“So how are you, these days?” he asked. He was standing at the narrowest point of a sheer-sided gulf. As the silent train rounded a banked curve at three hundred and twenty miles per hour the towering heights of Kilimanjaro came into view to the north. Left alone, Dac Kien stared at the ship again.
“We should be fine,” Poole said. Berenika has slipped away, probably to the bathroom. If you don’t I’ll do it for you; your glare is stopping me seeing too. “It’s yours,” I said.
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