Booze You Can Wear On Your Head!
The note on the helmet said "Place on Lothar. Straw goes into any convenient alimentary orifice." Some of the civilians in the crowd (I believe the term is "hecklers") were loudly debating choices vis-à-vis orifices, although I did not give the matter any consideration before I inserted the straw into
Lothar's mouth. As I did so, I thought I heard someone mutter, "Well, I guess it must have been the other Vulcan."
Slowly at first, Lothar began to imbibe, seemingly as an automatic, instinctual reaction to the near proximity of alcohol. Still, he never opened his eyes, and he spoke but one word after he had drained the entire quantity of alcohol attached to the black helmet: "More."
As the onlookers did not appear to have anything more important to do, I sent one of them into the bar with a request for more alcohol. I should be able to raise Lothar's spirits if I am able to raise enough spirits. After assuring the bartender that I would be responsible for Lothar's "tab", the helmet was refilled. Multiple times.
At the same time, I had sent another onlooker back to the docking bay, to borrow an antigravity cargo loader. As Lothar was unconscious and his internal systems were powered down, his weight was almost two metric tons - more than I had even the slightest intention of attempting to lift. Once the grav plate had arrived and I (with some assistance) had rolled Lothar onto it, we made our way back to my cabin. My first choice would have been sickbay, but Doctor
Mib Khan was apparently in a mood to be "difficult" today (or the day was being difficult to him). Otherwise, he would have beamed Lothar into sickbay originally, as I had intended).