Howling in pain, The Kraythonian staggered into the surgery clutching upper right arm with upper and lower left hands. Dr Carl Peters slipped on the translator headset. His speech needed to be precise, clear, unrushed. Miss-translation could have unfortunate consequences.
"Hello sir. What appears to be the problem?"
A wall-mounted speaker bellowed grunts and gargles, an interpretation of Dr Peter's words in Kraythonian tongue. The Kraythonian barked and growed a response, distain seeping through pained expression.
A formal, English male voice politely translated in Dr Peters' earpiece.
"Do you have a problem with your eyesight? I'd have thought it obvious that my arm is causing pain."
Kraythonians were known for their forthrightness, not their cheery disposition. They frowned upon rhetorical questions and rarely treated themselves to mirth and merriment, believing levity had no tangible place in the universe. This attitude was matched by their physical appearance, lizard like features and deep red eyes not conducive to warm expression.
Carl took no offence and maintained composure. Differing philosophies and attitudes were all part of working in an inter species environment.
"Of course sir. Please sit on the bed and I'll take a look."
The softness of Carl's tone translated into harsh, even threatening noises from the wall-mounted speaker, totally at odds with the doctor's attempted bedside manner. The Kraythonian language didn't seem to do subtleties. Or maybe they found aggressive growls soothing.
The patient spewed further grunts and gargles as he complied with the doctor's request.
"May I enquire if you're the only doctor on duty today?"
The question didn't surprise Carl. "Yes sir, but I assure you I'm fully trained as regards your physiology."
Another horrific din emanated from the speakers.
Carl had been a medial practitioner on Well's mining facility for several weeks. Well's specialized in mining asteroid belts and was one on the oldest star vessels of it's kind. Much of its equipment was outdated, hence a fairly high accident rate though thankfully nothing serious since his arrival.
The facility was one of the first to introduce an interspecies work environment. Now they were commonplace and believed to improve intergalactic relations. It'd been Carl's father who'd persuaded him to work in such an environment. "See the universe," He'd said. "Meet new and interesting species. Experience cultures from other solar systems." Much of what Carl had learnt thus far was either confusing, scary or down right frustrating.
It didn't help that humans, particularly young, newly arrived humans, weren't well looked upon by the Kraythonian contingent on the mine. And with them making up the majority of those on the station, particularly in positions of authority, this occasionally made matters awkward for the young doctor.
The Kraythonian's viewed Carl, as best any Earth language could translate, as a 'Lower-form'. To have any chance of ascending the social ladder you needed a nomination from a 'Higher-form', which basically meant anyone of a higher social standing. Which basically meant anyone else on the base. Carl had thought being a doctor would put him in better stead, but the Kraythonian's saw the young, fresh faced human rather than his profession.
Curse the Kraythonian's for their beliefs and traditions!
"So, what's your name," asked the doctor?
Names didn't translate, so the earpiece simply repeated the Kraythonian's roar in softer tones. It sounded a little like 'Oomagen'.
"Okay Oomagen, let's see that injury."
