He had known there wouldn't be anything of use, not in a white-dwarf system — still, the news depressed him.Tired, despondent, he reclined the seat, closed his eyes, trying to shut his mind off. No go. Why did my ship blow?Bringing the seat back up, he turned it, snapping on the holo viewer. Tapping out a number at random, he tried to relax and watch the vid. After a quarter hour, he realized that he had no idea what was happening on the screen. What was wrong with him? A scout had to have patience, since he spent a large part of his time in hyperspace idling his time away between star systems. Scouts joked among themselves that their jobs were ninety-nine percent boredom and one percent chaos. He'd had his chaos for the day — now there was nothing to do. Nothing to do but wait for death.That was it. A smile touched the corners of his mouth. His problem was simple, albeit had no solution. He just hadn't given in to the idea of dying — unfortunately that would make no difference in. About 30 minutes later their was another announcement. “This is a final call for flight C-U-M-6-9 to New York. Will passengers please go through to departures.” Theresa and Sheryl, being in first class went to the gate ahead of the hoi poloi. They were joined by the tall, athletic Brad Karlson and all three flashed their boarding cards before going through the tunnel to take their seats. They had their own stewardess in the plush cabin, which was separated from the main part of the aircraft by a small passage and a red velvet curtain. “I’m Sally, I’ll be looking after you today. I’ll bring you something to drink in a moment,” said the attractive stewardess.” The mousy-haired Brad with his blue eyes and stubble gave her a little wink and she smiled bashfully at the top athlete, going slightly gooey in the process. “So what brings you to New York?” Asked Sheryl, looking at Brad and licking her lips involuntarily. “Well, when we get there, I have some relatives. Just a quick weekend.
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