'How's it looking down there?'
Cleo was panting as she tried to bowl the waitress out of harm's way. 'Oddly enough, they're fine.'
A chorus of nonsensical complaints followed her reply, causing the stablehand to chuckle. 'I meant that they could breathe; that's got to count for something, though I doubt they'll be working again until we find a cure.'
'I'm lifting off, so make sure they're stowed away somewhere.'
'I'll use the restaurant's fencing to build a paddock.'
I guess that's the kind of solution I should have expected from a stablehand.
After a triple-check over Dauntless's external sensors revealed she was ready to go, I got up out of my seat and stepped across to the helm controls. What's this?
The pushing of another button saw the forward hull panels slide back like a grand double door opening. And we were still far beneath the cloud cover, hovering at fifty-feet with an unobstructed view of the city.
