![]() "You mean, only the best and brightest were picked to go on this trip?" he asked. Froward had invited the kid up to the airliner's cockpit, so he felt obliged to hold up the adult end of the conversation. Also, he reminded himself, he hadn't noticed the trim indicator until just now. His hangover had eased off, but Captain Milanovitch had warned him that he would be having a word with Froward, later. Froward rec-ognized the type: a casualty on the battlefield of puberty. The kid was over-weight, pimply, oily-haired, and he needed a bath. ![]() In the school annual, I mean." Copilot Froward was inclined to agree. Nobody is ever going to pick me as most likely to succeed. The boy sitting in the captain's chair said, "I'll be honest. The Boeing 747-200C flew straight and steady, instruments nominal, except for one oddity: the trim indicator read full left. Chapter One: One of Us Is Happy It was deep midnight over the central Pacific, and the stars clustered against the cockpit windshield.
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