Routine

Posted on Tue Jan 17th, 2023 @ 4:39am by Captain Tristan Faust & Lieutenant Commander Marc Kitchner M.D.

0 words; about a 1 minute read

Mission: Mission 1: A Fool’s Errand
Location: Barbershop
Timeline: M1 MD08 (2268.23.05) 1300

1300 hours pinged on the chronometer and it signalled the end of lunch for Alpha shift. Tristan couldn't remember what day of the week it was, although his appointment schedule reminded him it was time to visit the ship's barber. The man was an old veteran of the space service and semi retired and Tristan always enjoyed talking to him swapping war stories.

George Grogan had been a semi-attached civilian for nearly forty years. His contract was when his scissors got dull he moved to on to a new ship or base, unless one of the engineers got smart and learned how to sharpen them by hand, George didn't trust machine sharpened scissors. He swore they felt wrong. He was also the cheapest cut man in the fleet 5 credits, a story to trade and the latest news.

Men in the service given time you could set your watch by them, what they wanted and when they'd show up, but the ladies that was a different story all the same. Tuesday, 1300, every three weeks was the Captain's regular time, all scissors and a close shave around the back. The ships bell tolled and two minutes later in walks the Tristan Faust. "Captain .... how goes it?"

"A disaster as always," Tristan responded as he sat down in George's chair, "I'm glad you managed to find a rock to hide under last night, unless you just locked your door and slept through it." His dark circles were particularly bad.

"To tell you the truth, that's exactly what happened. I sleep like a block of deuterium most nights." George said tossing the cape around the young man and snugging it up in the back. "Lets see here." Comb ... snip snip ... comb comb .. snip snip. "You using that cheap gel again?" George asked feeling his scissors binding up. He stepped to his mirror and dunked them in alcohol and wiped the blades dry on his smock.

"Just using Groom & Clean as always," Tristan responded, "It's the only thing that works and I trust."

Snip ... snip ... snip ... after a few minutes. "Look down." George pulled a straight razor from his pocket and made a few passes on a leather strop hanging off the back of the chair. Scrape .. scrape .. scrape. "Roll left." scrape .... "Roll right. Your ears aren't level you know that." Scrape. George evened out the side burns and carefully tapered the sides towards the back. "That's better." He took a large hand mirror off the wall and stepped behind again. "How's that look?"

He looked around the mirror, "Halfway decent. Would you mind going over my eyebrows? They're getting long enough that they'll flap in the wind."

"Sure." George said and opened a drawer under the counter and took out a pair of clippers. "Close your eyes." He asked, and then George carefully shaped one side and then the other. "Woops...." Tristan's eyes shot open until he realized it was a practical joke. "That never gets old." He looked around the side and touched up around the ears. "You're getting older sir, fuzz at the ears is the first sign."

"Old?" the Captain balked, "I'm only thirty-one."

George grinned, he'd cut hair for more Admirals and Captain's then he could count. "Try to stay that way. Life was more enjoyable when I was that age." He reached for a long bristled brush and dosed it with powder he made a few passes along Tristan's neck and around the ears. "Eyes..." then he passed the brush over his nose to knock off any stray clippings. "How's about a shave Cap?"

"Ah sure, why not," Tristan responded. It had been a long while since he had enjoyed a straight razor shave and George knew what he was doing.

George stepped behind the chair and lowered the back and raised up a head rest. He stepped over to a box mounted on the wall and pulled out a hot towel , and then he wrapped it around Tristan's face and neck. As he gave the towel a moment to do its thing, he pulled down a bone china bowel. George spent the next few minutes beating a lather of shaving soap, as he passed a brush back and forth he began humming to himself.

George removed the towel placing it under Tristans chin so he didn't get lather on the uniform or the floor. He quickly painted on the soap until it was to his liking. He pulled the straight razor from his pocket and tested the edge on his thumbnail. All the while humming still.

"What are you humming George? I know this from somewhere." Tristan asked trying not to spit lather.

George leaned over. He sang softly as he worked. 'Here's adieu to all Judges and juries .... To Justice and Ol'e Bailey too ... For seven long years they have bound me to King George's Army ... So adieu old England adieu ... So it's over the seas that I wander ... To stand beside the red, white, and blue ... For they give me the kings ole hard bargain ... Adieu ole England adieu' ... George began humming again as he reached down and lifted the tip of Tristan's nose to get his upper lip. A few quick swipes of the blade at the corners of his mouth and he was finished. He pulled another warm towel and wiped Tristan off once more. "Let's see here. Groom and clean .... means Bay Rum, Old English Leather, or Old Spice." George picked up a bottle with an amber colored oil, and poured a few drops into his hands. He massaged it into Tristan's face and neck. "Old English Leather ... it fits." He returned the back of the chair to it'd regular position. "How's that feel? You certainly look more relaxed than when you walked in here."

"I feel much better George, much better," the Captain responded.

 

RSS Feed