This is essentially what happened to Killy when separated from the Terrans in "Fall Arc"

*****

As the alien simply walked away from the recently deceased Terran-based mutants, it swore in a tongue filled with clicking chirps, tweets and guttural whines. The feather crest rising from its helmet didn't pick up so much as a breath or footstep nearby disturbing the air; it was safe to swear all he wanted. Even though milky purple blood had splattered from his left armpit, he kept on swearing. Not about the creatures that wounded him, oh no. Yotruyan, oft named 'Killy', swore and cursed the Terrans. Much of his time aboard The Battle Hymn of the Republic was spent either following Cibo, the Terran assigned to watch him, or going over After Action Reports and historical documents the Terrans had. As the suit sealed up and stopped the bleeding, his mood did not improve. It got worse.

The sun was setting quickly, and he had to find shelter. The bookstore nearby would do fine. Not that reading anything the Terrans had to offer was worthwhile. It was all probably worthless, much like their 'history' and 'after action reports'. He paused and listened for any sign of life, and satisfied he was clear, moved on again. Even as he made his way up the fire escape on the side of the building, Killy continued to speak to himself out of sheer frustration born out of the disparity between what he read, and what he saw.

Everything he read suggested the Terrans were simply experts at killing things, rivaling the Galactic Marines in terms of mental cunning and ingenuity. One Terran World War, and then another following it's heels. High levels of insurgency and instability throughout their homeworld in the years before true spaceflight. Another World War. Later, the subjugation of many species across their own Galaxy with the help of the Drathonians. And the after action reports all indicated that one Terran soldier was worth at least four Drathonians at the very least.

But what was all this just now? Squabbling, arguing amongst themselves like undisciplined one year old children. At the very least, the one year olds knew when it was appropriate to do so! Not with the Adult Terrans by the looks of things.

'Incompetent, weak, overall inferior...This isn't what we're looking for.' he thought, entering the empty bookstore through the roof access. As he settled down in a back room, most likely the manager's office, Yotruyan looked at his drying blood. 'It's supposed to be a milky blue. Too much iron and not enough cobalt or copper in their meats.' His stomach started to ache with hunger as the suit sucked resources from his flesh to repair the damage.

Getting food was likely out of the question as darkness began to descend on the mutant infested city.