The 3rd, meanwhile, would be expecting them. Theywere too busy. Fenssen got to his feet, saluted, and left the room. There were more sounds of fallingfronds and branches, as if the gunship was ranging over the scrub andforest shooting blindly.
Quietly he took his recorder andwandered out to the tiny vehicle park, to sit in the unmuddy privacy of aT'swa hovercar and record his still-fresh thoughts and impressions. Thick black hands and bluntfingers dwarfed the table knife as he applied jam tidily to another slice oftoast. When the pang hadpassed, he taped the boy in so he couldn't fall out or get out. Around them somewhere was an entire fleet of assault floaters, withsomeone coordinating their movements, and it occurred to him to hopethat the someone was competent.
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