George was a living spaceship. "Wheeeeeeeee!" He was also drunk.
       On most days, Captain Henry Lawson would have taken George's antics in stride, the cost of doing business on an otherwise reliable vessel. Today was different: The captain couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful Bell Hays. She had leased the spaceship for a flight to Bliss, the Milky Way's only planet with naturally occurring alcohol. Bliss's oceans, rivers, lakes, and cloud systems varied from ten- to a staggering one-hundred-ninety-proof. Tourists called Bliss the closest place to heaven.
       "Can't you do anything about George?" Bell asked, speaking between clenched teeth.
       "I wish I could," Captain Lawson said, his mouth as tightly shut as hers, and his words, like hers, hardly audible. Normal speech was impossible.
       "There has to be something," she said.
       "You'd think." He considered other replies but was somewhat shy and not certain of how to proceed. Apart from one of Bell's staff, they were alone on the bridge, but the situation didn't seem like the right time to ask for a date.
       "Maybe you could stop staring at me."
       Captain Lawson was ready to repeat, "I wish I could," but remained silent because the statement wouldn't be true. He enjoyed staring at her, and she was definitely someone worth seeing. Her figure, her silky voice, and her posture all appealed to him. Her clothing style was austere--everything either black or white and cut severely--but he knew that her clothes would change on Bliss. Everything changed on Bliss, the ideal planet for a romantic encounter. Wait until he had her strolling along the shores of Lake Margarita when all they had to do was dip a glass into the lake for a perfect drink. The salt along the shore was one of those finishing touches that made Bliss so popular.
       The captain heard something shrill. "What was that?"
       Bell groaned. "That was Higgo screaming."
       "Is the alien okay?" he asked.
       "No," she said. "One or more of his ribs must have pierced an internal organ."
       Her description surprised Captain Lawrence. "That's an incredibly specific diagnosis from one yell."
       "He's trapped under me--unless it's over me in this position--and a rib grazed my arm. I can see it--I mean the rib."
       "Sorry," he said. "Do you think it was fatal?"
       "Yeah."
       The amount of emotion she got out of one word impressed him. "I'm sorry." All the same, life had to go on, and the alien's death meant that they were alone together. It should be easier to talk to her now. If only he knew what to say!
       "Do you carry insurance against employee loss?" Captain Lawson asked.
       Bell groaned.
       He insisted, "Employee insurance is a sensible precaution."
       "I wish you'd stop staring at me."
       "I can't help it." Captain Lawson was perfectly honest. He couldn't help it. George had reversed the gravity to an incredible extent, locking each person aboard into a fixed position on the ceiling. The captain was flat on his stomach, with his head twisted to the side, giving him a good view of Bell Hays but little else. Captain Lawson sighed. Sober, George was among the most industrious of spaceships; drunk, he was irresponsible. But happy. Very happy.
       "Whatever happened to voice commands?" Bell asked.
       Captain Lawson would have shrugged if he could. "Obviously, that's the way we do everything, but George is a tad beyond control. He hasn't responded to a single instruction."
       "Please try--again," she said.
       "Oh, very well." Captain Lawson attempted to clear his throat. "George, now listen to me. I want you to return gravity to normal. You've already injured or killed one of Ms. Hays's workers, and it's time you behaved properly."
       George's voice rumbled through the ship. "Huh?"
       "You know what I'm saying, and I know you didn't intend to hurt, uh, Mr. Higgo. Accidents do happen." Captain Lawson spoke particularly firmly. "But unless you return control to me, there will be severe consequences. We have to register any onboard casualties at the first planet we reach, and you know how much you hate filing forms by yourself." He attempted to smile at Bell, but the intense gravity turned the smile into a bizarre grimace.
       "Ship ahoy!" George cried. "Off the starboard bow."
       "Very good, George," Captain Lawson said. "Thank you for the warning. You are weaving in the space lanes, which is hazardous at the best of times."
       "Let's ram them!" George shouted.
       "That isn't necessary," Captain Lawson said. "I'm sure it is a peaceful vessel."
       "Let's see . . .," George said. "I'm scanning a passenger ship, an S&O packet designed to carry up to ten thousand folks of average weight and dimensions. It would be a shame to miss out on such a terrific ramming opportunity!"
       "Very interesting, George," the captain said. "Although you'd have to admit: Its being a passenger ship is no reason to ram it."
       "Are you kidding me, Captain? They're going to drink all the booze on Bliss." George sniffed and said between sobs, "There'll be nothing left for me."
       "Don't you worry, big fellow," the captain said. "However much they drink, there will be plenty left for you. Bliss is an enormous planet. It won't go dry for a millennium."
       "Promise?" George asked.
       "Yes, George," Captain Lawson said. "Now, how about returning gravity to normal? Being stuck on the ceiling is somewhat fatiguing, and we all have much better things to do. You know, chores and maintenance. You want to look your best when we land on Bliss."
       "All right--I'll let the packet sail in peace . . . this time. Yeah, sure, there'll be enough booze left for me." George yawned. "Maybe a nap will help. I'm not feeling so hot."
       "Don't forget to reverse the gravity before you switch to sleep mode." Captain Lawson kept an even tone. Politeness got a lot of mileage out of George. "Setting our course back to Bliss would be a fine idea too."
       A series of thuds resounded throughout the ship as various bodies plummeted from ceiling to deck.
       Captain Lawson groaned. He had bounced off a console, one of his legs twisted under him, and he struggled to stand upright. Maybe he should reset the ship's standard gravity from point nine to point eight of Earth normal?
       Bell hadn't spoken a word since falling, and, worried, he took two steps and stood next to her. A smattering of blood dotted her clothing.
       "Are you okay?" he asked.
       "Yeah. I landed on something soft. What's left of Higgo." Bell grasped Captain Lawson's outstretched hand, and he pulled her upright.
       "Sort of lucky and unlucky for . . ." His voice trailed off.
       Bell held a gun, pointing straight at him in her other hand.
       "Look, Bell, I know you're upset. You lost what is apparently a very important member of your people, but that's no reason to draw a weapon."
       "You're right," she said. "Back away slowly, and don't attempt to give any orders to your ship or crew except to summon them here."
       "Should I raise my hands in the air?" he asked.
       She ignored the query. "Call your crew."
       "I'm not sure whether there's enough room on the bridge for everyone," he said.
       "You mean all four of you?" she asked.
       Captain Lawson sighed inwardly. He blamed himself for being too friendly. Why share everything? Why tell her all about his ship to pass the time and gain her interest? He was a fool.
       "I agree," Bell said.
       That took him aback. "You're a telepath?"
       "No, but your thinking is transparent," she said. "I hope you're not too fond of poker or anything else for which a fixed expression would be welcome."
       "Sandra, Dan, and Ed," he said. "I need you in command. Come to the bridge--now."
       A few minutes later, his first mate, Sandra Perkins, asked, "What's up?"
       Daniel Hagberry, second mate, and Ed Chen, engineer, followed her in.
       Behind the three crew members were four sour-faced people carrying an assortment of weaponry.
       "It's obvious," Ed said. "They're hijacking us. They're pirates."
       "Shut up!" Bell said. "I don't want to hear another word from any of you."
       A slow but overwhelming anger began moving through Captain Lawson. "Where are you taking my ship?"
       Bell pushed her weapon into the captain's chest. "What don't you understand about 'shut up'?"
       He didn't say anything more, but thoughts raced through his mind. At a given signal, perhaps winking or nodding to his crew and quickly giving George a sharp command about something unexpected, he'd recapture his ship in the confusion. Then doubts assailed him. Bell, as well as her four partners in crime, looked trim and strong. Captain Lawson was no warrior. And Sandra was so small. What could she do? Then there was Dan with his oversize paunch and Ed of the fluttering Adam's apple. They weren't fighters, and the bad guys had weapons. He and his crew were stuck, taken as easily as infants in diapers.
       Maybe Bell continued to follow his thoughts, or she took pity on him. "I can tell you where we're going, where we were supposed to be going: to Bliss. And this time, I'll see that your ship is handled properly. Running him through that thick cloud mass was ridiculous. Do you appreciate the alcoholic content in Bliss's cloud systems? Of course, George got drunk. We all would have been drunk if we were outside in that. This time, we'll be careful. We'll avoid any storm and land under clear conditions. We have a schedule to maintain, and you've already cost me too much time and money."
        She turned to one of her men. "Alec, what's the best place on the ship to keep these jokers out of our way?"
       Alec accessed a databank.
       "But we were going--" began Captain Lawson, but he didn't say anything further. The muzzle of Bell's weapon pressed deeper into his side, and he saw her trigger finger tighten. She had pretty hands. Neatly trimmed nails too. No ring on her fourth finger. Whether that indicated being single or married was unknown. Not everyone wore a wedding band, especially when stealing a spaceship. What about her relationship with Higgo? Maybe they were lovers? That would go a long way in explaining her attitude, not that it helped the present situation.
       Bell nodded at his silence. "That's a good boy. Remain quiet, and you'll live longer. Furthermore, should any of you attempt to say the G-word or make any move to wake him up, you'll wish you'd never been born."
       "There's an emergency storage compartment in the center of the ship," Alec said. "It has a single hatch we can lock and then weld shut. As long as we weld them in, we don't have to worry about the ship doing anything clever to release them."
       Bell waved her gun. "Herd them inside."
       Alec stood up and stared at the crew. "You heard her: Start moving."
       "There are four such places aboard ship. Which one?" Ed asked.
       "You know the one I mean," Bell said. "I'll follow, and if you make any mistakes, bang, and out you go."
       The four crew members slowly exited the bridge, walked through the central passageway, up a flight of stairs, and, at the end of a corridor, into storage compartment D3.
       Alec quickly checked the emergency equipment and removed everything questionable while another pirate kept the crew covered.
       The hatch clanged shut after them, and the crew heard the airtight lock spinning afterward. They didn't hear anything else.
       "Dan," Sandra said. "Check the lockers and see whether you can find anything useful, something to help get us out of this mess."
       "Right!" The second mate began a thorough exploration.
       Sandra turned toward the captain. "Do you suppose they only threatened to weld the door closed?"
       Captain Lawson sat on a crate and put his head between his hands. "It doesn't really matter. They've weapons. We don't."
       "Ha!" She clapped her hands. "Listen: We know George way better than they do. We could have the element of surprise even if we don't have guns. We can improvise."
       Dan handed her a metal rod, which she hefted.
       "See. Now we're getting somewhere," she said.
       Captain Lawson shook his head. "Let's face it. We've already experienced the element of surprise, and I have a feeling that they're more experienced at hijacking and keeping a ship than we are."
       Sandra looked puzzled. "I don't understand. You're proposing that we do nothing? George is our ship, and we each own shares in him. I suppose you know best, having the most experience in space, but all the same, they'll kill us now that they've stolen George. Piracy means death sentences for them if caught and convicted. They won't want any witnesses testifying against them."
       She started helping Dan explore the storeroom.
       "We may be looking at it the wrong way." Captain Lawson shifted into a more comfortable position on the crate. "Bell and her staff are upset about our abortive run to Bliss, not that it was our fault. Who'd believe that George would become drunk in the planet's atmosphere? More importantly, they hired us to haul an extensive cargo, which will be worth next to nothing unless they make an on-time delivery."
       Ed coughed, sending his Adam's apple sliding up and down. "It's more complicated than that because we're not loaded with cargo to sell. We're carrying bombs and other explosive devices."
       "What's that, Ed?" Captain Lawson asked while Sandra and Dan stared at the engineer.
       Ed hesitated a moment and blushed. "I've a sweet tooth, and they have tons of maraschino cherries aboard, in hold A4, according to their manifest. I went there, intending to take a couple. Only a few, so no one would notice. What are a few grams out of a ton? After my midnight to 4 a.m. watch and Dan relieved me, I retrieved a handful from one of the canisters with everyone else asleep. Back in my quarters, I saw that they weren't maraschino cherries. They were miniature bombs. I didn't have a chance to warn any of you. Everything was happening too fast, especially once we were stuck on the ceiling, but whoever these people are, they're not merchants. They intend to ruin Bliss." He shuddered. "They're terrorists of the worst kind."
       Captain Lawson cried out, "Not Bell."
       "She's an evil teetotaler," Ed said.
       "Nonsense," the captain said. "She had wine with her meals, and I saw her enjoying a cocktail afterward."
       "Not with a maraschino cherry," Ed grumbled.
       Dan continued his search.
       Sandra said, "Bell doesn't have to be a teetotaler. More likely, she was hired by one or more of the distilleries that have suffered losses due to Bliss. Not only do people vacation on the planet by the millions, but Bliss has a healthy and cut-rate export service."
       "There!" Captain Lawson was triumphant. "She can be made to see the error of her ways or respond to a cash offer greater than what she's receiving." In a softer voice, he added, "If only I told Bell how I felt about her."
       Sandra ignored his last comment. "Or she's a member of a weirdo religious cult that is against drink in any form--whenever she isn't having a few herself. Whatever the situation, we couldn't match any price she's being paid--unless it's peanuts."
       George interrupted them with a couple of sneezes, and the crew froze in position. What would the drunken George do next? He surprised them by speaking in his ordinary voice. "What are you doing in this compartment? It's an odd sort of place to be hanging out."
       "Quiet, George," Sandra said quickly. "Bell Hays has taken command of the ship, locked us inside, and forbidden all communication with you. Your broadcasting to us is our death sentence."
       "What sort of ship do you think I am?" George asked indignantly. "Ever hear of multitasking? I can keep a separate voice for each cabin, passageway, airlock, or inter-ship communication. I can handle different functions for each of you. Ask me a question." He hiccuped. "Any question, and I'll answer each of you. Go ahead. Try me. And to make it interesting, what if we put a wager on that?"
       "You're on!" Ed rubbed his hands together. "Answer this if you can: Given that there are three people on the bank of a river along which there is only one boat that can only hold two at any one time. Now if--"
       Sandra frowned. "Stop that, Ed. I'm willing to take George at his word. Now, George, we have to recapture command of you and apprehend the bad guys."
       "No problem," George said. "What did you have in mind?"
       "There's the chance that Ms. Hays will listen to reason if you could do something to immobilize her as well as her people," Captain Lawson said. "Reversing the gravity might do it."
       George gulped. "Reverse the gravity? I'm not sure I'm ready for that so soon after last time."
       "Reversing the gravity would trap us as much as it would trap them," Sandra said. "Instead, what if George pumped tranquilizer through the ventilation system?"
       "That would be difficult to control," Dan protested, "as well as too slow. After the bad guys realize what's happening, they could come after us before the tranquilizer takes full effect. We need something instantaneous. Switching off all the lights would be a better surprise."
       Sandra looked disgusted. "Sure, turn out all the lights--that would do a lot of good. They would shoot anyone and anything. Besides which, they might have flashlights. No, your plan is far too risky."
       "Do you have any of those maraschino bombs with you?" Dan asked Ed.
       Ed shook his head. "Sorry. I left them in my quarters. They didn't seem the sort of thing to be caught carrying."
       "What would you do with a bomb?" Sandra asked Dan.
       "For starters, we could blast our way out of this compartment," Dan said.
       "Think of the noise!" Sandra said.
       Captain Lawson raised his head from his hands. "George would have a lot to say about setting off any explosives aboard ship."
       "Huh? Anyone speaking to me?" George sighed. "I'm not feeling too sharp at present, so please repeat your question."
       Sandra said, "We're working on our escape plan."
       "That's great. I admire initiative in you humans, well, most of you. Let me know what you decide, and I'll do it, but what if I get back to you later on? I've other problems." George groaned piteously. "I'm feeling a little woozy. Everything appears to be spinning round and round. I wonder if it would help if I turned off my sensors?"
       "George? George?" Captain Lawson asked. "Are you there?"
       There was no reply, and the four crew members looked at each other.
       "All our plans depend on George," Sandra said.
       "What plans?" Captain Lawson asked bitterly.
       Dan held up a pair of thermal blankets. "I found these. And a complete set of spacesuits--if we had a way of going outside."
       George renewed his groaning.
       "He hasn't left us," Sandra said cheerfully. "We make a plan, and we'll come out on top. You'll see!"
       "I'm still here," George moaned, "but I'm feeling worse and worse."
       "Talk about ship-sized hangovers," Ed muttered.
       "You know what," George said. "I think I'm going to be sick."
       Captain Lawson's face became remarkably white, almost translucent.
       "Has this happened before?" Ed asked. He was the newest crew member.
       "Grab and put on those spacesuits! Or at least the helmets and oxygen," Captain Lawson shouted, and they snatched anything that looked the leastways as if it would fit. Boots and helmets flashed across the small compartment amid grunts and curses.
       Suddenly, everything warped around them. Lights faded and became bright, and walls buckled, items clattered off shelves and walls. A horrendous garbling followed, and the entire ship shook from stem to stern as if attempting to tie or untie itself into a knot. A large whoosh ensued, and they all fell--in various positions--on the deck.
       It became quiet, but no one dared move.
       "Ah . . ." George said. "That's better. That's much better. I feel like my old self."
       "What happened?" Ed demanded.
       "Well, if you have to know, I regurgitated, or to put it in simple language--for the benefit of you lesser beings--I threw up. There you have it. I vomited all over space. Every last morsel that wasn't clamped down or locked up is out of me. Well, with the exception of you lot. I have my standards. Happily, there weren't any stars or rocks nearby, so I didn't dirty anything. Okay? You got it?"
       "It's okay, George," Captain Lawson said.
       "I'm glad you think so," George said. "I can't say I saved anything else on me apart from you guys. You live in the clothes you have, and that's that."
       "George, you didn't!" Sandra said.
       "Yup, I did," George said. "Bell Hays, her 'associates,' their cargo, and other stuff, like your souvenirs and underwear, are drifting in space somewhere . . . far away by now. Now that I think about it, I bet my illness was due to all those poison explosives they had brought aboard. Offhand, I can't think of anything else that would have caused such a sickness."
       "I only just found out about the bombs," Ed said.
       "Shesssh. Look who's talking," George said. "Do you honestly believe I need one of you to tell me what I'm carrying? Maybe I should have said something earlier. Would that have pleased you?"
       Everyone looked at each other. They didn't appear to believe George, but no one was willing to say so.
       "George," Captain Lawson pleaded, "please tell me you're joking."
       "I've shut all the outer doors and restored the atmosphere," George said. "It's safe for you to come out anytime you like. You won't need those spacesuits, not that you needed them in the first place. Eventually, you'll learn to trust me. I kept the atmosphere in your compartment intact."
       Sandra, Ed, and Dan struggled out of their spacesuits.
       "The hatch is sealed," she said. "I can't open it from our end."
       "No problem," George said. Mechanisms whined, but the hatch stayed shut. "One moment more. It seems kind of stuck, but all I have to do is concentrate . . ." and the hatch clanged open.
       "Come on," Sandra said. "Let's assess the damage." She left the compartment, followed by Ed and Dan. Captain Lawson remained sitting in his spacesuit.
       "Captain, are you okay?" George asked.
       "No, I'm not," the captain said. "How could you space Bell?"
       "It's not like I wanted to," George said. "I was sick and threw up. She happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Besides, I don't think she was good for you. She had plans of her own to space you and the crew. They weren't nice people."
       "But she was so beautiful!" Captain Lawson said.
       "Pull yourself together, Captain," George said. "Maybe you've been in deep space too long. Maybe it's time for a little R&R. I tell you what: Let's go to Bliss and hang loose for a while."
       "No," the captain said.
       "You sure?" George asked. "Everyone could do with a break after this experience, and Bliss is the place for us."
       "Absolutely not," Captain Lawson said. "Look at what happened the last time you tried to land there."
       "Oh, come on," George said. "Can't you forgive one little mishap? Let bygones be bygones, and go have a swell time."
       "No," the captain said. "I'm serious."
       "Of course, you are, but I know better," George said. "Whoopee! Bliss, here we come!"