My hearing returned first.

"Gnsh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-pfs-s-s-s-s-t! Sob! Whinny!"

Vision next.

"Ouch! That light's bright!", I yelped, blinking my eyes open.

"Gnsh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-pfs-s-s-s-s-t! Sob! Whinny!"

"Well, fer the love-o Bubba! Look who jest woke up! Welcome back to the land-o the walkin'-n-talkin', Lad."

The Captain was standing astride Justine, clutching a strop, flashing his trademark grin.

Jimmy was stationed opposite, also wielding fluidian. He wiped a sweaty brow while addressing me.

"Ah-hyulk! Hey, Partner, thanky fer thet great demo! Say, does this remind yo of anybody?"

"Gnsh-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-h-pfs-s-s-s-s-t! Sob! Whinny!"

He'd abruptly pivoted; walloped Justine's tush with a south-to-north roundhouse; driving the poor girl upward; cranking girl-wiggliness off the scale. And the technique he'd employed --- swiveling pelvis --- wheeling shoulders --- cantilevered weight --- gesturing with his free hand --- exactly mimicked...

"Ah-hyulk! How's that?"

"Mighty bodacious, Jimmy!", the Captain grinned. "Grade A fer sure!"

Then turned toward me.

"See what ye've done, Lad?"

"Huh? Me?"

I struggled to my feet. That's when I noticed the IV in my left forearm.

"Ye needed two liters, Lad", the Captain responded to my quizzical look. "Stat, I might add! Fortunately, Dr. Lois responded immediately!"

What? Reeve had been here? I quickly glanced downward. My dick was back inside my trousers; everything properly zipped. And my shirt was back on. Gee,... that didn't seem like Reeve's M.O..

"Oh,... and she want's ta see ye later;... says there's some tests she's gotta run", the Captain added.

The door suddenly rolled open.

"Hey everybody! Howdy-doo! Howdy-fockin'-do!"

It was Mos,... grinning like he'd just won the Intergalactic Lotto; striding with punch; eating a twinkie. He looked like Tony Roberts on uppers! Pumped to the max!

"Now there's a satisfied looking bloke!", the Captain quipped. "Say, Mate,... ye wouldn't by any chance have another of those, would ye?"

"Fockin' 'eh, Captn! Here ye go."

Mos produced a box of twinkies; tossed one to the Captain.

"Chomp! Ahhhhhh,... heavenly! Fockin' heavenly!"

"How 'bout ye two", Mos inquired of Jimmy and myself, "care fer a spot-o rhapsody?"

"Ah-hyulk! Yah, Sir!", Jimmy responded. "Thanky kindly. Chomp! Ahhhhhh,... bliss! Ah-hyulk!"

"N-No t-thanks", I said.

"Huh? Is there something wrong, Lad? Passin' up bliss isn't the usual course-o business! Especially after B.H.M.!"

"Oh n-no,... n-nothing's wrong. W-Whatever gave you t-that idea?"

I was back on my feet; wobbly as all get out. For some reason, I had to maintain a bow-legged stance, like a cowpoke who'd broke one too many broncos. Otherwise I'd topple over. And when I tried to walk,... heck,... Frankenstein would've looked more suave! That's why it didn't occur to me to ask about the B.H.M. reference.

"Don't ye fret none about thet rather bizarre way ye're shuffling, Lad", the Captain reassured. "Thet's jest a temporary side-effect of Restorsin --- the drug Dr. Lois gave ye --- ta help perk ye up!"

"Great", I dead-panned, veering like a town-drunkard. "So when's this stuff wear off?"

"Well it's dose-related, ye see. It depends on the amount she gave ye."

"H-How much did s-she inject in t-the IV?", I asked queasily, not entirely certain I wanted to hear the answer.

"Well, actually", the Captain replied, while eating his twinkie, "it's administered as a rectal suppository,... Chomp!,... and from the way the Doctor was crammin' it in,... Chomp!,... I'd surmise it'd been pretty fockin' much! Wouldn't ye agree, Jimmy?"

"Ah-hyulk! Oh yah! Dr. Lois had been way up to her third knuckle!"

"It's called the 'metacarpal-phalangeal' joint, Jimmy", Mos cut-in, "but please,... Chomp!,... go on."

"Ah-hyulk! Ah remember thinkin', if she were digitizing any further, she'd actually be wrist-itizing! Jeepers! It give me the dad-burn willies!"

The color drained from my face; goose bumps began racing.

No wonder it felt like I'd been sitting on a blowtorch! Yah, that had been Reeve's M.O. for sure!

"Look, Lad", the Captain said, walking over; slapping me on the back. "Do yerself a favor, and jest roll with it! Before ye know, things'll be fine!"

"The Captn's right, Lad", Mos seconded. "Always roll with the punches! It drives adversity crazy, ye know!"

"Besides", the Captain continued,"this is a red-letter day for ye, what with Goodenough's decision and all! Come on! It's time ta turn thet frown upside-down, I'd say!"

"The Commander made a decision?", I gasped! "Regarding me? Whad he say? I d-don't even remember seeing or t-talking to him!"

"Oh but ye did, Lad", the Captain replied. "I'll admit it wasn't the most coherent exchange I'd ever heard, but ye'd been most adamant about a couple-o points! I think ye really impressed him with yer passion. Wouldn't ye agree, Mos?"

"Sorry Captn'. I was high and I missed it."

"Fock! Of course ye were. Well then,... Jimmy,... what's yer take? Wouldn't ye say the Lad had been formidable?"

"Ah-hyulk! Oh yah, Sir. Especially the part when he was screaming at the Commander at the top of his lungs, flashing that deranged look, right when the transmission broke-up!"

"Screaming at the Commander? Me? Wha,... whad I s-say?"

"Ah-hyulk! It's hard to believe how forceful you'd been", Jimmy lauded, "conciderin' how important a bloke the Commander is! And especially since he'd jest accepted ye into his program!"

"He did?", I choked, wide-eyed and ready to jump out of my skin. "Whad I say? Please tell me what I said?"

"Ah-hyulk! Ah've gotta hand it to yo, Partner, yo sure ain't intimidated by authority! Ah sure wouldn't have been as ballsy!"

"What the fuck did I say?", I screamed.

"Ah-hyulk! Well, lemmie think, so's I get it right", Jimmy pondered. "I believe it was something like,...

and then you jest started gaspin' and huffing,... sounding like,... believe it or not,... a WW II submarine!

"Oh shit!"

I slumped to the floor, burying my face-in-hands.

"Is there a problem, Lad?", Mos nonchalantly asked, devouring his third twinkie. "Chomp!"

"I'm fucked! Totally fucked!", I grieved. "It's happened again!

"What?"

"Whenever I'm on the threshold of something really great, my dick starts doing the talking, and Whammo! Everything goes bye-bye!"

"And do ye think yer the only Sot with thet problem, Lad?", the Captain inquired.

"Seems like it happens to me at the most inopportune moments!", I blathered. "I'll bet I'm leading the pack for that trophy!"

"Oh yah? Well try tellin' thet to Goodenough,... who jest before he was to receive the Dognoolian Medal of Honor, was caught dry-boning the Emporer's wife backstage!"

"Errr,... I believe it was the Emporer's dog, Captn'", Mos corrected.

"Semantics notwithstanding", the Captain continued, "the point is, Goodenough was nabbed red-handed, thinking with his pecker!"

"Ah-hyulk! We'd even heard about that one on Planet Hillbilldo!", a wide-eyed Jimmy chortled.

"Or consider the time", the Captain went on, "when Mos here was up fer a Federation commendation, fer volunteer work he'd done at the Convent For Wayward Girls ( C.F.W.G. )!"

"Plumbing is me hobby", Mos beamed. "So I figured, why not give somethin' back to the community!"

"Yah! Very generous of ye", the Captain replied. "Then the secret surveillance videos were made public,... showing exactly the kind of pipe ye'd been laying! Fortunately, the tapes somehow disappeared just before trial; all charges were eventually dismissed!"

"I was completely innocent", Mos professed!

"Of focking course ye were!", the Captain agreed. "Jest like I was, despite those DNA test-results! Fock! Is it my fault the Admiral's new baby happened ta have a genotype similar to me-self?"

"Not by a long shot!", Mos replied.

"Ah-hyulk! Nope!"

"So ye see, Lad, Ye've got no exclusive claim to testosterone-fueled decision makin'! Fact-o the matter is, it's an ubiquitous curse --- directly proportional to a bloke's two-fistedness! And in the case of yer's truly, I wear such stupidity as a focking badge of honor!"

"Me too, Captn'!", Mos agreed.

"Ah-hyulk! Me three, Captn'!"

"Well excuse me for balking at a group-hug, Captain", I sulked, "But I just flipped-off my future, and it's gonna take more then a pep-talk to ease the funk!"

"Yer future? Whatever the fock are ye talkin' about, Lad?"

"My Star-pilot assignment! It's out like Condit ( the 23rd century converse of in-like-Flynn )! I guess I am gonna be a barber. Where do I pick up my comb?"

"Fock! Have ye gone daft, Lad? Goodenough's pickin' ye up in a focking fortnight! Fer Bubba's sake, yer in Star-pilot school! Capish?"

"Captain", I sputtered, "I essentially told the Commander to fuck-off!"

"Yah. Thet ye did. So focking what?"

"Well, he's not gonna want me now!"

"Why the fock not?"

"Because,... like I just said,... I told the Comm,... "

"Excuse me, Lad", Mos cut in, "but I think I understand the problem. Wallowing in self-pity has robbed ye of yer strength! Do me a favor, review in yer mind what happened, and dazzle us with yer nose fer nuance and analytic prowess."

"Huh?"

"Come on, Lad, in the last few days, ye've been able ta figure out jest about everything --- noticing clues without trying --- details sticking to ye like velcro --- deducing stuff as easily as breathing!"

"The Sargent's got a point, Lad", the Captain cut in. "Yer critique of Justine and Spin, fer example, had been most impressive; absolutely dead-on! How 'bout showing me it wasn't jest beginner's luck, eh?"

I'll say one thing for the Captain, he sure knew how to motivate! Beginners luck? Me?

"It must have something to due with Postulate # 3", I announced. "Maybe it excuses questionable behavior,... or something like that?"

"Fockin' Amazing!", the Captain exclaimed.

"Bingo!", Mos blurted! "That's exactly what it does! Blow hole maintenance takes precedence! The most relevant axiom of em' all!"

"Huh?"

"Ah-hyulk! We call it B.H.M., for short.", Jimmy yapped.

"Huh?"

"It provides complete absolution fer testosterone-driven stupidity", Mos explained. "Compensation, if ye will, fer the down-side of two-fistedness!"

"And it's why Goodenough took no umbrage at yer comments, Lad", the Captain cut in. "And why ye're still gonna be a Star-pilot! He'll be here to pick ye up in two weeks! And thet's a focking fact!"

"Really?"

"Fock Yah!", the Captain beamed! "And in the meantime, it goes without saying, you'll be excused from Barber-school responsibilities. Feel free ta mill-about the complex; do whatever-the-fock ye fancy. Catch some sun. Hit the links. Play some Monopoly. Check out the nightlife. And, of course, ye'll be puttin' any expenses on me personal tab!"

It took a few seconds for it to all to sink in. But when it did,...

And it was all due to the Captain's influence! How could I ever properly thank him?