An Unexpected Stopover Between Mars And Atlantis

20260522

Written for Bradley Ramsey’s “Halls Of Pandemonium”, Day 22.

Ok, you got all sorts of lousy japes pulled at a major spaceport like this, but this was something else. Not for the craft quality, mind - the little turquoise booklet didn’t match any galactic passport standards. Not even Pluto’s, and you know what Plutonions were like for being special about everything.
“Atlantis, huh?” Tristan leant back in his chair and fixed the prankster, an unremarkable middle-aged human, with a practised flat stare. “Funny. You don’t look like a fish person.”
The man gawped. An expression of shock and scandal. Then he turned to stare at the other security personnel, as if expecting one of them to say something. When everyone looked blankly at him he slowly turned back to Tristan, now seeming disturbed.
Ok. If this was a joke, the guy was a dedicated actor. Tristan judged it more likely they were dealing with a bonafide crazy.
He softened his tone. “Now, mr…?”
“Harvey Bentham.”
Same name as the passport, natch.
“Mr Bentham. Why were you trying to use a, uh, Atlantean passport to board a flight to Mars?”
“To Mars??” Mr Bentham repeated, as if he hadn’t been standing in the queue for that exact plane.
“…Where did you think you were going?”
“Constantinople!”
Of course the loony who thought he was from a country that didn’t exist was trying to fly to a city which didn’t exist. Well, the city sort of still existed, but still.
Mr Bentham fumbled in his pocket for a tidy little leather diary and extracted two pieces of paper, which he held out for Tristan’s inspection.
Goodness, it’s like something out of a museum. Tristan couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen paper that wasn’t napkins. Did plane tickets used to look like these? He could see all the relevant information…
More to the point, where had the guy gotten all this, and who would pander to delusions in such detail? It was beyond cruel.
“P-please tell me this is some, some sick hoax.” Mr Bentham’s voice was trembling. His eyes wide and pleading.
Now deeply pitying, Tristan gently said “Don’t worry, Mr Bentham, we’ll make sure you get help.”
“By which you mean a Interplanar Inspection, right??”
“Right.” Tristan lied smoothly. “We’ll organise an inter-planer inspection for you right away.”
And hopefully the mental health emergency responders would know how to handle this poor guy, because Tristan was at a loss.
While Mr Bentham relaxed at this assurance, he still looked uneasy - and somewhat suspicious. They might have to restrain him. Unfortunate, and unpleasant, but it came with the job.
A knock at the door. Had to be urgent, or they wouldn’t be interrupting a questioning like this. Dammit, had this sap been a distraction for something nefarious??
Tristan gestured and the nearest guard pulled the door open to reveal…
Holograms. It had to be holograms. No alien species on record were covered in large jade-green scales and had iridescent crests. And how had that weirdo next to them gotten into the airport wearing a getup like an ancient suit of armour cast from copper??
One of the… hologram wearers… let out a stream of melodic burbling which sounded vaguely Greek and ended with the jarringly understandable syllables “Bentham Harvey.”
Automatically glancing back, Tristan found Mr Bentham’s face was lit up with relief.
The man leapt to his feet and started burbling right back, waving his pieces of paper and gesturing at the security team. He fell silent when the copper-shrouded figure started burbling.
Tristan increasingly felt that this was either the most elaborate prank of all time, or his employers had volunteered him to be an unwitting extra in a surreal show. Either way, he was about to lose his shit.
Then the copper-shrouded figure turned to him and - in Greek which Tristan’s translator earpiece could handle, thankfully! - said “We are here to collect our citizen, Mr Bentham, from your custody. Once we are safely back through the Rift we will make sure it is sealed on our side. Our apologies for the disturbance. We will get out of your way now, and let you get back to your business.”
“I… ahh… what?”
Though far from his proudest professional moment, Tristan felt this was a perfectly reasonable response all things considered.
The figure’s flawless smile didn’t flicker, though their voice did noticeably slow. “We will be walking back through departure gate seven, where Mr Bentham was attempting to find his plane, but slipped through a Rift between your reality and ours. We will then seal the Rift, preventing such accidents in future.”
“Oh. I…” Tristan fumbled for how he could possibly deal with this. “I’m afraid I can’t let you onto a plane-”
“Naturally.” Their words were now delivered as if to a confused child. “We have no wish to go further into your reality - this incursion is quite dangerous enough as it is. We simply need to walk back through the gate.”
Tristan looked at his team, who were just as lost as him. He looked at the… delegation…? He took a deep, steadying breath.
He decided “We can let you try that. Only inside the gate, mind, not anywhere near the plane.”
“Thank you.” The copper-shrouded figure bowed. A gesture so ridiculous, especially given the armour they were wearing, that it felt perfectly natural in this absurd situation.
So Tristan escorted the deranged group through the spaceport, painfully aware of the stares he was getting, to departure gate seven. Where he carefully took up position to intercept anyone who made a break for the plane.
The copper-shrouded figure stepped to the threshold, gave what would have been a delicate double-clap if they weren’t wrapped in metal, and before the team’s wide eyes a giant wavering window appeared - and the group stepped into it. Vanished. Poof.
Mental wellbeing checks all came back clear. Eventually the government just had them sign NDAs and buried the incident. And nothing else like that ever came out of departure gate seven.
Tristan checked regularly.

Prompt was “Write about a man who gets detained at an airport after presenting a passport from a country that doesn’t exist”.