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“You seem to have a lot of previous wounds and breaks,” the doctor notes, having waved a wand over me.
“I was a police officer. Things happened to me. Harsh. Violent things.”
The doctor nods and makes a note on his doctor pad. As different as these aliens are supposed to be, somehow this all feels familiar. Like, it’s almost the same as it was on Earth. Maybe there are only so many ways for sentient species to do things. Maybe all doctors everywhere make you feel like you want to leap out the nearest window to escape them.
“I don’t have much baseline data from your species. I will be relying on you to tell me how you feel, honestly and openly.”
“Gotcha.”
“Do you have pain anywhere? There are some indications of inflammation in certain sites.”
“My back always hurts, more or less, but it doesn’t hurt very much right now.”
“Your back always hurts?”
“That’s how it is for humans who work physical jobs. We hurt most of the time. Exercise makes us hurt. Not exercising makes us hurt. I am fine right now. The only reason you’re doing this inspection is because the king is worried about nothing.”
“King Brawn does not worry about nothing. No king can waste mental energy that way and survive.”
Well, I guess that clears that up, then.
“Lie back, please. I will continue to take readings.”
One of the doctor’s palms is big enough to cover almost my entire torso. When he examines me, I find myself squirming and wriggling away.
“Hold still,” he orders. “Your movement is throwing my instruments off.”
“I can’t hold still. I don’t like being poked and prodded and probed.”
“You are not being probed,” he says. “You are being examined as unobtrusively as possible.”
“Well, I don’t want to be examined at all. So why don’t you tell the king I’m fine, and leave me alone.”
“I will not tell the king that the patient he referred to me is fine if I haven’t done a full exam. I have not done a full exam. You will need to remove the fabric which covers most of your form. My cursory examination tools work through clothing, but a full exam cannot be undertaken without visual confirmation.”
“Get fucked. I’m not taking my uniform off for you.”
The doctor sighs, and growls, and then sighs again. Then he turns away and speaks into what I am surmising is some kind of communication device.
“Doctor Intel to King Brawn, please.”
“What is it, Doctor?”
The king’s voice has become familiar to me. I find myself getting tense and then relaxing upon hearing it. Is it possible to be both intimidated and comforted by the same entity? It would appear so.
“The patient is uncooperative.”
He’s telling on me. He’s actually fucking telling on me. Ridiculous.
There’s no reply. I hope that is because the king doesn’t consider it worth his time to play babysitter to some random human and a doctor who is too clumsy to examine her properly.
King Brawn appears and gives me the kind of look that makes my stomach churn. I do not want to get on his bad side, but I am also not able to just lie there like a compliant meat sack.
“What is the problem, Ariel?”
“I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want him looking at me. I don’t need to see a doctor. I am fine.”
“You are not fine,” he declares, as if he knows me. “You are tense and you are unhappy. I noticed you had a slight limp when you were running about on that pier…”
“I was dealing with a highly stressful situation. I still am.”
“You make excuse after excuse for your discomfort, but you will not allow us to try to relieve it. It is almost as though you enjoy the pain.”
“Don’t pretend you care about my pain after what you did to me.”
“What did you do to her, sire?”
“A light physical punishment. Twelve strokes of the corrector. Nothing that would cause her any ongoing issues.”
“I would recommend being careful when it comes to physical punishment of a weaker species. Try other methods of discipline. Confinement is popular on Earth, judging by my research.”
“Don’t you dare lock me up. I’d rather be beaten.”
“I’m sure you would,” Brawn smirks.
I don’t like the expression on his face. I don't like the tone of his voice. I don’t like this topic of discussion. I don’t like the fact that I am stuck between two massive aliens being discussed as though I am some recalcitrant little possession.
I especially don’t like the way Brawn seems to know how complex and complicated my feelings are toward him now that he did… that to me.
“She’s pouting,” the doctor observes. “But thank you for letting me know about the punishment. It may explain the pain.”
“I’m not in pain.”
“She is in pain.” The doctor speaks over me. “She has plenty of markers to indicate that, if her general temperament weren’t indicative on its own.”
