The hex-shaped door of the examination chamber slid open with a whoosh. Xeno-psychiatrist Zelana and Xeno-biologist Okens entered, followed by the two alien specimens.

“What are we doing here?” the specimen Ross asked. “You guys said you could fix my head, but I’m not seeing any head-fixing machines.”

The chamber provided was a cramped rectangular space, ill-suited for anything beyond the most basic medical procedures. Its equipment was equally rudimentary, yet it would suffice for this routine scan. At least the sterile white metal-plastic walls and floor met the bare minimum standard of cleanliness.

“Your wound is about to be attended to with utmost care,” Zelana said without looking up from her tablet. “Please, remain calm, the situation will ameliorate shortly.”

“Uh, okay, I guess.”

Zelana adjusted settings on her tablet before looking at the specimens. “Please, take your place on top of those pads so that we may be able to commence the examination,” she said, gesturing towards a row of circular pads near the room's edge.

The specimen stepped onto a pad as instructed.

Zelana approached the specimen Ross, glancing at him before resuming work on her tablet.

Soft, rhythmic exhalations suddenly emerged from the specimen's mouth.

Zelana stopped working on her tablet and looked at the specimen. “Excuse my inquiry, but might there be something amiss?”

“No, it’s just that…” the specimen Ross briefly repeated some of the sounds. “You’re wearing a white coat just like a human doctor would. I just find it funny.”

Zelana lowered her tablet slightly and her long, narrow ears twitched with interest.

“Intriguing,” she said. “May I inquire as to the particular cause of your amusement?”

“I dunno,” the specimen Ross said. “I just find it funny cus I always pictured you alien cockroaches dressed in villainous regalia with shoulder horns or something.” It paused briefly. “I guess the sci-fi channel must’ve lied to me,” he added, emitting more of the strange, amused sounds.

Zelana's nose twitched, a reflex betraying her confusion. She reminded herself of the specimen's injury and mental instability, as well as the incomplete translation configuration.

“Noted,” she replied, her voice tinged with artificial politeness.

“Proceed with examination must,” Xeno-Biologist Okens said, positioning himself in front of the other specimen.

The ceiling above the pads parted, and various examination devices slowly lowered toward the specimen. This prompted a look of concern from the specimen Ross.

“You have nothing to fear from the scanners,” Zelana said empathetically. “The process is entirely painless and non-invasive.”

“Well, that’s a relief!” the specimen Ross said, visibly relaxing in response to her words. “For a moment there, I thought you space rodents were going to vivisect me or something.”

Zelana's posture visibly shifted with confusion and a hint of shock. She glanced up from her tablet at the specimen Ross.

“...vivisection?” She paused briefly, stunned. “Would we have reason to perform such a procedure?”

“I dunno, it just seems like the sort of thing you alien bastards would do.” The specimen Ross's tone took on a more nervous quality. “But what do I know? I’m just some industrial worker bro doing industrial worker shit in outer fucking space, especially around clouds of gamma and definitely nowhere else, for I am squarely an industrial gamma space man in space…I swear to ya!”

“Disregard my associate's nonsense,” the specimen Andreas said quickly. “His recent injury has compromised his judgment, unfortunately.”

“Noted,” Zelana said, after a moment's hesitation.

They resumed the examination.

“The following steps require the removal of your garments,” Zelana said.

For some reason, the statement prompted an unexpected posture change from the specimen Ross.

“Uh…say what?”

“You'll need to remove your clothing,” Zelana repeated. “The scan will be compromised if your clothing remains in place.”

The specimen Ross frowned.

“Listen you crazy bat lady…” Its tone had taken on a passive-aggressive edge. “I dunno how things work on whatever fucked up planet you come from, but back where I live, we just don’t go around parading our naked sausage like its pride day or some shit.”

Zelana paid little mind to the specimen's rudeness; its evident mental deterioration excused it from the consequences of its rude behavior. She had no understanding of what this “pride day” was that it referenced.

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“If this request violates any customs, I extend my apologies,” she replied, her tone professional yet slightly distant. “Our understanding of your culture is, admittedly, lacking. This will be addressed.” She paused. “Please follow instructions for the time being. Be assured, this is for your own good.”

“Sure thing! I’ll just mindlessly believe the talking alien rodent and her legion of space cats who’ve just kidnapped me for no reaso—”

“For your own sake, I recommend you follow instructions,” the specimen Andreas said in a tone so chilling that Zelana could almost feel its coldness from across the room.

“But what if she wants to anally prob—”

The specimen Andreas narrowed its eyes and gave the specimen Ross an icy look.

“Uh, never mind,” the specimen Ross said. “I guess…I’ll put on my birth suit, then.”

Although hardly noticeable to the uncouth beings before her, Zelana's composure was momentarily disturbed by the blatant hostility. The tablet in her typically steady hands betrayed a faint quiver, the device dipping slightly as her grip slackened.

“All is well, Doctor Zelana?”

The unexpected question caught her off guard, causing a slight jerk of Zelana’s body. Her attention snapped toward the voice's origin.

Xeno-Biologist Okens, already standing close and presumably sensing her nervousness, eyed her with a glimmer of concern.

“Need assistance?”

A flicker of hesitation crossed Zelana's face, but vanished as she regained her composure.

“That is unnecessary,” she replied, professionalism fully restored.

“Then carry on, we shall.”

Once the specimens undressed, Okens used his tablet to activate the scanners.

The scanners whirred around the specimens, emitting multicolored laser beams and adjusting their height to target specific body parts.

The specimen Ross chuckled. “It’s kinda like Star Wars if everybody was naked!”

“No moving or speaking, during examination process,” Okens said.

Several minutes later, the scanner devices switched off and retracted into the ceiling.

“The remainder of this scan necessitates a manual approach.” Zelana grabbed a small handheld scanner from a nearby utility table. “If it is feasible, raise your arms to the side and maintain the position. Notify us should you grow tired.”

As requested, the specimen extended their arms outward.

They approached their respective specimens, continuing the examination. The size difference immediately posed a problem; while the legs and glutes were accessible, reaching the upper body and arms was difficult. Zelana soon asked them to reduce their height. They complied, and the examination resumed.

She inspected the upper back, then the deltoids, and finally the arms. Dense muscles encased every part of its body, its strength seemingly matched by its size. The size of the digits is remarkable, she mused.

As Zelana shifted to examine the specimen's front, she discovered something unexpected: a cluster of ugly bruises around the abdominal and stomach region. While she knew the specimen had been injured during docking, these bruises seemed unrelated. They also looked freshly inflicted.

“Please excuse my observation, but may I ask how you acquired those bruises on your abdomen?” Zelana asked, her small and delicate fingers carefully probing the bruised areas around the abdomen.

Her question was met with unexpected silence.

“Excuse me, but I require a response to my—.”

“The docking incident was rough on him,” the specimen Andreas said before she could repeat herself. “I suspect he bumped into something. Hardly a cause for concern.”

Offended by Andreas's dismissal, Zelana stopped examining the bruises and looked at it.

“Injuries such as this are not to be taken lightly,” she replied professionally, with a note of seriousness. She continued her examination of the bruised area. “It's surprising no fractures are apparent given the severity of the bruising.”

The specimen Andreas smirked in a disrespectful reaction to her statement.

“Well, humans have a certain…persistence,” he said, his voice dripping with smugness. “You could say that we’re built to last.”

Halting her examination, Zelana lowered her device and met Andreas's gaze with a quizzical expression. Though the wording itself wasn't overtly offensive, she found the tone to be somewhat improper. She realized her breach of etiquette, looked away quickly, and resumed her work.

*****

Once the physical examination was over, Zelana led the specimen into a neighboring room. Like the first, this room was sterile and white, but held kiosks, adjusted for the specimen's height, in the center. A smaller adjacent space with a one-way mirror allowed those inside to observe.

“So what’s this place?” the specimen Ross asked.

“Your physical assessment is complete. We now focus on cognitive evaluation.” Zelana gestured at the kiosks. “The equipment ahead uses touch interfaces for operation. Approach, and instructions will be displayed in your native language.”

“What are we supposed to use them for?” the specimen Ross asked.

“Just do what she says,” the specimen Andreas said passively-aggressively.

The specimens took their places before their respective kiosks.

“I will withdraw temporarily,” Zelana said. “Though absent, we remain able to hear you. Indicate if assistance is needed, and it will be provided.”

“Nah, I’m good,” the specimen Ross said.

“Likewise,” the specimen Andreas seconded.

As Zelana departed through the sliding door, the lights dimmed and the kiosks' touch interfaces activated, brightening the screens and the areas around them.

“Now follow the instructions precisely and try not to ruin this with your usual incompetence,” the specimen Andreas said.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re an—" The specimen Andreas hesitated, casting a quick glance at the one-sided mirror before turning back to the kiosk. “Forget it.”

From the observation room, Zelana and fellow psychiatric staff observed the specimens through the one-sided mirror. She took notes on her digital tablet; their subpar interpersonal communication prompted her to glance down and scribble several quick notes:

-Lack social acumen

-Demonstrate veiled hostility

-Deficiency in forethought

The kiosks administered a generic cognitive intelligence test, similar to those used in most learning institutions for young adults. It assessed pattern recognition and memory while avoiding culture-specific biases. While not providing deep insight, it offered researchers a basic picture of the test-taker's mind.

The two specimens worked on the test for the next hour with minimal conversation. Zelana and her research assistants focused on observation and note-taking.

The specimen Ross unexpectedly thrusted its hands high into the air.

“I’m done!” it proclaimed triumphantly.

Zelana winced at the sudden outburst, and many others in the examination room did too. Even the other specimen seemed slightly startled.

Still slightly off-balance, Zelana spoke into a nearby microphone device.

“Well done on completing the task,” she said, her voice steady but betraying a hint of unease. “Should you prefer not to stand, note that seating accommodations are available. You may utilize them while awaiting the other's completion.”

"Nah, I'm good," the specimen Ross replied. "I prefer to stand. Sitting just makes me tired, like I'm at work, or something."