This is the 93rd in a series of 365 Flash Fiction stories I’m writing. You can find out more about the challenge here.
Mail Call, by Jonathan L. Lawrence, 4th March 2013
Word count: 729
“Bring her round three degrees starboard, and ceiling minus two degrees, and then cut engines,” the man on the end on the end of a tinny intercom instructed.
“Left over, and down,” the space suited pilot repeated casually, but they followed the instructions perfectly. There was a soft bump, a click, and inside the ship there was a hiss as pressure was increased inside the ship, as an earth like atmosphere was breathed into the ship.
“Docking complete at oh six thirty seven,” the pilot reported. Checking the atmosphere read outs, they decided it was safe to remove their helmet.
The first thing that came spilling out was long wavy red hair, then as the opaque helmet came completely clear the lovely features of a young woman appeared. She unclasped herself and walked back into the craft and through the airlock where an official met her.
“You’re a day late,” he said sternly without bothering to introduce himself.
“Excuse me,” she said giving him a glare that immediately caused him to wither, like he’d been struck by a pin and his pomposity was leaking away. “I am never late, in fact I’m here a full day early.”
“Oh,” he said, “Then the earlier delivery hasn’t made it.”
“There wasn’t any news of delays, before I set off,” the pilot said.
“Pirates most likely, they’ve been getting more brazen in these parts sadly. We’ve commissioned the Garda for more patrols, but the needs of one space station aren’t considered important enough.”