Charlotte Boyett-Compo- WIND VERSE- Pleasure's Foehn by Charlotte Boyett-Compo

nurse she’d check on the patient in a few hours, Davan untwisted the cap on a bottle of water and drank greedily. “Any one else I need to see?” she asked. Lt. Maere Brennan glanced up from the report she was writing. “Not for a few minutes yet. We have an ear infection, a migraine and one girl who says she’s got some kind of discharge. They can wait until after lunch.”
    “Let’s get to them now. I’ll eat later,” Davan said.
    “Suit yourself,” Maere replied. She laid the report aside. “I suggest you take the time to eat now else you might find you won’t the time later on.”
    “I’ll take my chances,” Davan stated.

    Famous last words, she thought as she trudged wearily to her quarters that evening, her belly grumbling. It was well after midnight and she’d been bombarded by patient after patient after patient all day. Most of the complaints were easily handled but a few had been more complex and had managed to wear Davan out. In between a few apples, a banana, a couple of plums and some crackers, she had seen over thirty patients. She was yawning by the time she stumbled into her quarters, too tired to do anything save take a shower.
    The Vid-Com seemed to chime almost as soon as Davan’s head hit the pillow but one look at her watch told her it was 0630. Groaning she sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with the base of her palms and swung her legs from the bed. Grateful the sleep platform had been as comfortable as she had hoped, she plodded into the bathing chamber, washed her face, brushed her teeth and stared at her hair for a full minute.
    “What in the hell is wrong with my hair?” she asked, irritated the frizzies were still hanging on.
    She was of a mind to do a Khadeeja and pull every wayward strand out of her head. Realizing that would hurt, she stood there contemplating whacking it off to chinlength but decided against it. Normally, she loved her waist-length auburn tresses. Why they were determined to annoy her at this particular time she had no idea but knew she had to do something.
    Stripping off the tank top and panties she’d worn to bed, she turned the shower on, stepped under the tepid water for a few moments until her hair was wet then ran a comb through the straight hair until it was free of tangles then braided it tightly in one long queue. With every hair in place, she oiled it with a perfumed conditioner then wound the whole thing into an elegant chignon at the back of her head. Satisfied with 33
    Charlotte Boyett-Compo
    the results, she dressed in her white MedSurge uniform and with a smile on her face, opened the door.
    Then the smile disappeared with the first step she took into the corridor. Stopping as still as death, she slowly lowered her head and what she saw on the floor made her temper heat to white-hot rage for lying there were row after row of chicken eggs—filling in at least a ten foot by ten foot area directly in front of her door. Her right foot had crunched three of the eggs and the yolk and albumen oozing up over the toe of her white shoe. There was no way to get out of the door without crushing more eggs or taking the time to stoop down and pick enough of them up to make a pathway.
    Lifting her egg-streaked foot, Davan hopped backward on her left foot and leaned against the doorjamb to remove the slick shoe. With her eyes narrowed into thin slits of malevolent intent, she shook as much of the goop from her shoe as she could then hobbled to the galley to wash off the rest. Casting a quick look at her watch, realizing she had to be at sickbay in less than ten minutes, she took off the other shoe and with a violent hiss of breath did the only thing she knew to do. 34
    Pleasure’s Foehn
    Chapter Four

    Cair lay in his bed with his hands behind his neck, staring up at the ceiling. The Vid-Com had chimed twice and on the third chime, he would have to get up, shower, and get ready for the day whether he wanted to or not. Until then, he was tolerating