The Four Baristas: Double Shot

Chapter 4

"Two tickets to Earth, please."

The man in the ticket booth might have looked more puzzled if Cora had asked him for two serves of lightly fried stoat—but not by much. "Two tickets to where?"

"Um—Earth."

"Earth?  Never heard of it. What kind of a name for a planet is that?"

Max and Cora exchanged a glance. It seemed the residents of this remote spaceport, orbiting a massive gas giant on the very edge of the Crab Nebula, hadn't been keeping up with recent galactic events.

"It's a new member of GalCon," explained Max. "Over towards Alpha Centauri."

The man gave him a dubious look, before consulting his data terminal. "Let's see. Well, how about that. There is an Earth.  What's next?  Mud?" He shook his head in apparent despair for the future of a galaxy in which such nomenclature-related travesties were allowed to occur.  "It's gonna cost you, though.  Them new routes are never cheap."

Reaching into a pocket of her jeans, Cora retrieved the iridescent piece of plastic Kiko had given her before dropping them off at the spaceport.  "Do you take...whatever this is?"

The ticket-seller's surly attitude vanished.  "A Promethium Card!  Yes ma'am, certainly ma'am, no problem ma'am.  Two tickets, right away—first-class, of course.  Would you and the good sir care to relax in our traveller's lounge, while you wait for your shuttle?  Right this way, please."

A few minutes later, the Earthlings found themselves safely ensconced in comfy armchairs, sipping on cocktails and watching what appeared to be a music video on the lounge's giant holo-display.

Max frowned up at the image. "Uh, Cora—is it just me, or are those guys singing Under Pressure?"

She glanced up. "Oh, I don't know. They look pretty relaxed to me."

He shook his head. "No, I mean the song Under Pressure. You know, from the 80s?"

She took a more considered look. "Hmm. It is kind of familiar. Maybe some tunes are just sort of universal? Or galactic, at least? It's just a coincidence, though—surely?"

Max looked dubious. "Well, coincidental songs I can maybe get behind." He pointed up at the image. "But faces? Not so much. That's Freddy Mercury and David Bowie."

As the song came to an end, the image of the singers faded away, to be replaced by that of a presenter seated behind a chrome desk—a tanned, glossy figure who appeared to be more hair product than person.

"Aw yeah, that was Under Pressure, just another dose of awesome from the little planet that could, my favourite planet and yours, the planet with the music the galaxy just can't get enough of, GalCon's new bestie, the planet Earth. And hey, pressure is something those Earthlings should know all about, am I right? Now, next up in our ad-free, all-Earth multi-play we have a real treat for you—a hot little number by the name of Total Eclipse of the Heart. Those Earth-peeps might not know their anatomy from their astronomy, but when you're as kick-arse as those cats, who needs brains, huh? On with the music."

The presenter faded away, to be replaced by the image of a stately manor-house and the strains of a piano.

Max considered—and then shook his head. The fact the galaxy appeared to be enamoured with Earth's 80s pop-rock, when just a few weeks ago they hadn't even know the planet existed, was a concept he didn't have the headspace to process right now. He glanced at the departures board.

"Six hours until we leave. And it looks as though we'll need to change shuttles at Theta Orionis. This is gonna take a while." He shook his head. "I still can't believe Mel dumped us."