'Come.' Lt. Castillo lifted Joshua to his feet, he was unsteady and had to lean on her. 'We're going to get you examined.'

'I'm fine, honestly.'

'You collapsed on duty.'

'At the end of my shift.'

'Midship Smiley, you will report to sick bay for a proper examination.' Lt. Castillo gave him and stern look, and let him break eye contact before she used the communicator to inform Surgeon-Major Nasti Chen of their imminent arrival.

Joshua tried to walk on his own, partly to prove he was fine, but he swayed, so dizzy that he had to lean on the door frame. His commanding officer allowed him to lean on her as they made their way to the sick bay.

In the lift, in the silence Lt. Castillo asked, quiet calmly and quietly: 'What happened?'

'Nothing, I just… got dizzy, pressure change or something.'

'I thought you were a professional.'

'I am. I've done this hundreds of times. You've seen my record, navigation flexibility is excellent. Flawless in combat simulations, top five in my class.'

Lt. Castillo let his plea hang between them for a while, enough for him to think it worked, or that he needed say more, but then she added: 'Yet your interpersonal evaluation puts you under jovial and distant. You keep yourself private.'

Joshua had read her file too, they were all given a dossier of the privately hired crew. Castillo's military record was so redacted during the Vassixine-Pled-Terran war that towards the end there were only six words per page. She also was evaluated as efficient and flexible—which was military speak for ruthless and sly.

'As do you. As does Aumeg.' Although Joshua thought that was pretty obvious why.

'Besides the point. Should I be concerned?'

'No.'

'Should I change the position of you within the team? Do I need to assign a guardian-override directive?'

'No! Please.' Joshua saluted, surprised that he was another cold and calm word away from that embarrassing trickle of tears. 'Ma'am, I am sufficiently cognisant to carry out my task and inform you in the event I am not. The only loss of pride is in failure towards your team.' A mantra drilled into the young cadets who think they are to be a lone hero.

'Correct. At ease.'

The doors opened and they walked towards the sick bay, Joshua sobered enough to walk straight. He walked ahead, not quite sure if this would be considered disrespectful, he almost didn't hear: 'Your exceptional skills will be needed.'

The sick bay doors opened and Dr. Nasti Chen was tidying up the sick bay with Nursebot-W7Alpha. The medical droid was a retro design, a pastel pink body with a triangular head, a white grill for a speaker, to mimic a wimple and mask. The body too was pastel pink and oval-shaped, slotted all around it, from which arm-like struts extended to perform whatever task was needed. Nursebot-W7Alpha had the articulated grappling arms out to make the rows of equipment tidy.

Dr. Chen was fixing her desk, taking particular care of a photograph that looped her two wives and their three children blowing kisses to her.

'What happened?'

'Gravitational distortion,' said Lt. Castillo.

Dr. Chen nodded and brought Joshua over to the bed to sit him on it. Without looking back Dr. Chen remarked dryly, 'Is that what we're calling it?'

'What do you mean?'

Dr. Chen shook her head and gave a quick examination of Joshua as he explained what happened.

'A change in gravity could do that. And what is your genetic make-up?'

'Human variable.'

'Any notable species?'

'No… Terra Novan, Nomic-Castri, well, I guess Trakenite… but y'know, less than a percent.'

Joshua tensed at the scanner Dr. Chen brought out. She reassured him before scanning. It glitched briefly, Dr. Chen tried to read it but gave up and knew anyway it was a bump and the migraine was likely from gravity fluctuations.

'So what happened to these quick reflexes?'

'Exhausted myself whooping your arses are digi-ball last night.'

'I believe the students are placing bets on if you can beat the AI on the highest difficulty setting.'

Joshua laughed, it was bright and easy. He was not unattractive, though did have a quality of blandness that made it hard to recall his face.

'Vanessa, do you need a check up too?'

Dr. Chen turned to find Lt. Castillo giving her a blank expression, and she met with an expectant one.

A beat passed.

'No.'

Dr. Chen was left on her own for a moment then thought it best to check in with the others in case they had any accidents and couldn't move. She contacted the students who were in the recreation room near the scientific equipment storage. They were a little bruised, but nothing serious.

They are young, young-adults. They do not have personality so much as are a collection of roles they are trying to process into an identity of their own. They barely have a gender identity yet, so their pronouns are just whim. A dramatis personae of the small comedic vignette: Diana Zimorax, an ingénue and femme fatale, she's related to one of the researchers and that's why she's here—nothing to do with her academic prowess; Orlo Will-O'Day-Fassyr-Pine-Yudamaralo, a competent student who knows exactly how smart he/they, and why he/they is/are here; Chitra Feplin, a class clown with much wit, but little wisdom to when to wield and withdraw, there for banter and to blame when it goes wrong; Icrel T'Wi Sha-Pen, the weirdo, there but for the grace of gods to know why.

The four students returned to their conversation about the dangers of Kessas Aen, The Planet Time Forgot. It was dense with time-storms that would scatter atoms through history and shifted history so easily paradoxes are not easily formed—supposedly. Myths had it that the Time Lords who eat the fruits from it are driven mad with the temporal energies. It was why they needed a temporal physics expert with them like Dr. Clayton.

'I am sure Dr. Clayton gave them as much warning as possible,' insisted Diana.

'But she doesn't talk about it, and can be patronising,' said Chitra.

'I'm sure she's here for a reason. She wouldn't be here is she wasn't useful.'

'I'm not useful and I'm her.'

'The pretty face,' said Icrel, maybe a little too quickly. Enough to tease, but Chitra did not register it beyond a comment to rebound a humour from.

Chitra positioned herself as a coquette might, unbuttoning the clip on her travel uniform, which revealed nothing but her neck. 'I try my best,' she said fluttering her eyelashes.

'A bit too hard, I'd say,' said Diana, dryly, exaggeratedly dryly, so very, very dryly.

And yet: A beat of uncomfortable silence passed.

Diana's smirk died and she sat forward, but before she could say anything Chitra laughed. A dry laugh, forced. She looked at Icrel who laughed too, though kept his confused expression.

Orlo, stage left from the seats they were positioned on, absently toying with a fidget cube, added: 'I am the only useful one here.'

Cue laughter. The social tension eased and the argument left as subtext. Diana still a femme fatale ingénue, Chitra fat and foolish and unfazed, Icrel remaining on the fringes despite his proximity and tendency of leaning in when Chitra speaks. And Orlo nothing but exposition. These roles are comfortable to them regardless of what I record had just passed.

The researchers, in another scene, perhaps the other side of the stage if you like, hear this and say nothing. Because they only heard, not because they listened. Dr. Tatsuya Matsumoto and Dr. Vazican Zimorax (Diana's aunt) were too concerned with the very expensive and very on-loan equipment. Most of it was flat-pack and bolted down, although by necessity some sensors hanged and jangled like wind chimes.

'Everything is in order on my end.'

'Thank The Algorithm,' said Vazican. She kept her hours tightly and was in the habit of clocking out of a conversation if it was academic, however she was a constant vigil of The Great Algorithm.

'Vazican,' began Dr. Matsumoto, who was mostly comprised of research papers and lesson plans, 'does the concept of it being an algorithm imply the universe is working towards solving a problem, or that what comes next is the product rather than the calculation—and by now I mean the next universe or tomorrow, not the next world.'

'Depends on the Formula you're a part of.'

'And you?'

'Still looking around to see what makes most sense. Everything is flawless on my end too.'

'And what about you both?' came a voice from the doorway. They turned to the anima-kind security officer, Corporal Hestamoloc Shinshasabadim. Dr. Matsumoto had the grace to not be near anything to lean on and so couldn't prat-fall, but instead just stood there, a little awkwardly.

'Yes. I'm fine,' said Dr. Zimorax, trying not to laugh.

Hestamoloc nodded politely to her and waited for Dr. Matsumoto. He just nodded and stared.

It was simply unbearable.

'Su, we'll need to check the software too. Could you help me?' Vazican said and pulled him away.

Hestamoloc saluted and understood Dr. Matsumoto's wave to be an official dismissal.

When he was out of earshot Dr. Matsumoto whispered: 'Thank you, Vazi. I never know what to say to him—to any of the militarists. I'm not good with people who aren't colleagues and students—well, you know. It's why I don't get invited to the receptions or galas.'

'I just needed someone who knew what they were doing.' Dr. Zimorax indicated the giggling audience of students.

Oh to be young and have ideas about social interactions, thought Dr. Matsumoto, who never really had much of childhood. He was the type that was likely left on the doorstep of a campus quarters in a basket with a note saying his name was 'Tatsuya Matsumoto, PhD' along with his lesson plans.

Corporal Hestamoloc Shinshasabadim checked the rest of that deck before meeting back with the other security officer at the lift, Corporal Gesto Chen (no relation to Dr. Nasti Chen, but distantly related to Hestamoloc). Corporal Gesto Chen was owl-kind and she did point out it was a little unsavoury that both security officers were half-kind, or at least, visibly non-human. Hestamoloc merely shrugged and reassured himself with coincidence.

'The children and professors are fine,' said Hestamoloc in the lift.

'As is the rest of the habitation quarters. Oh, children, that reminds me, Malshaar, do you know them? Do we share them?'

'You know I'm not close to anyone. Or at least, mother wasn't and so I'm not. Maybe. Why?'

'Wanted to know if there was a pathway from military to nanny.'

'I guess so. I knew a few other nannies who were ex-military, although they were more glorified body guards who cooked or cleaned when it was the servants day off. Military is easier too, nannying is all spoiled children and paranoid parents. There's not really a market for it, except for civilisations in the Tigit Range. Anything below makes you over-qualified and anything above would just want server droids. Though, I guess planets in the low range would be a good place to start out.'

The Tigit Range is an anthropological term to vaguely classify the integration of social-technology. Lower ends have less integration, higher have more. Although it does not necessarily mean less technological advancement. Gallifrey is on the lower end because they had (have, in this case, oh, aren't time tracks fun?) the wrist communicators with a long range, but somewhere like your Earth at that time is on the higher end.

Gesto cooed an agreement and they returned to silence, which they were both comfortable in, but was never quite sure if the other war. So Hestamoloc asked:

'Do the others, I mean the passengers, the academics, do they seem afraid of you?'

Gesto thought it over as the lift doors opened and they made their final deck check. 'Yes, but fear from respect, fear in that they know how I can harm them. They're all from New Earth, I don't think they're scared of how I look.'

'I think they are scared of me. I'm not just some half-thing. Eyes of a cat, teeth of a panther, legs of a horse, mottled skin with fur and feathers. Dr. Matsumoto just stands there, speechless.'

'Do you want me to say something? Even ask the Captain to say something? I don't want to work with a racist. It might impede my ability to protect him.' This last part said without any trace of a sardonic tone.

'No. Lieutenant Castillo will only blame us for seeing things that aren't there. He works with Doctor Zimroax and her niece and they're both pink.'

'Same type of human though.'

'What? Really?'

'Yes, they also have variations in pigment. Anyway, I don't think he notices, or he does and he tries. He's tried talking to me a few times but he always gets flustered. I heard he was a shut-in sort of guy, maybe he just hasn't talked to someone who wasn't a librarian in years.'

Gesto laughed at this.

The ship landed.