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Description
(Reading the comments first may help to give context.)
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>An Error in my judgment … she never wants to hear “those words” again …<
Miriam was grumbling to herself while slowly trotting towards the Med Bay.
>Oh well … I will have to be more careful with my choice of words in future.<

Do not be mistaken. Miriam was fully aware of the danger of her actions. It was just that her utter jadedness and the resistance to fear, combined with the stage of insanity she was in, was guiding her actions into directions that were … “questionable” at times (and those times … were always).

Miriam and Robin spent a lot of time inside the Med Bay, recovering.
Miriam was trying to make as little contact as possible with her fellow crewmate but had great difficulties resisting Robins kindhearted and cheerful presence.
Eventually Miriam opened herself and began to talk:

>Say, have you ever heard of the Omnissiahs teachings?
Pledging yourself to pure logic, serving the Adeptus Mechanicus … for the better of Mankind?<

Robin puffed some air out of the corner of her mouth before responding. “Ehh, barely. I know they stick to some kind of dogma to work with tech. Sometimes it feels like they'd rather be pure technology than be people. I guess that's why they call it the 'Machine Cult' though. Why do you ask?”

>I was raised under this belief. Yet I never fully embraced the path of the Machine Cult. For I had in front of me the path of the Navigator.
But the teachings remain.
Knowledge is sacred.
Resources should be used with care and not be wasted.<

>It is a cruel world we live in.
There is no justice. Only death.
I hate the stupidity of brute force, I hate bloodshed but most of all I hate the war in itself.
There has to be … <

Miriam suddenly stopped, realizing that she was talking out loud instead of silently monologuing to herself like she usually did. It might have started out as a simple question but then turned into a teaching to eventually devolve into a simple ramble. She clearly did not intend for it to turn out that way. Talking was not one of her best skills.

>I am sorry. I should not have told you about this.
My opinion and morale does not matter now.
We are here to serve our Lord Captain Corbec.
Her word is law. And we will obey.<

Where Robin's expression before had been one of puzzlement as the Navigator drifted off mid-speech, she now displayed concern. With some effort, she propped her injured body out of the medical cot and placed her hands over Miriam's.
“Hey, I'm not much for sappy cliches, but don't you dare act like you don't matter. You're the prime navigator on a Rogue Trader's flagship, for crime's sake! I mean, there are folks who would love to just be a grunt under a fleet like this, and you've got the most indispensable position out of...what was the number? Fourteen thousand of us? But even if that weren't the case, crewmates ought to be like blood to each other. Sure, Lord-captain Corbec holds the whole operation together, but I'll always have your back, alright?”

>You are right, Robin. I am important. There is hardly any Navigator available that could replace the quality of my work. And the Captain knows that.
But sometimes I do worry about our dear lord Captain. Her judgement is just so much different from my own.
Her … “Humanity” is getting the best of her. Do you know what I mean?
The grim darkness that lives within every single one. It is strong within her. I can smell it.
These “instincts” that overthrow every kind of reason and Logic.
So very … wasteful.
But so is most of the Imperium.<

“The captain is a bit of a mystery to me; I haven’t yet got my head around her motives myself, and I certainly wouldn't use the "M-word" again, but I can’t say your worries are unfounded. And sure, most of the universe is awful. You got all that Chaos nonsense trying to eat your soul, dozens of xenos races who might try to hulk your ship on a whim, and even the Imperium pays for its orderliness with brutality. Most of it's so dark it would put a starless night to shame. But that's why we got to hang on all the tighter to the few bright bits – and clinging together is a part of that. Even Dominelia, there’s good in her, if we could just get her to show it more.”

Inexplicably, Robin turned to start rummaging through her bag. “Hold on I think I still got...uh...”

“Here it is! Yeah, got one last packet of Grox jerky left over that I got at Port Wander. It's good stuff, they actually smoked it over real wood and everything. Maybe not the most poetic gift, but to heck with that kind of nonsense. Here.” She extended the plastic bag to Miriam. It was full of long reddish-brown strips of meat speckled with unknown spices, and smelled strongly of pepper.

Miriam took the gift in surprise >Wow … eer … thank you Robin.<

“Hey, no worries. I – oh crap, I have physical therapy with Avitka. She's staring at me right now, pretend we didn't notice. We'll have to keep in touch though, alright?” Robin cracked a broad grin.

...which quickly turned into a grimace as Avitka marched up to her and started pulling her away by the arm. “Now is time of working rust out of broken body, not time of talking!” the ship's medic and trainer commanded.

“Ow! Go easy, that's the stabbed arm!” But alas, Robin's complaints went unheard. “Miriam, if I don't make it, tell Dove she can have my guns!” Her faux desperation was cut off as the door sealed behind her.

Miriam looked at the door where Robin left. Then she looked down at the snack in her hand.
>I never expected so much kindness from a Human.<
It was kind of bothering her. But in a good way.

Description
(Reading the comments first may help to give context.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

>An Error in my judgment … she never wants to hear “those words” again …<
Miriam was grumbling to herself while slowly trotting towards the Med Bay.
>Oh well … I will have to be more careful with my choice of words in future.<

Do not be mistaken. Miriam was fully aware of the danger of her actions. It was just that her utter jadedness and the resistance to fear, combined with the stage of insanity she was in, was guiding her actions into directions that were … “questionable” at times (and those times … were always).

Miriam and Robin spent a lot of time inside the Med Bay, recovering.
Miriam was trying to make as little contact as possible with her fellow crewmate but had great difficulties resisting Robins kindhearted and cheerful presence.
Eventually Miriam opened herself and began to talk:

>Say, have you ever heard of the Omnissiahs teachings?
Pledging yourself to pure logic, serving the Adeptus Mechanicus … for the better of Mankind?<

Robin puffed some air out of the corner of her mouth before responding. “Ehh, barely. I know they stick to some kind of dogma to work with tech. Sometimes it feels like they'd rather be pure technology than be people. I guess that's why they call it the 'Machine Cult' though. Why do you ask?”

>I was raised under this belief. Yet I never fully embraced the path of the Machine Cult. For I had in front of me the path of the Navigator.
But the teachings remain.
Knowledge is sacred.
Resources should be used with care and not be wasted.<

>It is a cruel world we live in.
There is no justice. Only death.
I hate the stupidity of brute force, I hate bloodshed but most of all I hate the war in itself.
There has to be … <

Miriam suddenly stopped, realizing that she was talking out loud instead of silently monologuing to herself like she usually did. It might have started out as a simple question but then turned into a teaching to eventually devolve into a simple ramble. She clearly did not intend for it to turn out that way. Talking was not one of her best skills.

>I am sorry. I should not have told you about this.
My opinion and morale does not matter now.
We are here to serve our Lord Captain Corbec.
Her word is law. And we will obey.<

Where Robin's expression before had been one of puzzlement as the Navigator drifted off mid-speech, she now displayed concern. With some effort, she propped her injured body out of the medical cot and placed her hands over Miriam's.
“Hey, I'm not much for sappy cliches, but don't you dare act like you don't matter. You're the prime navigator on a Rogue Trader's flagship, for crime's sake! I mean, there are folks who would love to just be a grunt under a fleet like this, and you've got the most indispensable position out of...what was the number? Fourteen thousand of us? But even if that weren't the case, crewmates ought to be like blood to each other. Sure, Lord-captain Corbec holds the whole operation together, but I'll always have your back, alright?”

>You are right, Robin. I am important. There is hardly any Navigator available that could replace the quality of my work. And the Captain knows that.
But sometimes I do worry about our dear lord Captain. Her judgement is just so much different from my own.
Her … “Humanity” is getting the best of her. Do you know what I mean?
The grim darkness that lives within every single one. It is strong within her. I can smell it.
These “instincts” that overthrow every kind of reason and Logic.
So very … wasteful.
But so is most of the Imperium.<

“The captain is a bit of a mystery to me; I haven’t yet got my head around her motives myself, and I certainly wouldn't use the "M-word" again, but I can’t say your worries are unfounded. And sure, most of the universe is awful. You got all that Chaos nonsense trying to eat your soul, dozens of xenos races who might try to hulk your ship on a whim, and even the Imperium pays for its orderliness with brutality. Most of it's so dark it would put a starless night to shame. But that's why we got to hang on all the tighter to the few bright bits – and clinging together is a part of that. Even Dominelia, there’s good in her, if we could just get her to show it more.”

Inexplicably, Robin turned to start rummaging through her bag. “Hold on I think I still got...uh...”

“Here it is! Yeah, got one last packet of Grox jerky left over that I got at Port Wander. It's good stuff, they actually smoked it over real wood and everything. Maybe not the most poetic gift, but to heck with that kind of nonsense. Here.” She extended the plastic bag to Miriam. It was full of long reddish-brown strips of meat speckled with unknown spices, and smelled strongly of pepper.

Miriam took the gift in surprise >Wow … eer … thank you Robin.<

“Hey, no worries. I – oh crap, I have physical therapy with Avitka. She's staring at me right now, pretend we didn't notice. We'll have to keep in touch though, alright?” Robin cracked a broad grin.

...which quickly turned into a grimace as Avitka marched up to her and started pulling her away by the arm. “Now is time of working rust out of broken body, not time of talking!” the ship's medic and trainer commanded.

“Ow! Go easy, that's the stabbed arm!” But alas, Robin's complaints went unheard. “Miriam, if I don't make it, tell Dove she can have my guns!” Her faux desperation was cut off as the door sealed behind her.

Miriam looked at the door where Robin left. Then she looked down at the snack in her hand.
>I never expected so much kindness from a Human.<
It was kind of bothering her. But in a good way.