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. Xris glanced over at several long-range Scimitars and a Schiavona gunship, belonging to Bear Olefsky, parked on the tarmac. "If we need a plane, we can borrow one. For the moment, we're not going anywhere. Not until we figure out what's happened to Raoul. Speaking of which, Doc, how's the Little One?"
"He is doing quite well. Remarkable, I would say, except that such swift recovery may be perfectly normal for a Tongan. I would like to do a research paper on him. I would keep his identity secret, of course." A dreamy, wistful look appeared in Quong's eyes. "It would cause a stir in the medical community. I would most assuredly be asked to present it at the Royal College of Surgeons----"
"What I mean, Doc," Xris said tersely, interrupting the dream, "is when can I talk to him? When will he be conscious?"
Quong was startled. "He is conscious now. Somewhat groggy from the injury, but conscious. How do you plan--"
"Good. Harry, you get rid of the interstellar beetle. The rest of us will load the gear into the jeeps."
The others in the team exchanged glances. It was guaranteed Xris had some plan in mind, but in his current dark mood, he wasn't likely to share it. The rest dispersed about their duties. Harry continued to stare gloomily at the spaceplane. "Maybe they'll be able to trace it back to us somehow." "I'll scramble the log," Rowan offered. "By the time I'm finished with it, that plane will think it's been to Corasia and six other galaxies
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