A Melanie Destin Mini-story

Another delay?
This is the second time. If it happens again, I should take it as a sign and just cancel my ticket.

I don’t want to, but I learned a long time ago that good luck rarely repeats an opportunity, and when it does, there’s a good reason.

Not that I believe for a minute that my life is guided by some unseen hand. But who is there to say if the shuttle will even make it to Luna? Maybe the universe is issuing an opportunity for some lucky bastard on the flight to avoid a disaster. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of someone else’s guardian angel?
I mean, the opportunity is not meant for me. There’s someone on this flight who God, or destiny, or providence—whatever you want to call it—believes has a role to play in the future instead of dying in a fiery crash.

Shit, now I need a drink.
I have to calm down. There’s nothing to worry about.
Thousands of people step onto a spaceship every day without anything bad happening. There hasn’t been a crash for over twenty years. Well, not counting the ones shot out of the sky during the war.
But that shit is over now, and opportunity awaits on the Moon. It’s why I’m going. There’s nothing left for me here on Earth, that’s for sure.
This is stupid. I should cancel my ticket and try to get my job back.
Oh, why am I being such a coward?
Because I’m afraid, that’s why. I’ve never been off the planet in my life, and now I think I can just pull up roots and traipse off to Luna. What will I even do when or if I get there? I don’t even have a fucking plan.
I should cancel the goddamn ticket. There’s no need for me to go back and beg McDermott for my old job. I can get something with one of the factions. They’re always looking for doctors.
Crap, there’s the boarding announcement.
This is it.
What are you going to do, Destin?