He was busy now. Busy keeping the Z1000 in one piece. If he kept up the dizzy power rate long, and the blades didn't meet an obstruction, they'd fly off and destroy the ship.
"How long do we have?"
She sighed.
"The fleet will be in the tunnel in two minutes. We should meet them in three."
"We'll stop them," he said in a harsh whisper.
Oil was sloshing and flying over the Cutter's blades. He listened to the unholy roar of the motor, then pushed the power lever down as far as it would go. The Z1000 leaped ahead a little faster. The blades sang a song of destruction.
In the cabin the heat became stifling. No longer able to see through the steamed windows, he turned out the lights. In the darkness, the red hot plates over the motor shaft made the place glow like a tiny hell. The extra power from the batteries hummed madly.
"Sheila," he turned toward her. In the glow of the hot plates, he could see her face, as pale as glistening shell. Her eyes were moist and her face was close to his.
Then he could say no more, because her lips were pressed tightly to his.