Marcone put on a headset and spoke into a microphone. He listened to the answer and then shouted to the rest of us, “The ride may be a bit bumpier. The stabilizers are run by the onboard computer, which has failed.” He gave me a direct look. “I can only speculate as to why.” I looked around, picked up another headset, put it on, and said, “Blow me.” “Excuse me?” came Gard’s somewhat outraged voice over the intercom. “Not you, blondie. I was talking to Marcone.” Marcone folded his arms in his seat, half smiling. “It’s all right, Miss Gard. Compassion dictates that we must make allowances.
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