29. The Issue of his Manhood
Posted on August 18, 2011
“You’re welcome.” Antigua said, studying the man closely as his eyes opened.
She had brought him to the survival dome, ostensibly for medical attention, but mostly for the purposes of examination. Having a sedated specimen in the relative safety of the dome was a perfect opportunity. Donning some surgical gloves she had got to work making observations.
She had removed every item of his clothing and armour, examining and cataloguing them as she worked. His leather boots and leggings positively fumed with the stench of body odour. It was a smell she was not very familiar with and she had wrinkled her nose in disgust. Personal hygiene was obviously not a high priority on this side of the Firewall. The metal components of his armour were very rudimentary and quite archaic. Basic chain-mail with steel gauntlets and greaves overlaid by a short woollen surcoat. The metal work was plain but had clearly been fashioned by a skilled smith. It was obviously intended to be light weight and she deduced that he was a scout or messenger and thus needed to be lightly armoured and highly manoeuvrable.
A cursory glance told her all she needed to know about his sword and dagger. The sword was identical to the one she had collected off her previous ward and the dagger was battered yet perfectly serviceable. She had set them aside and turned her attention to the now naked man on her work bench. At first he had appeared to be healthy enough, barring his broken rib but on closer inspection she had discovered a catalogue of maladies. He was covered in flea and scabies bites, some of which had festered and started weeping after he had scratched them too vigorously. His scalp and hair was covered with lice and was flaking badly. His teeth and gums were a decaying, inflamed mess that gave his breath a foul stench that had caused her to gag. She had also noticed a nasty smelling discharge from his penis that her visor reliably informed her might be gonorrhoea. She had never seen a sexually transmitted disease in a human before.
“What?” Sweden replied groggily.
“You’re welcome.” She repeated. “Apart from saving your life, I have also treated your wounds and cleaned you up. You were a walking infectious agent.”
He had been sedated for roughly twelve hours and in that time she had completely cleaned and disinfected him. The dome had a reasonably complete supply of first aid equipment as well as advanced antibiotics and medicines, she had used most of them. His scabies, lice and flea problem was resolved and the weeping sores had been plastered. She had pulled the worst of his teeth, and had dosed him with a cocktail of antibiotics that she hoped would resolve the issue of his manhood.
“I do not take your meaning.” Sweden said as he gingerly raised himself up. “I am no agent. I am Sweden, son of Jordan. Who are you and where are my clothes?”
He looked around confused and added, “Where am I?”