"Nuts and Bolts"

Tyzur matched Raikon's pace as they made their way through the corridor, his expression thoughtful.

"I've wondered the same thing."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"There are plenty of theories. Some of our physicians believe chronitin subtly influences the way other people perceive us. Others insist it's entirely cultural, that our people simply learn to listen before we learn to speak."

He gave a small shrug.

"Personally, I suspect it's a little of both. Whatever the cause, people often seem to feel... heard. Once that happens, they usually do the rest themselves."

Raikon's second question lingered between them for a moment before Tyzur answered.

"As for our lifespan..." His voice softened. "The honest answer is that no one really knows the upper limit. Our people have lost too many records, too many elders. We know we live for centuries under ordinary circumstances. Beyond that, certainty gives way to educated guesses."

He glanced sideways at the engineer.

"I find that when people ask about our lifespan, they're rarely asking about the number of years. They're usually wondering what those years will mean."

Tyzur gave a small, understanding nod.

"Apology accepted. You're hardly the first person to react that way, and I doubt you'll be the last."

He flexed the fingers of his cybernetic hand almost absent-mindedly.

"This arm is a reminder of what the Borg took from me. It's also a reminder that they didn't get to keep all of me."

He stood, collecting his tray.

"Since you're free until sixteen hundred, we might as well make good use of the opportunity. The examination won't take long."

A faint smile crossed his face.

"And if you decide halfway through that you'd rather hear about El-Aurian history than endure my lecture on chronitin levels, I can accommodate that."

He gestured toward the exit.

"Shall we?"

Showing off his arm might not have been the best idea. A lot of Starfleet officers have Borg-related trauma.

“Apologies for the jumpscare, commander. You’re right, the Borg have taken a lot from both of us.”

Tyzur shifted gears.

“El-Aurains are medically quite fascinating. We have this hormone called chronitin. It accumulates chrontion particles and... You’re probably not that interested in the medical details. The point is it allows us to feel the effects of nearby temporal events, like humans that can feel the weather in their bones. It also affects the rate at which we’re ageing. This is why the Borg invaded our homeworld, they wanted drones with transtemporal awareness.”

He looked thoughtful into the distance.

“Our people also have a reputation for being good listeners. People tend to open up very easily. It can be quite handy when diagnosing patients. I’ve never figured out why that is.”

Tyzur smiled to himself.

"Identity is a strange thing. We spend centuries trying to understand where we came from, only to discover the more interesting question is who we've become."

His eyes returned to Raikon.

“So... would you be willing to let me schedule that examination? We can talk about El-Aurian history while I confirm you're as healthy as you seem to think you are. I promise not to keep you away from engineering any longer than necessary."

Tyzur lifted his cybernetic arm.

“I know a thing or two about other people’s expectations. You’re a fellow El-Aurian according to your medical records, right?”

His gaze shifted downward.

“I was only a child when the Borg invaded. I don’t remember much of that time. But I’ve reconnected with some of our people since. I can certainly share some knowledge if you're interested.”

He put on a smile and continued stabbing his live Ktarian sand eels marinated in citrus.

Tzyur carried a plate with food that looked like the content of a xenobiology lab. Other crewmembers gave it a wide berth. He spotted the lone chief engineer and approached.

“Ah, Lt. Cmdr. Achaea. May I?”

Without waiting for an answer he eased himself into the opposite seat.

"I've been trying to find you. Not socially, although that is an acceptable secondary objective." He smiled faintly. "According to my records, you have somehow managed to avoid your initial medical examination."

He speared one of the wriggling morsels with surprising precision.

"I'm curious how an engineer who insists every plasma conduit be inspected has been content to leave his own physiology unexamined."