Other Side

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

Welcome to the station, crew. Enjoy your stay.

 

The belt buckles automatically disengaged as the Arrivals Shuttle's doors shot open, the promise of another shift full of accidents looming just outside. All around him, workers of all races chatted excitedly about the goings-on of the previous day in the precious few seconds before they had to adjourn to their workplaces. He had never really liked the Vox. He was sure they were discussing inane things, such as their favourite flavour of coffee, but the slightest "word", if it could be called that, drilled into his skull like a jackhammer.

 

He deliberately hung back as the entire crew funneled out of the shuttle, enjoying a few extra minutes of quiet before the late arrivals would begin docking in the side pods. He heard the announcements from the various Heads, pausing at the Chief Medical Officer's to turn off his suit sensors entirely. He chuckled before falling silent once again.

 

With a sigh, he picked up his PDA. It was, for all intents and purposes, identical to the one given to him before he boarded, if not for a small chip located inside. He opened his Messenger application, then personalized his ringtone.

 

562 Gamma.

 

The PDA beeped softly. The familiar touchscreen vanished, replaced with a dark, sickly red background with a single phrase written on it.

 

Greetings, Agent. You are you assassinate the Captain, Richard Morgan, and make it out of the station alive. Do not fail us.

 

He gulped, his hands shaking. Instinctively, his eyes shot up and swerved around, desperately searching for any possible surveillance equipment. He looked up, freezing as he noticed a camera swaying lazily. It stopped for a few seconds before continuing to scan the shuttle.

 

"Greetings, Janitor."

 

"GAH!"

 

"Apologies, Janitor. I did not intend to frighten you," the hologram said, solidifying into a vague humanoid shape, "my sensors indicated you had not moved from the shuttle. It has been ten minutes. Please direct yourself to your workplace."

 

"S-sure thing, AI," he gulped, "will do!"

 

"Many thanks, Janitor. Your Head of Personnel for the day is John Adams. Your Captain for the day is Richard Morgan. Have a pleasant and productive day."

 

The hologram dissolved into thin air, the shuttle growing silent once more. He sighed in relief, knowing the AI hadn't seen his open Uplink. Closing it and stashing the PDA into one of his pockets, he got up from his chair and stepped onto the main station. Time for work.

 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Galoshes on. Cap on. Gloves on.

 

Bucket filled with water and mop placed on the rack. Belt properly fitted and filled with foam grenades, soap, cleaner bottle and light replacer. Trash bag on the cart. Chain clipped to stop random civilians from running off with the damned thing.

 

He adjusted his new ID, the original one hidden underneath the water tank in the Custodial Closet. It had taken him a good five minutes, but it was an identical copy, down to the photo and DNA tags. Cursory or close inspection alike would be unable to distinguish it from a NanoTrasen ID Card. He had opted to place bear traps near both doors, ready and waiting for any possible trespassers.

 

He stopped, considering his options. He was never given any tips or pointers. He was never told how to complete his goals. And considering how long it had been since the shift started, all the tools were probably in the hands of a random civilian already. He sighed, opening his Uplink again. With a soft beep, a black and red toolbox materialized in front of him. Inside, assorted tools and a pair of insulated gloves identical to his own black pair. He swapped his gloves and hid the toolbox under the plastic flaps that led into the maintenance tunnels, tools in his bag.

 

No one would be the wiser.

 

A quick tinkering with the back door later, he had all the information he needed for when he inevitably had to break into somewhere to clean up a mess. Among other things.

 

His headset vibrated.

 

"Janitor to the Bar, please."

 

He sighed, pulling the cap over his eyes.

 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

 

It was a right mess.

 

"Fuck off, ya prick!" the Bartender yelled out, aiming his shotgun at the Virologist, "You're not welcome here anymore! Get out!"

 

"Oh come on, man!"

 

*click*

 

"Safety's off, get the fuck out!"

 

"Excuse me..."

 

"Bartender, please don't shoot the guy, that's why I'm here," the Officer sighed.

 

"I don't give a shit, either this maniac leaves or his nuts are getting a lesson in applied kinetics!"

 

"Virologist, please just move."

 

"Excuse me, I was called up to clean..."

 

"Janitor, not now," the Officer scoffed, turning around, "right, if you're not doing this the easy way, you're doing this the hard way."

 

The lanky man grabbed a small stick from his belt. An electrical crackle buzzed out when a button was clicked, quickly followed by the Virologist's cries of pain as he collapsed into a shaking heap, screaming his lungs out about police brutality. With a calmness rarely seen when accompanied by the red jumpsuit, the Officer quickly snapped a pair of cuffs on the screaming man and began dragging him off, a steady trail of blood accompanying them.

 

He sighed. More to clean.

 

"Sorry 'bout the mess, Carl," the Bartender sighed, putting his shotgun on his back, "bloody idiot decided to just walk in and smash bottles on his fucking head."

 

"Business as usual, huh?"

 

"Yeah..." - the Bartender scratched the back of his head before stretching his arms - "Anyway, there's blood and glass all over. Mind gettin' it?"

 

"S'what I'm here for, isn't it?" Carl chuckled, crying internally, "I'll get it done in a jiffy."

 

Another day, another mess. It was fun seeing the other side.

 

[Jamania]

This was well written, I like it.

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

The bar floor shined as much as its wooden composition allowed. With a clatter, the trash bag was clipped to the back of the Janicart as Carl turned around and left his first cleaned mess behind. He took a look at his PDA, noting down the time in his head. A multitude of plans formed in his heads on how to accomplish what he was told to do. Break-ins, sabotage, murder by proxy, every possibility was considered, a million plans forming from pure imagination.

 

So immersed was he in his thoughts that he completely missed the fact that the airlock in front of him hadn't automatically slid open, and seconds later he was on the ground, rubbing his nose and cursing his luck. A few civilians passed by and laughed at him before the station's Mime helped him on his feet with a sincere smile on his face. Doing his best to ignore how ridiculous he looked, Carl took his tools out and opened the door panel, finding several wires to be cut. Grumbling, he fixed them as best he could, ignoring the sparks as his new gloves did their job.

 

With the door now properly opening, Carl opted to pass by the front of the Bridge. Inside, behind the multitude of consoles, he saw the Head of Security chatting with the man he was supposed to murder.

 

He began sweating. He didn't notice he had frozen in the middle of the corridor, and was only brought back to reality when the chain around his waist was yanked on, signalling yet another clown trying to make off with his cart. Working on instinct, the Janitor turned around and sprinkled some cleaner on the clown's face. Like usual, this scared off the coloured prat, and Carl carried across Central Primary.

 

How to get into the Bridge?

 

His PDA beeped. Certain it was someone calling him to clean yet another mess (most likely a vomit grenade, again), he took his time to look at it, opting to swing by Mr. Chang's first. As he chowed down on some fried rice, he opened his Messenger application and nearly choked when he saw the message.

 

From: Tom Neril

To: Carl Bolden

Message: Yo, you wanna come pick up a BLACK RUSSIAN at the BAR? I'm feeling a bit ADVENTUROUS today

 

He had absolutely no idea who Tom Neril was. With the odd choice of words, Carl could only assume he was someone lacking in higher brain functions. He opted to ignore the message, unwilling to ascertain whether or not this "Tom Neril" was anyone of use. He didn't even bother looking at the manifest. He'd do what was needed, and he'd do it alone. He always had.

 

He got up, groaning. His knees were getting worse by the day. Dragging his cart behind him, Carl casually strolled around the main corridors, sneaking a peek into the various Departments to see if someone had voided their bowls or veins. So far so good. No dirt, mud, blood, crud or any such other fluids or contaminants. He stopped, looking behind him.

 

Was it worth it?

 

He quickly turned around and headed towards the Teleporter room, cursing his luck as the Janicart clanked loudly behind him. It wouldn't matter, he thought, as he could always claim he was just cleaning. He was the Janitor, after all. No one ever suspects the Janitor.

 

Before anyone had the chance to come down the corridor or look at him from inside Medbay, Carl opened the Teleporter Room's door and scooched inside, dragging the cart before closing the door as quickly as he could. He stopped, ear pressed on the freshly locked door. No footsteps. Nothing on the radio. No one had seen him.

 

He turned around, flinching as he noticed the Hand Teleporter was already missing. He spat on the ground, angry that his backup plan was already taken, likely by the Research Director. No matter. He wasn't there to kill the Captain. Not yet.

 

Carl quickly climbed on the table and went to work on the small wall that led into the Captain's bedroom. It took him the better part of ten sweaty, nervous and incredibly nerve-wracking minutes, but eventually he managed to install an inconspicuous sliding door that, when closed, was virtually indistinguishable from the walls around it, so long as the Captain didn't touch it.

 

He smiled.

 

Unwilling to push his luck, he turned towards the Teleporter Computer and set it to the Arrivals Hallway, then pressed the red button labelled "Calibrate". He'd have to leave his cart unattended for a few seconds, but that beat possibly being caught leaving a restricted area. Soon enough, he had pushed it into the swirly void that had formed in the metal frame in front of him and, sooner yet, he would experience the crushing sensation before finally emerging halfway across the station, cart still on his side. Carl clipped the chain to it and moved along. He had work to do.

 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

 

Medbay had always been his favourite department. Engineering was usually covered in oil, Science was nearly always filled with trash, the Chef never cleaned his freezer and Security had a multitude of bodily fluids. But Medbay, barring stationwide emergencies, was always sparkly white. He loved that.

 

It was also quiet. And full of places one could secrete themselves to in order to grab a quick nap. The closets were an especially nice place to doze off whenever someone wasn't dying of spontaneous cellular collapse or from coughing up too many puppies. They were also useful for hiding stuff. In this case, the Chief Medical Officer's strangled corpse.

 

He never did like the concept of collateral damage. He would've preferred if he could target the Captain, and Captain alone, but drastic measures must be taken for a target of that magnitude. Sensors off, Hypospray taken, and ID access copied over to his fancy Agent ID. Medbay would no longer be an impediment to any escape attempts, and the Bridge was wide open.

 

He smiled. He wasn't capable of maintaining the smile, but he tried anyway.

 

He locked the closet shut, then began dragging it towards Virology. He had heard the person manning it was still stuck in the Brig after their third escape attempt, so he figured he'd have time. Indeed, no one bothered him as he shoved the body into the disposals chute. He knew that mere seconds later, it'd be flying through space, never to be seen again.

 

He adjusted his cap and headed out towards the front lobby. He tipped his cap at the lovely nurse. He clicked the button and crossed the threshold.

 

No one was the wiser.

 

[counterfeitguise]

Holy shit, Tully, this is tense. PM me what Carl looks like, I might draw him.

[Dumbdumn5]

Tully, God of the fanfics. Or something.

[TullyBBurnalot]

Counter, I'll let you go nuts. My only word to describe Carl would be... "nondescript".

[TullyBBurnalot]

 

Someone set off a vomit grenade at Escape.

 

Again.

 

Carl sighed, dropping the mop into the bucket and opting to eat a couple of Twinkies before getting to work once again. It had been three minutes and twenty-two seconds since he spaced the Chief Medical Officer. No one noticed.

 

There was something to be said about mopping. Engineering was busy containing a gigantic ball of electricity, Science was busy blowing stuff up and making war machines and Genetics was busy committing sins against Nature. But him? He was mopping. A simple job. Water the mop, rinse the floor, repeat until everything shines. Simple, yet effective. Without him, the station would probably be covered in gunk in ten minutes.

 

Still, the amount of vomit grenades detonated by random Scientists had grown uncomfortably big during the past shifts. He made a point of sending a PDA message to the Research Director and Internal Affairs whenever this happened, but nothing usually came of it. No one wanted to bother firing someone over a vomit grenade. After all, he was just a janitor.

 

Even the walls were covered. Urgh.

 

Civilians came and went, a couple of them trying to run off with his cart before realizing it was chained to the person mopping. Carl didn't even bother looking up anymore. Most of these people were sadly lacking in the cerebral department, and probably wouldn't be able to figure out how to unhook the chain even if their brains came up that idea in the first place.

 

So he kept mopping.

 

It was calm and soothing.

 

"Help, Tom Neril's killing someone with an axe!"

 

Carl sighed.

 

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

 

It was a right mess.

 

He had sat down on a bench, waiting for Security to put the now beheaded corpse into a body bag and drag it off to the Morgue before cutting down the police tape and going to work on the crime scene. The PDA message he had received earlier from the suppposed killer didn't even cross his mind. At that moment, he was far too busy cleaning and being generally mad at life for having created the mess in the first place.

 

As he bent down to pick up a small shard of bone, however, he noticed a small glint from under a nearby table. It was nearly imperceptible, and Carl knew it had been sheer luck that he had seen it. Cautiously, he approached it, finding a small, black tube of metal with what appeared to be some sort of mirror on one end. There was a button on it.

 

*fshhhhh*

 

Oh, this would do nicely.

 

--- --- --- --- --- ---

 

His new weapon would most likely never be found again. No one ever suspected the Janitor.

 

Carl made a point of swinging by the Brig to make sure that Neril fellow had been caught. Sure enough, there he was, cuffed to a chair and screaming his lungs out about police brutality. A tall, muscular Unathi in a black trenchcoat was conversing with a small, blonde woman dressed all in light blue. Carl couldn't make out what they were saying, but after a couple of minutes, the woman took Neril and vanished into the Prison Wing. The screaming stopped soon afterwards.

 

Back to the job.

 

The Captain was still by the Bridge when he swung by, sitting at the main Communications Console. If the assassination was to be done properly, the Captain would have to be lured to his bedroom, somehow.

 

But how?

 

...

 

An idea dawned in his mind. He went back into the Custodial Closet and opened his Uplink. He clicked a button and watched as a small encryption key, no bigger than the nail on his thumb, materialized in front of him. Closing the Uplink, Carl slotted the key into his own headset.

 

"HoS, was the traitor executed?"

 

"Yesss, sssir, the Warden hasss jusst done it"

 

"Fantastic. Make sure they get put to work as a Cyborg, alright?

 

"Of coursssse, sssir"

 

Time to get to work.