It's not the Dragonfly for speed, Jason muses, but it's actually a lot more comfortable. And a trip from North Carolina to the Florida Keys should be pretty quick, and he has his license, and the autopilot takes care of most of the heavy lifting anyway. The Quill VTOL Jet has enough applications to the Foundation's business that it's not been stuck in mothballs like the Dragonfly. And Jason's got enough kick to grab it for his own use even with Barbara's cell phoned objections.
If the Directors want to bitch about one Quill son visiting another Quill son using company resources, they can send me a memo, and I'll tell them how to print it, fold it and where exactly to file it.
He sips some ginger ale from the ridonculous 8 oz. cans, and watches Numina. Another reason not to fly coach on Delta. She's still having fun doing paper doll stuff with her hair and wardrobe.
It's funny that someone so incredibly together, viz a viz life counselling advice, can be such a kid when it comes to playing with her wardrobe.
Says the man who always wears basic black, comes that whisper in his ear.
He'd been surprised Numina wanted to come with him, and almost reluctant to get her involved in what could into some nasty family business. But he'd only hesitated a few seconds. She might be just what was needed to keep things from completely blowing up. He lets his eyes rest on her. Little glitch in the reimager up around the right shoulder. Need to adjust that.
And she is fun to watch, delighted by each change, manipulating her image size so she can do pirouettes in the seat to show off to him. This flight wouldn't be as enjoyable if she wasn't there. And he realizes that it wouldn't be nearly as much fun for her to be trying on all these "outfits" without him to share them with.
Leo's words of warning flash for the two thousandth time across his consciousness, and Jason's smile fades. What and how he feels about Numina is one huge question (counterpoised to the question about how he feels about -- individuals not-Numina), and not what he wants to examine right that second.
He glances for the hundredth time at the display about how long the trip will take and the weather at the other end.
Amir. What the hell is going on? What secrets have you been keeping from me -- from me -- about all this?
No more.
------
[Assuming the SAMs haven't already launched ... what next, Doyce?]
If the Directors want to bitch about one Quill son visiting another Quill son using company resources, they can send me a memo, and I'll tell them how to print it, fold it and where exactly to file it.
He sips some ginger ale from the ridonculous 8 oz. cans, and watches Numina. Another reason not to fly coach on Delta. She's still having fun doing paper doll stuff with her hair and wardrobe.
It's funny that someone so incredibly together, viz a viz life counselling advice, can be such a kid when it comes to playing with her wardrobe.
Says the man who always wears basic black, comes that whisper in his ear.
He'd been surprised Numina wanted to come with him, and almost reluctant to get her involved in what could into some nasty family business. But he'd only hesitated a few seconds. She might be just what was needed to keep things from completely blowing up. He lets his eyes rest on her. Little glitch in the reimager up around the right shoulder. Need to adjust that.
And she is fun to watch, delighted by each change, manipulating her image size so she can do pirouettes in the seat to show off to him. This flight wouldn't be as enjoyable if she wasn't there. And he realizes that it wouldn't be nearly as much fun for her to be trying on all these "outfits" without him to share them with.
Leo's words of warning flash for the two thousandth time across his consciousness, and Jason's smile fades. What and how he feels about Numina is one huge question (counterpoised to the question about how he feels about -- individuals not-Numina), and not what he wants to examine right that second.
He glances for the hundredth time at the display about how long the trip will take and the weather at the other end.
* * *
The place on the Key was never luxurious, but it was a lot better than a straw hut. A landing strip, with a small single-engine plane tied down and tarped at its end A large, well-lit lab space adjoining quite comfortable set of living quarters. He'd spent a lot of great summers there, on the beach, in the water, spending time with --Amir. What the hell is going on? What secrets have you been keeping from me -- from me -- about all this?
No more.
------
[Assuming the SAMs haven't already launched ... what next, Doyce?]