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The spaceplane lifted off the landing pad, turned, headed for the gigantic metal doors.
The cockpit speaker crackled to life. "Olicien Two Five Niner, you are not cleared for takeoff. Repeat, not cleared. Return to your assigned parking area."
Harry shut off the speaker and aimed the nose of the spaceplane at the blast doors. He fired the thrusters. The doors shivered. The plane flew nearer, nearer, picking up speed.
"As fast as we're flying," Tycho observed to no one in particular, "we won't be able to stop." No one answered.
Xris glanced at Rowan, who was staring at the doors with a pale, set expression on her face. Maybe this is how she's going to end it, he thought suddenly, his stomach muscles tightening. Go out in a ball of fire. And this time she'll make sure of me, as well.
The plane's speed was increasing. Harry steered for the bottom of the blast door, planning to swoop out the moment he had enough room.
If that moment came ....
They were within two hundred meters, rocketing toward nullgrav steel doors that could absorb a direct hit from a meson without buckling. The spaceplane would smash into the blast doors, explode, and maybe leave a black char mark that would probably wash off with a little soap and water.
One hundred and fifty meters. JamiFs ebony skin glistened with sweat. Quong's eyes were closed, his mouth moving, either in prayer or reciting algebraic equations; he did both in emergencies
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