Billy's pear-shaped head was throbbing like a Gopterian Starfish in heat, and he was experiencing a pricking sensation all over his body, which might have been enjoyable had he recently experienced a Fuggerfruit cocktail instead of an ass-kicking from a Neezian Asteroid. He vaguely remembered the impact of the huge rock, and a simultaneous implosion of the ship's bulkheads. He had the momentary remembrance of a slew of lingerie models spinning in the air, like some kind of Titzenass kaleidoscope. Billy was covered in bandages from head to toe, including his schleeber, which resembled the mummy of some sacred departed cobra. There was a melodic sound in the air, and he located its source in a chair next to his bed. He was slightly taken aback by this rather attractive female who,the breast on her head wobbling from side to side, seemed to be tickling him with some sort of appendage. The Trid opened his mouth, but nothing escaped his three lips but a slight wheeze. The breast-headed nymph paused in her poking and leaned forward toward him. "He's awake!" she called, and then to him she said "Did you say something Captain?"

At last he mustered his strength and groaned " where in the hell on this fugging rust-bucket can you get a goddam DRINK!" As the single word "DRINK" ricocheted off the walls of the Enterprise, a figure appeared in the doorway as if summoned by this clarion call. The Trid's blurry vision gradually resolved itself to reveal a figure stumbling into the ward carrying a half-empty pitcher of Frozen Gargleblasters. "Oh shit," moaned the Trid. It was Catspaw.