Life's been crazy so it's a little short, but I thought it was about time you all got an update! As always review if you like and I hope you all have a very Happy Easter if you celebrate it and a fantastic weekend if you don't! :D
Chief Medical Officer Ixane was a woman of permanently grumpy disposition with a penchant towards sadism. She currently sat upon her desk, feet propped up on the back of her guest chair, with a stylus dangling from her lip and a PADD in her hand. In her other hand, held limply against her calf, was a glass of deep green liquid.
When she brought the glass to her lips, the viridian sheen of it danced across her face and brought out the deep purple bruises under her silver eyes, made all the more prominent by her light blue skin. She'd spent the last few hours in surgery, stabilizing Zim, and the deep exhaustion from the ordeal showed clearly on her features.
That moron Zim had refused his re-entry checkup when he returned from his mission, breaking protocol and successfully hiding a grievous wound he'd sustained on his side. The thing hadn't healed like it normally would have because he'd cracked one of his false ribs. The fractured falsie bent outwards and punctured part of his side – the foreign body preventing his abnormally good healing factor from stitching up the wound.
At least he'd bandaged the thing properly, which Ixane admitted was a surprise. Zim was usually so cavalier about his injuries she was surprised he hadn't just stuffed part of his shirt in there to stop the fluid loss. The doctor admitted she would have been a bit harsh on Zim about the wound, it was a stupid injury to get in the first place, but she couldn't fathom why he decided it was worth risking his life over. She frowned, worrying her lip with sharp teeth. It was unfair to assume Zim knew he was going to electrocute himself or that the open wound would act as a conductor for the electricity to jump to his organ, but after five years of only seeing the Irken when he was on the brink of death, Ixane was getting pretty sick of it.
She had just finished her glass and was pouring herself another three fingers when she heard the door to Med Bay chime. Ixane didn't bother to go check it out, guessing who it was and knowing Nurse Yin would handle it if she'd guessed wrong. She waited a few moments, taking a slow, thoughtful sip, when her office door chimed.
"Come in." She sniffed, trying to keep the annoyance from her face. As far as she was concerned, the Vortian was just as entitled to her ire right now as the Irken. She didn't wait until the door fully opened before addressing him, knowing only her Captain would be here at nearly 0100 degrees. "You should be asleep." She drawled, taking a sip of her beverage.
Lard Nar, still clad in his official uniform and looking nothing like the worried folk who would roll out of bed and visit her, sauntered in and frowned at her astute, doctor-y wisdom.
"And you should be sober." Lard Nar replied simply, crossing his arms and raising an eye ridge. He watched her lean back on her desk for a second and then walked over to the guest chair she'd propped her feet upon, shooing them off.
Ixane glared, but made no comment as she removed her feet, allowing the Vortian to plop into the chair. She pulled her feet into her chest so they wouldn't hang off her desk, then she nonchalantly – almost defiantly- picked up the remains of her drink and swallowed it, "Uck," She complained, her face puckering. She then pointed over the glass at her Captain, voice hoarse with the burn of alcohol, "Tell me that the next time you operate on a charred, half-dead Irken." She sniffed, rolling her shoulders with a practiced annoyance, "'sides I'm technically off duty. Just playing glorified babysitter. I'll probably let Yin go to bed in a bit."
Lard Nar bit back a comment that perhaps she should be the one to go to bed but he knew his CMO well enough not to make such a hypocritical suggestion. Instead, he sighed and asked the lingering question that had kept him up, "How's he doing?"
"Same as the last zlarfing time you showed up. Unconscious, regrowing his damn skin." She growled, pouring herself some more of the drink. She brought the glass to her lip and paused, her eyes taking on a glassy sheen. "You know I had to take a rib out right? One of his falsies got all screwed up and nearly punctured his stupid squeedily spooch." She shuddered, "Never mind how barbecued the thing was."
Lard Nar frowned at that, he picked up an empty unused glass conveniently sitting next to Ixane and turned it over in his hands, knowing she'd left it out for him. A thoughtful expression covered his face, tainted with a touch of unease, "He's getting worse."
She snorted into her cup at that, picking up the bottle to top it off. "You're damn right he is." She shook her head and gave the Captain a pointed look; "You need to get him under control. Whatever this stupid vendetta of his is, it's going to get him killed." She shook her head, taking a sip of her drink and looking at her Captain with raised brows. She hefted the bottle a little higher as in inquiry and Lard Nar nodded.
After his glass had been filled and he'd had a mouthful, the Vortian confessed, "I don't know what to do with him." He shook his head, "He's always been a bit… eager to throw himself into the fray but lately it's been more destructive."
"I'll tell you what you do," Ixane snapped, "You give him something to do, keep him busy." She took a sip of her drink and snarled, "And tell him to stop running from me. He's too damn old to be afraid of his zlarfing doctor."
"Busy how?" Lard Nar asked cautiously, gingerly setting his drink on the table and trying to focus on the doctor's face rather than her shapely rear, distractedly poised at eye level. He wished she'd sit in her chair like a normal person, knowing part of Zim's turmoil with her resulted from her tendency to sit on things that made her tower over others when she spoke – an Irken social faux-paus that the green alien couldn't accept.
"I don't know." Ixane began sarcastically, "Maybe actually let him train your wussy 'soldiers' for a change?"
"Doctor, you know my men aren't hardened soldiers anymore than you're a Plutonian miner. They work fine on the ship and I honestly don't know if I can trust Zim's temperament to actually teach them something. I really don't need to give the crew any more reasons to fear him."
"Yeah?" Ixane scoffed, taking a sip of her drink and reveling in the sweet burn. "You realize we're at war, Captain. Last time I checked, that means everyone's a soldier." She shrugged and looked down at her long, slender fingers, "Besides, Zim's a right idiot a lot of the time, sure, but name one time he's got someone besides himself messed up on a mission."
Lard Nar opened his mouth to protest, but slowly closed it, thoughtful. "I suppose it's true, he does protect the crew at any cost to himself…" He frowned, "But that doesn't mean he knows how to be mindful of their limits. He's used to the actual military, and the Irken military at that. I'm afraid he might expect too much of them."
"Or perhaps you expect too little." Ixane muttered.
"I'm sorry, what?"
Ixane set her drink down and glared down at her Captain, her silver eyes boring into his green ones. "Look, Lard Nar," She began, "I get that everyone's got some tragic backstory here but at this point it's not sad anymore, it's just life." She shook her hand at him, warning him not to interrupt as she took a quick swig then continued, "How many hours have you worked this week off bridge? How many times have you taken over a job from a subordinate because you can 'do the job better' or 'don't want to tire them out'? How often do you assign someone to do graveyard shift repairs in engineering instead of doing it yourself? They're not smeet, Lard Nar, I think they can do their zlarfing duties every now and again."
"They do their duties just fine, thank you." Lard Nar replied primly, unwilling to let the truth of her words sink in. So he liked to keep busy, that wasn't a crime.
Ixane shook her head and finished her drink making the Captain realize he was only halfway through his, "Right, fine, whatever." She snapped, "All I'm saying is maybe loose the reigns and let Zim do his job, huh? Let him train the guys, give him something to do and maybe take a bit of a break yourself?"
"And this, of course, will be happening after Zim's skin has grown back and he has a new rib, correct?"
"You're micromanaging." Ixane accused and then she sighed, "And maybe not the rib."
"You're telling me to let my Commander engage in combat training with a missing rib?" Lard Nar asked, "As a doctor I'm sure you know a single misplaced blow would mean injury to his spooch – you know, that vital super organ of his? The only organ he has?"
"Oh shut your gob." Ixane griped and bent down to give Lard Nar a light smack on the top of his horn. He reeled back, comically shocked and he defensively placed a hand over them until they stopped wobbling. Ixane snorted, pleased, "Serves you right." She shrugged, rubbing at her nose with a distracted sniff, "Look, I'm the bloody doctor here, I know too well the risks. I also know that damn Irken of yours needs a bloody outlet like he needs sugar. It'll take three weeks before we're close enough to the nearest black market to try and find the parts I need to construct a new rib – zlarfing Irkens and their 'secret' tech – and can you really tell me you can keep him in check that whole time?"
"Well, I-"
"The answer is no, Lard Nar. No you can't. If you don't let him do something actually constructive, you know he'll start mucking around in that lab of his and do you really need him trying to upgrade his Pak right now?" She gave the Vortian a pointed look and he glanced away uneasily. She knew about the rather recent Pak fiasco then, and she wanted him to know she knew. "Right. That's what I thought. Way he's been going on about, I wouldn't be surprised if one of those upgrades turned lethal. You know he'll go at it whole hog now that he's got some pride to lick."
Lard Nar set his drink down and sighed, "Alright Ixane, you win. I'll let him train the crew."
"And you should make him the honorary quartermaster." Ixane pressed, her eyes boring into him.
The Vortian balked, "You cannot be serious! I am perfectly capable of producing appropriate schedules for my crew!"
"Appropriate for your crew or for you, o my Captain?" Ixane hummed sarcastically. Lard Nar made a rather sour face at that and crossed his arms, clearly insulted.
"Zim requires a third the amount of rest and sleep my crew requires. Given the position of quartermaster he might-"
"Oh save your excuses. Zim's aware of your precious crew's limitations." Ixane spat, "If he was as incompetent as you keep trying to suggest you'd never have let him on this ship. Just admit that moron's a damn good Commander and you're just scapegoating so you can micromanage yourself into exhaustion."
Lard Nar sighed again, this time wearily. "Fine. I'll draft up the paperwork tonight then…" He glared at Ixane, the look good-natured but petulant, "You know, with the abrasive way you two treat me, it's a wonder I come to either of you for advice."
"Oh boo hoo, poor widdle Nar." Ixane rolled her eyes. "News flash, the truth isn't always sugar coated drivel." Then she paused and snapped, "And don't compare me to that Irken. To even insinuate that we're at all alike is insulting." And here Lard Nar laughed at her, a surprised, elated sound bubbling from his throat. The doctor narrowed her eyes and snapped, "I mean it."
"Oh, of course you do." The Vortian twittered, his voice still vibrating with humor. "Of course you do."
With that said, the Captain set down his unfinished drink, rose to his feet and headed off, heedless of the way Ixane glared after him. He paused once at the door to remind her not to stay up too late and then, to her chagrin, thanked the Doctor for the laugh claiming he 'needed that'. Then he disappeared through med bay before he could catch the hint of a smile souring Ixane's otherwise perfect glare.
o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Dib spent a unique few days aboard the Eldreth. Despite Lard Nar's desire to spend time with the human, the recently damaged ship required constant repair of the Warp Core to keep up to speed and, being one of the most seasoned engineers aboard, he was spending more time cleaning up after their latest mission than he would have liked.
This might not have been such a problem, Dib was used to being alone after all and loved exploring, if the whole thing weren't spoiled by the constant vigilance of his 'guides'.
Of course, a foreign alien not yet pledged to the resistance couldn't exactly run about the vessel all on his lonesome and, with the Captain's right hand still recovering, that left his Lieutenants to play babysitter.
Spleenk and Shloonktapooxis weren't exactly bad company.
Just… enthusiastic.
Dib wasn't used to being social for stretches of time lasting more than a few seconds and their constant chatter, happiness and questions quickly put Dib on edge.
They didn't quite understand why Dib felt it inappropriate to wear the ship's uniform (made more awkward by the fact Zim's hand-me-downs were the only thing in his size) and they certainly couldn't understand Dib's refusal to hang out in their off time (he only had about an hour or two a day unsupervised that he spent as far away from any living creatures as possible). The human would typically spend his night alone looking at stars on the Observation deck before finally trudging back to the small guest room they'd set up for him on deck four. He felt it was a little easier this way because, while Lard Nar's word had touched him, he wasn't quiet certain about joining and, until he made the decision, socializing with crewmembers touched a raw nerves left frayed open from the incident a few day ago.
It just didn't feel right, wearing their clothes, eating their food (which turned out to be equal parts horrifyingly alien and terribly mundane), while still not being a part of the team.
It felt like a lie.
So, Dib resolved to interact as little as possible with the crew in hopes that, if he did choose to leave, he might disappear under the radar and allow anyone who put any hope in the 'promise' he showed to save some face when he ultimately disappointed them.
Because Dib would disappoint them eventually, he was pretty certain of that.
Because he always disappointed those around him.
Dib sighed and placed his hand against the wall of the corridor he was currently wandering down. It was pretty late in the evening, when he should be asleep, but he'd gotten used to roaming the halls and letting himself think around this time, if only to squeeze a few more hours of solitude into his day.
His hand brushed up against what felt like a plaque and he found himself staring at the shiny golden block, inscribed with languages he couldn't understand. Not that it matters, he found himself thinking, it's probably just a storage closet or something.
He glanced over at the sliding door next to the plaque and, while it was wider than normal, he knew this floor didn't hold any residents or labs or what have you that could make it remotely interesting. So, shaking his dreary monologue free from his head, he decided to head back to bed – wherever that was.
Dib cast his eyes around the hallway and realized he'd wandered down a corridor he didn't recognize. He decided it was probably best to continue the way he was going, less likely to get lost than attempting to backtrack, when the door to the placarded room suddenly slid open as he passed.
Strange.
Most rooms you had to plug in key codes or voice commands for them to open, unless they were open for public use.
Dib crept slowly back towards the door, wondering if maybe he's stumbled across one of the many Rec Rooms Spleenk kept telling him about.
He peered cautiously into the room, causing the door to chime his entrance, and the hospital-esque scene made him hesitate in the door jam.
Dib had stumbled across the Med Bay; a gleaming, sterilized gem of medical ingenuity far beyond human capability. Dib shifted his feet, feeling awkward, as memories flooded his mind revolving around the Irken he'd unwittingly helped hospitalize.
Could… could he be somewhere in here?
He didn't know much about Zim's current state and, despite the quick update of 'he's fine' from the Lieutenants, Dib hadn't been told much about his condition.
The human felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to see the Irken for himself, wondering if perhaps he could be found here, but found himself frozen, remembering the not-quiet serious joke of Zim's to 'stay away from his funeral'.
Dib bite his lip, indecisive.
Even if he were welcome here, surely it was past visiting hours.
It was at that moment the door chimed again, obviously becoming annoyed with Dib's ambivalence, and began to close. Alarmed, the human stepped into Med Bay, not knowing if the door would crush him if he stayed in the middle of the entrance and decided a little look around wouldn't hurt.
The room was wide and open, looking very much like a cleaner version of Zim's lab, with flashing lights of all colors and high tech glasses and gizmos piled about shelves and countertops. A handful of stretchers lay pushed off to the side and, behind those, a small door-sized opening cut from the smooth white walls. Dib hesitated again, wondering if that might be where long-term patients stayed and decided to continue down the hall.
It was narrow, almost maze-like, and Dib was becoming unnerved that he had yet to find a single doctor.
He finally broke through the hall after a short walk, despite how eternal it felt, and immediately noticed several doors to small, cubicle-like hospital rooms and another, larger door, to what appeared to be a records room or an office. Dib couldn't read the sloping, alien script that curved across it in two types of bold script but he assumed the message alerted all who spoke either Vortian or Irken what it was.
He continued past the large door down the halls that seemed to lead to patient rooms until he heard voices. Drawing nearer, he soon realized they were the voices of Zim and Lard Nar.
Dib thought that, since the conversation was typical boring work jargon, it might be ok for him to wait until they were done talking and then talk to Lard Nar. He kept just missing teatime and wanted to see the Vortian to let him know he was possibly ready to join. Or if he was more honest with himself he really wanted to talk to the Vortian so he could air out his fears and hopefully find that he really might be useful and Lard Nar hadn't offered the job out of pity.
Lord knows Dib was whining about quite the sob story at the time.
Not to mention Dib had thought –or hoped – Zim would be unconscious when he visited and felt like the Vortian might give him the information he needed for closure without Dib needing to actually see the Irken.
The small divider blocked Zim from the view of the hallway and Dib suddenly felt nervous and sick about seeing how injured he might be, especially since he felt responsible.
What if he was forever some charred green blob of flesh? What if- Dib slapped himself and tried not to get histrionic; that'd be rather embarrassing if either of them suddenly took notice of him.
Instead, Dib settled himself comfortably between where the door met the wall and hung around, peering occasionally through the crack in the not quite closed door, and tried to tune out their boring debate about whether or not Zim should train the recruits and when he might start, as well as a few choice sentences on shift assignments.
The conversation was so normal for so long that Dib had assumed the Captain and Commander had already discussed and come to terms with the recent incident. It didn't occur to the human that this might be the first time Zim was conscious since it had happened until Lard Nar suddenly trailed off.
"I'm sorry, Zim, I can't pretend that everything's fine." The Vortian's voice took on a tone so personal Dib felt his skin itch. Should he leave?
"My Captain," Zim began, and Dib was horrified to hear the Irken's voice was also uncharacteristically gentle, "We've already established what I did was reckless but, in the given circumstances, necessary."
"And losing your rib was necessary!?" Lard Nar's voice snapped and Dib pulled his head away from the door, troubled and trying to decided if he should leave or not. His feet suddenly felt glued to the floor and a bit of panic rose in his throat. It sounded like a fight was about to break out and he really shouldn't be here and-
"Look Zim," Lard Nar's voice continued; Dib could hear the quaver where he was trying to keep it even. "What happened in the Warp Core may have been necessary, but challenging Tak…"
"Tak? Wh- what…" Zim's voice came out too strangled for him to get another word in before the Captain cut him off angrily.
"Oh be quiet, of course I know about it. And I know about all your stupid- " Lard Nar took a deep breath, like he was trying and failing to stay calm. "You took her on without your Pak Zim. And the whole getting knocked out by Dib because you weren't paying attention? How could that possibly be necessary?! You're taking so many unnecessary risks and it's an utter miracle one of those stupid slip ups didn't get you killed."
"Yeah well, I'm alive." Zim replied petulantly, "Hooray for that. You don't need to worry about me Captain, Zim can take care of-"
"I absolutely do have to worry!" A slam punctuated this statement and Dib could tell Lard Nar had slammed his fist on something.
It was definitely time to go.
He tried not to be intrigued by the way Lard Nar fought to even out his voice, but Dib found he couldn't move away from the door. God damn curiosity winning out over common decency.
"Zim…" The Vortian's voice was suddenly, uncharacteristically small, as if he was trapped deep under water and struggling to breath, "I… I can't lose you too."
Dib could see through the sliver the Vortian's silhouette shift, a hand reaching out towards Zim's form.
A sigh resounded, not irritated as Dib was accustomed to hearing in Zim's voice, but bone tired. "I know Nar, I just…" He sighed again, seemingly unable to articulate an explanation or feeling; Lard Nar's voice filled the gap, suddenly angry.
"No, Zim, you don't know." He snapped, "If you knew you'd stop pulling this dooky. I cannot lose another brother, not after Kern, and you can't just… you're not invincible Zim. You're not."
Dib heard a voice hitch, but he couldn't be sure whether it was Zim or Lard Nar. Somewhere his socially stunted brain screamed at him that this was a very inappropriate conversation to be listening in on but he couldn't help it. Especially if he was going to witness Zim being sensitive; his curiosity to see if the Irken was even capable of such a thing overpowering his morals.
An awkward pause filtered through the room and he could practically feel Lard Nar's expectation. The Vortian so desperately wanted Zim to understand but after a rather stilted pause, the only thing the Irken could come up with was, "Kern and I never finished the paperwork. We're not really sibling-units, Nar."
Curiosity bubbled within Dib at that and he wasn't exactly certain what Zim meant by it. Lard Nar certainly understood and his reaction was immediate and distressed. Dib watched the Vortian's silhouette suddenly jump to his feet, decrying, "You're an impossible idiot, Zim. You know what I meant!"
Dib didn't get to hear Zim's response and instead felt a terrifyingly strong hand wrap itself around his mouth and yank him, silent and helpless, into the shadows. It was probably a good thing he couldn't scream, because the silhouette he saw was something straight out of a demented Jaws movie. When the light properly hit his assailant, the woman, approximately his height, appeared more alien and unnerving than anyone he'd seen so far.
She had sightless, silvery eyes like a fish and her pale blue flesh gave her the remnant effect of an aquatic creature, graceful yet deadly in appearance. She wore a long, flowing lab coat over a tight white jumpsuit that did nothing to disguise her shapely figure. Across her flat, well-toned chest was a badge pinned next to a medical symbol that announced something in the same flowing script found in the entry hall.
After his initial heart attack, the scenery began to melt in behind her form and Dib found himself facing an angry alien in what appeared to be a small janitor's closet.
"You colossal shit," She spat angrily, if her shapely figure hadn't already given it away, Dib was now 100% certain this alien was female by the deep, sensuous tenor of her voice. "You over heard a word or two on your way to visit a patient, yeah I get that. What I don't get is hanging around to eavesdrop on that private love fest back there. You've got some goddamn nerve."
"Wh- me?!" Dib argued, only because man handling and sudden accusations tended to make him un-agreeable. "You jumped me and threw me in a closet, what the hell was that!?"
The blue alien leaned back, her eyes raking up and down his body in a decidedly predatory way, "Oh please." She scoffed, "No one's looking to jump you."
Dib blushed, furious, and wrapped his arms about himself like a distressed maiden. "Oh what do you even want!?"
"Dib right?" She asked, sidestepping his question with one of her own and glaring down a sharp nose at him.
"Uh, yeah?" Dib asked, confused she knew him, but the alien was talking over him before he really got the words out. It was as if she knew who he was and was asking more for show than for verification.
"Right, well, I'm the CMO around here. Name's Ixane." And she made no move to shake hands or make the introduction feel anything less like an interrogation.
Or a kidnapping.
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder toward the closet door, "Wanna explain why you were eavesdropping? Or should I go tell our oh-so-lenient Commander you heard part of his sob story?"
Dib blanched, talking a little too fast and quickly at the very real threat. "Whoa, look, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop… I just…"
"Right whatever, sure you weren't." Ixane cut him off, raising a hand to silence him. She jabbed a finger at his nose, her eyes narrowed, "This is your one and only warning, let those two boogers be, they've got a lot of shit to air out. Besides, we don't need to stick our head into one of their marital fights."
She shrugged and, proving she knew the Commanders incredibly well, an unintelligible shout filtered in from the hallway and quickly dissolved into an argument.
"M-marital fights?" Dib gawked, shocked that Ixane would allow what sounded like a very spirited disagreement occur while Zim was in his state. "B-but, they said they weren't a couple. Wait forget that, Lard Nar said Zim was his brother?!"
"Did you learn that from not eavesdropping." Ixane asked sarcastically. Then, a sudden, serene smile dawned upon the blue alien's lips, as if a delightful thought had just occurred to her. She said, with eyes too wide and a hand pressed to her cheek in mock shock, "And I'm surprised you didn't know. 'Brother' is a term of endearment for us aliens."
Shock rocked Dib's system for a split second before he fully took in Ixane's expression – the kind he was used to seeing on bullies making shit up to look impressive. Despite being almost certain she was making a fool out of him, he had to ask. He crossed his arms and gave her his best no nonsense look, "You're messing with me."
Ixane's face soured, and she crossed her arms petulantly, "Figured that out on your own, did you?" She sighed, "Ah well, with the way they run the ship they might as well be married. They've got enough children to take care of." Her nose wrinkled, like she found the thought both humorous and disgusting.
"You're talking about the crew." Dib said slowly, his habit to state the obvious quickly irritating the woman before him.
"Gee, really? You really are a genius, kid." She rolled her eyes.
Dib frowned, he could definitely understand why Zim found this woman unpleasant to deal with. "I don't have time for this." He snapped and made a move to leave.
"Uh uh," Ixane tisked, a strong hand caught Dib's shoulder and spun him back to face her. "I've still got a bone to pick with you."
"I wasn't eavesdropping!" Dib immediately protested.
"What? No, shut up. I honestly couldn't care less about keeping their secrets." She continued as if she didn't seem that alarmed, extremely confused expression muddying Dib's face. "In fact, I need you to not to keep secrets." She pulled back and crossed her arms, looking supremely displeased, "I'm giving you a pass this time, cuz you're new, but if you ever conspire with those idiots again to hide a medical issue then I'll be the one causing your next medical issue. Got it?"
"Uh, what?" Dib squeaked, uncomprehending and suddenly fearing for his safety. The way she spoke gave him no doubts that she wasn't joking. He glanced about nervously for an escape should this potentially unstable woman turn violent.
The doctor seemed to understand his trepidation and rolled her eyes, "Let me break it down for you." She declared, pointing a slender finger so close to his face if Dib so much as breathed his nose might brush it. "Those morons think that battle scars or licking their wounds and all that crap is, like, manly or appropriate or whatever, I don't care. Point is, I'm sick and tired of them ducking my physicals only to wind up in med bay on the brink of death. Next time they say anything about you helping patch 'em up you say no and come to me – forget their fancy titles because those idiots don't know jack shit better than their doctor." She glared at Dib then, her silvery eyes boring holes into his skull, "We clear?"
"Y-yes, ma'am." Dib stuttered, trying desperately to understand what was happening and too scared to question it, his back beginning to ache as he pressed himself into the door in an attempt to wiggle away from her.
Ixane smiled in a way that reminded Dib very much of a shark, "Good." She reached past Dib and opened the door, causing him to flop out into the hallway. He miraculously caught himself, avoiding a fall, and looked toward Ixane, suddenly feeling antsy.
"So, uh, can I go?" He wasn't sure why he asked permission, but it suddenly felt necessary.
"Not quite. I got one last bone to pick." And she grabbed his arm in a painful, too tight grip, pulling him down the hallway. "You've been ducking your physical and I'm not about to let you weasel out of it."
"Wait what?" Dib snapped, instantly fighting her as she dragged him along, "What physical? Ow! Let go!"
"I put out a ship wide announcement that all personnel who got caught up in our most recent shit storm needed to see me for a physical. You're the only one who didn't show up and you were at the zlarfing epicenter."
"But I'm not personnel!" Dib protested, still vainly trying to escape her iron clad grip.
"Too right you're not, you're a damn civilian to boot! Well you're not dying on my watch." Ixane proclaimed and began to mutter and curse about headstrong aliens who thought they were invincible and above medicine.
Dib left her office about an hour later after being subjected to a routine physical exam, every type of allergy and pre-existing disease and health problem tests, and some very invasive questions about his personal life so Ixane could begin to compose a med file.
Despite being incredibly professional throughout the whole thing and her medical TriCorder picking up data that avoided the exam being in the slightest bit physically invasive, Dib still left Dr. Ixane's office feeling somehow violated.