What Baezhu had thought Kahrae was asking about in the buffet line the other day was only a week or two away by his best estimate. The aliens were healing well and Dr. Bishtae had waited only until Dr. Burha came on shift to begin removing stitches. The female's bleeding had tapered off and finally stopped so Dr. Bishtae felt it was time for them to get up and move around and eat food for themselves.

Burha and Hinath worked on the female while Baezhu tackled the male's leg and Bishtae started on the torso. Dr. Bishtae talked as he did so, hoping to get the male familiar with his words and voice so that one day, he might decide to respond. From the vacant look on the male's face, Baezhu did not think he ever would. They would have to make him talk and Baezhu didn't really want to think about how they would go about making him talk. He was a scientist and sometimes science required sacrifices from its subjects, but Baezhu never relished causing another creature pain. As it was, the male flinched ever so slightly as the stitches were pulled free.

Removing the stitches took several hours, and the male never uttered a sound, much to Dr. Bishtae's chagrin. "We can't even begin to understand each other if you don't speak!" he told the male in frustration. "Can't you even just tell us your name? We've told you ours and I know you understand that much." But the male was not even watching him. The female, on the other hand, was watching, though she never spoke either.

Finally, they were done. Baezhu removed the long tube from the male's stomach, leaving only the small tube with the sealing valve for when they'd use it again. He did the same with the blood and air tubes in the side of his neck. Dr. Bishtae removed the catheter, the result of which was the confirmation that the male had a voice. He had not said anything, unless a grunt was part of their language. Baezhu rather thought it had more to do with pain. The female was not comfortable when hers was removed either.

Two mattresses were brought in and a movable wall was pushed back to create a semi-private area for relieving themselves. Doctors Bishtae and Burha helped the aliens to sit up and supported them as they stood. The postsurgical beds were removed, and the machines were pushed to the far wall. Baezhu and Hinath worked to remove the blood containers and dispose of biohazardous equipment. That done, they helped the aliens to walk to where the mattresses were laying against one wall. Neither had been on their feet for two weeks and so had some difficulty walking and sitting down again. The female scooted close to the male, and they locked hands again as they watched the scientific team leave.

Hoshi sighed once they were gone. She put her head down, letting her hair fall around her face like a curtain. And she smiled. Beside her, Malcolm raised his eyebrows in question. "Something he said to you," she whispered, barely louder than a breath and close to his ear. "We couldn't understand each other if you didn't speak."

"Which is why it's good they aren't speaking to you," Malcolm breathed back. "So this is home...."

Hoshi looked around. It was basically as bare as their individual rooms had been. Only now there was no window at all, but a camera on the wall opposite the machines. Absently, she reached a hand to her neck--her right hand--and felt the stubs of tubes still in her neck. Her throat constricted and tears began to well up in her eyes. They had not taken them out, because they were not done needing them.

Malcolm pulled her hand down, gently but firmly, and squeezed it. "We survived it, Hoshi. We have to keep surviving. Enterprise will come for us."

She looked up at him and brushed his hair from his face with her left hand. His eye was not covered any more, but it did not look right. It was red and swollen. Can you see she tapped onto his hand.

Blurry, he tapped back. "Do you hurt?"

Ache she answered. Malcolm nodded his head toward the wall behind him. Hoshi let go of his hand, and they both scooted back so they could lean against it. She tried to fight it, but she sniffed, still trying not to cry. She laid her head on Malcom's shoulder, not caring one bit if it was proper for a junior officer to do that. The only part of duty she was holding on to was the order to not communicate with them or for them. Otherwise, she was just a young woman who had been violated and traumatized, and Malcolm was a friend who had just lived through the same. Though he was still an officer and her point of strength. She did not mind at all when he laid his cheek against the top of her head.

The lone orc arrived earlier in the evening than before, just after the heat lamps came on. Malcolm and Hoshi had already lain down on the new so-called beds, the mattresses on the floor. They each had one pillow and a sheet to cover themselves. They slept head-to-head, so that they could still whisper softly while covering their heads with the sheets or simply hold hands.

Malcolm had been asleep, but he woke with a start when the door opened. His latest version of his near-constant nightmare had him on edge anyway. He pushed himself up with his good arm until he was sitting with his back to the wall. Hoshi woke up, too, but did not get up. She just watched.

The orc scientist did not have a smaller apprentice or helper like Saruman and Lurtz. He did, however, have something in his hands. He handed a little bottle down to Malcolm and then pointed to his own eye. The bottle was labeled with a clear picture of an eyeball. Eye drops. Easy enough to understand. Malcolm actually found himself a little grateful. His eye was sore and dry and sensitive to the light.

Then the orc handed him two bands of red material. There was a small device on the center and Velcro on the ends. One was larger than the other. The orc wrapped his fingers around his wrist and then pointed to Malcolm's left arm. He repeated it until Malcolm finally wrapped the larger one around his left wrist. It was rather like a wristwatch but, of course, he did not understand the display.

The orc apparently was not satisfied, as he bent down and took Malcolm's wrist, repositioning the display so that it sat against the underside of his arm. And he fastened it tighter. When he was done, he stood back and patted his own chest and a familiar rhythm of the human heart beat. Pulse.

Malcolm realized it measured his pulse and probably transmitted it somewhere else for monitoring. Innocuous enough, and probably helpful, as these people obviously wanted them alive. The orc pointed to Hoshi, so Malcolm handed the smaller one to her and she wrapped it correctly around her own left wrist that still looked bruised and marked by long, though healing, cuts.

That accomplished, the orc took a small device from a pocket on his outer garment and turned it on. He nodded sharply as if satisfied and tucked the device away again. Then he left, and Malcolm decided he was glad he hadn't tried to talk to him or tell him his name.

Maybe, he thought, he would just call that one Radagast. Another wizard who helped Saruman, though he was not evil and did not realize Saruman was. The name did not fit exactly, but it worked in that he had points both for and against this orc. He was an orc, but he did not seem quite as annoying as the other two. Malcolm had no way of knowing if Radagast had taken part in the vivisection as he had not been able to see, but he had to think it likely that he had. So he was still not one of the good guys.

Malcolm lay back down. "Radagast," he whispered into Hoshi's ear.

"Not Denethor?" she asked, just as quietly.

"Not in charge of anything, I don't think," he argued. "And Denethor wasn't one of the bad guys. He hated Sauron. He was a good guy gone loony."

Hoshi yawned. "Radagast it is," she conceded. But she did not close her eyes. "I hate sleeping," she admitted.

"Nightmares," Malcolm deduced. He had them, too. "Wish I could fight off the demons for you, but I've got my own to contend with."

She smiled at that. "You fight mine and I'll fight yours."

He felt better just seeing her smile. "Deal," he told her, then opened his hand. She put hers in it and closed her eyes. Malcolm did the same and fervently hoped they could both have happy dreams, even if only this once.

"Maybe they are telepathic," Kenu, the linguist, stated after watching the tapes. "While in the beds, they put their hands together. Now they put their heads together. But they still don't make a sound. Well, except when they sleep. But none of those sound like words, more like just restless sleep, like having nightmares might cause someone to whimper in his sleep or even cry out."

"Well, they're not trapped in the beds anymore," Bishtae replied. He rewound the present video, from the day before. "They've been loose in that room for three days. What about the way they interact? Can it tell us anything?"

"Socially," Baezhu spoke up tentatively. It was not his place really, even though Dr. Bishtae encouraged him to reason out the evidence.

"Go on," Bishtae said.

"He interacts with her," Baezhu told him, "far more than we would with a female."

"Yes," Bishtae agreed. "But why? Is it just because they are the only two of their species here? Loneliness?"

"Maybe they're bonded," Kenu suggested. "They could be mates."

"Except that we've seen little in their behavior that could even be considered mating," Bishtae held. He was leaning against the counter.

"They may not feel up to it yet," Baezhu said. "They might still be sore."

"True enough." Bishtae stopped the video and fast forwarded it again. He slowed down at a particular point. The female had gone to the toilet, within sight of the male, but the male had turned his back to her. "If we were watching a courting in progress, he would be rejecting her." He sped the video forward again to a point where the two were sitting together, shoulder to shoulder, holding hands. "This would contradict that. And yet even here, he shows no sign of arousal."

"They are aware of the camera," Kenu pointed out. "It's why they cover their heads. They don't use their hands to convey the meanings. You've seen the way he ignores you when you talk to him."

"What about the tapping?" Bishtae asked, obviously changing the direction the conversation was taking. "Have you found any patterns?"

"Three," Kenu stated. "But it's like they repeated a song, if it was music. Only the end was different. But that's just as difficult. More." He flipped the video off. "Assume it was code. Even a song with meaning to cover a message. We don't know the song or the words.

"Or maybe the tapping isn't musical at all. They'd have to break words up to pass in taps. So letters. We know they have letters from the insignia on their uniforms. We have to figure out which tapping sequence represented which letter. And we don't even know if all their letters are represented in the insignia. Nor do we know how to pronounce them. Even if we could determine the letters, we still would need words. What do these letters mean?" At this, he took out a pen and scratched ENTERPRISE on a pad of paper. "One is repeated three times, another twice. That's all I can tell you."

He crumpled up the paper and threw it in the trash. "We need a place to start, some commonality. Their names would be a place to start. If the male said his name, we might match it to the letters on the front of his uniform. It contains two of the letters that were used in that other word. Hers did also. We could use images and have them name the image: a ship, a tree. Things they might have on their world as well, like a sun, the day, and night. But in any case, we'd need them to talk."

"We haven't tried talking to the female," Baezhu stated. He was not sure, but if everything else he knew was in question, maybe the fact that all females were inferior and feeble-minded could be questioned, too.

"If the male doesn't understand," Bishtae argued, "the female certainly won't. And if he is determined not to communicate, she is apparently following his lead."

"How can we make them talk?" Kenu asked.

"That's a dangerous question." Bishtae stood up straight. "The colonel would love to answer it, I'm sure. But he'd likely kill them in the process."

"And limit their ability to talk," Kenu said, agreeing. He sighed. "We need them alive. They've got no way to escape. No one has come back for them yet. They're not likely to. They can't hold out forever. How long have you ever been able to stay silent? Besides, we still wouldn't have a basis for understanding anything Gaezhur could get out of them."

Bishtae placed a hand on Kenu's shoulder. "I'm glad we agree." Baezhu was glad, too. He was surprised to realize how tense he'd become at the suggestion of Colonel Gaezhur making them talk.

"Be careful what you report," Bishtae added, "or the colonel will use it against them." He pointed to the screen that showed the live camera feed. "And us."

Hoshi was surprised to find she had slept through the night, still with her hand in Malcolm's. It was the ache that woke her more than the nightmares. She didn't remember the details but had no problem knowing the gist of the dream she had had. They had been the same since she had woken up from being cut open by the orcs.

Orcs. One bright spot in her new existence was that little bit of humor Malcolm was keeping up. She really didn't think she could manage here alone, and Malcolm wasn't the first person she would have chosen to be stuck on an alien planet with. He surprised her. He had gone through what she had and was still strong, still hopeful, and still there to help her through. And yet, she realized, that he had been like that before. When Tarquin had contacted her, she had first turned to Malcolm and not just because he was the head of security for the ship. He was strong but he never blustered about it. For all his love of symmetrical explosions, he had a kind interior that came out when it needed to. She had seen it on the Xindi ship after she'd been rescued from the Reptilians. The captain was harsh then, but Malcolm comforted her while still encouraging her to do what the captain needed.

His strength made her stronger. She wanted to melt into a puddle of tears for what the orcs had done and were going to do. He reminded her that she was a Starfleet officer.

And she really wished they would let him shave, she realized, as she watched him still sleeping. It didn't seem right seeing him disheveled and out of uniform. The door opened and he jerked awake.

The smaller one came in alone, the one who usually came with Saruman. He carried a tray with two plates and two bowls. He greeted them with an equivalent of 'good morning' and then set the bowls and plates in front of them. Cups would be easier, she thought, but realized their physiology would probably not work well with cups. Hoshi was glad to have the water though. And the food. Their fruits were really quite good and she hadn't eaten anything--with her mouth--since the day before they'd taken her from her solitary room.

The little orc handed a smaller container to Malcolm. "Ke shanita," he said. Malcolm tilted the container so she could see there were two pills inside. "Ke shanita," the orc repeated, pointing now to Malcolm's right arm and his eye.

Hoshi put her hand on the back of Malcolm's shoulder and tapped 'pain' there where the orc couldn't see her doing it.

Malcolm still eyed it suspiciously and only removed one pill after the orc repeated himself again. He handed the pill to her while he kept his eye on the orc. Hoshi took the pill and washed it down with water from the bowl. Malcolm finally did likewise and the orc nodded and left.

Once they had finished eating their meager breakfast, Hoshi stacked her plate on top of Malcolm's, and he took her bowl to stack them on the plates. He moved them to the end of his mattress and then leaned his head down to whisper, "Wouldn't want them to think we're uncivilized." He pushed himself up to his feet and headed to the blocked off area that housed their toilet and a small sink. Hoshi turned away to give him some privacy and tried to comb her hair with her hands. She had nothing better to do.

About an hour or so later--it was really difficult to tell--a new orc entered pushing a cart into the room with what looked like a thick monitor on it. He plugged it in below the camera and switched it on. The monitor's screen lit up with what seemed to her like a children's show. Cartoon lizards, unlike the two species she had already seen, were counting brightly colored blocks as they appeared. And thus, Hoshi learned their words for six through ten.

The scene changed and two new lizards came on the screen from opposite directions. They greeted each other, introducing their names. Hoshi realized what they were trying to do and, apparently, Malcolm did, too. He turned away from the monitor and sighed. Hoshi dropped her gaze to her lap. She did not need the images. The orc turned the volume up and left.

"We could turn it off," she whispered.

"I don't think they'd like that," Malcolm replied. Then his mouth quirked up into a grin. "So let's do it."

A few minutes later, the orc came back and turned it back on. He stayed behind a good fifteen minutes before he left again. This time Hoshi did the honors, unplugging the unit from the wall.

When the orc returned, he was not alone. Saruman and his little aide was with him. The new guy moved to the cart while the little one moved one of the machines away from the back wall. Then Saruman and the new guy hefted the monitor to the top of that machine, plugging it into the back before the little one pushed the machine back against the wall. The monitor came to life.

Malcolm valiantly tried to unplug it when they were gone, but the machines were too heavy in his weakened state. Even if he had moved it, Hoshi realized they would never reach the plug. It was up too high on the machine.

"You tried," she said as he sat back down.

"I'm worried," he whispered back. "They could torture us, Hoshi. I won't understand their questions but you will."

"But they won't understand the answers," she replied. "This is elementary. They can't teach tactical words and complex adult ideas in a children's show. Besides, I'm not Hoshi." She smiled behind her hair. "I'm Frodo and our quest is to destroy the Ring!"

Malcolm nearly laughed and had to duck his head. "That ought to confuse them," he said.

With a sigh they sat back against the wall and tried to drown out the drone of the program as it reran over and over again.

"Well, if nothing else," Bishtae said, sitting down now that he was back in the observation room, "we've seen concrete evidence of their intelligence."

"No mammals on our world could do that without training," Kenu agreed, nodding his head. "They don't want to learn."

"And that is concrete evidence of their intelligence, too," Bishtae added.

"How so, Doctor?" Baezhu still stood near the door. He had not really thought about intelligence. He had actually found it a bit comical when Kenu had had to go back to turn on the media display only to have the female unplug it.

"Why would they not want to learn our language or talk to us?" Bishtae asked. "This time, I want you to think as if you were in their place. What would your reaction be? You are stranded on an alien world of lesser technology with little or no hope of rescue."

Baezhu thought about his answer and then his face lit up. "Doctor! They may be saying something about their culture!"

Now it was Bishtae's turn to ask, "How so?"

"Some might want to share information or bargain it for a better position than a subject of study," Baezhu answered, sitting down in the only other empty seat. "Why would they withhold it and try to control the avenues of communication by refusing to communicate in either language? They may be afraid of what we would do with that information. They may be trying to keep our culture from changing artificially. They could impose their technological knowledge and even try to usurp us with their power. They are doing the opposite."

"Or they could be spies sent on reconnaissance to see if we are a worthy target for invasion," Kenu conjectured, "and thus don't want us to find out their technology and create a better defense."

"Both apt hypotheses," Bishtae said, smiling. "Perhaps we need a sociologist on our team to sort out which is closer to the truth."

"I hope mine," Baezhu admitted. "If they can travel to other worlds, I'm not certain we can defend if their people should invade."

"Do you have video from when they arrived?" Kenu asked.

Dr. Bishtae shrugged. "Only security tapes, I'm afraid. We didn't know we'd find aliens when we went out to see what crashed. Their individual rooms weren't equipped."

"Will it work?" Baezhu interrupted, pointing to the video feed from the aliens' room. "The program, I mean. Can anybody learn a language just from passively hearing it?" He had been wondering that as he watched the two aliens resolutely not looking at the media display.

Kenu blew out a deep breath. "Passively? I've never heard of such a thing, except, of course, in infants, as their brains are still forming. Purposely listening, with no visual media, on the other side, would take a genius. I can't think of anyone who could on our world. We learn new languages, from adolescence into adulthood, by listening but also memorization, translation, and interpretation, or at least having an image or hearing someone tell us what vocabulary word represents it."

Baezhu sighed. That was what he was thinking. If they did not watch, they would not learn even the simplest things like how to count to ten or give a greeting.

Kenu smiled conspiratorially. "But how many of us could completely ignore a working media display when it's the only other stimulus in the room?"

"They'd have to be incredibly stubborn," Bishtae agreed. "But alas, science stands still for no scientist, linguist or biologist. It will remain in the room, and they will be free to ignore it. We must press on with our studies. I plan to talk with Dr. Burha this afternoon about their reproduction and sexuality. It would be helpful if the aliens would simply follow nature's course and we observe, but I fear they will be just as stubborn in that regard."

Kenu held up a hand. "That is not my department," he said, "so I'll leave it to you biologists."

"Oh?" Bishtae teased. "I would have thought you'd be bored enough to broaden your field of interest in light of the fact that they haven't given you one solid word to work with."

"True," Kenu admitted, "but I think that is something private. If one should be lucky enough to be chosen to fulfill the quota, it should be kept between him and the female."

Bishtae patted him on the arm as he stood. "A noble sentiment, but if we scientists held to that sentiment too tightly, we'd never learn anything. Come, Baezhu," he said. "I think we have some reports to work on."

*****

Life had once again been reduced to a mundane routine for Malcolm and Hoshi. For once, Malcolm did not begrudge the boredom. Routine meant no surprises. No torture. It had been a few weeks since they were taken off the machines, and by now the orcs did not even come around but once or twice a day. Radagast didn't even come at night. The smaller ones came by for food and the video droned on and on with children's programs. Otherwise, Hoshi and he were left alone.

But they never forgot about the camera. They still hid their hands when they tapped in Morse code and only whispered when it could be camouflaged in some way--and only extremely quietly so that the camera's sound system wouldn't pick it up.

They were both still a bit achy in the ribs, but their arms and legs had healed well. And that was the biggest problem with the routine. Few people would have ever accused Malcolm Reed of being an optimist. He knew they were not done. There were so many places the orcs hadn't really 'explored.' Faces, throats, backs, brains, lungs, etc. Those things had not been cut into. And the tubes had been left in their necks and stomachs.

The routine was only a respite. A respite in which their bodies would heal from the trauma of the first 'procedure.' Malcolm had given up on his idea to keep in shape in his previous respite. While it would help him to stay in shape for their eventual--he hoped--rescue, not keeping in shape might slow the healing of his body in some small way. And that might just delay the orcs' plans for the next 'procedure.'

So he and Hoshi were quiet most of the time and communication was kept to simple things like short questions and answers. There were occasions when Hoshi's doubts got the better of her, especially at night. She'd ask about Enterprise and what might be keeping the captain from finding them. Was there something in the walls that interfered with the sensors? Was the thing that brought the shuttle down keeping them away? But surely, by now, they could have found a way around it. And every time, he found some way to encourage her, to put forth a possible excuse for the captain's tardiness. Telling her so felt hollow and yet, somehow, he clung to what he said with a shred of hope.

Hoshi awoke when the door opened. The heat lamps were off so she reckoned it was morning. Malcolm sat up on his mattress and rubbed his eye. He still had trouble with that occasionally, but, like everything else, he lived with it. Both of them had slept through the night with few interruptions. She knew she was getting used to having nightmares. She wished they'd stop but the boredom alone made passing hours without consciously noting them worth the horrific sights and sounds of her dreams.

She sat up and realized right away that something was wrong. She felt wet. And a bit achy. She pulled back her sheet to peek and confirmed her suspicions. It had been three weeks. Only now there were no new bandages to grab.

The smaller one had come into the room with their breakfast. She had to let him know somehow. They provided her with gauze before but now how was she to supposed to use it if they did again? She was not confined to a bed with a catheter taking care of her needs. She had to get up and walk now and then.

She felt her face flush with heat and tears welled up in her eyes. She was tired of crying but also tired of being exposed and embarrassed in this way. Back on the ship, she and the other women had pills that prevented their cycles. They didn't have to worry about it interfering with their duties. But even when they did decide to have their periods, there were discreet ways of dealing with it. Holding a rag between one's legs was so antiquated that Hoshi wasn't sure how the women of the past had handled it. There had been disposable pads that stuck to underwear with adhesive.

The orc was ready to leave. She had to do something. She couldn't just let it run down her leg or get all over the sheets. Already, the bottom sheet was soiled and would need changing. The top was still clean thankfully and it gave her an idea. Back in college she and her classmates had sometimes worn sheets for toga parties.

She pulled off the top sheet, exposing the red stain for the orc to see. It startled him but he bobbed his head at her before rushing out of the room. He returned quickly with several gauze pads and a pail lined with plastic. He also had another sheet under his arm. He set the pail by her mattress and handed the pads to her. She grabbed them quickly and, picking up her discarded sheet, moved quickly to the lavatory area. There, at least, she had a little privacy.

Since the orcs hadn't seen fit to return any of their clothes, she had to make do with what she had. The garment she had been given wasn't much more than a sheet itself. It tied at her left shoulder and hip and came down to her mid-thighs.

It wasn't entirely comfortable when she gathered it to tie between her legs, thus providing a crotch of sorts to hold the pad in place. But she decided discomfort was the lesser evil in this case. Dignity mattered more to her right then. The sheet she had brought along made a fair toga as she draped it around her waist and shoulders.

When she emerged from behind the dividing wall, Malcolm, who was still sitting behind the orc, gave her a smile. The orc simply stared. He had replaced the stained sheet which now hung from his gloved, three-fingered hand. Then he caught himself and left the room.

"Nice work," Malcolm whispered as they dipped their heads over their food. "Very innovative."

"Maybe," she replied. "But it doesn't help the cramps. Be glad you're not a woman right now."

Baezhu tossed the sheet in the laundry chute and his gloves into the biohazard bin, then he quickly washed his hands. He couldn't wait to see Dr. Bishtae.

The doctor was in the observation room with Kenu, reviewing the tapes of the previous night. Kenu did not appear too interested. He pushed back his chair as Baezhu entered. "How can they be this boring and be space travelers?" he asked in frustration.

Dr. Bishtae ignored it for the outburst it was and Baezhu followed suit. "She started her cycle again," he reported.

Bishtae flipped the screen to the live feed. "Already? It has been only about twenty days since she stopped bleeding last time."

"Could they be that fertile, Doctor?" Baezhu asked. "That would be thirteen times in one year."

"It's obviously possible," Bishtae replied, though he sounded a bit in awe of the implications, too. "We know some large mammals mate as often as twice a year."

"How many offspring would they have at once?" Kenu asked, joining in even though the topic was outside his specialty. "If they had multiples, they could reproduce exponentially."

"We'd also have to know their gestational period," Baezhu corrected. "If it was long enough they still might only reproduce once a year."

"True," Bishtae replied. He stood up and began pacing in his excitement. "And how are their offspring born? Are they birthed live as with our mammals and in what condition? How long until an infant is autonomous? There are so many questions we could answer by breeding them. And it might just force them to talk or at least act more naturally, by caring for an infant."

"If they even care for their young," Kenu added. "Besides, how can we make them mate if they won't do it themselves? We can't just ask them, and if they're this stubborn about talking, I doubt they'll just acquiesce."

Bishtae nodded. "Unfortunate but true. We'd have to forgo natural mating. And to prepare for artificial methods, we do need to do some more studying. Baezhu, prepare a semen collection kit for the male."

Baezhu nodded, trying to decide which kit would be the proper size. Senemae were comparable in size. "What dosage, Doctor?"

"12 cc ought to do it," Dr. Bishtae agreed.

"And the female?" Baezhu asked. With her bleeding right now, she wouldn't be fertile, but they really didn't know enough about her cycle to know why she was bleeding.

"We'll examine her reproductive system more thoroughly in the next exploratory procedure. Doctors Burha, Enesh, and I had agreed on a date this week, but we'll wait for her bleeding to stop."

"He won't cooperate," Baezhu reminded. He was sure the male would fight after the last procedure.

"Take a bed," Bishtae ordered. "Get Hinath to help you. Just get everything prepared until he arrives. We'll need restraints and maybe someone to control the female."

Baezhu left to gather the equipment. He tried telling himself that it was no different than collecting semen from a senamae. But senamae weren't sentient.