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They had been able to afford several upgrades:  enhanced sensors, new diagnostics, and an
amnexus filtration complex.  The installations were flawless.  There was no discomfort, no burning
reverberations from the splices.

“Yo, Pilot!”  Crichton strode into the Den.  “What’s the verdict?  Did we get our money’s worth?”

“Very much so.  Moya is pleased.”

“How about you?  You okay now that the anesthetic has worn off?”

“I am fine.”  He was more than fine.  Two days had passed without a single memory being
recorded in their databanks.  For the first time since he had been joined with Moya, he had slept.  


                                                        
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