Cohost writing prompt: @slime-that — Goo that’s part of the med-system and is giving unsanctioned advice
“Morning, Thea,” the doc says, feet up, cup of something steaming in her hand. “What’s up?”
“Oh, usual knocks and scrapes,” Thea says breezily. “You know how it is on the mech-deck. Don’t worry yourself, just check me out a diagnostic gel and I’ll let it sterilise and spray-protect everything.”
“Have you welding-apes tried actually wearing your protective gear,” the doc grumbles good-naturedly, punches in the dispense code for a medigel, and goes back to her crossword. Thea snags it from the machine and slips into an exam booth, syncs the gel with the diagnostic UI — dutifully waiting for it to pulse, squeezing it for confirmation — and then hops up on the table and drops it down the front of her pants, where it dutifully slithers over her skin, cataloguing whatever it might find treatably wrong with her, and administering its minor autonomous attentions.
It is not a mech-deck injury, but Thea really doesn’t want to have a, “So the night was really good but I might have been a little drunkenly ambitious about taking the new pilot’s biggest strap without properly warming up,” conversation with the doc. Nothing against the doc, of course — they’ve had a couple of moments, in passing or in the mess, and Thea thinks maybe maybe one day on a shore leave, in the right light, in the right dress, she might have a shot, even if strictly the doc is out of her league; until then she’s biding her time and not saying anything that might blow it.
“Blimey,” the medical ooze says from her pants.
“Excuse me?” Thea says. Sure, everyone knows that they’re autonomous compugel medical bots, they have to be smart, but…there’s a reason they don’t usually talk, and patient comfort with chatting to something that’s clinically wriggling around in your pants is high on the list.
“Nothing, nothing,” the gel says, and hits a spot that makes Thea hiss a little. “Fourth time in six months, eh?”
“Are you even allowed in my medical records?” Thea says.
“‘Course I am,” it says, extruding something cool and soothing. “Medical bot. Just saying, rough rider — ever heard of lube?”
“I’m gonna fish you out of there and flush you down the john,” Thea threatens.
“I’d flag you as medically noncompliant,” it says smugly.
