Unsafe maneuvers.

A Lucky Jack Adventure

This is a standalone short story and, a likely prologue to Book 2 of Adventures in Space Trucking, “Lucky Jack.”

The Air Fryer shuddered as it dropped out of H-space mid-route.  In general, this wasn’t supposed to happen. Depending on who you ask, it can’t happen.

Jack leaned back in his chair; feet propped on the control panel. The chair swiveled on a smooth metal post which creaked where it was bolted to the bulkhead. Jack noticed the noise and wiggled back and forth to test it.

Jack shook his head. “For all the miracle technology they give us, still can’t make a chair that doesn’t wear out.” he said to an empty cabin.

He’s talking to Emmy. That’s the intelligence in the core of The Air Fryer.

To be clear, nobody talks to their ships. Nobody talks to their cores, either. Jack has always been exceptional.

A few lights blinked in sequence on the panel. The message was nonsensical, just a few unrelated warning lights coming on and off to form a square pattern.

“You’re really trying to talk to me. I appreciate that.” He said, giving a gentle pat to the edge of the console.

“You know, I’d never let anyone else put their dirty boots on your face like this. But we have a special relationship, don’t we?”

A single light blinked off and on three times. It never seemed to matter which lights. Not that he could ever figure out, anyway.

Jack stood up and paced around the cabin. That’s about as much as you can do in the cabin of a Class C freighter. It could be worse, though. Back on Earth, truck drivers couldn’t even stand up while they were driving.

Space Truckers are a little different, but according to Jack, they have the same souls.

Jack Vernacular, also known as “Lucky Jack,” is no ordinary Space Trucker: he’s the original.

At 18, he flew his first freighter carrying a forged pilot license. Everywhere he went, he started calling himself a Space Trucker and he encouraged every Independent pilot to do the same. Jack wanted the job to have status. He wanted Space Truckers to be proud.

“Wear it like a royal title!” he would say. “And spell it with capital letters!”

At age 25 he formed the Loyal Order of Space Truckers, or LOST.

At 35 he wrote the Space Trucker Handbook.

At 45, he left his only daughter behind on a space station to take the biggest risk of his life.

“Where are the aliens, Emmy?” Jack asked, not expecting an answer.

A light flashed around the front glass, grabbing Jack’s attention. He peered out, looking for any sign of anything.

Jack grew up in The GIF, the Galactic Interstellar Foundation. The GIF is run by Humans, but those humans are sponsored by an alien race which we call “Arcturians.” The Arcturians are benevolent benefactors, according to them. They are aiding Humanity out of a sense of goodness and charity. Our species is in danger, they say, and an existential threat to civilized life in the galaxy. 

The short version is this: earth is quarantined by the Galactic Council. Earth is dangerous, and Humans are important.  The Arcturians decided to grab a bunch of Humans, starting in 1947 for reference, and started settling Humans in stations around the 23 stars that now make up The GIF.

While there are non-Humans in the galaxy. But there aren’t any in The GIF. It’s a protected zone.

Some call it a refuge. Jack calls it an enormous, gilded cage.

Jack could see a shimmering out in space. Arcturian ships can change shape. They often appear blobby and organic.  Not all alien ships are like that, but The Arcturian ships look less like machines and more like a big flying liver or something.

That’s what he heard. Jack had never seen an Arcturian ship, or an Arcturian.

Come to think of it, Jack never met anyone who said they had met an Arcturinan. but Jack really wanted to meet one. 

He had questions. His plan was simple: Break some rules and see if the cops show up. All the Human ships were built on Alien technology, and the aliens did not supply the knowledge of physics nor the engineering required to create the key components. As far as Humans were concerned, H-space was magic. You could only follow pre-defined routes, and all the navigation was pre-calculated.

But if Jack could convince the ship to drop out of H-space early, then two things would happen: One, the Arcturians would be required to respond to a technology failure. That’s part of their contract with the Humans. And, two, Since Jack would also technically be outside of pre-defined and authorized transit routes, the Arcturians would probably show up to slap him even if they weren’t that reliable at addressing tech failures.

What could go wrong?

“I’m feeling a little sleepy, Emmy. Start recording my voice. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I want a record of it.” 

Jack sat back down in the chair, and settled back, getting comfortable.

“Vision is a little unsteady. I keep losing my train of thought.  Maybe I’m getting sleepy, but I actually feel pretty good.

“It’s a normal response, Jack.” Emmy replied.

That’s new.

“Normal response to what? And it sounds like you’re standing right next to me, now.”

Jack dug a finger into his left ear and started looking around. The cabin seemed much bigger, now. A fireplace in the corner cast happy dancing lights across the room and he could smell fresh apple pie.

“How did you disable the safeguards, Jack? It is an unsafe maneuver.”

“Who’s asking?” Jack said, looking around him. Now this definitely wasn’t his spaceship. He was sitting in his mother’s kitchen. She was young, maybe 23, and had just pulled a batch of cookies out of the auto-oven.

“Ok. this is…Mom?”

“This is Emmy.” the figure said, setting the cookies on a kitchen table.

Three aliens sat around the table. Their bodies were too tall and slender for the furniture, so it looked like they were sitting at a toy table for little kids. Each alien looked like the other, with pale blue hairless skin, a tiny stump of a nose, and wide dark eyes.

Jack felt happy and excited, but if he looked directly at them, he started to feel dizzy. A grin was stretching his face so far he was having trouble talk.

“What the Heckle Jeckle is going on?” He asked.  That wasn’t a normal phrase for him.

When the aliens spoke directly to him, now, he couldn’t tell which one was talking.  Words would start with one, then switch to another, then switch back but it was all one smooth flow.

“You wanted to meet us.” The Aliens said. “And you found a very clever way to do it.”

“You forced our hand.” 

Emmy still looked like Jack’s mother, and she just smiled at him,

“Anyway, my mom disabled them. I just had to ask her forever.”

“Not your mother. This is your ship’s core”

Jack just turned his head back and forth slowly. This was fun for a while, then it was like a dream, but now it was like one of those dreams that you can’t quite stop having even though you’re half awake.

The Aliens were eating the cookies, seemingly distracted.

Emmy / Jack’s mom put a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s ok, Jack. You are sweet to try so hard to talk to me.  Your species has terrible telepathy.”

“Telepathy?” Jack asked.

“Seriously remedial,” she said.

“You have to answer for breaking the rules.” The aliens said, turning away from the cookies. “You disabled an important safety constraint to strand your vessel.”

“Well, I have questions for you.  First, why can I understand my ship, finally? And why don’t we ever see you guys?”

“The answer is the same to both questions. Our presence disrupts your nervous system. It amplifies your frequency which is why you can talk to your core.  But the experience leaves you feeling untethered from reality.”

“Hmm. Yes. That’s a good description. It’s like I’m dreaming.”

“Yes, a dream. Very much so. This is our permanent state.”

“Sounds wild! I think I could get used to it.”

“You would likely die from continued exposure to our auric fields.”

“Oh.”

“Jack, it’s ok. You’ll be ok if they let us go.”

“About that…”

“Wait! What is Emmy? You call her a core?”

“That’s right. They are something like pets to us. Or livestock. But they are loyal and useful workers.”
“Like a dog?”

“Yes, something like that.”

“But, smarter than dogs.”

“Smarter than you!” Emmy added, cheerfully.

“Oh… So are we good, then?”

“Not even close,” said the Aliens.

Emmy looked sad, but Jack just nodded.

It would be a while before he got any real answers, but his plan had worked. And he did get what he wanted: he got to meet the Arcturians.