MOSQUITOES
293
troubled by any foreign sound, the night was calm, islanding the worn bland disc of the moon.
“Steward throwing out grapefruit,” Major Ayers suggested at last. They turned away.
“Hope so,” Fairchild said. “Start her up again, Julius.”
And, soon, another sound; and the Nausikaa trembled and pulsed, girding herself with motion.
