“Some trick of color and perspective made it look separate from the green that surrounded the landing field, as though it were a narrow stick that God was going to use to swat us out of the sky. The ground came up fast, but just when I was sure we were going to smash into the runway, the pilot leveled off, pulled the nose up, and put the shuttle into a nice landing flare. "Touchdown," the speaker blared. "Braking." The shuttle screamed to a stop on the tarmac, shuddering as if it thought it was ...going to break up, vibrating so hard that I thought that I was going to lose my lunch or my teeth. But it didn't and I didn't, and in a few moments we'd rolled to a stop. Blue-suited stevedores wheeled a staircase up to the side of the skipshuttle, and the three of us descended to the black tarmac, Celia and her peacemakers behind us. Off in the distance, past the end of the runway, I could see the blue water of the Neu Hunse . . . or Nouveau Loire. A passenger skimmer hissed up behind us, settling onto the rubber rim of its plenum chamber as the driver throttled it back.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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