Gamma shift engulfed the mess hall in a hush so complete it felt as though the ship itself was asleep. The lights in the crew lounge were dimmed to a soft blue hue, the replicator alcoves glowing like the lighthouses of seafaring days of old amidst a foggy night.

Ensign Theo Marick felt a great relief as he sat in one of the booths of Tulemmico, Solvang’s crew lounge. It had been a strenuous shift – navigating the California-class starship through an asteroid field on manual control was no small feat, but he was one of those capable enough to do it.

The door slid open, and a weary Doc Miller shuffled in with the gait of a man who had seen far too many catastrophes, and expected more. His long white hair was wild, his eyes sunken yet sharp, and he approached the replicator with the solemnity of a priest preparing for a sacred rite.

“Computer,” he said, his voice gruff and gravelly, “one carnitas burrito, boneless.”

The replicator whirred. A neatly wrapped cylinder materialized – stuffed with brown rice, pinto beans, guacamole, pico de gallo, carnitas – all swaddled in a flour tortilla.

Doc stared at it with a mixture of suspicion and reverence.

Theo, seated nearby, couldn’t contain his curiosity. He had seen this behavior before from Doc Miller, but he had never asked.

“Hey Doc, how come you always specify ‘boneless’ any time you’re ordering food? Doesn’t the replicator know—”

Doc turned his head slowly. The look he had cast froze Theo – not annoyed, not amused – haunted.

He collected the burrito and shuffled over, slowly lowering himself into the booth across from the young man who had saved his life several months prior during a multiversal displacement they shared. He sat there for a moment, just studying the tightly wrapped cylinder before him.

Theo waited. The Doc never rushed anything – neither thoughts nor the recounting of a tale that truly had teeth.

Finally, Silas Miller exhaled.

“You ever wonder why I order everything boneless?” he said quietly.

Theo hesitated. “I…I had always figured it was just a texture thing.”

Doc exhaled through his nose. It was not a laugh – more so a sound that had long forgotten to be one.

“No Theo…it’s not that.” Doc Miller leaned back, and his gaze drifted toward the viewport, where the stars slid past in thin bright streaks.

“I was a young doctor, out on the border of Federation space in the Cestus system, practicing medicine on the frontier,” he waxed. “I was captured by the Gorn.”

Theo’s eyes widened.

“For six months, I was their prisoner.” Doc’s voice changed. It did not grow louder. It simply…deepened. As though the words were rising from a cavern within him.

“Every ration. Every scrap. Every bite…boneful.”

Theo blinked. “Doc…boneful?”

“That’s the word they used,” he muttered quietly. “Boneful, as if it were a culinary achievement. As though their presence made the meal more…honorable.” He shook his head slowly. “Theo…they put bones in everything.”

He paused. “Everything.”

Theo gulped. “Like…meat?”

The older man’s eyes narrowed. “Radishes, Theo.”

“I have eaten things no man should ever eat. Boneful carrots. Boneful pizza. Tomatoes, lettuce, beets, bread…all with bones.”

Theo’s face contorted. “Doc…that’s not even—”

“Possible?” The older man’s gaze snapped back to the young ensign, keen as a scalpel. “I assure you, Theo. The Gorn have a very liberal interpretation of what can and cannot contain a skeletal system.”

Theo swallowed hard.

The elder doctor continued, his voice low and measured. “Bones take up space. Space that should be food. Food that should keep you alive. But instead, you get a crunch full of despair.”

He looked down at the burrito again, thumb pressed into the tortilla as if he were checking it for horrors beyond the comprehension of the common man.

“I was starving, Theo. Every day. Every hour. And I wasn’t alone.”

The doctor’s gaze drifted, unfocused, as though he were looking through the bulkhead and back into the past. “My cellmate was Breen.”

Theo straightened. “Breen? He was a long way from home.”

“Refrigeration is needed across the galaxy. And the Breen know how to keep things cold.” He took a slow breath. “He was older. I could tell by the way he moved. Or tried to move. The Gorn didn’t feed him enough to keep him upright. Malnutrition. Organ failure. A slow, quiet collapse.” Doc’s voice softened. “He had such spirit. Even behind that mask. Humor, too. Dry, brittle humor.”

Theo listened, still and silent.

“We talked,” he said. “As much as you can talk to a Breen. His translator barely worked. But we found ways. He wanted me to tell him stories, he said it helped him find strength. We bonded over ancient Earth movies. He loved them.”

Theo blinked. “Seriously? No way, Doc – you’re pulling my leg.”

Doc shook his head. “There was a particular film, I didn’t remember the title, but he loved it when I told him about it. Two fools carrying around a dead man through a world that didn’t notice. Then there were the adventure films, a professor running from a boulder after retrieving an idol. He loved tales of Roman gladiators.

The doctor’s eyes darkened. “But as the months went on, the rations became smaller. Maybe it was budget cuts. Or the guards simply stopped caring. Gral weakened. He was unable to stand, and he could barely speak.

Doc’s voice thinned, as though the memory itself were leeching strength from him. “He tried to hide it,” he murmured. “Breen pride. You know how they are. Even on death’s doorstep, he didn’t want me to worry. He’d sit there, propped against the wall, the green glow from his mask filling the room. He’d ask me to tell him another story. Something funny. Something ridiculous. Something human.”

Doc Miller swallowed.

“And so I did. Every night. I told him about old Earth comedies. About pies to the face. Self-defense against fresh fruit. Hovercrafts full of eels – phrasebooks in a tobacconist’s shop. About a man dangling from a clock tower. He loved it. Said it made him feel…lighter.’

Theo listened, focused.

“But the rations kept shrinking. Maybe they wanted to see how long we’d last.” He shook his head. “Gral didn’t last.”

Theo gasped.

“I sat with him a long time. Longer than I should have. I couldn’t bring myself to move him. I refused to accept he was gone. But eventually, I had to.”

Theo’s voice was barely a whisper. “Doc…”

The old man wiped a teardrop that had begun a slow descent from the corner of his eye. He took a deep breath, and resumed. “The Gorn didn’t check the cells. They didn’t care. They just shoved rations through a slot in the door and walked away.”

He leaned forward, cradled the burrito with both hands, and took a bite. He chewed it quietly, savoring every flavor, every soft squish his teeth encountered.

“And that’s when I realized something.” He said quietly between bites. “If I positioned him carefully…if I kept him upright…if I kept up appearances…they’d give us both rations.”

Theo stared, mortified.

“I didn’t do it out of cruelty. Or convenience. I did it because he asked me to.”

Theo blinked and shook his head in astonishment. “He…asked you?”

Doc’s voice softened. “The night he passed, he told me — through that broken translator — to keep posing him. To take his share. To survive.” His brown eyes glistened. “He said it was the only way he could help me. The only way he could fight back.”

Theo’s throat tightened.

Doc inhaled slowly, the breath rattling in his chest, like an old engine trying to turn over. “I honored his request. Every day, I kept him upright. Adjusted him. Shifted him. I talked to him. Told him stories. Not because I thought he could hear me…but because it felt wrong to let the silence defeat him.”

“Doc…” Theo’s eyes glistened. “…you shouldn’t have had to do that.”

“No man should.” Miller muttered, shaking his head. “But we do what we have to, in order to survive.” He looked down at his burrito again, holding it with an almost ceremonial reverence.

“The guards never looked inside,” he continued. “Not once.” He took a deep breath and continued. “When I was finally rescued, I didn’t ask where I was…who had found me…how long I had been there. I asked for a replicator.”

Theo blinked, taken aback. “A replicator?”

Doc nodded, taking another bite. “I walked up to it. I stood there, shaking. I could barely find the words. And I said, ‘Computer, one steak quesadilla, boneless.’”

He closed his eyes. “And when it materialized, when I took that first bite…I wept. Right there.”

He took another bite of the burrito, chewing with reverence, savoring the softness. “So when I order something from the replicator boneless…it’s not a preference. It’s a promise I made to an old friend.”