I was taking the night shuttle to Europa. Okay, so I wasn’t actually taking the shuttle per se. Only the real bigwigs could afford to do that. Europa was the hottest vacation spot in the solar system these days – at least, ever since that big earthquake on Pluto. Whether it was jet-biking through the rolling hills or sipping old-fashioned martinis along the rugged coasts, everyone who was anyone had to get to Jupiter’s hippest little moon. Of course, you practically needed to run your own Galaxy-500 company just to book a hotel out there. No kidding. Supposedly media mogul Desmond Decks was onboard this very flight. Well if you could afford a hotel, the cost of the ten-hour trip wasn’t too bad. But for most of us, it was still pretty ludicrous. So anyway, I wasn’t actually a passenger aboard the shuttle. I was really more like part of the crew. It was my job to make sure all these rich snots had a nice, comfortable trip. Captain Dugan, who was three years younger than me, only ever addressed me as ‘Janitor.’ But I preferred to think of myself as the ship’s custodial engineer.
Two hours after taking off from Newark, we were already well past the Earth’s moon. Back in its day, the moon was a pretty nice vacation spot too, but now it was completely industrialized. And why vacation next to a hydrogen factory when you could just stay in Jersey? Anyway, everyone seemed soundly tucked into their compartments, and I was just settling into my novel. I still preferred the old paper kind, even if they were bulky and expensive. I liked to make up my own voices for the characters and imagine what they looked like. The voices the Libratron performed never seemed as good. I didn’t care if the authors endorsed them. Anyway, I had been trying to find the page I left off at for about five minutes – this is a problem with paper texts – when my intercom pager beeped. Great. Some yuppie probably puked in his compartment and now I had to go clean it up.
But then I noticed the locator light. This message had originated from the cockpit. Wow. The control center of the ship. Most flights I didn’t even see the cockpit. I’d spent almost six years in orbit school trying to get a job as a ship’s pilot. I had failed the test twice, although the second time was close. Well, suffice it to say I was denied financial aid after that and was forced to give up. Maybe it was about time to face reality anyhow. I already had huge student loans to repay and my parents had long since abandoned hope that I would ever amount to anything.
Truth be told, I didn’t have it too bad. In fact, sweeping the corridors was one of the more relaxing parts of my job. Most of the passengers’ food and entertainment services were automated, so it was one of the few things that still required a person. And I was fairly good at it. Besides, brooms had been around since the dawn of civilization and no modern invention has ever truly replaced them. Anyway, I set down my book, sighed, and headed for the service elevator. But I never made it. Ten feet before the door, I heard a shattering noise on my left. I turned and suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck. Then everything went dark.
When I came to, I couldn’t move my arms or legs. My hands and feet were bound, and I was lying on the warm metal floor of the garbage incinerator at the bottom of the ship. Captain Dugan and Lieutenant Bailey were tied up next to me, although neither of them looked conscious. Where was the rest of the crew? The back of Bailey’s head was bleeding from a sharp blow. Her first name was Delilah, and even though we’d never really spoken, I’d had a crush on her ever since she’d transferred to this route.
I liked to think of myself as single by choice, although that wasn’t entirely true. There hadn’t exactly been a slew of opportunities lately. If I’d had more guy friends maybe they could’ve set me up, but I wasn’t much better at making friends than I was at dating. Anyway, my first priority was to get out of here and figure out what the hell was going on. Who would hijack a short-range passenger shuttle? The ship had no weapons or unusual abilities. It couldn’t even leave the solar system. Maybe it was one of TranStar’s disgruntled former employees?
Considering my job, whoever it was had picked the wrong place to leave me. No one knew the ship’s incinerator better than I did. Incinerators were really developed for much larger ships on longer voyages, but nowadays even private yachts had them. At a certain point in the trip, the contents of the room would be atomized and jettisoned. The strict Environmental Decree, first implemented a century ago by Chairman Gore, forbid anything from being dumped into space unless it was fully vaporized. So depending on where in the cycle the timer was, the three of us were either about to be hurled into space, or engulfed in a giant fireball and then hurled out into space.
Either way, it was time to do something. I couldn’t see my wrists, but I recognized the bindings. They were an old pair of Dr. Love’s Bedroom Manacles. These things had been all the rage when I was in high school. So our hijackers either had a kinky sense of humor or they correctly guessed that they could bring them onto the ship without getting stopped by security. Now how did you get out of these things? I vaguely remembered there was some sort of backdoor or safety precaution to ensure both participants were still having a good time. I pulled and tugged, trying to recall how to release the handcuffs.
The room started to get cooler. Then I noticed a faint hissing noise – pure oxygen being pumped into the room. Shit! It would incinerate soon. I moved my fingers around frantically. Maybe Dugan and Bailey were lucky to be unconscious. They’d never know what happened. What a fitting place to end my illustrious career.
After a moment, I sighed and gave up. I clasped my hands together. Wait! That was it! I heard a clicking sound and suddenly remembered. Press your hands together and twist your wrists right then left. With a snap the cuffs popped off. I quickly undid my ankles. Now I could stand up. There wasn’t much time left, so I grabbed Lt. Bailey and hoisted her over my shoulder. Nope. I wish. Maybe five years ago, but probably not. So much for Romantic Plan A. Well, no one was watching anyway, so I grabbed her ankles and dragged her to the door. I punched in the exit code and pulled her out. I secretly hoped that I wouldn’t have time to go back for Dugan, but the countdown timer said I still had over four minutes. Oh well. So I went back and dragged him out too.
I tried reviving them for several minutes but didn’t get anywhere. Apparently, people don’t regain consciousness as easily as I’d thought. I considered gently kissing Delilah on the lips, because wouldn’t that’ve been perfect? Talk about destiny. But I chickened out and instead put a towel under her head. The bleeding didn’t look that bad anymore, although she’d probably have a big headache when she woke up. So I hid them both in a broom closet and set off. Like I said, there’s always been brooms, there’ll always be broom closets.
But now what? I tried to remember the hijack procedures. The first step was to contact Orbit Control. But from where? The cockpit was full of transmitters, but probably hijackers too. Which reminded me – what should I do about the passengers? Oh, screw ‘em. The rich always turn out okay. Then I remembered there was an emergency radio kit at the back of the ship. Avoiding the elevator, I tip-toed up the service ladder and started down a small corridor. The hall lighting was still dimmed for night – maybe the hijackers hadn’t even woken the passengers? I was now in Business Class. This area was for the poorer half of the jet-set – people who worked in less sexy industries like manufacturing or banking. Anyway, I stepped around the corner and stopped short. I stifled my gasp. There in front of me were two bright-green aliens!
They looked about seven feet tall, had rubbery skin, and walked just like humans. Fortunately, they were walking away from me. I jumped back around the corner and caught my breath. Wow – aliens! I couldn’t believe we’d been taken over by aliens. For hundreds of years, man has wondered whether there was other life in the universe, and here it was. And their first contact with us was to hijack a vacation shuttle? That didn’t seem right.
I kept walking and made it to the maintenance room. I was about to key in the emergency transponder code when the RealVision set sprang to life. It flashed red twice – that meant a special live transmission was coming in. Probably another one of those annoying tests of the Emergency Broadcast System.
Nope. A male voice announced, “We interrupt your regularly scheduled entertainment to bring you this important news flash.” Then a female reporter in her late thirties materialized.
“Good evening, everyone. This is Miranda Phillips with ENX, coming to you live from Olympia, Europa.” I could hear her voice coming from other RealVision sets around the ship. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just received an important update in our exclusive continuing coverage of ‘Trans-Jack.’ As many of you know, TranStar Flight 107 – high-speed daily shuttle service from Newark to Europa – was hijacked almost six hours ago. There is still no word on who the hijackers are or what they want, nor do we know the status of the hostages. Orbit Control has failed to establish contact with Captain Sean Dugan. But we have confirmed that Desmond Decks is onboard the flight. The founder and CEO of Content Corp is believed to be traveling to an annual media conference at the Hotel Zeus. Content Corp is a joint owner…”
Just then a young man rushed into the image and handed her a note. She read it aloud: “We’ve just received word that the terrorists are attempting a video transmission. We go live to the ship.”
The picture became broken and staticky. Then I recognized the inside of Compartment 2A – one of the First Class Plus suites. Desmond Decks was onscreen talking, but there was no sound. He looked pretty good for a guy his age. Two of the aliens were standing behind him, but something about them definitely looked odd. I decided there was no point in watching this on RealVision – I could walk over and see for myself what was going on. Maybe I’d even be on interplanetary TV.
I removed the metal panel and climbed up into the air vent. I quickly crawled toward first class. I had actually done this once before when country-music star Brenda Wynette was on-board. I don’t know what I’d hoped to hear – maybe some juicy conversations or something - but she was sound asleep when I got there. Oh well. I could’ve lost my job for that.
I reached 2A and peeked down through the vent. Wow, this room was posh! Sure I’d cleaned it before, but I never appreciated how nice it was. The walls were lined with blue velour, there was a Jacuzzi in the corner, and bed alone looked bigger than anywhere I’d ever lived. Anyway, Desmond Decks was standing in front of a small RealCamera, scowling at the alien next to him. Except from this angle, I could tell right away what looked so odd before. These weren’t aliens – they were people wearing goofy Halloween costumes – cheap, old-fashioned ones at that. These guys weren’t trying to fool anyone.
“So is the sound working yet?” Desmond asked irritably. “Why don’t you guys just take off the clown suits and tell everyone what you want?”
The alien farthest from me stepped in front of the camera. He kept the large alien head over his own and then spoke in a bogusly deep voice he was obviously trying to keep disguised.
“We are the Asteroid Liberation Front. We demand that your company immediately cease all mining and drilling operations on the earth’s moon. The moon belongs to the people! Free Luna!” He and his companion alien both thrust their right fist into the air and shouted again, “Free Luna!”
Desmond Decks was baffled. “Huh? What the hell are you guys talking about? Content Corp doesn’t have anything to do with the moon. We do news and entertainment.”
Oops. I had never heard of the Asteroid Liberation Front, but even I could have told them that. Maybe they had confused Desmond Decks with Andrew Edlen of Amalgamated Ore? But he sure wouldn’t be on a flight to Europa. Rumor had it he never even left his compound in West Texas. Both aliens stood silently for a moment. Then they huddled together.
Finally the first alien spoke again, but his voice was higher and more natural. The police’s voice scanners would identify him instantly now. Not that they would really have been thrown off by his Barry White impression anyway. “The A.L.F. will not be made fools of. We are an ancient organization dedicated to protecting the rights of the common man. The working classes deserve nice vacations too. Return the moon to Club Med!”
Desmond rolled his eyes. “No one wants to go to the moon! There’s no more water there. The whole place smells like sulfur.”
The two aliens looked right at the camera and chanted in unison: “Free Luna!” Then two more aliens rushed into the room and joined in. I had a feeling the whole party had come to witness this momentous occasion.
Desmond cleared his throat and continued: “Fine. I promise to do everything in my power to stop the mining on the moon. Content Corp will relinquish all of its land holdings there and eliminate whatever investments it has in any drilling companies. And if I ever meet Andy Edlen in person, I’ll be sure to ask him to do the same thing. Furthermore, if you do succeed in rebuilding a resort on the moon, Content Corp will provide free advertising for its first year in business.”
The aliens again stopped. Perhaps they weren’t expecting a concession so easily. Or didn’t realize what they’d gotten. Then the leader pulled out an electronic signature pad. Apparently they wanted this in writing. I didn’t think a contract signed under such circumstances would ever hold up, but maybe they weren’t worried about details like that. I crouched forward to get a better look. Desmond smirked and took the digital pen.
He was about to sign it when suddenly the metal air-vent collapsed under my weight. I came crashing down into the room, knocking one of the aliens over. He scrambled to his feet, but in the chaos his alien mask had come loose. I quickly grabbed it and yanked it off his head. Lo and behold! It was Amy Beckett, the main First Class flight attendant. Desperate not to be recognized on camera, she raced out of the room. The other aliens followed her out the door. By the time I got to the corridor, it was full of discarded alien costumes. I recognized the back of another crew member as well as a Business Class passenger as they both rounded the corner. I could hear them disappearing into various compartments.
I probably could have pieced together or guessed who the other terrorists were, but I didn’t really see the point. Except for Amy, they could all deny they were involved. And I didn’t know for sure who was involved anyway, and I didn’t care. In fact, an affordable vacation spot didn’t seem like such a bad idea to me.
Then again, they did knock me unconscious. And why hadn’t any of the crew members told me about their plan anyway? Was I such a corporate stooge that I would side with the hotel tycoons? Just how much do they think a janitor makes anyway?
Well, my heroics certainly weren’t going to earn me any new friends with the rest of the crew. I hadn’t meant to thwart their mission…
Desmond Decks interrupted my reverie and told me he wanted to get back to sleep, so could I please get out of his room. He also insisted that before I leave I screw back on the air-vent. He said this was the worst experience he’d ever had on a flight. As I walked out he muttered something about that’s what he gets for flying commercial.
Well, I’d had enough activity for one night. I wanted to go back to my bunk and take a nap. But suddenly the ship did a gravity lurch. I looked out the window and saw the gigantic shape of Jupiter looming in front of us. We were almost there, but the ship’s attitude was way off! Without thinking, I raced for the cockpit.
Just as I feared, it was empty. And filthy. I instinctively bent down and started picking up the discarded food and drink cartons. What the hell was I doing? I shook my head and got up. I walked over and carefully sat down in Dugan’s seat. There I was, actually sitting at the controls of a spaceship. Lights and sirens were blaring and we were plummeting down to Europa, but in that moment I didn’t even notice. The captain’s chair was even more comfortable than I had imagined it would be. Way more cushiony than that crappy janitor stool I spent most of my time on. Pilots sure got it all.
A female voice crackled over the siren din. “Flight 107, come in, come in! Your rate of descent is too high. You cannot land above 700 knots!”
I could now make out the surface of the moon. The red and yellow ocean shimmered below, and some of the bigger hotels were visible even from here. Now where was the landing port? And what did all these flashing lights mean? Some sort of problem obviously, but I didn’t know what. Like most educational equipment, the simulators I’d used at Orbit School were twenty years out of date even then, so I didn’t know what half of these buttons did. I banged on the control board to see what that would do. It set off another alarm. Great. Well, what the heck. I grabbed the yoke and throttle and gently pulled them both toward me. The craft immediately started to slow down. Phew.
But then the entire ship suddenly stalled and flipped over. I heard shouts and crashing sounds from back in the ship. Panicking, I pulled the throttle as hard to the left as I could. The ship started to spin wildly and the g-forces shoved me back into the chair. I was about to pass out when the yoke ripped from my hands and the ship stopped spinning. The blinking lights gradually turned off and the sirens subsided. Then I noticed a glowing panel that read “Automatic Landing System Engaged.”
Not wanting my moment of fame to pass by, I found the transmitter and told the ground controller I was coming in. Everything happened automatically in the next few minutes – the landing gear extended, the ship rotated into position, and finally settled upon landing pad D4. A little bumpy but not bad for my first landing. I guess all those years of flight school had paid off – maybe I should’ve tried that test a third time after all.
I expected there to be a huge media frenzy when we touched down, but there wasn’t a reporter in sight. Apparently the Venus Teachers’ Union had just announced a big strike, and “TransJack” was yesterday’s news. The passengers got off quickly, either oblivious to what had happened or just eager to get on with their swank vacations. Desmond Decks didn’t even stop to say thanks. Oh well, what can you do? So I headed to the back of the ship to get my novel. On Europa flights, I always slept onboard since the hotels were so expensive. But when I reached the service ladder, I heard a knocking sound and some muffled shouts coming from below. Shit! The broom closet! I had forgotten all about Dugan and Bailey. Well, I guess they were awake again. So I ran downstairs and let them out. They were frantic and both talking at once.
“What’s going on, Janitor? Where are we? They’ve taken the cockpit! We’ve got to radio for help!” I told them both to relax. I described what happened, but they looked incredulous. Then Bailey looked critical, “Why didn’t you come get us out then?”
Luckily, I didn’t have to answer. Just then, a TranStar Security Representative came aboard. He was thrilled to see that Dugan and Bailey both looked fine, but he said they should check into the infirmary right away. As they headed out, I realized that this was my moment. I sucked in my gut and stood as tall as I could, waiting for the TranStar Rep to announce my promotion.
Instead, he told me that I was under arrest, and asked me to face the wall. Unfortunately, the handcuffs he used didn’t have an easy release mechanism.
He escorted me into a security office, where I was berated and yelled at by various higher-ups for several hours. They said I was in big trouble for landing a spaceship without a license, especially in an important commercial spaceport. Furthermore, they clearly believed that I was part of the conspiracy and they blamed me for locking the captain and lieutenant in the broom closet. It didn’t help matters that I wasn’t able to name any of the terrorists except for Amy Beckett, who was such a high-ranking flight attendant that they refused to believe she had had any involvement. It was obvious to them that I was only trying to smear her name because I was jealous of her stellar record with the company. I guess she hadn’t been recognized on camera after all.
So much for my hero’s welcome. I had always fantasized about spending a night in one of the luxurious suites at the Hotel Athena, where every room has a massage bed and a view of the famous blue-sand beach. At this point, I was so tired that my little custodian’s bunk at the back of the ship would be just fine. But tonight it was going to be a jail room cot. At least I’d finally be spending a night on Europa.