"That you'll have to prove, son," said the sergeant.
"—is dead," finished the guard.
"Dead?" gasped the speaker. "Which one?"
"It ain't funny," said the guard seriously. "Just hold the flight."
"Okay, sport. But—"
Paul spoke up, "Can you get the Elecalc free for a course for tomorrow night?"
"Who's that speaking?"
"I'm Paul Grayson."
"The live one, huh?" chuckled the unimpressed voice from the speaker. His bantering tone made Paul want to rip out his larynx with a crooked thumb and shove it down his throat. "Okay. We'll have the electronic calculator figure out a course for Proxima I for tomorrow night. Doubtless someone will take the flight."
"Oh damn!" groaned Paul. "Why does this have to happen to me?"