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Sample text
Cruising at minimal speed, it was also nearly silent, the whis-per of its passage easy to miss, or to pass off as nothing more than a gentle zephyr. Most of the time, the loudest sound in the cockpit was the pilot's own breathing—and the cockpit was insulated well enough to prevent that sound from escaping. Once Zel was in the cockpit of Blue four and going through his preflight checklist, all thought of exhaustion and aches vanished. As always, Zel felt himself becoming part of the Wasp rather than merely a rider in it.
From time to time, two or four Schlinal Boems would shoot in a few rockets from extreme range, but they went to great pains to avoid engagement. They always veered away as soon as Wasps started toward them. Zel was untroubled at having nothing more than hard ground under him and a slight thermal blanket to provide some cov-er. He slept through exhaustion in something scarcely less deep than coma. Though flying a Wasp was not particularly demanding physically, it did take intense concentration, and that could be even more draining than physical exercise.
Although there was still an hour left before dawn, more than half the people of Maison came out to greet their liberators, or simply to watch from windows and doorways, making sure that they were clearly visible—and seen as no threat. There were a few cheers, but most of the people were content simply to wave or say a few words to whichever troops came nearest them. Maison was the second largest town on Porter, but it was no metropolis. There was not one building in town more than two stories high, and most were only a single story, particularly the residences.
