The Adventures of Fred Smith: Fred's Grand Day Out

Fred had been assigned to the Starfleet medical frigate Typhoid Mary. And boy, he never felt more at home. Just think of it, one huge hospital in space, equipped to handle any medical emergency. With Fred on board, all the collective medical knowledge of the crew would be put to the test.

After settling into his new quarters, he decided to check out the crew lounge. He wanted to do so partially to check out the social scene, and partially to celebrate the first time being transported without something going wrong, terribly wrong. His elation was short lived however, when he mistakenly stepped into the laundry chute instead of the sonic shower. He was found four hours later nearly at the end of the permanent press cycle. Fred was still loaded with static electricity two days later when he was released from sick bay.

In fact, it was that very static electricity that thwarted his second attempt to visit the crew lounge. He was in his quarters putting on a fresh shirt (not that the old one was dirty, after all, he was wearing it when he had his laundry accident) when his hands came way too close to a fire alarm. Some residual static from his body jumped to it, setting it off. Instantly he was smothered in fire suppressant foam. Fred surprisingly was only held in sick bay until that next morning. It seems his body had become quite immune to the effects of fire suppressant foam after all these years.

Fred had failed to make it one more time while leaving sick bay. He tripped, landing on a whole rack of hypo-sprays, injecting himself 37 times with female hormones. He wasn't held in sick bay for that one, but refused to leave his quarters for two weeks while his voice came back down to its normal octave.

Finally, after 2 1/2 weeks, Fred made it to the crew lounge. He bellied up to the bar, ready to order a good ordinary drink. A drink any Lieutenant might order, in any lounge, on any ship in Starfleet. "Bartender," Fred said, bolstered with manly confidence, "give me a Shirley Temple." The bartender scowled, handing him a glass from the replicator.

Fred spun around, scanning the room. He saw a group of ensigns and lieutenants chattering about the latest gossip aboard the ship. It was no use talking to them, they were probably talking about him. His suspicions were confirmed when one of them pointed at him, causing the whole group to snicker. They were probably on one about the hypo-spray incident. What was that rack of hypo-sprays doing there anyway?

Suddenly, Fred's eyes locked on a lone figure sitting in a dark corner of the lounge. It was a Caitian woman looking over a glass of synth beer that had a rather impressive head of foam. Fred swigged down the last of his Shirley Temple, sure the (non-existent) alcohol would give him the confidence he needed. He strode over, wearing his best grin. "Hi there." he said thinking he sounded very manly. "I'm Fred. I didn't realize synth beer could get such a great head on it."

The Caitian woman set her glass down, but the foam remained hanging, dripping from her lips. Before Fred realized what was happening, she had sprang from her chair and over the table landing on Fred, sending him crashing to the floor. She had just begun using him as a scratching post when six hospital orderlies poured into the room, dressed in protective clothing of thick pile carpeting and couch cushions. (What else would you wear when trying to protect yourself from Caitian claws?) They quickly pulled her off Fred and began restraining her.

In a state of shock and never to be deterred, Fred staggered to his feet and made his way over to lend any assistance or comfort he could. Weak from the encounter, Fred drug his feet, one after the other across the carpeting. He reached his hand up to caress her cheek and to say everything will be alright.

ZAP!

An arc of static, partially from the carpet and partially a residual effect left from the laundry accident jumped from him to her. The Caitian's fur rippled and stood on end, whipping the already insane woman into a rage. She broke free from her restraints and before she could be restrained again, had managed to bite Fred on the nose.

Before anyone had realized what had happened, Fred's nose had swollen to the size of an orange. By the time he made it to sick bay, it appeared that there was a second head growing off his face.

Knowing his luck with animals, Fred can't help but to keep up his immunizations on such things as West Nile, Lyme disease, Vulcan Buzzard virus, Targh pneumonia, and the deadly Bolian Slug cough. However, he had let his rabies immunization lapse. After three months of intensive and painful treatments, he was right as rain, physically anyway...

To be continued in Fred Gets Dumped...