Violence On A Platter
It was late afternoon, local
Starbase 668 time, when Daddy
Storvik came into our suite with a large man on an antigravity plate. There was some sort of apparatus on his head which was dispensing fluids into his body through a tube running into his mouth. Granted, I still have another year before I am scheduled to begin "pre-medical" classes, but I am certain that an IV drip normally goes in through a vein - thus, the acronym. "Who's that, Daddy?" I asked, concurrently with Auntie'Vit inquiring, "Why have you brought
Lothar here?"
Lothar‽ I had, of course, heard of Lothar. My parents (a term which encompasses three adults when I use it) spoke of him from time to time, although sometimes only because they didn't think I was listening. I had also read the logs of the
USS Murgatroid which had been brought along on the Ankh while we were in hiding. I had been told not to, and the logs had been encrypted as well; but I believe that they knew perfectly well that I would try to read them … and that the encryption was there merely as a test of my abilities in computer manipulation. I had not been able to access all of them, but just the parts I had seen were quite interesting.
"Does he really hug starships?" I asked, as Daddy explained that Lothar was recovering from " alcohol deprivation" and that Doctor
Mib Khan was too busy to assist. He suggested to Auntie'Vit that we end my lessons for the day, and leave the suite while he deals with the ship's counsellor (whose eyes were still closed as he slurped fluids without speaking). I wanted to stay, but Auntie'Vit complied with Daddy Storvik's suggestion and took us out into the corridor. I heard Lothar mutter "Cute kid. Need an incinerator?" as the doors closed.