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Atrophy

"Welcome to the ship, Ensign... Burke," says Dr. Finn, reading from her illuminated medical tablet, an unspoken burden to her words. No one will talk about it yet, but everyone knows. "This exam won't take long, and then you can get settled in to your quarters, okay?"

"I'm sick of people talking to me like this," she tells Claire. "You don't have to feel bad for me just because... I don't know. I'm the only survivor, or because you and Isaac---"

"Ensign, why don't you just... lie back for the scan, all right?"

She presses a button on the tablet and the sensor bars close over her, high above Charly's body on the table. A bright red light shines over her body, eviscerating each cell, penetrating the coding of her form. "Make sure to remain still. Because of... what you went through on the Quimby, it's important to ensure you're healthy."

"I already did this at Union Central."

"Yes, but I'm a better doctor than Union Central. Please remain quiet, talking will slow the scan."

Charly sighs. Her voice and protests halt. Dr. Finn goes back to scanning the results as they appear on her tablet, her eyes dancing over transparent solidity. A few times her face contorts, as if hit by a tsunami impact of deep concern, but it is brief, the waters sucked back into their own realm quicker than the Kaylon would have wiped out Earth if it hadn't been for Claire Finn.

"Interesting," Claire says. "You have significant amounts of scar tissue around your fingernails." The light powers down with a fading screech, and the sensors fold themselves back up behind the exam table. The scan is over. She survived it, unfortunately. "Do you pick at them out of stress?"

"I guess. I don't know."

Claire picks up her hand, traces Charly's palm carefully as she inspects each digit. Her expression shifts like a bouquet of thought as she studies Charly with a warm intrigue that Charly simply cannot place or parse.

"I want you to come to sessions with me at least once a week," Claire says, placing Charly's hand back down on the metal.

"What, like therapy?"

"It's considered mandatory for all incoming officers who have transferred from... war-devoured worlds, destroyed ships, things like that. It won't be forever."

"So I don't get a choice?"

Claire smiles at her. "I'm not asking because it's mandatory. I'm asking because you're going to be our bridge navigator, we'll be spending quite some time together, and I want to get to know you. You're not just the only survivor of your ship, you're Ensign Charly Burke. Who is Ensign Charly Burke?"

Charly's lip trembles. Her voice rises sharp as she tries to control her wobbly hiss: "Ensign Charly Burke is someone who vowed to protect the woman she loved, and lost her. I'm sorry, Dr. Finn. I'll think about it."

Claire reaches out, briefly, as if to touch again, but retracts herself. Not yet, she visibly thinks. Charly, like a wounded dog. Charly, wounded. Charly, dead on arrival.

"And I don't feel bad for you in the way you assume, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't make those assumptions about me."

"Sorry."

"I care for this ship and every living being on it, and not just because I'm a doctor."

"Because you're human."

Claire smiles. They're not going to go there; the hidden implication is unlike them, and they're just not going to go there.

"Because I've learned that human nature - or the nature of whatever species you're discussing - is highly subjective, and everyone is worth something."

Charly smiles, tries to make it seem genuine. "Can I be dismissed?"

Claire sighs. "Yes, you're dismissed."

Before she leaves, her feet immobilize and her legs tremble in their stasis, remembering Claire's finger on her palm, marinating in the idea that the lover of a Kaylon thinks she is worth something.

So she exhales. Tries again. "Oh, and uh... what time did you want to see me next week?"