"How are our subjects?" The Lyante captain asked.
"The female has not left the male's side," came her answer.
The two stared at a small screen that illuminated their dark faces. To any other race the screen showed nothing, but to the Lyante, they saw their subjects.
The female was kneeling beside the male, who was lying on the metal bed. He has not moved much, since being placed in the room.
"The female seemed to have attended to his wound," the scientist mentioned, "she even gave him her meal."
"She cares for him deeply," the lead Lyante said, "We should have ran into these two sooner. We could have saved valuable time."
The scientist looked back at the screen. He saw that the female appeared to be calming the male. After a while, she placed her head on his chest and stayed there.
"Appears she has gone to sleep," he mentioned.
The female Lyante nodded, "In two days, we'll continue with the advanced experiments."
"I will get everything ready, My Lady."
"See to it. Their captain won't let up until we hand them over. I want these experiments completed no matter what."
The scientist bowed then left to begin his task.

Tom Paris slowly woke to find darkness all around him. He groaned quietly then gasped in pain. He gritted his teeth against it, and slowly rose to a sitting position. He soon regreted it as he cried out. He clutched his stomach, and hissed in anger. He then felt a presence in front of him, which placed a soothing hand on his arm.
"I'm really getting sick of this place," he whispered.
Torres smiled tiredly. She had been watching over him for the past two days since their attempted escape. She didn't want to tell him he had been unconscious during that time, but she knew he would ask.
"Tom," she began, "you have been unconscious for the past two days. I've attended to your wound as best I can, but it needs medical attention as soon as possible."
She heard him groan at the news. She could sense that these experiments were taking their toll on him. She hoped he wasn't giving up on ever being rescued. She was even fighting back that idea herself.
"I'm going to see how your healing," she said as she helped Paris lie back down.
She carefully lifted the make-shift bandage, and placed her fingers on the wound. She felt that it was still wet.
"What's the verdict?" Paris whispered.
"It's still bleeding," Torres answered.
Paris didn't answer, and Torres redressed the wound. She then placed her hand on his forehead. It was slightly warm, but he wasn't sweating. She only wished she could put a blanket over him to keep him warm.
"I'm getting a fever, arn't I?" He asked.
"After that shower, then put back in a cold room, yes. I'm probably getting one as well."
Paris placed his hand on her forehead, and also found it warm.
"You're right," he said, "and they probably won't turn up the heat."
Torres growled, but held her tongue. There was no use in voicing her anger, for she knew the aliens would not listen.
A moment later, they heard the familiar sound of the trays scraping against the cold floor.
Torres put a hand on Paris' shoulder and whispered, "Do you feel like eating?"
"If it's hairballs, forget it."
Torres smiled and went over to the trays. She could see the silouhette of another bowl on one tray. On the other, she saw the circular shape of a fuzzball. She touched the bowl and found it cold. She sniffed it and a sweet scent teased her senses.
She looked at the dark outline of the hairball. She knew Paris would refuse it, but he needed to eat. She picked up the ball, and went back to Paris.
"Tom," she began.
"It's a furball, isn't it?" He interrupted her.
"Yes, but you need to eat. I'll take the fuzz ball."
"I wonder what our hosts would think if they knew you were giving me your food?"
"I could care less," Torres snorted as she took a bite of the ball.

"Everything is ready, my Lady," the scientist reported, bowing low.
"Good," the Lyante female said without interest. She had been watching the monitor for the past twenty minutes. What she saw fasinated her.
"She gives him her food," the leader mentioned, keeping her eye on the monitor.
"Maybe she believes he needs it more than her," the scientist suggested as he moved to look at the monitor.
The captain nodded, "She tends to his wound, and feeds him her meals. She must know that what we give her is more nutritious. She's making sure he heals."
"Interesting. I'll be sure to make notes on this."
The Lyante leader nodded again, "She's proving each day to us that she cares for him dearly."
"Maybe more," the scientist added, "She did tell you that he had proven himself to her."
"Yes, but now we can continue on to the next level of our experiment."
The two stared at the monitor, and watched as their subjects talked. They grew interested as the male sat up, and tried to stand. The female tried to sit him back down, but he forced her hand away.
"Looks like he wants to walk," the scientist said amused.
"It'll do him good. He can't stay on his back the whole time he's healing."
"Let's hear what they're saying," the scientist was enjoying what he saw.
He moved to his left and pressed a button. Almost immediatley, the female's voice came to their ears.
"You need to rest, Tom!" She said as she walked toward the male.
"I'm sick of lying down," he shouted, "My back is starting to hurt!"
He began to pace as the female looked on. The way he was pacing told the two Lyante that he was quite upset.
"Do you think he is holding a grudge against the guard shooting him?" The scientist asked, his eyes gleaming.
"Perhaps," the Lyante captian said, "Perhaps, because we are holding him 'prisoner.'"
The scientist chuckled as he listened to their subjects argue.

Continue to Chapter Eleven
Back to Paris, Voyager