Chapter Text
Beachcomber startled as someone started to knock on the door, just to start pounding on it as he took his time reluctantly getting off the couch.
He opened the door to find whoever was there gone, a plastic box emitting a faint hum covered with a towel sitting on his door stoop.
Beachcomber sighed and brought the box inside. Swindle must have lied again, passing off a pregnant or disabled human as a special breed again.
Beachcomber wasn't shocked to find a human and its offspring in the box, the little mech, barely past the toddler stage, running up to an offered finger using his arms, his bowed, too small feet just barely skimming the ground, the toes on one twisted and fused. Beachcomber smiled, admiring how happy-go-lucky this one was. There was no harm in letting him run around. His mother was minding him well enough.
He hooked up a little extra oxygen and refilled their water, and added a vitamin additive to their food.
He sent a comm to the vet specialist he often worked with, he himself having taken and aced a general veterinarian course on humans, but that was good for setting bones, delivering babies, and routine checkups, not prosthesis fittings or possibly amputations if the boy's feet didn't respond to treatment.
"Someone needs to start regulating beyond just euthanasia and vaccines. This is the fourth surrender I have had this decacycle." He muttered, carefully bringing the carrying case to his makeshift human room, setting it into the much bigger quarantine tank and opening the case door to let the humans explore on their own.
If they didn't get sick, Beachcomber had a few other rescues he knew wouldn't mind sharing a tank, given their own hutch and feeding spaces, of course. He always ended up correcting new owners about how dangerous it was to feed all their humans from one food or water source, along with stressing the importance of putting a hide around waste and bathing areas, and that they even needed them in the first place.
Most of the mechs who Beachcomber saw were open to change anyway, willing to pay that small fee for a private health exam instead of just the required vaccination clinics.
But, he still felt the need to publish resources, findings, and guidelines online, especially considering that most of the importers of humans are still shady and unregulated smugglers, and those that are well trusted pet traders are still working with lawmakers for the proper permits.
Reputable breeders haven't been very successful yet, as humans mate for life, or at least, are heavily monogamous.
Most of the pregnant humans he had entrusted in his care were accidents, and their owners wanted them returned once they delivered their offspring.
But, there were a few mechs who panicked or couldn't afford a second human to feed.
Anyway, after he fed Cali, his latest pregnant boarder, he would film a segment for his human care series and wait for any walk-ins.
He walked upstairs and into his room and retrieved his first human, an older male named James. He had been offered James by a local landlord, as a previous tenant had left him behind, and upkeep was too expensive for her tastes. James was sweet and enjoyed filming, showing off to the camera, and generally being easy to handle.
"We are filming a training segment today, James. Be good, and I will let you introduce yourself to the new arrivals."
James nodded, and Beachcomber smiled. He doubted he understood full sentences, but Beachcomber knew that he understood "arrival, " "filming," and "training," from repetition. He walked into the exam room, his two story apartment separated into a downstairs storefront and sitting room and upstairs living quarters.
He set up the camera and turned it on, smiling and welcoming his viewers to his care series, showing the camera his degree and certifications and telling them the name of his clinic before moving on to the command he had taught James earlier that week. "This one is good for vet visits and general care. James, come." James walked over to Beachcomber's hand, letting him ruffle his hair before taking a treat, tucking it into his pocket. "The benefits of this command are abundant, as it allows for easy removal in emergencies and at vet appointments. Practice while your human is alert and fed at least once that cycle to reduce stress. Reward for any small progress, as the goal for this command is for your human to be willing to leave food, toys, or social interaction for your hand. As a substitute, you can also combine this command with a tap on the side of your human's tank for easy administration of medicine. They tend to respond to a tap on the glass better, as they feel it when asleep and using the private bathing and sitting waste areas that should be standard in all human tank setups."
James pawed at Beachcomber's fingers, and Beachcomber chuckled and scratched his head again. "That's all for today, folks. I've taken in a few rescues, so uploads may be sparse in the coming weeks. Feel free to leave questions in the comment section and subscribe for more instructional videos and tips, and remember to properly vaccinate your humans! I will keep you updated on more low and free human clinics that pop up on my radar."
Beachcomber turned off the camera and brought James downstairs to hang out with Jane, a human with vitiligo that was left on a subscriber's doorstep. She had some expensive dietary needs, so the subscriber brought her to him instead of the rescues that had started to pop up.
The specialist had gotten back to him, willing to see the two humans he had brought in on short notice.
Beachcomber put on some gloves and carefully moved the two humans back into the carrying case. He checked on the rest of his rescues, then closed the clinic for the afternoon and brought him to his specialist, Caremark.
She was a no-nonsense femme, and she didn't mess around with chasing the two humans around, connecting a canister of laughing gas to the case and waiting for the two to get sleepy. She confirmed their sex before moving the mech to her scanner to examine his feet, showing Beachcomber that his bad foot had badly fused toes and foot bones, the nerves and muscles pinched and twisted. She casted and splinted the mech's feet for now, wanting to try a nonsurgical route before committing to amputation or surgery to correct the bones. She sent him on his way with some pain medication, the mech's mother being perfectly healthy.
He walked back to his apartment and reopened the clinic for walk-ins as he kept an eye on the groggy humans. No one but his one scheduled appointment showed up, so after closing, he brought his one adoptable human, Haley, to the nearby Rescue Bots Academy to get a little bit of socialization with the professors' families of humans.
She was lukewarm with their redheaded male, and Heatwave hoped having a mate would make him mellow out a bit.
They already had two family units, a single father and his offspring that Boulder had successfully gotten to accept an older female and, surprisingly, managed to have a single offspring with, and the massive, five human family unit of a male, his three adult offspring, and an adolescent, all living in relative peace. This was the group that Heatwave was trying to split up, as they required a truly massive tank, and the academy directors were getting annoyed with how often recruits would hang out in Heatwave's office and classroom after class to watch them and ask questions.
But, all attempts to get the adults interested in settling into new groups failed, as even though they were happy with being on their own with one of the professors, they were just not a fan of sharing a space with any other humans but their whole group.
But, the director's word was law, even if Beachcomber thought the whole thing was stupid.
As predicted, the redhead pissed Haley off, and Beachcomber had to remove her. This time, they caught it on video, so maybe this time, Heatwave could convince his boss to leave well enough alone.