of them would pass her in their work or at lunch time, she was sniffed and found, apparently, off-putting.

And that made her wonder all the more what the scientists had done.

When the bandages had come off, Malcolm was glad he had no mirror, and he pointedly avoided shiny surfaces that might inadvertently show him what he looked like. He could feel the stitches though: an odd ring around his head, always at least a centimeter or two into his hair line. The scientists, it would appear, cared enough not to permanently mar his appearance, and he had to admit they were pretty good at plastic surgery. One would have to know where to look to find nearly invisible scars all over his body. The problem was that he did know where to look.

They never removed the stitches. Eventually, a stubbly fuzz of hair grew back on his head until he could no longer feel the difference. He hoped that meant they were absorbable.

Hoshi was back at work again. She'd tell him about what she saw and what she was doing when she wasn't too worn out to think. Of course, there was a time difference between them. It was early afternoon by the time she joined him in their minds. She had to spend her nights alone. He had to be alone in the mornings.

It was morning now, and he missed her. There wasn't much to wake up to without her. But it was, in a small way, a relief as well. He had told her so many stories in the last couple of weeks that he worried he'd run out of good ones. He didn't want to burden her with the less happy memories of growing up. Mornings gave him time to find the good memories that he might share with her later in the day.

Fortunately, as her days became more routine, there was more conversation than storytelling. Malcolm enjoyed that in a way he never thought he would. He'd never just sat and talked for hours with a woman. Hell, he hadn't much with anyone since he was a child. Except Trip. Even then, Trip did more of the talking. Malcolm had learned early on to keep to himself. It kept him safe. But it also kept him distant. Now, he was talking with a woman half a world away about nearly every detail of his daily existence and listening as she shared about plants and people, the weather, and such. All of it was fascinating.

Baezhu returned a couple hours after breakfast. He had his hands full with a box and a long clear tube. Malcolm switched his thoughts to calling him Sméagol. Instruments could not mean anything pleasant. Another orc and a couple of the Wizards came in after that and Malcolm knew he was in trouble. And it was too early for Hoshi.

When they approached his bed, he had to quickly decide whether or not to fight them. The odds were, as always, astronomically stacked against him. There were four of them and he had only himself. They were in a closed room. He had no weapons and was in no shape for hand-to-hand combat.

So he stayed still when they grabbed his ankles and arms. He didn't resist as they strapped his arms and chest. But he did close his eyes. He didn't want to know what they were going to do.

Oddly, they only strapped down one leg. Only hands held his right ankle. Another hand rubbed some sort of cream onto his calf. It was cold but not in the least painful. Malcolm became curious then when he felt the razor. It scraped over his skin but did not cut or bite at all.

He raised his head and watched as best he could as they shaved his leg from knee to ankle. He was even more curious when they opened the tube along its length and snapped it around the shaved area. He felt two bands tighten snuggly around his ankle and just below his knee. Even with all they'd done to him up to this point, he couldn't imagine what they planned to do with his now encased leg.

Hoshi felt trapped. Her arms and chest were tied down. And one leg. Something cold and smooth was clamped around the other. She expected to see Radagast when she opened her eyes, but it was Saruman bending over her leg. Only it wasn't her leg. It was a man's leg. It was Malcolm's.

Hoshi jerked awake. The heat lamps were still on and Pipa was still sleeping beside her. Her hands were beside her head as she lay on her side. It was a dream. She closed her eyes and told herself to get back to sleep. She worked too hard not to rest when she had the chance.

Thankfully, Hoshi fell into dreamless sleep until she was awakened by the guards. As she stretched, she remembered the dream--odd in itself. She was seeing Malcolm's leg and Saruman was doing something. Malcolm! she thought as loud as she could. He, it seemed, was the telepathic one, so it was easier for him to initiate.

"Your turn," she heard back. Malcolm's voice was pinched and strained.

For what? she asked. Malcolm, are they doing something to you? What?

"My leg," he replied. "Burns. A story."

His leg. That had to be something important in this whole telepathic thing they had going on. But now wasn't the time. Malcolm had told her stories during her 'procedures' and it was her turn. Well, she decided, I think my earliest memory was sitting on my bed listening to the maid talk to herself. She was Samoan, though I didn't understand that at the time. I was three and it was raining outside.

She stepped into the bright sunshine and wished for a little of that rain. She hadn't seen or heard rain for weeks--at least not when she was working. She wasn't sure when she was with the scientists. Her room didn't have a window.

Well, Mom came home and I told her some of the things I had heard. She didn't believe me. I'd tell her in Japanese, of course. Every week, the maid would come and clean. She'd talk the whole time, in something other than my language. I think I used to think she was talking to me, telling me what she was doing or about her day. But that wasn't what I told my mother. The maid's brother was a drunkard and her husband only encouraged him, smoking and drinking and such. If her man would get serious about life, maybe she could have an apartment like ours and her sister-in-law could do the cleaning.

My mother asked my sisters where I'd heard such a thing. They both swore they'd never heard the word 'drunkard' before and that the maid did talk all day but they didn't know what she said.

When the maid came in the next week, I started talking to her. I asked her what a drunkard was. She was surprised but I guess she figured I had learned in school or something. She said not to worry about that and asked how school was instead. Mom came home right then, and I told the maid I don't go to school. Mom dropped her keys right on the floor. The maid just laughed and went back to work. After that, Mom dragged me to a school to be tested. Mom told Daddy how my hearing was off the charts and the language center of my brain was abnormally active for my age.

I started hearing languages all around me. Mom put some on the computer and Dad had always liked Italian so he taught me some. It was like music, all of it. Different music, but music. It started as noise until I could feel the notes, the syllables fall into place, until the melody, the grammar, formed. Then they were laid out before me like a director with a score. I could see all the parts, pick out the harmonies. I could hear the words as if I had always known them. I would speak them, read them, write them. After that, it was private tutors. Lots of them, all for different languages.

"Were your sisters jealous?" Malcolm asked finally. Not as pinched, but still tense.

Not really, Hoshi admitted. They teased me. But eventually they found their own gifts. One is a musician, the other a mathematician. Are they done?

"For now," he replied. "On the bright side, it's better than being cut open."

And on the not-so-bright-side?

"I think they tested things on my leg. One felt like acid, another itched. Some were just cold and sticky."

Hoshi wiped the sweat from her eyes and stretched her back while the adult females drank the water from the pail she carried over. I think I dreamed it, Malcolm. I think I dreamt what you saw.

He was silent for a few minutes. Hoshi took the empty pail and started back for the spicket. Her arms were aching already. "Intriguing. Can you see what I'm looking at now?"

Hoshi closed her eyes as the water filled the pail. She concentrated on his voice and tried to imagine what he could see. No, she replied and turned off the water.

"We'll have to work on that."

"He's physiologically much like our primates," Dr. Geeben stated after the first substance tests. "So far anyway. He's perhaps more fragile in this regard as he's not covered in dense fur."

"The acid was probably a given," Bishtae said. "Alien or not, it had to burn such soft skin. It burns ours. He nearly choked on the pain. We needn't be so careless in the future. A local anesthetic could keep pain out of the equation."

"He was remarkably calm under the circumstances," Burha agreed.

But Baezhu didn't. He kept that to himself. Dr. Burha had neutralized the acid so that the alien would not likely have permanent damage. And the alien had not cried out. He had, though, tensed against the restraints. He was still stiff when they released him and left the room. The acid was stopped from damaging him further, but the damage that was done was still burning him.

There were over forty more substances planned: oils, bacteria and plant enzymes. This experiment was assigned by the Council. They would gain not only scientifically by observation, but militarily. By finding what on Sharu was damaging to the alien, it was hoped biological or chemical warfare could be designed against a potential invasion only Raptors now believed even remotely possible.

Not Kahrae though. He figured the aliens were gentle since Baezhu often told him about what they had learned. Besides, he was more concerned with Shirkatisa and the upcoming Turn. For months now, their breakfast conservations had been all about the aliens. Now, as no invasion had come, life had returned to some semblance of normal and the conversation diversified. Kahrae was more serious now, and Baezhu realized he was, too.

For Kahrae, it was Obek and the Council and rising tensions between Zheiren and Shirkatisa. For Baezhu, it is what he was seeing in the alien's face. In his eyes. Of course, he did not have any reference for interpreting the alien's expressions except for non-sentient primates who couldn't tell him if they were sad or hurting either. Still, when he saw the alien, he couldn't help it anymore. He felt the alien was suffering, unhappy, bored at times; fearful and distrusting most of the time. If only he would talk so they could know and maybe ask questions to get answered instead of vivisecting him.

It had only been a month since the election. Enesh was so excited to have voted that he almost forgot to be disappointed his chosen candidate had not won. Besta had kept himself busy with work, though he complained in the evenings over dinner. Enesh wasn't too worried though. It was a free country and all its citizens valued that freedom. No candidate could be so bad that Enesh would wish he hadn't come to Buftanis.

Still, he was quite surprised when the director announced the President-Elect would be coming by for a visit. The sitting President hadn't, though, of course, he had been briefed. Farest Gudai arrived with a large security contingent, though only four came with him from the airship. The rest fanned out over the grounds.

Enesh stood with Besta and the other scientists and looked hard at the Lesser Raptor who would soon be the leader of the country. Incredible! A Lesser could never hope to lead anything in Zheiren. Gudai was stiff and formal as he greeted the director. Then the director brought him over to stand directly in front of Besta.

"Doctor Besta defected decades ago, sir. He's likely the most brilliant geneticist in Buftanis."

Besta inclined his head. "Thank you, sir," he said. "I'm happy to be of service. And may I introduce our newest citizen here? Dr. Enesh."

Gudai moved to stand in front of Enesh. Enesh felt flustered. He'd never even been in the Council Chambers before. He took his clue from Besta, though, and inclined his head. "I'm very glad to meet you, President, sir." Oh, he hoped he said it right! Then he realized his mistake! Gudai wasn't President yet! But do they call him President-Elect to his face? He was mortified.

But Gudai just chuckled. "Not bad for five months. You speak our language well. So you are the one who brought our 'guest.'"

"Yes, sir. It is only a female but we hope to produce a male of our own soon."

"So I hear. And it's a primate? Incredible. I must see this creature."

"It is waiting for you in the genetics lab as we speak, sir," the director broke in. "Dr. Besta will lead the way."

Hoshi didn't know why she was taken from the field. It was too early for her period, though she did have cramps. For that, she was glad she wasn't working. Still, going to the lab before her period was not routine and that did not bode well.

And it was the lab she was taken to, not her little room where she spent her period. They shocked her as soon as they entered the corridor, and she went limp in the arms of her minders. They dragged her into the lab and laid her torso onto a table. They lifted her again and her shift was pulled up over her head. That couldn't be good. Malcolm! she called out, hoping he was listening for her, that he was awake.

The orcs dropped her back onto the table then flipped her over onto her back so that she was facing the ceiling. She didn't understand it. Radagast and his buddy weren't even in the lab. She heard the door open and close and realized she was alone. Why? Why had they brought her there only to leave her lying naked on a lab table with no one else in the room?

Malcolm! she called again. It was afternoon here so it had to be evening there, late evening. He was probably asleep.

"Hoshi?" she heard back. "What's wrong?"

She let out a sigh. She was not alone after all. They brought me to the lab again. They took my clothes and left me here. I don't know why.

"Try not to think about it. You can't change it. You can only get through it."

The door opened and Hoshi heard voices. "Right this way, Keta Kofedash." Hoshi didn't understand those last words. She felt the cold of the table beneath her though and tried to move her arms. They wouldn't move. She tried her legs. They were tied at the ankles.

She felt the shock again and went limp. "Here it is, sir." It was Grima again, not Radagast. "Don't worry, it's restrained and immobilized."

A new face appeared over hers. It was fierce-looking and full of long, sharp teeth.

They're showing me off to someone.

"Do you want to find out who," Malcolm asked, "or do you want to be distracted?"

He had a point. She was curious. And so far, he was doing nothing other than looking. She'd had that and more in her first month in Zheiren. Keta Kofedash were the words she didn't understand yet, but he was obviously important. Okay, just be ready. For now, he's just looking me over. Not fun but I've had worse. As long as it stays like this, I want to learn what I can.

"Just never let them know you're learning."

Of course. She turned her attention, not to the faces, but only to the voices around her.

"As you can see, it is female. It is also bipedal and has five digits on each limb. She's bigger than our primates--"

"And has less hair," the newcomer interrupted, "in most places."

"Yes, her head, of course, has quite long hair. Her genital area and underarms have shorter, courser hair more consistent with our primates," Grima said. Hoshi noticed he was doing all the talking. Radagast still had occasional flaws in his grammar. The new one was important enough to not let Radagast have the chance to mess up.

"However," Grima went on, "she does have hair on most of her body. It is just shorter and finer. See here on her forelimbs." Hoshi felt hot breath on her skin. The shock was wearing off. She kept her eyes on the ceiling.

He's important, she thought to Malcolm. He's not dressed like them. Not a scientist. He's the same species as one of my guards.

"Does it speak?" the new one asked.

"If it can, it has not," Grima replied. "It has the physical capacity for vocal sounds, but has rarely made only monosyllabic sounds, and usually only while it sleeps."

Grima had switched to a feminine pronoun for a bit, but now he had reverted back to the neutral "it" as the newcomer had.

"And Zheiren has a male." The new guy did not sound pleased.

"They do," Grima confirmed, "but we are working on that."

Hoshi's neck arched as the shock hit her again. That wasn't a good sign. She was strapped to the table after all. She didn't need to be zapped unless they were going to do more than look. School is over, Malcolm. Distract me. Tell me a story.

Enesh removed the straps on the female's ankles as Besta explained their plan to clone the male. Not only then would they have a male, but they would also have an infant. They would be able to chart its growth from fetus to adult. But first, they needed a fetus. Today, they would, as the President-Elect looked on, check the status of the blastocyst they had implanted earlier. The camera had malfunctioned and had to be removed as well. They had not seen inside the female for a week.

Enesh positioned her knees and inserted the scope into her vagina. The image from the camera on the end of it flashed onto a display on the monitor beside the table. What it showed, however, was not the embryo they had hoped for. The view in the uterus was little different than before the female's menses. He could find no embryo, no blastocyst. There was blood on the lens. She was miscarrying.

"We have five more viable eggs, sir. Cloning is not an exact science. It took sixteen tries before the first successful cloned mammal. Each case now seems to take less unsuccessful tries. And this female is fertile every twenty-eight days. We could hit sixteen tries in a little over a year. We should certainly succeed by then."

"And why not simply fertilize her and create a natural infant?" President-Elect Gudai asked.

"The male's sperm determines the gender," Besta replied as he helped return the female to her prone position. "The female's eggs have only X chromosomes. The male's sperm may carry either X or Y. There is no guarantee of a male offspring."

Gudai looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned away. "What else do we know about them?"

"Biologically, quite a lot, even genetically. But sociologically, politically, and culturally, we know nearly nothing."

Enesh nearly gasped when Gudai turned to him. "You've been with them longest. What do you know or even guess about them? Are they hostile?"

"Hostile?" Enesh responded, praying inwardly that he wouldn't mess up the grammar, "no, I don't think so. Rarely even aggressive. The male only fought when he felt threatened--or when the situation wanted to make him feel so. The female has proven quietly docile. She knows her place, it would seem, and does what she's told."

"And what does the male do, day in and day out?" He seemed to ignore the errors Enesh knew he made in his grammar.

Enesh thought more carefully about his words and word order. He tried to keep it simple. "He is bored. He seems bored and yet he willfully refuses engaging. He does not speak; he does not do anything."

"And what is Zheiren doing with him now?"

Besta fielded that one, and Enesh was glad. He did not like espousing guesswork in a language he was not fluent in. "They are testing his reaction to various chemicals applied to the skin. Before that, they did an in depth analysis of his brain."

"And they send you everything?"

Besta inclined his head. "They send their findings. We do likewise."

The President-Elect paced away a few steps. "See if you can get the data, not just the findings. You might see something they miss."

One of the attendants stepped into the door. "Sir, we need to be going if you're to make your next appointment."

Gudai waved him off then took Besta's hand. "It was good to meet you, Doctor. Keep up the good work and get that male infant. The sooner we have it, the less we are dependent on Zheiren."

Then he was in front of Enesh again. "I hope you're liking our country," he said as he took Enesh's hand.

"I am, sir," Enesh replied. This was not the candidate he had voted for, but he hardly seemed an ogre. He took his leave and was gone.

Besta waited until he was down the stairs. "Damn! I know it was too much to hope we'd get it on the first try, but so soon? And when the next President visits?"