'...the unbearable suffering continues here on the Candar colonies as the inhabitants continue to suffer the ravages of Drysdale's disease. The planet's supplies of medical material is on the brink of exhaustion. Without supplies, there is surely no hope for the colonists. Tammy Chung, GNN, Candar'. Lina shuddered at the thought of the suffering on the colony, and returned her attention to her flat watery cola. Space station bars were notorious for watering down their drinks, and Lina estimated that any coke syrup the owners had bought was replaced by brown food colouring and sugar. She gently rocked the ice cubes around in her glass, oblivious to the uniformed officer hurrying towards her.
'Lt. Robertson!'. Lina jumped, throwing the contents of her glass down behind the bar. She spun to face the officer.
'WHAT?!?'. The junior officer snapped to attention.
'Sir, I mean Ma'am, message for you sir!'. He paused. 'Ma'am'.. He held out a large white envelope marked 'ORDERS'. Lina took it and opened it. "To Lieutenant First Class Lina Robertson: You are hereby ordered to report to Commander McNicoll immediately for an emergency supply mission to the Candar colonies. ". Lina closed the letter, and turned to the officer who was still standing stiffly at attention.
'Why me?,' she asked him, 'I only have the basic flight certification!'. There was no response. 'Oh, "as you were", junior Lieutenant...'.
'Because, ma'am, you are the only qualified pilot available, ma'am!'
'I suppose. Fine then, delivery girl accepts. Dismissed'. The young officer immediately stiffened back to his impossibly straight attention. 'Dismissed?' inquired Lina.
'Ma'am, I can't move, ma'am!', managed the rigid officer.
'Would you like some help then?'
'Ma'am yes ma'am!'. Lina tapped his forehead and watched with mild amusement as the junior officer fell over backwards with a nice crack on the floor.

Immediately, in the Space Force, meant 'the next day'. Lina arrived at Commander McNicoll's office the following morning, and found the door to be closed. Cautiously she knocked. After a brief pause there came a strained response.
'Who is it?'
'First Lieutenant Lina Robertson reporting for briefing, sir!'. There was the faint sound of a zipper.
'Erm..., yes come in.'. Lina entered the office to find the Commander sitting behind an elaborate desk covered with monitors and other electronic equipment. The Commander himself appeared a bit flustered.
'Excellent, Lieutenant.,' he began. 'You may be seated,' he continued, gesturing to a chair. Lina sat, and the lights dimmed. A large panel on the wall opened to reveal a video monitor displaying the same shots of plague Lina had seen in the bar.
'As you know, Robertson, the Candar colonies are suffering a severe outbreak of Drysdale's disease. As part of our treatment program, we are sending medical supplies to the colony as soon as possible. This station is to contribute one ship full of supplies. And you, Lieutenant., are to pilot that ship.'

The ship, the Kvotchur, was thoroughly unremarkable in design. It didn't resemble a giant shoe or a letter of the alphabet or a flying saucer. It just looked... functional. After all, a spaceship company is hardly going to splurge on the design of a cargo ship when it has to appeal to the all important space-fighter demographic, which demands impossibly sleek and evil looking designs. The cargo ship designer, Ryan Eno, graduated at the top of his design class from the MacNaughton Design Academy. He was rather miffed to find that all those slobs who he'd helped pass got all the sweet jobs designing warships and bombers while he was stuck designing something whose most glamourous purpose would no doubt be the express delivery of fried chicken breading. In recent years, Ryan has become increasing addicted to aphetamines and cold sore medication as he tries to drug years of depression and neglect. This was, of course, the last thing on Lina's mind as the Kvotchur accelerated to hyperspeed in a tooth-loosening 0.05 seconds (the hyperdrive design division got a large slice of the budget pie since they designed something all the ships needed), propelling her on her mission of mercy.

A wide arc saw the Kvotchur sweep over the planet Candar IV as Lina wrestled with the controls as the overladen ship skewed sideways as its momentum carried it in a wobbly descent towards the main colony. Passing through the upper atmosphere, Lina switched on the radio and request landing clearance.
'FZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.' Undaunted, Lina retuned and tried again.
'FZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ,' Lina smacked the console, 'ZZZTgaaauuchklkkghhaaghhhh'. Lina got the creeping horrors as she throttled back and approached the spaceport. As she passed over the city, she noticed an oddly twisted looking structure. The scrapyard, she concluded.

Without any guidance from the control tower, Lina managed to locate an empty landing pad and set the ship down. Lina fastened on her medical kit containing the Drysdale's disease antidote injector, and made her way out of the cockpit. Standing on the lowering disembarkation ramp, her eyes came upon the most second most unpleasant sight she'd ever seen, right after the 'Fasten Your Safety Harness' film in flight training. A massive, broken dead city stretched out before her. All the buildings were covered in thick layer of blown dust and filth. The 2-week journey, even at hyperspeed, had taken too long. Cautiously, Lina drew her laser pistol, and stepped slowly across the spaceport apron and into the city streets. The true horror of the situation made its full impact here: dead, decaying bodies surrounded her. The wind whistled around the empty, crumbling buildings, and the piles of bone and rag lying strewn about the street. Brown dust borne on the gusts stung her eyes and clung to her hair. Walking slowly down the street, Lina scanned the ruins for any sign of survivors. Suddenly, a creaking sound came from behind her. Trained reflexes came into action as Lina spun around, raising the gun and falling into a crouch. She squeezed off several rounds in the direction of the sound. A rusty lamp standard creaked its last before toppling with a crash to the roadway.
'Danger, Lina Robertson, Danger!,' she muttered. Lina scolded herself for overreacting, and the man was almost upon her before she noticed.
A sudden footfall caused Lina to spin, and into her vision entered a gaunt, haggard man. He limped unsteadily towards her. In horror, Lina jumped backwards. The man gave a groan and fell to the dusty road surface. He rolled onto his side and looked helplessly up at Lina. She was able to get a closer look, and saw quite clearly the advanced effects of Drysdale's disease.
'Oh my,' she managed, 'what happened here?'. The man just moaned in torment. 'Oh of course, duhhhh everyone's dead. But how come? Didn't the medical ships get here in time?'. Weakly the man reached up and indicated the large, twisted structure Lina had seen from the air. Closer, she was now able to distinguish more details. It was a large stack of crashed cargo ships.
'Ouch,' said Lina, wincing. 'But how did this all happen?'
'Broken... guidance... beacon...,' strained the dying man, 'all... antidote was... burned up!'
'Hadn't I better give you some then?,' asked Lina, opening the pack. She pulled out a large syringe.
'Too... late for me... save... yourself!'. With that, the man died.
'Oh please, how corny, please don't die with those words!'. She knelt closer to the inert form on the road. 'Hey! HEY!!!!!! Ah forget it.' Closing her eyes, she jabbed the needle into her arm, and pressed the plunger. She withdrew the needle, and felt a bit lightheaded as the drug began to take its effect. Her vision blurred as the she read a label on the medication bottle: 'DANGER: May cause diziness, lightheadedness, and delerium. By reading this label, you waive any responsibility on DrugCo's part for any effects or events that will take place in the future or past.'
'Uh oh.', thought Lina, as the devastated scene around her became rainbow-coloured and began dancing around. Clutching her head, Lina sat down and tried to make sense of all that had transpired, and opened her eyes to see the road was now pink. The sky was green, and birds were flying around, singing. Some happy bunnies hopped up to her, and handed her a pamphlet advising her not to miss all the great sale items at Deckard's House of Hobbies.
'You're right!,' she called to the departing rabbits, 'How can I resist half-off on gumball-dispensing jukeboxes?'
What followed was a dream of shopping and purchasing as Lina ran through all the stores in the mall, and bought loads of clothes, shoes, and even that zero-g bowling ball she'd always wanted. She skipped happily along the street back to her car, which was waiting on the landing pad, surrounded by derelict spacecraft. Cheerily she waved at all the people on the billboards, who waved back and threw chocolate-covered almonds.

Lina jumped into the driver's seat, and dropped her purchases behind the seat. She searched for the ignition. There wasn't one. Wait! No ignition? What kind of car was this? Lina blinked and rubbed her eyes. The hot-pink and chrome dashboard melted away to reveal a spacecraft control panel. She was back in the Kvotchur. All that shopping spree nonsense had been an antidote induced halluncination. Then what had she 'bought'?. Lina got out of the pilot's chair, and discovered behind it a diverse selection of junk. Some rotted cushions, a car door, a pair of size 13 men's shoes (both left footed), and a rusty ravioli crimper.
'Hang on,' she said to no-one in particular, 'what about the bowling ball?'. Then Lina spotted a bag she hadn't noticed before. She opened it, and reached within to pull out... a rotted, severed head!
'AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!,' she screamed in horror.
'YAAAAAAAAAARGH!,' screamed the head.

Lina jerked awake. The Kvotchur's cockpit melted away to reveal the city street again. The whole halluncination, had been a hallucination, apparently. The dead body lay in front of her, and to her right lay the assorted pieces of wreckage. But there was no head. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lina made her way back to the ship to radio the bad news, and maybe a nice shower in disinfectant.

Hanging up the towel in the crew quarters, Lina heard the distinctive sound of a ship landing. She threw on a dressing gown and fuzzy slippers, and ran outside. Who was it? Space Marines? Rescue workers? Commander McNicoll to fire her? Lina scampered off the ramp and into a cloud of dust kicked up by the landing spacecraft. Shielding her eyes, she slowly walked forwards, heading for the shadowy form behind the dust. It was a passenger ship. Curiously, Lina walked up to it. Suddenly, a ramp hissed open, and a man in a bright suit with a plastic smile and equally artificial voice stepped out, followed by a gaggle of people in Bermuda shorts.
'Oh no,' gasped Lina, 'tourists!'
'...ha ha sorry about that delay folks, but we've finally made it here, 28 days late, but still here, to Scenic Candar!,' the guide beamed at the ruffled-looking passengers.
'Scenic?,' asked Lina. The guide turned to look at her.
'Why yes!,' he said in his weatherman voice, 'Just look at the...,' the reality began to set in. He struggled to recover his sales pitch. '...fantastic post apocalyptic landscape!'. He turned to Lina. 'Are you a local or visitor?'
'Visitor.', Lina responded, trying to ignore the tourists eagerly photographing a decaying body laying on the tarmac.
'Marvellous!,' yelled the guide. 'Then maybe, you can tell us what visitors should do in this unique and fascinating landscape!'.
'Well,' said Lina, handing him an antidote bag and gesturing that he give some to each of the passengers, 'the locals are approachable enough, but the shopping sucks.'.