"Nifty!"
After
Lothar's collapse and subsequent rescue, I attempted to revive him with some Romulan ale. The attempt was successful; he coughed, opened his eyes weakly, and asked for more. I gave him two more shots, after which he visibly improved. In fact, after the third shot, he was able to pick up the bottle and drink the rest unassisted. He stood up, looking almost as healthy as he had been before he jumped into hard vacuum to carve an asteroid with his bare hands - not a statement one could normally have said about them.
"Strange," Lothar said, "I have no idea what happened..." The medical tricorder gave me no clues, not that I had expected any - I recalled
Mib Khan's examination of Lothar back at
Starbase 668. "Do we have more booze?" I showed him the cunningly-concealed smuggling compartment I'd found in the cargo hold (I have some experience with smuggling, and knew what to look for). It contained several crates of Romulan ale. "Nifty!" Lothar exclaimed, grabbing another.
After getting half-way through the second bottle, Lothar was returning to his old, belligerent self. "The only reashon," he slurred at me, "that you found the booze firsht was that I was out busting my butt in shpashe..." He then grew maudlin: "I miss having the univershe bring booze to me..."