Robert Silverberg - Postmark Ganymede

The man in charge gestured to two young colonists, who donned spacesuits and dashed through the airlock. Preston watched as they raced to the ship, climbed in, and returned a few moments later with the mail sacks.

“You’ve got it all,” Preston said. “I’m checking out. I’ll get word to the Patrol to get here and clean up that mess for you.”

“How can we thank you?” the official-looking man asked.

“No need to,” Preston said casually. “I had to get that mail down here some way, didn’t I?”

He turned away, smiling to himself. Maybe the Chief had known what he was doing when he took an experienced Patrol man and dumped him into Postal. Delivering the mail to Ganymede had been more hazardous than fighting off half a dozen space pirates. I guess I was wrong , Preston thought. This is no snap job for old men.

Preoccupied, he started out through the airlock. The man in charge caught his arm. “Say, we don’t even know your name! Here you are a hero, and—”

“Hero?” Preston shrugged. “All I did was deliver the mail. It’s all in a day’s work, you know. The mail’s got to get through!”