Hoshi tried to keep from crying. The overseers wouldn't know what to do with that, and the other females, well, she didn't know what they would do. At first, she'd tried having Malcolm talk to her, but he just couldn't. It was all he could do to not scream in her mind. He'd turned the dial on his mental console. One-way communication. From her to him.

So she talked, hoping he could still listen, hoping her voice was something of a comfort for him. She told him happy stories, of gathering around the tables at family reunions with everyone laughing and talking all at once about what had gone on in the last year. She told him the best, funniest stories from various years. Like the time her sister and brother-in-law traveled to Prague in the spring only to find five inches of snow on the ground with more in the forecast, and they had to buy gloves and scarves at a second-hand shop and try not to fall on the slick cobblestone streets in their athletic shoes. She told him about her own trip there, when she saw Don Giovanni in the same theater Mozart had premiered it in 1787, how the music had just filled her until her eyes teared up even in the funny parts.

But it was one thing to try and distract him from chemical tests or heat or cold. This was surgery. And she'd been there. She knew the pain of the scalpel, the horror of the probing hands, the seemingly never-ending agony searing everything else from her awareness. And she hurt for him. She missed him. But she never stopped talking.

Malcolm Reed reached for her voice like a lifeline just beyond his grasp. He tried to focus on her words, her stories, but the pain burned white-hot inside him, ripping into every corner of his mind, his body. The other surgeries paled in comparison to this one as a thousand nerve endings shot liquid fire through his nervous system. And he thanked a god he wasn't sure he believed in that they weren't doing this to Hoshi anymore.

By the time they were done, he couldn't hear her over his own mental screams. Every prick of the needles closing him up sent new shocks through his groin. He begged for the blackness to envelop him. When it didn't, he didn't even have the strength to imagine the console, to tell her goodbye.

Pipa had to tell her it was time to go in. Hoshi had been lost in thought, babbling stories to Malcolm for hours. Realizing now that it was late in the night in Zheiren, she knew it had to be over. He wasn't listening anymore and wouldn't be for days. She was alone again. She let the tears come as she went under the cold shower to wash away the day's grime and dirt. Tears for him. And for her. She didn't want to be alone.

Baezhu hid his discomfort throughout the workday. It was hard. He thought of his own genitals being picked apart and studied so intrusively. Even if the alien was anesthetized, it just seemed such a violation, especially in light of his reaction to the semen collection months before. Reproductive organs represented the most private, most personal part of a person. And he realized then that he hadn't thought that way about the female and the attempts to impregnate her with a clone of the male. Were the females of their species as sentient, as intelligent, as cognizant, as the males? Did she consider such things a violation?

He hurried home after his shift and skipped dinner as his stomach just wasn't settled. He turned on the monitor and found a comedy show. He wanted to laugh, to forget, lest someone suspect his feelings the next day at work. It worked for a few hours, but once he switched the monitor off, the sadness, the revulsion returned. He went to bed and dreamed of small primate scientists cutting him up.

When Malcolm didn't speak for a week, Hoshi realized it was one of two things. Either he had died--in which case she needed to decide how she could accomplish her own demise--or he was unconscious after the surgery. There had seemed to be a time of actual unconsciousness after the torturous operations. She'd only had one and the pain and helplessness still haunted her. But even then, she hadn't awoken from pain but from a great, sleepy blackness. She had faith that, if he knew he was going to die, he'd say goodbye. So she tried to believe he wasn't dead. He was just sleeping a deep, dreamless, merciful sleep after an unspeakable horror.

One thing his silence determined for her was that she was not insane or imagining his voice. If she had been, she wouldn't have wanted this silence. She would have kept his voice coming to keep her company. As it was, she turned to Pipa, who was her only other friend.

They only spoke in the quietest whispers and at times when no one else could hear. Hoshi had given up testing her, seeing as she was no expert in such things. So she tried instead asking about the way things were in her life. Who were the overseers? What were the different kinds of people?

Pipa's responses were the answers of a child, an innocent that found no fault in the way things were. The overseers were bosses. There were teethy ones and beaked ones and long ones. Hoshi had seen representatives of the first two. The third was news to her. She hadn't seen any long ones. What were they like? Pipa's answer was that they were long.

On the eighth day, Malcolm's voice returned, "Frodo?" He'd used her codename. He sounded groggy and she realized he might be afraid he'd speak out loud.

I'm here, Sam, she replied. It's over. They'll have to give you time to heal at least. Are you in pain?

"Yes," he answered. "No. And yes. Every time I move. Or remember."

Where was it?

"Don't ask," he pleaded. "Please don't ask."

That gave her a good suspicion. They had explored his reproductive system, just as they were manipulating hers. No, she didn't want to think that! She pushed the thought deep down into a blank hole somewhere inside her mind and hoped it never crawled back out. I won't, she promised him. I won't ask. It's okay. I've missed you.

He was silent awhile and she remembered how tired she was after the procedure they'd both endured in Zheiren. "I'm tired," he finally said.

Go to sleep. I'll be here when you wake up. I love you, Malcolm.

"Love. . . ." and then he was gone again into that welcome blackness where the pain and memories couldn't reach him. She missed that, too, and was glad he was getting to experience at least a few days of that in the hell they'd crashed into and been left to die in.

They were too close together. It was apparent. The two embryos, as tiny as they were, were growing and the distance between them was shrinking because of it. It was also apparent that they'd have to grow quite a bit more before she could give birth. The embryos were nowhere near viable.

"They could still survive," Besta agreed. "They might not conjoin."

Enesh waved a hand. "No, one might just absorb the other. Then what would we have?"

"A non-sentient specimen to dissect once the unfinished twin was removed."

Besta had a point there. It sometimes happened in primate births that one twin absorbed the other, but the lesser twin was always malformed and missing a brain. Such a specimen of the alien could be studied in depth with no ethical qualms. With no brain, it would feel nothing, think nothing.

"Well, it's still too early to know," Enesh concluded. He stepped away from the monitor showing the image from the camera in the female's uterus. "The inauguration is this week, am I right?"

Besta groaned. "Such as it is. Four years of conservative leadership. We'll be lucky if we're not at war by then with half the planet!"

Enesh didn't understand. "It can't be that bad. There are checks on his power, right? The liberals control one half of the legislature."

"True, but the President is arguably the most powerful man in the country. And he controls the armed forces."

"We are going to watch though, aren't we?" Enesh would anyway, but he enjoyed Besta's company.

"Of course!" Besta clapped him on the shoulder. "It's still something to see when the government changes hands so peacefully after such a hard-fought election."

Major Zhenah was not comfortable with the addition to his little project with Dr. Kaife: Kenu, the linguist. But as he was the only language expert with clearance and experience with the aliens, the Council had decided he and Kaife should work together where the repeated signal was concerned.

"I would think they represent letters," Kenu concluded. "The pulses are too simple to convey words I think, especially seeing as the first--three long pulses--is repeated at the end. "The question, however, is which letters?"

"And what does the whole message mean?" Kaife agreed.

Zhenah suppressed a sigh. So they were letters. They were no closer to finding a meaning. "What do we know of their letters?"

"Nothing that corresponds to three pulses, long or short." Kenu pulled out a file and spread a few pictures on the table. "These are the parts of their clothing that contained letters. And this," he held up another, "is from food wrappers they discarded and buried along their path. I can count less than twenty separate letters though we have no basis for determining if these samples encompass their entire alphabet."

He pulled out a paper with a few of the words on it. "The female has not spoken and may not be capable of speech. The male has said only two words: one identified the female as 'Frodoh' and 'water' which he pronounced as 'wawta'. Unfortunately, their water container was not labelled with anything that wasn't on their clothing."

Kaife interrupted, "And we can assume they didn't need the word 'water' on their clothing."

"Exactly," Kenu replied. "So we don't know how they spell 'wawta.' We do know, however that this"--He pointed to the 'SATO' word--"is an identifier for the female. It is on the only patch that varies on their clothing. Since the male called her 'Frodoh', we can theorize the first letter is 'Fr,' the second and fourth are 'oh,' and the third is 'd.'

Four letters and no way to connect them with the two letters in the pulse. Zhenah couldn't suppress the sigh this time. "So we have no way to even guess what the pulses mean?"

Kaife nodded. "We can guess all we want. We have no objective way to determine how this code was put together."

Kenu cleared his throat. "I think we can determine some clues."

"Go on," Zhenah encouraged. He needed something, anything that could get them closer.

"The clothing," Kenu said. "Except for size and gender differences, they are identical. The patches would seem to indicate a kind of uniform. It's not civilian wear."

"Military then?" Zhenah decided Kenu was maybe a decent decision after all.

"Possible, though other groups have uniforms--such as prisoners, emergency workers, even some civilian jobs. I should have said it's not casual wear."

Kaife spoke up again. "Though not all people who wear uniforms would conceivably be in a small space ship with the opportunity to crash here. I'd opt for either military or prisoners."

Zhenah had already mulled over those two scenarios. "Maybe we need to make the alien talk. Get him to say those words." He pointed to the photos on the table. "That would help you with deciphering their letters."

"But not the meanings," Kaife pointed out.

"Still," Kenu said, "the more he says, the more I have to work with. Though it might have to wait until next month. He's just been out of surgery for a week and a half. I can suggest to Dr. Bishtae that we try different narcotics on him next to see his reaction--and maybe get him to talk."

Zhenah would rather they try it now, but he knew he couldn't push the scientists too far. But soon he could. As Turn approached, so did the change in the Council leadership. With Ussa as Head Councilman, Colonel Gaezhur would win more of the arguments over the alien's treatment.

The alien was openly upset now. Baezhu could read it in his face. His expression, the look in his eyes, was dangerous. It was the same as it was after they had collected semen. Violated. That's what the alien felt.

Baezhu didn't worry so much anymore about whether or not he had any basis for interpreting such expressions. He knew because he knew the alien was sentient. And he could empathize with someone sentient. The alien would feel violated because Baezhu would feel violated in his place. The alien's expressions confirmed it. He glared at the doctors when they entered his room. He did the same with Baezhu and Hinath. Baezhu at least tried to be gentle when he changed the bandages, and he also tried to show a sympathetic expression to the alien without being too demonstrative about it to the doctors. There was really nothing more he could do with that camera watching all the time.

Baezhu wondered if anyone else felt the way he did about the alien. If they did, they didn't show it. Bishtae might have been the likeliest, but he'd already stated that sentiment couldn't get in the way of science. Kenu maybe, but he was usually just bored. He'd had very little to work with for his months here. Burha and Geeben seemed eager to learn more and more regardless of the alien's feelings. Hinath wasn't even worth considering. Sympathy wasn't one of his strong suits.

He was alone, just like the alien was alone. And it looked like they'd be that way for the rest of their lives.

Malcolm was angry. Frustrated and furious. He was mad at what the scientists had done--even more so than in the past. But he was also angry at himself for the false hope he'd had that the scientists were done cutting him open. The last few months had been unpleasant but not nearly so agonizing and traumatic.

And the fact that he could do nothing with or for his anger made him mad at the fickleness of the universe. And Enterprise. How could he even begin to hope that the captain or Trip would come rescue them after all this time?

The only thing that made life bearable was Hoshi. She was the light shining in his darkness. Her voice in his mind comforted him. He listened to her and through her and was transported to a different place. Not an easy place but at least a place with trees and grass and breezes and not just the same four walls day in and day out.

He'd been awake for four days now. It still hurt to turn over or to relieve himself. The orcs came in to change his dressings, to check his vitals, to feed and water him as if nothing at all was amiss. Sméagol, though, was the only one to really look him in the eyes. Sméagol's eyes were about the only part of him that Malcolm could even think of as expressionable. Sméagol's rigid beak didn't smile or frown. Malcolm still thought he could read something in Sméagol's eyes, but he was too angry to bother.

Hoshi showed him a bud on one of the plants she was tending. It was a small narrow image, and a bit fuzzy. Malcolm closed his eyes and adjusted the focus on the panel labeled Video on his mental console. The image became clearer but stayed small.

"See the fluff coming out?" she asked.

Malcolm concentrated. The image was somewhat translucent, superimposed onto the swirling colors on the back of his eyelids. It winked in and out like a thought on the verge of being forgotten. It was really hard to make out details but he did think he could see a bit of white in the middle of the green bud. I think so, he told her. It is white?

"Yes," she replied. "I think it's a fiber, like cotton. Now show me something."

Like what, he wondered to himself. His cell was rather bare and almost identical to the first one he was brought to. She could imagine it. It wouldn't be a good test. He needed to show her something distinct.

"So you can tell how they'd mate?" Kahrae asked.

Baezhu thought his friend sounded a bit too interested. "No, not without watching and that can't happen. But we can infer that it's much like our primates, and I'm not going to discuss the details over breakfast. Go home and read a biology book."

Kahrae grunted. "You're no fun."

Baezhu sighed. "There's not a lot of reason for fun these days. With Buftanis's new war-monger president and the uprisings in Shirkatisa, the future looks rather dim."

"There's still Turn!" Kahrae reached into a pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "The quotas were posted! I've got my slot!"

Baezhu took the paper to look at it more closely. "You got two slots! I knew they'd take you."

Kahrae smiled. "I'm sure you'll get some, too. You're the best Lesser Winged they've got there and Dr. Burha knows it."

"Yes but one of us will have to watch the alien for the two weeks everyone else is out creating the next generation."

Kahrae gave him a pointed look. They both said it at the same time, "Hinath!" Baezhu laughed and it felt good to laugh again.

Two weeks after the inauguration, Enesh and Besta's workload had tripled. It had doubled when they started receiving more data from Zheiren, not quite the raw data President Gudai wanted but not just the conclusions Dr. Bishtae and the others had come to. They now had the evidence supporting the conclusions. The tripling came when the new president ordered daily reports on their progress with the female and their own conclusions about the male.

"It's going to be a long four years," Besta griped.

Enesh nodded. He was writing a report on the latest exploring done by the Zheiren scientists. "It's really fascinating," he said, "the number of nerve endings. They could really only estimate and it's still double that of our primates."

"So intercourse is either very painful or very enjoyable for him," Besta concluded. "It would be interesting to see if there's a correlation in the female's genitalia."

Enesh thought about that and dropped the report on his desk. He moved to another computer and brought up the magnetic resonance scan they had taken when the female arrived. He input a command to have the computer highlight the nervous system and then zoomed in on her genitalia. "Besta look!" Besta came over to join him. There was a structure in the female that he'd never seen in their own primates. And it was loaded with nerve endings, thousands upon thousands of them.

"Makes one think it's not simply to satisfy a biological imperative toward procreation," Besta said. "They might have intercourse just for purely recreational reasons."

Enesh tended to agree but one observation didn't fit. "They were together for a month and didn't mate even once. And they had nothing better to do."

"They were also recuperating from the first invasive exploratory surgery. They might not have been in the mood."

Enesh nodded again, conceding the point. "No, they weren't."

Malcolm Reed stared at his food. Hard. But while his eyes focused on his dinner, his mind concentrated on amplifying the outgoing video signal.

Is it fish? Hoshi asked excitedly.

Malcolm nearly smiled. He shifted his gaze to the vegetable beside it.

She could see it. It was red and ovular. She was about to tell him that when a painful cramp seized her abdomen, doubling her over and stealing her breath.

Pipa was near and noticed. She dropped her bag and ran to Hoshi. "Hurt?"

Hoshi couldn't even take a breath to answer. She grimaced in pain.

"Red," Pipa said.

Hoshi looked down and realized she was bleeding.

Pipa ran away. None of the other females even stopped working. Finally, the cramp released her and she blew out a breath she hadn't realized she'd held.

"What's wrong?" Malcolm asked.

Cramp, she told him. I'm bleeding. I think I'll be going back to the lab now. She tried to stand but doubled over again.

"That might not be a bad thing this time around."

She vaguely heard the sound of running feet. Then two strong arms lifted her still bent body up and then she was whirring past row after row of fibrous plants the females were picking.

He was right. Maybe it was a good thing, even if it hurt like hell. Whatever they had put in her was coming out.