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. "Get us the hell out of here now."
Harry glanced over. "You trust her, boss?"
"It doesn't much matter, does it? We can either fly out of here or walk out with our hands on top of our heads. Which is it going to be?"
Xris had avoided the question of trust and everyone in the plane knew it. The others exchanged grim glances.
"Well, when you put it that way ... XP," Harry ordered, "bring main engines on line and fire maneuvering thrusters."
"Excuse me, Pilot Luck," said the computer respectfully, "but I am programmed to remind you that we have not received permission to leave--"
"Take over manual control," Xris commanded.
"Sorry about this, XP," Harry said, giving the computer a conciliatory pat. "But switch flight control over to manual. That's an order."
"Yes, Pilot Luck. I was only doing my duty. I trust that will be so noted in the log."
"Oh, sure, sure," Harry said absently.
He was absorbed in his job now, oblivious to all else. The expression on his face even altered from one of almost perpetual befuddlement to intense, focused concentration. He seemed to flow into the spaceplane, almost like the legendary Blood Royal, who had reputedly been able to connect themselves with their own spaceplanes through the micromachines in their bloodstream. Harry had no micromachines in his blood. He connected with the plane by feel and thought, by instinct and intuition
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