Colonel Gaezhur snarled and didn't care who heard him growl. The airship had gone south before it disappeared. Why then were they going north to the desert to chase after some elusive seismic event? It made little sense. Those Wingeds always thought themselves so smart but sometimes it seemed they had their heads in the clouds.

Well, at least he had gotten his way in one respect. Two of the scientists were with him on this patrol. He made sure to put them in the open truck with as many of his men as he could put into it. Then he just smiled as they complained that they had no room to sit down properly, though his own men managed to find seats. Of course, it was a military truck, not designed for the winged ones. He had walked away chuckling quietly to himself.

What was worse than Wingeds and their arrogance was finding out that they were right. It was the taller of the two (which was still shorter than any of the colonel's men) who had called the patrol convoy to stop, only to tell them to carry on, but slower. The three vehicles had then come to a stop near a blackened crater in the sand. It was large, he supposed, slightly larger than the Sky Force Air Control engineers (as scientific as one could get without having wings) had estimated the airship had been.

On closer inspection—in spite of the scientists' wishes to investigate alone—the crater was lined with ash and small bits of charred metal. Some of it was still smoking.

More intriguing still was the bit of bone one of his own men found more than twenty feet from the southern-most edge of the crater where they were standing guard. When the colonel took it and held it up, he found it was no bigger than the shortest bone of his shortest finger, yet it was nearly flat. But what part of what kind of being was it?

Shehra roamed this desert but they were not sentient hunters. They had no fire, especially none that could burn so hot as this one must have. So this was not likely the bone of shehra prey. Lightning was rare in the desert, though it could set fires. But that could not explain the metal among the ash. No, this was some sort of technology destroyed. And the bone could be a piece of the one who made it.

Gaezhur thought to crush it. It was probably part of a Buftanisian spy, crashed and killed here. The Wingeds had confirmed that this was the exact location of the seismic event two nights past. The airship seen yesterday may have been sent to look for him. This was just another provocation by those Buftanisians. War would come soon. Gaezhur was sure of it.

"Colonel!"

That was Major Zhenah, and if he cried out with such intensity, it was for a reason. Gaezhur handed the bone fragment back to the soldier. "Make sure they get it," he ordered, pointing to the scientists still pecking and clucking over the ash in the crater. "Tell them to identify it."

Then he left them to join the sizable group that was gathering around the major. They stepped back in respect of the colonel's rank, and Gaezhur now understood why the normally outstanding major risked insubordination by not rising.

"There are four," Zhenah said, pointing. "Two smaller even than these."

They were like nothing Colonel Gaezhur had ever seen, even in the hunting days of his youth in Rihansu. That these were tracks, he understood, but they were too small. Far too small. Only children and primates had such small feet. But these tracks were too smooth and rounded for a primate's feet, and they walked also with their hands. There were no handprints here.

Gaezhur turned and saw slight traces of the footprints going back toward the crater. The heel though—at least it looked like a heel—showed the steps to be leading away from the crater. Two large prints—relatively speaking—and two smaller ones, side by side. No reptile, no primate, but two of something had survived.

As hopeless as it seemed, and as painful as it was, they were running. The trees were still too far, but they were their only hope. Malcolm's arm throbbed with every jolt his legs caused. And Hoshi.... Hoshi was breathing too hard and clutching her chest. He'd failed her.

He kept going over it in his mind as he ran. How might he have avoided the crash? How might he have better treated her wounds or gotten her to those trees sooner? Maybe they shouldn't have rested at all. No, that would have killed her just as easily. He couldn't find a way around the crash, no way to save Moody, no way to save Hoshi, no way to save himself.

That was an idea. Not save himself. He could stop, divert them from following her. Maybe she could keep going. Maybe she would make it.

Then she tripped.

Malcolm stopped immediately and knelt down beside her, dropping their bundle of meager supplies. He couldn't help her much, with only one arm, but she managed to push up to her hands and knees. She was gasping for breath and when she coughed, Malcolm knew any luck they had had just ran out.

She spat the blood in her mouth onto the ground as she pushed up to her hands and knees. "Go," she sobbed. "You can still make it."

Malcolm just sat down beside her. "It's too far, Hoshi. And I can't leave you, anyway."

"Can we fight?" She looked she was trying not to cry, but the way she was shaking, Malcolm knew that she was in real pain. The ribs had done as he feared. The scanner proved it. They'd pierced her lung.

"Us against an entire world?" he asked in return. "Try and lie still, Hoshi. All we can do now is wait and hope they're friendly and excited to meet a couple of aliens."

Beside him, Hoshi took shallow, quick breaths, coughing now in an effort to clear her lungs of blood. Even shallow, her breaths were shaky, telling him of her pain. He gave her their last dose of morphine and took her hand. She squeezed it hard and then laid down, resting her head on his leg.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

"Not your fault," she told him between breaths. "We crashed."

That she didn't blame him didn't make him feel any better. He was the superior officer, responsible for everyone on this mission. And he had failed. He didn't believe for a minute that the natives would be friendly. Would Earth have been? There were rumors galore of alien autopsies and movies about alien invasions from the twentieth century. While there were series and movies about friendly aliens, it didn't alter the fact that if the Vulcans had shown themselves in 2001, they would likely have been spirited away and studied at some secret government facility, like the infamous Area 51 in America.

Malcolm tried the communicator one last time and when it wouldn't connect, he closed it and buried it in the sand as deep as he could manage with one free hand. He hoped the natives wouldn't have any metal detectors.

Malcolm had nearly died once before to protect a pre-warp culture from further contamination. He'd told the captain as much, before they had been taken away to be hung by the people that had found his lost communicator. He was willing to do the same again. He just wished Hoshi didn't have to die for it as well. He understood now why the captain had sought to bargain Reed's way out of their execution.

He could see more than dust clouds now. Vehicles. Trucks of some sort. Two of them. One was smaller than the other, but they were both quite large. And they got larger as they drew near.

"Stay silent," Reed told Hoshi. "Don't try to understand them or learn their language." He looked down at her, made sure she was looking up at him. "If you understand them, you can answer their questions," he said. "We don't want to answer their questions, Hoshi."

She nodded and took his hand again. And they waited, watching the vehicles come closer and closer.

Colonel Gaezhur had nearly gotten away with it. But Doctor Burha knew him too well. He always got grumpy when he was wrong. And he always wanted to take back the upper hand when he lost it. So when he'd tried to leave the crash site to follow the prints, Burha had made sure to jump on board the second truck, leaving Dr. Bishtae to continue investigating the crash site.

No doubt Gaezhur thought the Buftanisians were behind the crash. The Raptors had one-track minds. But Burha realized this was much bigger than a downed spyship. This was historic! He knew what they'd find at the end of footprints: aliens. He tried to imagine what kind of being possessed such feet as to make those prints. They were small, to be sure. Smaller than the Lesser Wingeds at least. They were also obviously bipedal. Beyond that he could only imagine.

But nothing quite prepared him for what he saw. Mammals! And primates at that. This was going to make Bishtae's day! Maybe even his career. And Burha knew Bishtae would never let him forget it either. Bishtae had been saying there could be life on other worlds for years, and that said life might not be held to the same parameters as this world. He'd been something of a joke to many of his colleagues, Burha included. Sentient mammals! It challenged everything Burha had ever been taught.

But there they were, right on the ground in front of him. True to his military mindset, Gaezhur had them surrounded. Burha ignored them, pushing through the circle of Raptors and pulled Gaezhur's weapon down. "Are you insane?" he asked.

Gaezhur was speechless, not out of fear of Burha, the latter was sure, but by the phenomenon sitting before them. "This is incredible," Burha said, leaving the Raptor to his own thoughts to observe the creatures closer.

They were a pair, bipedal, as he had surmised, and obviously sentient, as they had covered themselves with manufactured fabric. No other creatures outside of reptiles had been known to do that. And these were definitely not reptiles. Burha realized it was possible they were amphibious or even marsupial, but he was willing to stake his career on their being mammals.

They were small, with dark hair on their heads and red skin on their faces. Their eyes were different colors, and Burha wondered if that was a sign of gender or caste. They could even be a mated pair.

Buhra tilted his head and slowly stretched out an arm. He just had to know. He touched the face of the smaller one and the other tensed. Gaezhur pulled him back. "They could be diseased," he snapped. "We don't know anything about them."

Buhra smiled. He couldn't help it. "But we do, colonel," he replied, "and it's just the beginning." He had discovered what he intended in touching them. Their skin was soft and pliant, and he was the first to ever touch an alien from outer space.

Reed sat perfectly still, not wanting to provoke a violent reaction, though he couldn't help feeling protective when the smaller one had reached for Hoshi. He relaxed—barely—when he realized it was only curious. That one was different from the others. They were all reptilian, though nothing like the Xindi reptilians he had fought. They looked less humanoid and more like miniature dinosaurs in armor and labcoats. Still, they towered over him. Even the small one was approximately three meters in height.

The others looked like classic predators: powerful legs, long but disproportionately small arms, and huge heads lined with very sharp teeth. The small one was far more birdlike, with a long, thin beak, thin legs and very long arms. Or, rather, wings. It reminded him of a pteradon, though the wings seemed too narrow to actually allow for flight.

Beyond the fact that they were encircled by carnivorous, armed reptiles, the natives had not acted in a threatening manner. Reed allowed himself a small hope that they might be friendly after all. He just hoped they'd decide to be friendly quick. Hoshi didn't have a lot of time.

The biggest of the predators—soldiers, Reed realized— said something and several of the other soldiers motioned with their weapons that he and Hoshi should stand up. The pteradon apparently didn't like something about those orders as it began speaking again in a much less awestruck tone than before. Still, it was an argument the smaller one didn't seem to be winning.

Reed stood and offered his good arm to Hoshi. It was hard for her. He could tell it hurt her to move. She was biting her lip to keep from crying out. When she suddenly gasped and collapsed again, it became obvious to their hosts as well. The pteradon seemed especially concerned. It barked something at the head soldier while pointing at Hoshi. One of the soldiers then realized Reed's arm was injured and pointed that out as well.

The big soldier bobbed its head in what could have been a nod. It gave an order to the observant soldier who pulled a small device from a pocket on its armor. It tucked its head down and spoke into the device. They seemed content to wait so Malcolm sat back down with Hoshi, wishing over and over again that Enterprise would find a way to transport them up.

With that, they all waited, eyeing the two creatures with curiosity and not a little distrust. "They might still be spies," Gaezhur stated, breaking the uneasy silence. "There are likely more where they come from. They could be forerunners to an invasion."

"I hardly think so," Burha huffed. "They look quite harmless to me. They are smaller and more delicate than we are, hardly a wise move to send such creatures down unarmed and undisguised here if an invasion was in the works. Besides, our satellites might have missed one small ship, but I doubt they would miss an invasion force. Really, Colonel, you should try and temper your suspicious nature with at least a touch of logic now and then."

"And you should temper your science with caution," Gaezhur replied. "We don't know why they are here. We don't know if they are a threat. Weapons or not. Or do you not remember what Rihansu used to be?" He waved one arm around him to punctuate his point.

"Of course, I remember," Burha snapped.

"Then why did you touch the small one?"

Burha didn't have an answer for that. Gaezhur snorted in triumph, counting the point won. Rihansu had been a forest once. Disease had killed the trees. Disease brought by explorers with no intent to harm the environment. Perhaps these alien creatures were unarmed, but it didn't necessarily mean they were harmless.

Gaezhur still wasn't assured that there was no invasion forthcoming. If creatures such as these could exist at all, it meant that all the scientific knowledge of the Wingeds was open to question. They had said that mammals could not be sentient—all except the crackpot Bishtae, who perhaps was not such a crackpot after all—and yet here were two. And just because they would not send unarmed soldiers on a reconnaissance mission, did not mean the aliens would not.

Obviously, there was still a lot to learn. For the Wingeds and their science, but also for Gaezhur and his kind. If these creatures did come from another world, then they had technology more advanced than any on this world. Technology that could ensure that Buftanis was never a threat again. And if an invasion were imminent, the military would need to know how to defend against them.

And then there was the fire that destroyed the airship. It couldn't have been caused by a crash or these two creatures wouldn't have walked away. No, they must have destroyed it themselves to prevent it from being studied and reverse engineered.

These two creatures were indeed valuable, and Gaezhur was determined to make sure the military got what it needed from them. He pulled Major Zhenah aside and told him as much. He would go with the airevac to make sure the Wingeds didn't get the upper hand by having a head start.

Hoshi tried to ignore the pain, the heat, the shortness of her breath. She tried not to think that she was dying. She tried to listen. She could begin to hear patterns, inflections, intonations in the natives' voices. While she could not understand the words, she understood some of the context.

The small one with wings was a scientist. It chided the bigger one in an arrogant manner, and when it looked at Malcolm or her, it was with a sense of wonder, and yet a hint of detachment. They were objects to be observed. Objects of wonder, but objects none the less.

The others were all discipline and suspicion. Military. The biggest of them was the commander. It—he, she felt—rankled at the arrogance of the scientist. They were at odds and it didn't seem the phenomenon of discovering alien life had caused it. No, it sounded familiar, almost habitual. She and Malcolm were just something new to argue about.

A new sound came, growing louder and louder so that it blocked out the voices and their bickering at each other. Hoshi stopped watching them and instead watched the approach of the source of that sound. It vaguely resembled a helicopter, and she realized now it had been called after her attempt to stand. It was a med-evac vessel. She dared to hope for the best, that these people meant to help her and Reed. She didn't want to imagine anything else.

The helicopter landed and three smaller natives came out. These were dressed head to toe in environmental hazard suits, so she couldn't see if they were like the scientist or the soldiers. They carried with them a large enclosure on a stretcher. Just one. She could understand the enclosure without imagining something too fearful. It was a wise precaution to quarantine her and the lieutenant. But there was only one, and she worried that they would be separated.

The scientist gave the newcomers directions and they sat the enclosure in front of her and Malcolm. Now that it was so close, she could see that it was big enough to fit the commanding soldier. One of the three began to lift her by her shoulder while another opened the enclosure. Pain shot through her chest but she didn't resist. She let them put her into the enclosure then she brushed off their hands and laid herself down on her side inside it.

She was relieved then when Reed was guided in next. He didn't resist either and laid on his back beside her. The enclosure was sealed and Hoshi felt it being lifted. She couldn't even hear the sound of the helicopter. But she heard Malcolm's whisper.

"That could have been worse," he said, barely even moving his lips. "How are you holding up?"

"Hurts," she whispered, glad for the quiet in the enclosure. It hurt too much to try to talk louder. "Think they'll help?"

"Possible," Malcolm answered. "The little one certainly seemed concerned."

"Scientist," she told him. She felt a sudden weight and then it was gone. They were in the air.

He nodded, ever so slightly. "The rest were military. They don't seem to be getting along."

"Don't," she confirmed. "Not just about us."

"Were you able to understand anything?"

"Just context," she replied. She tried to take a deeper breath and ended up coughing.

"Take it easy, Frodo."

"Frodo?"

"Codename," he said. "Just in case they catch us talking. The less sense we make, the harder it will be for one of their linguistic geniuses to figure us out."

"If they're friendly—"

"We still don't know that, Ensign," he admonished. "They're a bit awestruck right now. It might wear off."

Hoshi nodded, hoping he was wrong. She knew it was good to be cautious though, just in case. "Yes, sir," she said, and then allowed herself a tiny smile. "Sam."

Hoshi felt a jar from the box they were in and it sent a sharp pain into her chest. Her vision blurred and she couldn't hear Lieutenant Reed—Sam—whispering anymore. Her eyelids, and everything else, felt heavy. She felt Sam squeezing her hand and then she floated off into the darkness.

It was a nightmare. Or he wished it were. Not only were they captured by an alien species, but his last companion—Hoshi—was dying. He'd failed. Not just the mission. There was no hope of completing the mission anymore. But his captain, his team, his duty. Moody had already paid the price and Hoshi might follow.

He felt the enclosure shift again, then it became smooth again. It was moving. He hoped and feared it was heading toward a hospital. Hoshi needed one, but he didn't imagine the native scientists would be satisfied with merely saving her life. If they could even manage that at all since they knew nothing of humans.

The enclosure opened to a bright light and four hooded faces. It was hot. Not quite as hot as the desert air, but definitely warmer than what he would consider room temperature. He started to sit up only to be pushed back down by a three-fingered hand of one of the natives. The sides of the enclosure collapsed and, almost instantly, Hoshi was taken from him and placed on a large gurney and wheeled away by two of the natives in full environmental gear.

The remaining two grabbed him by the shoulders and legs and shifted him onto another table. He wanted to tell them that he could walk but he resisted the urge. He would keep silent as long as he was able. Straps were placed across his ankles and thighs and then his shoulders. His good arm was still loose, but he didn't bother to resist. He wouldn't do anything without Hoshi. He was wheeled, feet-first, past a heavy plastic curtain and into an even brighter room. Hoshi was there. And so were seven suited-up natives, one of which was putting a tube down her throat. Two others were removing her clothes. With the tube in, she was hooked up to a machine which Malcolm hoped was simply life support. More tubes were placed in her arms and they quickly turned dark red with her blood. A monitor near the head of her gurney beeped with her pulse, and he tried not to worry that they were exsanguinating her. And he wondered why they weren't doing anything to him.

In fact, his two minders were just standing there watching the others working on Hoshi. The leader, he assumed, barked out some orders, and one of the others pushed a large syringe needle into one of the blood-filled tubes. Then they all stood still, waiting. The leader barked again and the syringe plunger was pushed in a bit more. The monitor beeped on regularly. Hoshi was still alive.

When the leader spoke again, he turned in Reed's direction. Only then did his minders get to work on him. His uniform sleeve was slit up to his shoulder and a large IV needle was stuck into his vein. He realized then what had just happened. The one with the syringe came to him and his IV. They'd tested the drug on Hoshi before they gave it to him. Why, he wondered, when she was in an obviously more critical condition? He didn't have much time to ponder it as his vision suddenly left him and he lost consciousness.

Baezhu was awestruck. When the call came in telling them they needed environmental hazard suits, he had feared that Buftanis had actually fired a nuclear bomb. But his logical mind rejected that. There were no city-wide sirens or mushroom clouds. Still, it could have been biochemical.

Neither option, though, prepared him for what did happen. When the airevac sat down and the contagion enclosure was opened, his whole belief system crashed. Everything he had ever known and believed about life was now circumspect. There were aliens! Dr. Bishtae was right after all.

He was frozen for a moment until the automatic reflexes of his training kicked in. The gurneys were obviously too large for these creatures, so he and Hinath strapped the conscious one down as best they could. Baezhu was glad it didn't try to resist.

The other was obviously more injured, but even Dr. Burha wasn't sure what to do for it. Fortunately, the one being most prepared for such a phenomenon was assigned to the facility where he was needed most. Dr. Bishtae took over, directing the doctors and nurses. He proclaimed the unconscious one a female due to possession of mammary glands. That gave them some place to start.

Keeping her alive was easy enough. She had rib bones protruding into one of her lungs, which had collapsed. A familiar injury, just in an unfamiliar patient. They could handle that. The creatures apparently breathed air like everyone else, so she was put on a respirator. A chest tube was inserted to remove the blood and fluid from around her collapsed lung, and the auto-transfuser took care of any further blood loss. Dr. Bishtae pronounced her stable, so they could then test the anesthesia. They didn't want to risk killing the male because of a bad reaction to the drug.

Seeing that she remained stable, Bishtae ordered Hinath to administer the same anesthesia to the male. Baezhu inserted an intravenous tube into the male's uninjured arm and Hinath injected the drug. The male didn't struggle and soon closed his eyes. His breathing became more relaxed and regular. Baezhu checked his pulse and found it to be quite fast, but since it was similar to the female's pulse rate, he decided it must be normal for these creatures. He had no way to know for sure what their baseline was otherwise. It dawned on him that there was a lot they didn't know, but they now had two live specimens to teach them.

Burha took over the treatment of the male, satisfied now that a broken bone was a broken bone, regardless of the species of his patient. Baezhu was assigned to ready two rooms for their recovery and monitoring, so he reluctantly left the aliens and returned to the familiar world of the security ward.

"They have superior technology," Major Zhenah argued, facing the screen that showed the Council instead of Buhra.

But Buhra knew how to play politics, too. "How can you be certain? Did you recover any of their technology?"

Zhenah opened his mouth and then shut it again while Buhra tried not to smile. "They are aliens. To have traveled here, they must have superior technology."

"Not all that superior," Buhra challenged. "They crashed. And they couldn't even treat their own injuries."

The Head Councilman, raised his hand. "They are injured?"

Burha nodded. "The male had a broken appendage and a head wound. Neither appear to be fatal. The female had broken ribs which punctured a lung. Doctor Bishtae has assured us it is now stabilized and will likely survive."

"Likely?" asked the one to the Head Councilman's right. A Raptor. He was the previous Raptor to surrender his seat as Head Councilman to the Winged leader.

"There is so much we do not know about them, Councilman," Buhra replied. "That is why they must be studied. What do they eat? What environment is best suited for them? How do they procreate? The questions are endless."

"So is their potential threat," added Zhenah. "It is true that we know very little about them. Are they hostile? Warlike? Were they an advanced reconnaissance mission, spying out this planet for invasion?" He turned his toothy visage to face Buhra. "Do they eat reptiles?"

"And how do you intend to ask them?" Buhra threw back, unrattled. "We don't even know if they communicate vocally. Will you draw stick figures on a board and pantomime your questions?"

The Winged to the Head Councilman's left raised his hand again, calling them both to attention. "How long until they are healed enough to ensure their survival?"

Buhra ducked his head in acknowledgement. "Doctor Bishtae believes they're bones would heal sufficiently in one month."

"Then I propose we postpone this decision for one month," the Winged Councilman said. "That should give both our kindreds time to learn something of these beings. Then we can decide what course to follow with more information to make a correct decision."

"With all due respect, Councilman," Zhenah replied, ducking his head in deference. "Their invasion forces may not wait a month."

"What invasion forces would you be speaking of?" Burha asked.

The Head Councilman raised his hand. "I second this proposal. The Sky Force may keep watch for any other such craft. If such craft is spotted before we reconvene, the beings will be handed over to the military for whatever questioning they can manage." He looked to his right and his left, taking enough time to look each of the eighteen other council members in the eye. "Do you favor?"

One by one, the council members stood. Wingeds first, which wasn't surprising. Still the Raptors stood as well, if not as enthusiastically. A talent for compromise was a necessity on the Council. Every three years the Head Councilship passed from Winged to Raptor or back again. One Turn, your kind was in power and needed the compromise of the other. And the next Turn, it was just the opposite. So, it was decided.

"Doctor Bishtae would appear to have come into his own," the Head Councilman said. "He is to take charge of the beings and see to their welfare at all costs. You may learn what you can, short of endangering their well-being. I would think it would it would be unlikely they would survive serious study without being healed to robustness first. Observe them carefully.

"And Major," he went on. "Your people may observe as well, but only that. You have other areas of investigation to attend to, I should think. And I don't think I need remind everyone here, that the discovery of these beings should not be released to the public, especially when we know so little. Should the populace find out there are aliens, we'd have panic at worse, and questions without answers at best."

The Council stood again and Zhenah and Burha both bowed. The decision was made. Gaezhur would not be happy.

Hoshi watched them with a rising panic. Below her, she could see her own body lying naked and cut open on an operating table. Four twittering bird-like reptiles poked at her with tubes and instruments. Her eyes were open and she was breathing, but she couldn't move. It hurt and she couldn't scream. She wanted to go down and throw them off of her body but she was out of reach, hovering over the table like some out-body-experience. Only she didn't believe in out-of-body experiences. And that thought gave her pause. The action on the table below froze and then faded quickly to a darkness tinged with red.

Hoshi woke with a start, suddenly remembering where she was. In doing so, she gasped, but it still took her a moment to realize what she'd done and why it was significant. She had gasped and it hadn't hurt.

Well, it had hurt, but barely, in comparison to how it had hurt just to inhale before. She pulled in a long cautious breath and found that she could indeed take in that breath, though it certainly wasn't pain-free. She tried to sit up, and found she couldn't. She could move her arms, but only so far. When she lifted them, she saw that there were heavy cloth bands around them, just above the elbows, which anchored her to the bed. She felt her chest, finding her ribs tightly wrapped. She took in another slow breath, testing the sensations she could feel. She tried her legs and found her ankles similarly bound, so she gave up the attempt for now and settled on looking around from her prone position.

She was in a white room with one door and no windows (except the one in the door). At least, she thought it was white. The reddish glow of the dim lighting made it hard to be certain. There was no other furniture besides the bed she was lying on and a rather oddly designed lavatory. She decided to ignore that for now and worry about it when the need arose.

That left her with the bed, which was much too long and too wide for her frame. But she remembered the creatures in the desert and realized the bed had been made for one of them. Then she remembered Malcolm and looked around the room again just to be sure he wasn't there. But she was alone, just as she'd thought. She considered calling out for him but remembered his order to keep silent. If they didn't speak, the natives couldn't learn their language. Or know that she could understand theirs, given enough time. With language would come questions that neither of them wanted to answer.

So leaving that aside, she decided to focus on what she could determine about the natives—and her new place in their society. They had set her ribs, re-inflated her lung. She felt a little groggy and guessed they had drugged her with something. So far, it appeared that the natives were friendly enough to treat the wounds of an alien who crashed on their planet. It seemed a good sign.

Still, she didn't like the idea of being alone. She wanted to know where Lieutenant Reed was and why Enterprise had never answered their calls. It didn't make sense. There was interference, true, but they'd gotten the Morse code clearly enough to read her name from the transmission before. There was no reason Enterprise wouldn't have been able to decipher at least one of the away team's. Even if they couldn't clear it up, they could still locate the approximate position of the transmission, and repeated calls from the team might lead them to suspect there had been trouble. Add that to the shuttlepod not returning in a day and it wouldn't take a giant leap of logic to assume that the new transmissions had come from the shuttlepod crew.

Of course, there had been whatever had knocked out the shuttlepod's power and thrown them off course. It might be possible that Trip and T'Pol hadn't figured out how to get through without running into the same problem. But to not even reply in Morse code? She couldn't find a reason for that.

Something just wasn't right. Malcolm Reed had awoken to find himself in a less than completely comfortable—and far too large—bed in a plain room lit with dim red lighting. The mattress—if he could call it that—was thin and did little to separate his body from what was apparently a metal table beneath. His arm was wrapped tightly and raised by a simple traction device, a pair of hooks on the wall and a strap to hold up his arm. Simple but effective. It was the other arm that bothered him a bit. It was strapped to the bed. Loosely, but still tight enough that he couldn't free it or his other arm, and he couldn't sit up. His ankles were similarly strapped.

And yet that wasn't all that surprising. They had just crash-landed on a planet that hadn't realized aliens from other worlds existed, let alone were commonplace. The straps themselves were made of cloth and so not uncomfortable or harsh. He was a bit groggy from the effects of the anesthesia, but other than that, he felt relatively good. His arm hurt, but not nearly so much as before. While they had taken his uniform and left him dressed in a gown that more resembled a sheet hastily converted with scissors and suturing equipment, he was not cold. In fact, he felt comfortably warm, realizing that the red light was a form of heat lamp. They were reptilian, after all. Cold-blooded.

All the evidence would seem to overrule his worries and fears. The natives had treated their injuries and were now keeping them comfortable if secure. It was better than he might have hoped.

But something wasn't quite right. He didn't know where Hoshi was and there was a machine beside his bed. He knew what it was for because he could still see blood drops on the surface. They had collected some of his blood. Why? To treat Hoshi? He hoped not. They might not have the same blood type. He supposed they might have taken some to test and study, but wouldn't a syringe have been sufficient for that? And why hadn't they taken the machine when they were done?

His biggest worry, though, was not for his own safety, but Hoshi's life. She had been in a critical condition—dying, though he tried not to think of it that way—the last time he saw her. He had no way to know if she had even survived.

I botched this mission all the way round, he chided himself. The shuttlepod crashed and destroyed, Moody dead, and Hoshi lost to him. He had failed to protect his crew and now threatened to contaminate this primitive culture. And they'd not even come close to the objective of their mission. The mysterious message and its sender were beyond his power now. He could no more investigate that message than he could sit himself up in the bed. The mission had utterly failed. He had failed. Again.

"You're early."

Baezhu didn't bother to take his eyes off the darkening sky.

"I know," his friend Kahrae answered. "I heard some rumors and wanted to find out if it was true."

"What kind of rumors?" the day guard asked.

"They found something in the desert."

Something in the desert. Baezhu kept his eyes on the sky. One star broke through the darkness.

"A spy ship, a space ship," Kahrae replied.

"Yeah, well, it was a satellite," the other guard said, "lost it's orbit and crashed." He lowered his voice. "Or that's the official story anyway." His voice came back to normal. "The post is yours. I'm going to go home and try not to have nightmares."

The first constellation became visible before Kahrae interrupted him.

"Baezhu?" He was closer now, but Baezhu just couldn't look away from the countless stars now appearing. They had come from somewhere out there. He nodded so Kahrae would know he'd heard.

Kahrae leaned against the wall beside him. "It wasn't a satellite, was it?"

Baezhu shook his head. It was definitely not a satellite, he thought, but he just couldn't speak yet.

"Not spies either," Kahrae wasn't asking now.

"Not exactly," Baezhu finally replied. "It was the air ship, Kahrae, the one we saw. Only it wasn't from here. Not from Buftanis either."

Kahrae hissed in wonder beside him. "A spaceship then?" he whispered. "It's true? You saw it?"

"No, I didn't see the ship," Baezhu answered. He sighed and stood, envying Kahrae for a moment his specially-bred ability to stay out at night. Already his joints were stiffening and his mind was getting fuzzy. "I saw what was in it."

"In it?" Kahrae repeated, still whispering. "Aliens?"

Baezhu just nodded. Suddenly, he wanted to tell his friend everything he'd seen. "Two of them," he said. "Two alive at least. A male and a female."

Kahrae's eyes grew wide. "What are they like? Where did they come from? What do they want?"

"They're like nothing I've ever seen and I wouldn't know anything about them," Baezhu replied. "It's just . . . they're from somewhere out there, Kahrae." He pointed to the stars. "Do you realize what that means?"

Kahrae just shook his head. "Are there others?"

"There has to be." Baezhu rubbed his fingers along his arms, trying to warm them. "But how many? And what other kinds?"

Kahrae took his gaze off the sky. "I wish you could stay. There are so many questions."

Baezhu smiled. "Bishtae could answer them better than I, but I can't stay anyway. I'm almost stiff already."

"Go home, Baezhu," Kahrae said, laying a hand on Baezhu's shoulder. "We can talk more at breakfast. The world won't change too much over one night, I suppose."

"If it does," Baezhu told him, "you've got to tell me everything."

Kahrae nodded and went to his post. Baezhu waved goodbye and headed for home, hoping his body wouldn't freeze before he got there.