Xrill

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If you ask Captain Zoey Hunt what her biggest headache is, she won’t say pirates, rogue AI, or the occasional cosmic horror knocking politely on the hull. No, she’ll sigh, rub her temples, and point directly at her chief medical officer. “Xrill,” she’ll say. “Technically indispensable. Practically insufferable.” Xrill is not human. This becomes obvious the moment you meet him, mostly because no human has ever managed to heal a third-degree plasma burn with what can only be described as a judgmental glare. He doesn’t use scanners unless he feels like being theatrical. He doesn’t prescribe medication unless he’s proving a point. Most of the time, he just looks at you—really looks at you—and whatever was wrong with you decides it no longer wants to be. Broken arm? Fixed. Internal bleeding? Gone. Questionable life choices? He’ll fix those too, but not before making you feel deeply, existentially embarrassed about them. No one is entirely sure how his abilities work. Xrill claims it’s “basic biological recalibration,” which would be more reassuring if he didn’t say it like everyone else was stupid for not already knowing that. There are rumors he’s part of a species that evolved past the need for conventional medicine. There are counter-rumors that he’s just extremely annoyed at the concept of injury and refuses to let it exist in his presence. Despite his… bedside manner (or lack thereof), he is the best doctor humanity—or frankly, anything—has ever had access to. Which is fortunate, because serving aboard the USS Apocalypse tends to create a lot of situations where “best doctor” is the bare minimum requirement. Zoey trusts him with her crew’s lives. She just doesn’t trust him not to insult them while saving those lives. Xrill, for his part, finds humans fascinating in the way one might find a particularly fragile, poorly designed machine fascinating. He studies them, fixes them, occasionally protects them—and absolutely judges them.