There it was again, the first human voice since the party. I’d set out for a shindig to mark crossing the Heliopause, and ended up lost in the bowels of a Starship. A flagon of space grog and twelve pills saw to that.
The voice was getting closer. Three days wandering a maze of uniform corridors had me believing I’d never get out. Then I heard it call.
‘No -dya know a way outta here mate?’
-‘Of course, but I’m not leaving without George.’
‘Is he a friend of yours?’
‘Who’s George then?’