"It's not flying, Mister Shephard. It's skimming. It should feel similar to your wheeled craft."

It might be a subtle difference, but she recognizes the psychology of the thing. She reaches back and grabs his hand, dragging it around her waist.

"Still. Better hold on."

She shifts her foot against a lever, and the landing gear retracts. The craft is quiet, the hum of the drive felt more than heard. The clattering of the wing's 'pin feathers' reconfiguring is louder. It shifts under their weight, and she pulls back on the skimmer's hand controls, moving it into reverse slowly.