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. Xris could trust Quong not to use it unless there was absolutely no other way out. And that wasn't going to happen.
Xris was feeling lucky.
The mechanic shut the panel. Bending down, he picked up his tool kit, started walking away.
"Xris!" Tycho was back. "Go for it! I've got you cow ered!"
Xris began running across the tarmac. Running was not an easy task for the cyborg, and one he generally tried to avoid. The metal part of his body worked faster and better than the physical; the flesh-and-blood half seemed a drag on the artificial. Consequently, his run was awkward and ungainly.
He felt uncomfortable, unstable, and off balance. In the back of his mind lurked the fear that he might stumble and fall and something vital inside him would short out. He had visions of himself lying helpless on the tarmac.
Not today, said a voice. Today's the day. After all these years, it's finally coming together.
Xfis relaxed, let the physical part of his body glide into synch with the metal, and loped across the landing strip. Quong was at his left, keeping pace easily. The middle-aged doctor wasn't even breathing hard.
The spaceplane stood on a tripod landing system. The plane was a new model based on an old design dating back to the dawn of spaceflight, but over the centuries no one had come up with anything as reliable and efficient. Two wings swept back from the fuselage, forming the delta-wing configuration necessary for in-atmosphere travel
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