The Little-Known Consequences of Heroics

Tracy Pollard stood by his bedside, hands on her hips, a scowl on her face, and amusement prevalent in her eyes. "This is what happens when commanders ignore the advice of their XO and CMO and personally lead the away team. That's the first officer's job by the way in case you have forgotten. A Captain's place is in his chair. Maybe next time you will heed our advice."

Pike squirmed on the biobed and tried not to scratch. He was sitting on its edge with his legs dangling over the side. "Precisely how long will this lecture last?"

"Until I get through that overly thick skull of yours. Which at some point, I am certain beyond a shadow of a doubt, you will crack open during one of your white knight quests."

"How was I to know the little girl had gills? Or that the pond was filled with a vine that could do this!" Pike's voice rose an octave with the last sentence as his fingers dug into his chest in a vain attempt to diminish the excruciating itching. The picture of their drenched fearless leader with seaweed trailing off his head, shoulders, and arms was already posted on Discovery's intranet.

"This was my day off. There were going to be little, well actually rather large drinks with festive umbrellas. And fresh fruit. And popcorn while Kofi and I watched that Star Wars retrospective. But no, my toddler of a commander, whose command chair should be outfitted with a net and one of those gates you put up to keep puppies out of places they don't belong, decided to play hero. Again."

"And why isn't one of your well trained and amply qualified staff handling this case rather than you?"

"Regs. Try reading them sometime. Or as Saru is preparing a refresher course on the division of responsibilities between commander and XO for your later edification I will ask him to include this one as well. If the Captain is ill or injured, the CMO's presence is required unless detained by another emergency. I don't know how Enterprise is run, but here on Discovery we follow the rule book."

Pike rolled his eyes at her. They were the one part of his body that wasn't covered in red spots. At least not yet. "Alright, lecture delivered. Point heard. Admonishment received. Can we move to the treatment phase now?" He added under his breath and through gritted teeth, "I thought doctors took an oath to do no harm."

"Actually, as immortalized by Dr. Phlox, we took oaths to do no harm, but can inflict all the pain we want. And for heaven's sake, you are itching a little, let's not overly dramatize things."

"A little? The rash is spreading, and it itches like the blistering center of an inferno. I'd rather be tortured by Klingons."

Tracy rechecked the readout from her scans. "That vine is remarkably similar to Earth's poison ivy. Though its toxin is more virulent. Still the standard treatment for poison ivy should work."

"Marvelous."

"Did you know you are allergic to this plant?" The CMO asked as she called up the treatment protocol and examined its potential side effects.

"I grew up in the desert. Poison ivy and oak were not common."

"Hmmm."

"What?" Pike asked in a cautious tone of voice as his eyes looked up at his CMO.

"This medication is contraindicated for any patient with a history of asthma."

"But I haven't had an attack since childhood."

Tracy inclined her head, "That may be, but doesn't alter the restriction."

"Okay, what's the next option?"

"Time, a course of steroids, and lots of calamine lotion."

Pike's face paled. "How long?"

"My best guess is five to seven days. With some relief after two or three."

Their normally calm Captain exploded as he vigorously scratched his leg. "Guess? This is the twenty-third century. We have extraordinarily intricate and sensitive equipment. We have centuries of medical expertise. We have access to the best and brightest in the galaxy. The best you can do is guess?"

"Every response is unique."

Pike sighed. "Any other options?"

"Well … yes. One. Its effects will definitely be fast. Almost instantaneous in fact."

"Let's do it."

"It's an old-fashioned remedy my Granny Jean used. You may find it … harsh."

He looked up at her and smiled. His voice sounded hopeful. "I can do rough. I can stand any pain or discomfort for a short period. What is it?"

"Are you familiar with bleach?"

Pike shook his head.

"Specifically it is a dilute solution of sodium hypochlorite which is very irritating to human skin. And it will neutralize the toxin in poison ivy. It's known colloquially by one of the early commercial brands, Clorox."

Pike's eyes went wide, and his pupils dilated. "You want to pour Clorox on me?"

"No. But you asked for alternatives. This is one."

"Your Grandmother did this to you?"

Tracy nodded. "Her ancestors were quite poor, and doctors were a luxury. Home treatment with everyday items was common. Granny Jean saw no need to bother a doctor if she could take care of the problem herself."

He squeaked, squirming again, automatically and unknowingly placing a protective hand over his groin, "And you are aware that it has spread … well … everywhere?"

She nodded again. This time her tone was sympathetic. "Once the oil from the plant's leaves is on your body that is inevitable. The bleach solution will work very quickly but you must eradicate the rash … all over for the treatment to be effective. Otherwise it will spread again."

"Give me the damn steroid shot," was his immediate reply.

Tracy returned from the replicator with two hyposprays and a bottle. After administering the first dose she said, "One shot a day in the morning for the next week. Use the lotion everywhere as needed." She leaned in and whispered, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "Let us know if you need … assistance applying the lotion to … tricky areas."

Pike's colorful response was muffled by the closing doors.

A/N: This was my grandmother's treatment for poison ivy. In the summer you were always very careful to make sure she did not see you scratching so she would not get the Magic bottle out. (Magic was a competitor to Clorox.)