Maui was warm, a little too warm for James Bond's taste, but the MI6 agent had a whole month to himself, and he planned to enjoy it. Bond never liked the heat, but it was refreshing after spending two weeks in Antartica trying to find and diffuse a nuclear missile.
Bond sighed to himself, he had been with MI6 for more years than he could count, and he was seriously considering retiring early. He was only 37, but he felt as if he was over 50. His life was threatened on a regular basis, M jumped down his throat whenever he had the chance, and the terrorists he encountered were too generic.
Bond chuckled to himself at the thought that his job had become boring, when any other man would jump at the chance to work for her Majesty's secret service. But he was in fact bored, his heart was broken twice, his wife was murdered on their wedding day, and his first love, Vesper, had committed suicide, he was tired.
Bond sat up and gathered his things to go back to the hotel. He entered the main lobby, and the desk clerk called out to him, "Mister Bond, telephone for you!" Bond looked up at the direction of the voice, and walked over to the front desk.
He took the phone from the desk clerk with a thank you, "Bond," he said into the phone, with his usual cool British tone
The voice on the other side was an all too familiar drawl, "007, M here," the head of MI6 said, "I'm afraid you must cut your holiday short, all you need to know now is that something has come up, you will be briefed more when you arrive."
"Yes, sir," Bond said, a hint of dismay in his voice, "I'll be on the next flight out."
Bond hung up the phone and went to his room the pack, "Are you checking out, Mister Bond?" the clerk asked, "Yes, something has come up at home." Bond replied. He got into the elevator and rode it up to the sixth floor. He exited and walked down the hall to room 607, the room he had occupied for the past few days.
He entered and shut the door behind him. He cursed to himself as he loaded his suitcase, and dressed himself in his usual leisure suit. He put on his side holster, which housed his Baretta, before donning his jacket. He rang for the bellboy to take his things to the shuttle that was about to leave for the airport.
On the plane bond was seated in first class, as usual. Bond sighed to himself again, "Sometimes I just wish I could sit in coach with normal people." The palne soon took off, and bond was free to use the restroom.
Once inside he unholstered his Baretta and made sure that it was loaded, just in case. He holstered the weapon and unzipped his trousers. Before he left he heard a man shout "Alright, no one move!"
Bond heard some people scream, and several guns cock. "We're taking over this plane!" Bond heard the man yell again. Bond sighed and unholstered his Baretta once more. There was a banging at the door, "Come on, buddy, I know you're in there, come out or I'll shoot."
Bond unlocked the door and stood back. A man in a red ski mask was there with an AK-47, once the door was open, Bond fired two shots into the man's chest. He quickly stuck his head out and shot the men to his left and right. He reloaded and moved out to the right, two more men in coach, Bond shot one in the head, the other in the arm, the man surrendered quickly.
Bond wheeled around just quick enough to shoot another terrorist. He moved to First Class after being sure the man that surrendered was secure. One terrorist was hiding behind the wall, and jumped the MI6 agent, the two wrestled on the floor until Bond could get in a good posision to strangle the terrorist he was fighting. After a short moment, the man stopped kicking.
Bond stood up and retrieved his gun. He brushed the strand of black hair off that had fallen on his face, and moved toward the cockpit, his weapon pointed right in front of him. Before he entered the cockpit, he stood off to the side and knocked on the door.
From the inside voices said, "What the? No one's supposed to come up here. Hey! Whatever moron you are, get back to the passengers!"
Bond knocked again, and the voice got closer, "Didn't you hear me I said…" he was cut off when he stepped out and Bond hit him hard in the jaw, then immediately shot the other man. One of the pilots was dead, and the other was shaking horribly.
"Can you still fly this thing?" Bond asked the remaining pilot, the pilot didn't reply, he just shook. "Damn it, man, answer me!" Bond snapped; the man ignored him.
From behind him, Bond heard the terrorist he shot say, "Ha, you didn't think we came here unplanned did you? You British bastard." He reached into his pocket and took out a detonator; before Bond could react, he pressed the button.
One of the starboard engines blew, and the plane started to shake, screams could be heard from the cabins. Bond pulled the dead pilot out of his chair, and sat down. He took one last glance at the remaining pilot and determined that he would be of no help.
Bond gripped the controls, flipped a few switches, and tried to stabilize the plane. They were still over the Atlantic, and Bond had flown a few times, but never a 737. He picked up the com headphones and spoke into them,
"Mayday, mayday, this is flight 239 from Maui to San Fransisco, we have a pilot down, and a engine blown, request assistance." All Bond got in reply was static, then a voice came on, "Copy that 239, how far out are you from San Fran?"
"About 40 kliks, and I don't think we're going to make it. The co-pilot isn't of any help either."
"Roger that. We can get you in, but you must follow my instructions to the letter."
"Do you see a red lever?" the flight coordinator asked, "If so, pull it, it'll drop breath masks."
Bond pulled the lever, and masks dropped in the cabins.
"Ok, now, firmly grasp the stick and try to keep her level, don't pull up or down, just level. We've got you on our radar now, the coastline should be visible soon. When it is, start to descend."
Bond pushed the controls forward slightly and started to descend.
"Ok, buddy, you're doing fine, what's your altitude?"
"Fourteen thousand and dropping" Bond said.
"Ok, that's perfect, the airstrip should be barely visible, lower the landing gear using the four switches above you."
Bond flipped the switches, and started to descend onto the strip. Nothing happened.
"Landing gear not responding." Bond said hurriedly, "Uh-oh" was all the flight coordinator said.
Bond threw off the headphones and started to descend even more. He picked up the intercom, "Attention passengers, strap yourselves in, it's about to get bumpy."
Bond decreased the throttle and pulled up slightly just before the plane connected sharply with the ground. Everyone flew forward and connected sharply with whatever was in front of them. The plane skidded for a good three hundred yards before it stopped. Bond unstrapped himself, and stood up, he fixed his jacket and gave the still shivering pilot a pat on the shoulder before walking out into the cabins, where the fire teams and medics were checking the passengers. A medic came up to him and checked him over.
When Bond finally got to the terminal, he sighed to himself again, "Just another day."