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"Sacred Plant," Ezbai corrected absently. His mind was racing. If they were alive, they could be gotten out. To a degree, the obese Implementer was right. Ezbai was the interceptor in charge of the section in question. Within minutes of getting the notification, he should have had a team out there scouting the area to get to the aliens before the Culilann did.

The report certainly was intriguing. A new race that had seemingly appeared on the planet without detection. No ship in orbit, no energy residue detectable. It was as if they'd just manifested, like

something out of a primitive Culilann folktale. Still, even if Ezbai hadn't been otherwise engaged, he would have been hard-pressed to locate and intercept the aliens in time. Normally, an interceptor's job was nothing so exciting as tracking aliens on the planet on foot. They picked up communications, or noticed ships approaching the planet. There was an excellent communications system in place among the Alilann, and it had seldom failed.

Always a first time, he thought. Then what the Implementer had just said fully registered. Ezbai sat upright and repeated, "The Culil authorized feeding them the fruit of the Sacred Plant?"

The Implementer scowled. "That's the second time you've asked me to repeat myself. Should you see the doctor.and have your hearing checked?"

"But... that's unheard of!" Ezbai sputtered. "No one save the religious order ever partakes of the fruit of the Sacred Plant. What is the Culil trying to do?"

"Our spy was as puzzled as we were," said the Implementer with a full mouth. Crumbs of articrunch flew from his lips as he spoke. "There may be more sympathy with us than we had previously imagined."

"That would be all to the good, if it were true. Will the Silent One be able to assist us once the aliens are released from the ordeal?"

"Negative. We do not wish to risk exposing our sources."

Ezbai sighed. It would make things so much easier, but he understood the Implementer's reasoning. This particular spy, who went by the code name Silent One, had been planted years ago. The story

was unassailable. They'd never had anyone planted so deep, in such an important position, in any of the sections before. There was very little that would justify exposing the Silent One, and these two aliens, intriguing though they were, weren't reason enough.

He would have to send in a recovery team. On the spur of the moment, Ezbai decided that he would lead them. He had the training and the authority, although it was a long time since he had practiced simulation runs as part of his training. It would help get his mind off Khala. Besides, it would be fun.

Ezbai sat up straighter. "All right. Here is my strategy."

The night that it rained, Chakotay and Tom stood beneath the grates with open mouths.

At first the rain, thick with mud and chalky tasting, cooled their fevered bodies and felt wonderful. After a few moments, though, they both started to shiver as their uniforms got soaked and their skin temperatures dropped. Still, they stood, mouths open, parched tongues seeking any kind of moisture.

Chakotay had a fleeting moment of black humor as he realized that, to anyone observing them, they would resemble nothing so much as baby birds waiting for Mama to stuff worms into their mouths. He thought about relaying the humorous image to Tom, but decided against it. Tom was very ill and even his famous wry wit had dissipated under the days of torment they'd been forced to endure.

Chakotay swallowed a mouthful of muddy water. His stomach roiled. It was now two days since

they'd devoured the bitter-tasting fruit of the apparently sacred tree, and his belly was utterly empty. It wanted pure, cool water, a sip at a time, and some dry toast to ease it back to normal functioning. What it did not want, but he knew his body needed, was this foul, sludgy mess that passed for rainwater. He clenched his teeth against the rising gorge. He needed it, every bit of moisture, and he'd be damned