B21C9/11 - Grip Strength

"One of us morphs a dragonfly, the rest of us morph fleas and climb on board like we're flying Delta?" Rachel demanded. "How would we even hold on? It'll be like being on a jet. On the outside of a jet!"

Cassie grinned. "Oh, the holding on part is easy. Fleas are excellent grippers. Besides, for extra safety, you just have to bite the dragonfly and not let go."

(...)

<Aaaaaahhhhh! Would you slow down?> Marco yelled.

<I'm not going that fast. Besides, how can you tell how fast I'm going? You're a flea. You can't see squat,> I pointed out.

<I can feel the wind off your wings! It's like a hurricane. If we fall off we'll have to demorph right in the middle of the beach.>

I was still in dragonfly morph. The view back along my body showed my long, blue-green abdomen. And crouching on my abdomen, sitting like creepy passengers in disorderly rows, were five fleas.

<Hey, I want to get there, all right?> I said. <You think I like having five fleas with their bloodsucking mouthparts stuck into me?>

<You're complaining?> Marco shrilled. <We're the ones sitting here while you go zipping around playing Top Gun.>

<Aww, shut up, Marco,> Rachel said good-naturedly. <It's kind of fun. The wind whistling through the chinks in my body armor, rustling the spikes on my legs . . .>