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Authors: A. C. Crispin
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experiment, introduced him to the marvels of indoor plumbing.
The shower facility finally caused his student to balk. “But water is to drink,” he argued. “There can’t be enough to waste like this!”
“We don’t have to melt water, Zar. We can make as much as we want. There’s plenty. How did you wash before?”
“In a bucket, sometimes. When my mother was alive, she made me wash more often, but lately—” One leather-clad shoulder moved in a slight shrug.
“Then it’s about time you got a thorough scrubbing. I assure you it only hurts for a little while, and you’re going to have to get used to it. This is primitive compared to the facilities aboard the Enterprise, and you’ll be using them!” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth at the look of apprehension on the younger man’s face, and he forced himself to say sternly, “Now hurry up. The Captain will be back any minute. Remember, water controls here, soap there, warm air over on your right.” Turning to leave, he cast a last glance at his unwilling pupil. “In. Now.” he ordered, and closed the door.
The sputtering sounds that ensued from behind the door assured him that his instructions were being followed. McCoy grinned, remembering that he should have warned Zar to hold his breath when he submerged his head.
Kirk entered the room, carrying a bundle of clothing. He cocked his head at the splashing noises. “Everything all right in there?”
“I assume so. He was a little dubious, but when I told him that everyone on a starship did it, he gave in. Where’s Spock?”
[66] “He went off to send that message. I think it’s some sort of confirmation to T’Pau. Vargas told me he’s fixing those circuits.”
“He’s probably glad of the excuse to stay away. Where’s my medical kit?”
“I brought it.” The Captain handed the black case over.
“Good.” The Doctor took out several charges for his hypo. “Got to make sure he doesn’t end up with every bug from measles to Rigellian fever. He probably has no natural immunities. Nice kid, isn’t he? Friendly as a pup. I hate to think what a couple of weeks of Vulcan dehumanization is going to accomplish. Have you seen the way he watches Spock? He’s already begun to imitate him.”
“That’s natural, isn’t it? But I wouldn’t worry too much. There’s a lot of self-reliance there, and that’ll help. He’s got a lot of catching up to do, and Vulcan discipline may be just what he needs.”
McCoy snorted. “The only thing Vulcan discipline is good for is—” He broke off as the sounds from the shower ceased.
Kirk grinned and headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to get him dressed and barbered. After all, I’m a starship Captain—not a valet.”
Zar had no sooner emerged from the shower, minus dirt and clothing, before the Medical Officer gave him several shots. “What’s that for?” he wanted to know, tensing against the hiss of the hypospray.
“So you won’t catch anything from us in the way of diseases. There, that’s the last.” McCoy ran his scanner, and a professional eye, over his patient. Although thin to the point of emaciation, the Doctor was pleased to see that the muscle tone was good. Like a horse in racing form, McCoy thought, rather than a starvation case. Good-sized shoulders — when he reaches his proper weight, he’ll mass more than Spock. How the hell did he get those scars?
The jagged rips were long-healed, but still very noticeable. One ran along the right forearm, from [67] wrist to elbow. The other began on the outside of the right thigh and continued nearly to the knee. McCoy shook his head at the thought of what the original wounds must’ve looked like.
“Where’d you get these, son?” he asked, indicating the ridged keloids.
“I was attacked by a vitha. She had cubs, and I took shelter next to her lair in a storm. I fell asleep, and she returned and was on me before I had time to feel fear at her.”
The Doctor
The shower facility finally caused his student to balk. “But water is to drink,” he argued. “There can’t be enough to waste like this!”
“We don’t have to melt water, Zar. We can make as much as we want. There’s plenty. How did you wash before?”
“In a bucket, sometimes. When my mother was alive, she made me wash more often, but lately—” One leather-clad shoulder moved in a slight shrug.
“Then it’s about time you got a thorough scrubbing. I assure you it only hurts for a little while, and you’re going to have to get used to it. This is primitive compared to the facilities aboard the Enterprise, and you’ll be using them!” A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth at the look of apprehension on the younger man’s face, and he forced himself to say sternly, “Now hurry up. The Captain will be back any minute. Remember, water controls here, soap there, warm air over on your right.” Turning to leave, he cast a last glance at his unwilling pupil. “In. Now.” he ordered, and closed the door.
The sputtering sounds that ensued from behind the door assured him that his instructions were being followed. McCoy grinned, remembering that he should have warned Zar to hold his breath when he submerged his head.
Kirk entered the room, carrying a bundle of clothing. He cocked his head at the splashing noises. “Everything all right in there?”
“I assume so. He was a little dubious, but when I told him that everyone on a starship did it, he gave in. Where’s Spock?”
[66] “He went off to send that message. I think it’s some sort of confirmation to T’Pau. Vargas told me he’s fixing those circuits.”
“He’s probably glad of the excuse to stay away. Where’s my medical kit?”
“I brought it.” The Captain handed the black case over.
“Good.” The Doctor took out several charges for his hypo. “Got to make sure he doesn’t end up with every bug from measles to Rigellian fever. He probably has no natural immunities. Nice kid, isn’t he? Friendly as a pup. I hate to think what a couple of weeks of Vulcan dehumanization is going to accomplish. Have you seen the way he watches Spock? He’s already begun to imitate him.”
“That’s natural, isn’t it? But I wouldn’t worry too much. There’s a lot of self-reliance there, and that’ll help. He’s got a lot of catching up to do, and Vulcan discipline may be just what he needs.”
McCoy snorted. “The only thing Vulcan discipline is good for is—” He broke off as the sounds from the shower ceased.
Kirk grinned and headed for the door. “I’ll leave you to get him dressed and barbered. After all, I’m a starship Captain—not a valet.”
Zar had no sooner emerged from the shower, minus dirt and clothing, before the Medical Officer gave him several shots. “What’s that for?” he wanted to know, tensing against the hiss of the hypospray.
“So you won’t catch anything from us in the way of diseases. There, that’s the last.” McCoy ran his scanner, and a professional eye, over his patient. Although thin to the point of emaciation, the Doctor was pleased to see that the muscle tone was good. Like a horse in racing form, McCoy thought, rather than a starvation case. Good-sized shoulders — when he reaches his proper weight, he’ll mass more than Spock. How the hell did he get those scars?
The jagged rips were long-healed, but still very noticeable. One ran along the right forearm, from [67] wrist to elbow. The other began on the outside of the right thigh and continued nearly to the knee. McCoy shook his head at the thought of what the original wounds must’ve looked like.
“Where’d you get these, son?” he asked, indicating the ridged keloids.
“I was attacked by a vitha. She had cubs, and I took shelter next to her lair in a storm. I fell asleep, and she returned and was on me before I had time to feel fear at her.”
The Doctor
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