"I come in peace, Doctor. How are you feeling?"
“Um… feelings. Things. Mostly things. How are you feeling?”
And the Oscar for best dialogue goes to me: a human being who absolutely does not know how to use her mouth and brain together.
He took a step forward. “You’ve been through a lot, and I’m not sure if you remember me. My name is Lyrin. May I check your vital signs?”
“Does that… involve you touching me?”
“In most cases, yes. But if you prefer, I can have the auto-doc do it. My primary concern is your well-being, and I know this”—he gestured to the room—“is a little overwhelming. I want to make sure you’re okay. Is that alright with you?”
"Yes—please. Touch me. You may," I said.
My brain had apparently permanently detached itself from my mouth.
"Before you do," I said, summoning what remained of my dignity, "I need to ask. My suit. My clothes. Who...?"
His expression softened. "The auto-doc removed your evac suit to treat your injuries. I was not present. No one was. I programmed it to preserve your privacy and alert me only when you were stable and covered." He paused. "I understand this is... unsettling. I would feel the same."
Something in my chest loosened. It wasn't quite trust—not yet—but it was the absence of a fear I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"Thank you," I said. "For telling me."
"You deserved to know. Now—may I proceed?"
“Yes, please,” I said.
“As you request,” he replied, bowing his head slightly.
I, on the other hand, began thinking about sports, math, prime numbers—anything that might transform me back into a functional adult woman instead of a slobbering adolescent who had forgotten how to interact with men.
Lyrin reached down and gently lifted my arm. My stomach decided to pursue an advanced degree in lepidopterology as a thousand butterflies burst to life. They had been asleep for a long time, believe you me.
“Your pulse is elevated. That could be cause for concern.”
“It’s probably just… all the excitement,” I managed, every ounce of willpower funneled into keeping my voice steady. Seventy-five percent controlled, give or take.
He nodded. “Understandable. Vaelix mentioned you had a degree in xenobiology.”
“Who is Vaelix?”
“Ah—yes. Sorry. I forgot you don’t know us yet. He is our science officer. The one who convinced the Captain to save you.”
“Is he the guy who was slightly obsessed with my analytical transmissions?”
“Indeed. But being a medic myself, I am also somewhat of a xenobiologist. What is your favorite area of study?” he asked, his bicep flexing as he turned my hand over.
“Arms,” I blurted, immediately wishing for a personal rewind button.
“Arms,” he repeated, locking eyes with me. “An interesting choice, considering so many species don’t actually have those.”
“Which is why it’s such a… uh… fascination for me. The rarer something is, the more interest I have in it.”
“That makes sense,” he said with a soft smile. “I suppose I am more interested in the whole, not just the parts. For example, your physiology fascinates me. Human cardiac signatures are… expressive. In that vein, would you please turn around so I can check your lungs?”
“Of course,” I said, shifting and dragging the sheets closer to my chest.
“I’ll do my best to warm my hands, but this may be cold. I apologize for any discomfort.”
