FLASH! Super Short Sci-Fi Stories

The Admin

Ben looked down.

"Great," he muttered. The last rung was maybe five feet above the floor. The fledgling engineer took a deep breath, then slowly took his feet off the ladder. Hand over hand, he lowered himself until the tips of his boots touched the steel grating below.

"Oof," he grunted, letting go and stumbling as the floor of the train jerked beneath him. Once again, he grabbed the ladder, holding onto it while he adjusted to the constant swaying of the car. Above him, the dropship's engines roared to life and the machine disappeared as if it had been yanked away on a leash. The circle of mustard-yellow sky it left behind disappeared as the overhead latch snapped shut. An instant later, Ben saw somebody leaning up against the wall of the train, watching him with a bored expression on her face.

"Uhhh, hi," Ben said with his most charming smile. He held out a hand. "I'm Ben. And you must be-"

"Grit," the woman replied. She sauntered forward and took Ben's hand. Hers was just like the rest of her - slender, but hard. Grit was tall, almost as tall as Ben at six-three, and if her posture wasn't so terrible she'd easily be eye to eye with him. Her short, gray hair was messily spiked in random places, and although Ben thought it looked cool he was pretty sure it wasn't an intentional look. A pair of yellow-lensed prescription goggles hung from a rubber strap around her neck, and she kept her other hand buried deep in the pocket of her dust-covered trench coat.

"Nice to meet you, Grit," Ben said as his new boss ended the handshake and took a step back. "I'm really looking forward to working here."

"Mm," Grit said. She produced a cigarette from behind her ear like a magic trick, then lit it with a lighter that appeared from nowhere and disappeared right back to it. She took a drag, held it, then blew it up above her head.

"We'll see if you got what it takes," she said. She turned and punched a button. The door between her and the next car snapped open, allowing the sounds of the rushing air and the wheels on track to fill the small car and assault Ben's ears and rattle his teeth. Grit strode through the door, her steps confident and easy despite the motion of the vehicle. Ben, waving smoke out of his face, quickly followed her.

* * *

"Food," Grit said as they passed through the small kitchen car, complete with culinary replicator.

"Communications." Ben recognized maybe half of the equipment. The rest of it looked like it came out of a history book.

"My bunk," Grit said, pointing to the top of two stacked eight-foot long sleeping chambers. She pointed to the bottom one. "Your bunk."

"Maintenance."

"Bike hangar."

"Replacement parts."

"Defense."

"Control room."

"Whoah," Ben said. He'd stood in replicas and test models, both physical and digital. But there was something to be said for finally getting to the real thing, looking at the real blinking lights and chrome controls, to be seeing the real yellow desert landscape stretching out before them.

"Yep," Grit nodded as Ben stepped forward. The young engineer's eyes ran over the dials and levers, currently being expertly maintained by the train's autopilot. Various meters and gauges wiggled very slightly as the computer made tiny adjustments to the way the machine ran.

"Wow," Ben said again. He turned around, a big-kid grin stretched across his face.

"So what do I get to learn first?"