Chapter 20

Eventually the doctor came back in with his assistant. "Okay, let's see what he does." Yeave said.

Thankfully the anesthetic was still working. They watched as the doctor carefully pulled and set the bone into place, Leander gritting his teeth at the sensation. Once it all seemed straight they set about wrapping it with some kind of hard substance. "What is that?" He asked.

"Some kind of splinting material. I don't think you need an old-school shell for it." Yeave waved them off and picked up the splint. The flowmetal wrapped itself around his arm, snugging it tightly, and she set the controls to lock. "Hopefully we'll find out when you're supposed to be out of that at some point."

Leander sighed. "At least it feels better." The doctor and nurse we're looking over the splint, just fascinated. "Should I just let them look at it?'

"Why not. They're kinda fun to watch."

After a bit someone knocked. They came in with three trays with covers on them, each sending out a heavenly savory scent. "Oh my stars, Captain." Kemom said, his eyes wide. "They have real food!"

"Stow it, crewman." Yeave felt her own stomach know in hunger. "We can't all risk getting sick. You and I are still on rations.

"But…"

"If Leander here doesn't break out in hives or something we can start in on it tomorrow, but for now break out the packs."

The observation team watched as Crewman A pulled out what looked like MRE packs and tossed one to the Captain. Meanwhile Crewman B sat down and started just inhaling his dinner. They didn't need the communication team to tell them that Crewman B was finding this to be the most incredible feast of his life. "How long do you have to be on MRE's to find mess hall Salisbury steak that tasty?" Someone asked.

"I don't think I want to know," came the reply.

Eventually sleep happened, on both sides of the glass. This was technically a hospital; they had set aside a number of rooms just for people to rest. Spencer gratefully tumbled on to one of the beds. Please don't follow me into my dreams, he thought.

But that night he didn't dream. And when he woke six hours later he felt better seeing Emily on one of the other beds. He wasn't facing this alone.

"Go get some rest." Yeave told them both. Leander had absolutely raved over his dinner, now he was literally sitting there with a rounded belly from it, patting it contentedly while Kemom shot him envious looks. "If you spend all night in the fresher let me know."

"Should we take watches Captain?" Kemom asked.

"And do what if they do something? No, just go rest."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stay right here in the Captain's chair and keep the princess here company." She worked the lever and settled back. "Dim the lights as you go."

A few moments later she felt something soft fall on her. She slitted open eyes and then mumbled her thanks as Kemom offered her a pillow.

The observation team watched as they turned in. They noticed that in pretty much every way they acted human. It took them a few moments to figure out the facilities, but they appeared to be familiar with the concept. The volume of water involved seemed notable, but they went with it. And in due time the two male aliens had kicked off their boots and were stretching out on the bunks in their uniforms, perhaps not quite comfortable with the concept of undress in an unknown situation. In the meantime the Captain appeared to be spending the night in the recliner next to the isolation stretcher.

One of the military people said that was exactly how he'd expect his men to behave in this situation.

The next morning, when the woman was still there after a good night's sleep, Emily and Spencer finally reported the problem. "He should have said something sooner." The General fumed. "He should have reported it when it first started."

"Well he's saying something now." Emily replied. "We're wondering if it might be a form of communication."

"Communication?"

"Yeah. The first thing we need to know is if this woman is familiar to them."

"And how do we do that?"

"Reid is sitting with a sketch artist now."

It took about the amount of time it usually took. It was somewhat easier because Spencer could see her so clearly. A number of times during the process he just wanted to attempt to take her picture, after all, she was right there. But the sketch artist drew her accurately, a woman in her mid 20's perhaps, a youthful, delicate face with soft lips and big, blue eyes that had a strength about them, even through her current distress, and a scattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks. He brought the sketch back to show them. "That's her?" Emily asked.

To hell with it. He literally held the picture up and compared it to the woman standing there. "Yeah, it's very good for a sketch."

"Now what?" The general asked.

"Now we see if they know her." Spencer went and got suited up and took the sketch into the suite where the aliens were waiting.

Morning came and with it another meal. This one managed to smell even better. "Do we have to stick with rations, Captain?" Kemom said, literally salivating before they had even lifted the covers.

They should, she thought, they really should, although the royal cartographers hadn't reported any problems with the local food supply at all. But it all just smelled so heavenly. "How do you feel, Leander?"

"Hungry." He replied.

"Oh, fuck it." She sat down with the other two and started uncovering trays. There was a pile of what had to be eggs and cheese, some strips of meat that had been fried crispy, roots vegetables browned to a turn, some round, fluffy breads warn enough to melt and soak in the butter, bowls of fruits and cartons of milk. And all of it real, not flavored mush whipped up by a computer out of the base molecules. Real. "I haven't eaten like this since I was in the single digits." She murmured. "Hey sparky, you're missing a royal feast." She said, digging in.

Of course there was no reply.

Spencer walked in and looked around. The three aliens had finished a hearty breakfast, now they were waiting to see what the day would bring. And in the corner the woman waited. "Please." She said, "Please help me."

Spencer looked at the Captain, and pointed to himself, then to his eyes, then to the paper, then to the woman in the corner: I see her there. The Captain looked at the corner and frowned her confusion. He pointed to the Captain, then to his head, then to the paper, with a question on his face: Do you know her? Curious and confused the Captain looked at the paper.

And Spencer Reid learned the words for son of a bitch.