FEATURED STORY
RECENT STORIES
STORIES BY TOPIC
NEWS
TRANSPORTER
Take me to a...
SEARCH
Enter any portion of the author name or story title:
For more options, try our:
SUBSCRIBE
Sign up for free daily sci-fi!
your email will be kept private
TIDBITS
Get a copy of Not Just Rockets and Robots: Daily Science Fiction Year One. 260 adventures into new worlds, fantastical and science fictional. Rocket Dragons Ignite: the anthology for year two, is also available!
SUBMIT
Publish your stories or art on Daily Science Fiction:
If you've already submitted a story, you may check its:
DAILY SCI-FI
Not just rockets & robots...
"Science Fiction" means—to us—everything found in the science fiction section of a bookstore, or at a science fiction convention, or amongst the winners of the Hugo awards given by the World Science Fiction Society. This includes the genres of science fiction (or sci-fi), fantasy, slipstream, alternative history, and even stories with lighter speculative elements. We hope you enjoy the broad range that SF has to offer.






art by Jonathan Westbrook

+1

James Worrad lives in Leicester, England. He's recently graduated from the Clarion Writer's Workshop, UCSD, and is a member of the BSFA. There maybe other acronyms in his life but at present he can't recall them. James has a blog at jamesworrad.blogspot.com.

The man from NASA arrived the next morning. Walter Igwe met him at the crash site.
"The agency would like to thank you, Mr. Igwe," the NASA man said, "for your quick response." It was plain he wasn't used to the savannah's heat. His temples ran slick with sweat.
"It is nothing, sir," Walter said. "And my village offers the agency our condolences."
"Appreciated, Mr. Igwe." He brushed an insect from his nose. "But ultimately it's just a setback." He laughed. "Albeit an expensive one."
Walter hid his disgust. A man was dead. Their man. Was nothing sacred in America?
"The main section," Walter said. "Your capsule fell over there."
They made their way over scorched ground. Seeing the blackened capsule again, Walter recalled pulling the Astronaut out of it. It had taken much to haul the corpse from that impossibly cramped space. Walter had felt like a midwife, of sorts.
The spacesuit had been perfectly white, its NASA symbol immaculate. Walter had half-believed--had prayed--the astronaut still lived. Yet the visor was smashed and behind it lay roast flesh and bare teeth. Nothing to be done.
The NASA man spent the next two hours inspecting every piece of wreckage. He would look at some burnt device and mutter, "Write off," then move to the next.
Walter said nothing, but his hands were fists.
"You will come to the village now?" he asked the NASA man after he'd finished his inspection.
"I'd love to, really I would," he replied, "but they expect me back at your capital."
"But he's there, in my village. We have kept him in our refrigerator unit for you."
The NASA man's brow crumpled.
"I don't get you," he said.
"Damn it, sir! Your man, your astronaut!"
"But, Mr. Igwe…" he gestured at the wreckage. "This is a satellite. It's unmanned."
The two men stared at one another. Save for the hum of insects, the world fell silent.
The End
This story was first published on Thursday, January 26th, 2012


Author Comments

The bare bones of this tale leaped out at me as I walked home from a twelve hour night shift. Never underestimate the combined value of sleep deprivation, long strolls and a notebook about your person.

- James Luke Worrad
Become a Member!

We hope you're enjoying +1 by James Luke Worrad.

Please support Daily Science Fiction by becoming a member.

Daily Science Fiction is not accepting memberships or donations at this time.

Rate This Story
Please click to rate this story from 1 (ho-hum) to 7 (excellent!):

Please don't read too much into these ratings. For many reasons, a superior story may not get a superior score.

5.4 Rocket Dragons Average
Share This Story
Join Mailing list
Please join our mailing list and receive free daily sci-fi (your email address will be kept 100% private):