his pelvis while he destroyed the control panel. Maybe it was because he hadn't seen Ginny in so long.
Chapter 54
In the corridors of the Korozhet ship: alien, metal,
and remarkably like corridors anywhere.
Watching from the vehicles under their earth-coated tinfoil and stuck-on shrubbery, Fitz had the pre-strike tension all over again. The waiting was always the worst. Once you got going and the adrenaline kicked in . . .
Of course, the assault might not happen at all. If the sacrifice of those rats and bats and the girl and her galago had been in vain—they'd pull back just as quietly as they came. Fitz peered at the tiny candy-striped vehicle standing in the ship's lightpool, again. Courage came in all shapes and sizes. But his task was to win this war. If this bold stroke failed, they'd reorganize and go on. And on, if need be.
Liepsich had provided a diffraction meter that indicated force-field states. Fitz watched it with one eye and the ship through the camouflage crack with the other. His driver sat with his finger on the keys. He hoped the vehicle started well from cold. They'd slowly pushed the vehicles forward from where they'd been towed to, with the pushers hiding themselves behind foil and earth shields. No fast moves, hopefully no infrared . . .
Seventy yards to cover. The young reporter he had for a driver claimed his car could do zero to sixty in 4.2 seconds. If that was too slow, the s
Chapter 54
In the corridors of the Korozhet ship: alien, metal,
and remarkably like corridors anywhere.
Watching from the vehicles under their earth-coated tinfoil and stuck-on shrubbery, Fitz had the pre-strike tension all over again. The waiting was always the worst. Once you got going and the adrenaline kicked in . . .
Of course, the assault might not happen at all. If the sacrifice of those rats and bats and the girl and her galago had been in vain—they'd pull back just as quietly as they came. Fitz peered at the tiny candy-striped vehicle standing in the ship's lightpool, again. Courage came in all shapes and sizes. But his task was to win this war. If this bold stroke failed, they'd reorganize and go on. And on, if need be.
Liepsich had provided a diffraction meter that indicated force-field states. Fitz watched it with one eye and the ship through the camouflage crack with the other. His driver sat with his finger on the keys. He hoped the vehicle started well from cold. They'd slowly pushed the vehicles forward from where they'd been towed to, with the pushers hiding themselves behind foil and earth shields. No fast moves, hopefully no infrared . . .
Seventy yards to cover. The young reporter he had for a driver claimed his car could do zero to sixty in 4.2 seconds. If that was too slow, the s