Alistair: A Fist Full of Fish Fingers

Alistair had no idea what was going on. He'd spent a couple of days in stasis to
get away from the sheer arse-numbing boredom of working in the labs and awoken
to find the ship overrun with mimes. He didn't know where they came from and
cared even less. All he knew was that they were hostile and that he'd spent the
past couple of nights holed up in one of the broom cupboards on Y-Deck. He'd ran
into 1st Technician Gibson - a particularly loathsome chap from Bristol who had
the annoying habit of using "mega", "wicked" and "crucial" as verbs - who had
babbled some nonsense about mimes and parallel dimensions before running off to
find a table to hide under.
For the moment, Alistair was content with hiding in the broom cupboard. Every so
often he'd sneek out in search of supplies - armed with a particularly fearesome
looking mop - and return to his cupboard in order to await the eventual
liberation of the ship, rescue by the rumoured rebel forces striking back
against the mimes or death. Unfortunately, judging by the skill and talent he'd
seen aboard Blue Dwarf in his time onboard, he'd ended up falling asleep whilst
drafting the inscription for his gravestone.
Lying on the stack of toilet rolls he'd turned into a makeshift bed, Alistair
wolfed down the frozen, but somehow charred, fish fingers he'd stolen from a
supply bunker a few floors up. He'd been reduced to eating them cold as the
flame on his lighter had spluttered and died the day before and he couldn't
start a larger fire without alerting the invasion force.
Suddenly, he heard a click. Someone was attempting to enter his cupboard. Did
they know he was here? Were they going to torture and kill him? Or did they just
want a new binbag for the officers mess hall? Just as he grabbed his trusty mop
to prepare for combat, the door slid open to reveal...
<OOC: Been out of the game for a while. Like Alistair I have no idea of what's
going on. Someone feel free to discover him and/or rescue him!>