The sudden chime at the entrance reverberated through the room.

The jarring interruption tugged at Zelana's inherent sensitivity to abrupt sounds, prompting her to shift her focus from her tablet and towards the door.

I wasn’t expecting anybody, Zelana thought irately. She spoke through the desk's speaker device. “You may enter, if you please.” Although Zelana felt frustrated by the surprise visit, her tone didn’t betray any irritation.

Decorum, rather than genuine cordiality, dictated her response. Had she aimed to extend true politeness, she would’ve engaged in a more intricate welcoming ritual. However, she remained acutely aware that the subtleties of such a gesture would likely be lost on the majority of the socially unrefined crew members aboard.

The sliding door opened, and the unannounced visitor entered her office.

Zelana’s heart sank upon seeing who it was.

A Mevik, a male from the looks of it, approached her desk before halting in front of it, and then peered down at her.

The formidable creature towered over Zelana, its daunting height dwarfing her petite stature of a barely three feet. In fact, it stood head and shoulders above most sentient beings. The dark, tar-like fur and fierce feline-like features presented a stark contrast to Zelana's softer, bat-like appearance and vibrant coat.

A wave of apprehension washed over her.

Zelana held her breath, waiting for it to speak, her mind spinning with the worst-case scenarios, even though she knew there was no real danger.

An utterly preposterous situation.

Zelana was a being of pure rationality. There was no reason someone as enlightened as she should have to grapple with such primitive emotions.

But then why was she finding it so difficult to concentrate?

The Mevik spoke.

“Are you Doctor Zelana?”

A moment stood.

In a snap, Zelana forced herself to overcome her anxiety.

“You are correct,” she replied, her voice slightly shaken. “How may I be of assistance to you?”

“I’m Kaz of the Exploration Division and Minboa’s Captain,” the Mevik said. “I’d like to ask you some questions if you’ve got the time.”

Only now does he inquire about my availability! What tiresome behavior! Zelana deactivated her data tablet and placed it inside a nearby rack. “Is there a particular topic or issue you would like to discuss?”

“Your responsibilities and personal motivations,” Kaz replied. “We’ve not previously had the opportunity to work with a Langan crew member. Any insight you could provide would be greatly appreciated.”

Zelana considered imparting upon Kaz the impropriety of inquiring about personal affairs yet acknowledged the lesson's futility given his prevailing naivety.

“I understand that you’re a Xeno-Psychiatrist,” Kaz said brusquely before Zelana had a chance to respond. “Is that correct?”

Zelana didn’t reply immediately.

I have prior experience working with individuals of his species, she reminded herself nervously. “Yes, you are correct in your understanding”

A moment stood.

Zelana indicated a nearby chair with a gesture.

“Would you care to take a seat?” Although she presented her suggestion as a polite gesture, Zelana was secretly attempting to alleviate her own anxiety by reducing the height difference between them.

“I prefer to stand.”

Zelana’s nose twitched slightly.

She had witnessed similar prideful behavior from other Meviks in the past. She’d learned to overlook it, despite its unsuitability. Neither she nor they could change their inherent nature.

“If that is your preference,” Zelana replied politely. “I am Doctor Zelana Song, the head of the Psychiatric Division. My expertise lies in the psychological analysis of alien life-forms, both sentient and non-sentient.”

Kaz’s whiskers twitched a bit.

Zelana observed the flickering whiskers with keen interest.

She understood this type of body language. Her profession demanded a familiarity with the subtle cues and nuances of the Union’s various member species.

“How do you administer therapy to non-sentient life?” Kaz asked eventually, the confusion in his tone palpable.

“Intelligence is a multifaceted concept,” Zelana replied. “With sufficient contemplation, it is possible to develop an understanding and connection with any subject.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kaz said curtly. “The only non-sentient beings I encounter on a regular basis are those that end up on my dining plate.”

Despite feeling disgusted by the lack of empathy displayed, Zelana managed to suppress her cringe.

“I am sorry you feel that way.”

Her outwardly empathetic phrasing carried a subtle undertone of condescension. It was a nuance likely to go unnoticed by a rough-around-the-edges Mevik, regardless of their high-ranking status.

As evidenced by its subsequent confusion.

“Why would you be sorry?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Zelana sighed inwardly. She could see that the poor creature lacked the prerequisite social intelligence for this sort of conversation and thus decided to change the topic.

They spent the next few minutes discussing her work.

“Is it anticipated that we’ll encounter any sentient life during our journey?” Kaz asked.

“It is unlikely,” Zelana replied. “Galactic civilization has existed for nearly a thousand years, yet we have only identified a small number of sentient races. Only a few of these civilizations had expanded beyond their home planet at the time of first contact.”

“What about future missions?”

“The outlook remains unchanged.”

The look on Kaz’s face hinted at disappointment.

“So it is your expectation then we won’t encounter new civilizations within our lifetimes?”

“That depends on how you define ‘civilized’,” Zelana replied. “It is generally thought that most sentient life exists at a primitive stage of development, while only a minority are considered advanced.”

“Define ‘advanced’.”

“Capable of organizing beyond the tribal level of societal organization.”

A moment stood.

“Besides analyzing alien life forms that you’ll likely never encounter, what other work do you engage in?”

I’m uncertain if he’s being sarcastic or if he simply lacks social skills, Zelana mused. “I offer psychiatric services to the crew and provide assistance to other medical staff as needed.”

Kaz's whiskers and snout fluttered erratically, possibly indicating that something amused him.

“Don’t feel too concerned,” he said. “On a vessel such as the Minboa, mentally ill life forms tend to be self-correcting issues.”

Zelana's ears rose slightly in a moment of bemusement, not to mention concern at the statement.

“Could you elaborate on how it becomes self-correcting?”

Kaz’s tone became more amused still.

“Suffice to say, there’s a reason half of the crew resigns following each mission.”

His amusement astonished Zelana, as did the fact that he would joke about something like this.

“I apologize for being so blunt in my expression…”

The discernable absence of sympathy in Zelana's voice incited a corresponding shift in Kaz's physical demeanor.

“But with all due respect Captain, I do not possess a high degree of tolerance for what you Mevik call ‘humor’.” Her snout jerked briefly. “Especially one that is in such profoundly bad taste.”

The movement of Kaz’s whiskers and his body language indicated that he was experiencing embarrassment, a reaction that was understandable given the inappropriateness of his comment.

Understandable by civilized standards.

Were Kaz of a less distinguished social standing, Zelana suspected his indifference would have been unequivocal, a reflection of the puzzling Mevik species' social dynamics.

“I apologize if my sense of humor is not to your liking,” Kaz said eventually. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

“The issue is not my sense of humor or the lack thereof…”

Zelana’s statement was only partially accurate.

The psychological literature was replete with references to humor as a coping mechanism during stressful and uncomfortable times. Yet, there were those who saw it as nothing more than a crude form of sadism.

This perspective held sway among the Langa, a race that had evolved heightened levels of empathy and, paradoxically, a deficiency in humorous inclinations.

“Your ability to derive entertainment from the suffering of conscious beings is highly questionable,” Zelana said, her tone growing more judgmental still. “If the suffering of your crew holds any potential for amusement, it has escaped my notice.”

There was an awkward pause.

“If there are no further matters requiring my assistance, I will return to my duties, which are plentiful.”

“This will suffice for the present,” Kaz replied.

“In that case, I request that you depart.”

Such forthrightness breached etiquette to an unacceptable degree, but the Mevik possessed little reputation for social sensitivity.

Kaz appeared to hesitate, with his whiskers flickering briefly.

“Understood,” he replied, his tone slightly apologetic. “I don’t wish to impose on your time longer than necessary and I appreciate your willingness to speak with me.” He turned and approached the door. He paused briefly near the doorway, but ultimately left the room.

Zelana reached for the data tablet and pulled it out of the rack.

Despite advancements in personal computer technology, many still favored traditional reading methods. Thin, flexible data tablets emerged as a compromise. This particular one contained the psychological profiles of the ship’s crew.

Zelana navigated to Kaz's profile by using buttons located in the tablet’s top-right corner.

Profile: Kaz

Race: Mevik

Gender: Male

Age: Adult

Height: 5.7ft

Weight: 136 lbs

Eye color: Brown

Fur color: Black

Cognitive quotient: 115

Responsibility: Captain of the GEG Minboa.

Zelana couldn't suppress a scoff at Kaz's cognitive score. While satisfactory by the standards of most species, it fell short of the Langa's expectations.

In fairness, the Langa tended to regard most other species as intellectually inferior, including the Pretenti.

Zelana meticulously perused Kaz’s entry, ensuring she overlooked no crucial detail.

His profile, a compilation of data from prior missions and his academy tenure, had been facilitated by an automatic surveillance AI. Such intrusive techniques sparked ethical debates, but compliance with the Union’s stringent standards remained non-negotiable.

Kaz appeared typical enough for a Mevik, displaying impressive physical prowess but also cognitive abilities that surpassed his species' average. Despite the lack of refinement, his efficiency was undeniable, albeit delivered in a crude manner.

Zelana noted that a second person accompanied Kaz, a situation not uncommon, yet not universal. She accessed the Lieutenant's profile for review.

Profile: Agozi

Race: Mevik

Gender: Female

Age: Adult

Height: 4.9ft

Weight: 98 lbs

Eye color: Blue

Fur color: Yellow

Cognitive quotient: 118

Responsibility: Lieutenant Commander of the GEG Minboa.

The fact that Kaz's subordinate hailed from a more distinguished social background intrigued Zelana. It led her to question why she would opt for such a role. However, she curtailed further contemplation on this matter, recalling her own voluntary service on the ship despite her elevated status. She decided to reserve judgment on this individual until they had an opportunity to interact.

Zelana switched off the tablet and clumsily rose from her chair.

Despite the brevity of her shift, a surprising wave of fatigue washed over her. It was challenging not to feel a twinge of envy towards the Mevik, whose stamina clearly outmatched hers. Fortunately, she had the foresight to keep a selection of amenities within her office.

Given her herbivorous dietary preferences, she had little choice, considering the largely omnivorous crew's food was fundamentally incompatible with her own.

Zelana made her way to a corner table boasting a self-heating kettle and various utensils.

Unfortunately, trying to use these tools turned out to be harder than she anticipated.

Although evolution had endowed the Langa with unusually flexible wing skin, their abilities in terms of manipulating objects remained unremarkable. Furthermore, the wings had become non-aerodynamic and served no purpose beyond evoking memories of a past epoch.

Zelana eventually managed to obtain what she needed.

The kettle released steam, followed by a sharp whistle.

She poured the hot liquid into a small plastic cup and returned to her desk. After taking a small sip, she placed the cup on her desk.

Zelana longed for more intellectually stimulating companionship, but her time aboard the Minboa presented few opportunities for such interactions.

Most of the crew were Mevik and Prol. The former lacked refinement, and the latter had a distinct lack of personality. There were also the Cisians, but their alien nature made them too otherworldly for her tastes.

At times, Zelana found herself questioning whether the effort was truly justified.

There had certainly been those who had taken issue with her choice.

Upon learning of her decision, her family had expressed their disapproval. Their concerns held some validity, considering the unfortunate fate of other Langas who had recklessly embarked on similar ventures, only to return disheartened or mentally scarred.

Or both.

Assuring her family of her well-being had demanded a significant exertion of effort on her part.

Zelana took another sip of the warm and comforting liquid, which helped to restore her determination.

She recognized the indispensability of mental fortitude in confronting the challenges that awaited her on this journey.