Charles sighed.  No one had seriously considered having to deal with prisoners from an alien race, not until Vera Cruz ... and, as far as he knew, no real protocols had been developed to handle the situation.  The planned First Contact bore no resemblance to what had actually happened.  Between them, the doctors and the Marines were making it up as they went along.

“It would give them a reason to talk to us,” Charles said.  “But if they can't ...”

He shook his head.  These days, human prisoners were either treated under the laws of war or rated as terrorists, depending on when and where they were captured.  The Third World War had left massive scars on the human psyche, sweeping away much of the idealism that had marked the previous century.  POWs could expect to be held until the end of the war – unless someone arranged a prisoner exchange – or to be interrogated and then shot.  Aliens, on the other hand ... even if they’d merely captured the alien version of junior crewmen, they still needed to be treated carefully.

“I’ll discuss it with the Captain,” he said.  “Have they managed to master their cell?”

The Marine smiled.  “They didn't have any problems with the knobs,” he said.  “Turns out they like the cell warm, but moist.  Feels like Kuala Lumpur in there, sir.  I think they would put it even higher if they could.”

“We’ll have to build them a better cell, when we get them home,” Charles said.  He looked up as Doctor Hastings stepped into the observation sector.  “Doctor.”

“Major,” the doctor responded.

Charles looked at her, thoughtfully.  She looked as tired as everyone else felt, but there was a curious excitement pushing her onwards.  “What have you discovered?”

“I’ve been trying to work out a baseline for this race,” the doctor said.  She smiled as she pushed past him to look at the aliens.  “Of our nine captives, I believe that four of them are actually female.”

“Oh,” Charles said.  He looked back at the aliens, puzzled.  As far as he could tell, there were no physical differences beyond skin colour.  There were no breasts or penises.  “How do you tell the difference?”

“There are none, on the surface,” the doctor said.  “But internally there are some quite significant differences.  That one there” – she pointed to a green-skinned alien who looked identical to the others – “is female, with an organ that seems to produce eggs for expulsion into the water.  Males” – she nodded to another alien – “produce sperm, which is also expelled into the water.”

“Tadpoles,” Charles said, in sudden understanding.