Now the evil creatures invaded Earth through these rifts. The Drift Lords, trained to fight them, sought to seal the breach before the dimensional drift widened enough to cause a catastrophic energy blast.
Paz’s mouth tightened into a grim line. He didn’t like being near another possible rift. He liked it even less when he sniffed the ominous portent of burning filaments.
His muscles tensed. Cors particles.
Not only was the material produced at a rift horizon, but also when the Trolleks spatial shifted from one place to another. His ability to detect these particles was what made him a Drift Lord. Smelling it here could mean only one thing.
He shot to his feet as a crash sounded from the galley.
“Jen, what is it?” His heart raced as he scanned for a weapon. By Odin’s grace, if only he had his T-6 laser pistol. Wedged between the table in front and the credenza at his back, he didn’t see a thing he could use.
“I dropped a dish,” she called. “Do you hear that odd buzzing noise?”
“Come here. Now.”
Too late. A Trollek vectored into sight beside him.
An ugly humanoid with a hook-shaped nose, malformed ears, and beady eyes—he wore a leather tunic cinched with a wide belt, military grade trousers, and boots. Regular trooper, then. Not a specialized assassin.
Jen’s shriek told him she had her own problems. More than one must have arrived.
Paz gulped in dismay. He hadn’t polarized himself against their spell in the last twenty-four hours, but it looked as though capturing him wasn’t their goal. The brute charging him with an axe had murder in his eyes. At least they knew better than to fire disruptors in a pressurized cabin.
He’d worry about how they’d found him later. Issuing a battle whoop, he attacked.
He deflected the beast’s swing with his arm then followed through with a kick to the gut. Crouching, he twirled, then came up elbow at the ready. His blow to the thug’s jaw had no effect. The Trollek merely grunted, eyes intent on his prey.
Assessing his adversary, Paz stepped back. He had no wish to have that beefy hand grab him.
To be touched by a Trollek meant to fall under his spell and become his mind slave. Although Paz was trained to resist, he’d still succumb to their influence in the end. He’d heard about the means they used to break a Drift Lord, if they were even interested in taking him alive.
Jen’s screams tore at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw her across from the galley where another assailant grasped her forearm. She brought his hand up and bit it. With a howl of rage, he slugged her. She staggered back against the bulkhead.
How had she not been confounded? Were they trying to capture her, but not him? Without being able to spell her, they couldn’t spatial shift out of the aircraft and take her with them. If they realized that, he and Jen would both be toast.
Jen dodged aside when the beast swatted at her again.
“Come with me, human. Cease your struggle.”
“Get off our airplane.” Her twist had come undone, her raven hair streaming down her back.
“How do you resist my touch? You should be mine already.”
“What are you talking about? Who are you?” She cast Paz a desperate glance.
“Your Drift Lord cannot help you. We will subdue him, just as we did his friend.” The Trollek sneered. “The one called Kaj screams like a stuck pig. Fighting us is useless.”
Paz’s blood ran cold at the mention of his missing colleague. He ducked when the axe swung at him again. He couldn’t help Jen until he dealt with this guy.
He hopped up on one of the seats, kicked the axe out of the brute’s hand, and rained a series of blows on his thick head. It was like attacking a punching bag. His thrusts barely made an impact.
Leaping down, he meant to go for the gut when a hand from behind clamped onto his wrist. Horror dawned on him as he realized he’d been touched.
“Smark,” he cursed in his native tongue.
In the instant that followed, he thought about his team and how any surviving members would be disappointed at his failure. He thought about his father, who’d receive notice of his death, and wondered if the old man would even care. And he thought about his lost dream and how his invention would never see reality.
With fury born of desperation, he lashed out, a flurry of fists and feet, battling the two of them while wondering how his mind remained clear. He should be reacting sluggishly, fighting the chemical their touch produced in his body.
His first assailant drew a dagger. Paz sucked in his gut as the blade slashed the air in front of him.
Oh, no. The other guy had yanked out a disruptor. But he didn’t aim it at Paz. Instead, he plunged toward the flight deck and fired an energy bolt at the door. The riff followed through with a kick that demolished the barrier and shot the pilot and first officer in the back of their heads.
Paz got a glimpse of their slumped bodies inside and Jen’s terrified face over by the galley before the big Trollek stabbed at him again. Since the aircraft kept its flight pattern, he assumed the autopilot was engaged.
Did the beasts intend to land the plane? Paz would rather go down fighting than be captured and tortured. Since they couldn’t confound Jen, they’d have to find a safe landing site if they meant to take her with them.
He wouldn’t allow that to happen.
The Trollek nearest him yelled something to his comrade. He stuck his dagger into its sheath before pulling a silver ball from his pocket. Light gleamed off its metal surface as the beast tossed the object down the aisle.
An EMP grenade. Paz’s heart skipped a beat.
In the next instant, both Trolleks hit a button on their armbands and vanished in a shimmer of air.
They’d vectored out, leaving him and Jen behind. Reacting automatically, Paz flung himself at Jen.
A flash of brilliant white light erupted inside the cabin.
The EM pulse lasted just a few seconds but that’s all it took to kill the power.
In dead silence, the aircraft tilted nose-down and plummeted toward the earth.
Chapter Four
Jen screamed as the jet lost power and plunged downward. Thrown into the aisle with the plane’s sharp pitch, she slid toward the flight deck.
Anything that wasn’t tied down boomeranged around the cabin. She ducked as a serving tray flew by and bounced off a seatback onto the deck. Oxygen masks dangled overhead. Grappling for a handhold, she dug her fingertips into the nearest seat cushion. With a white-knuckled grip, she hauled herself sideways.
Gravity yanked at her. Her arm muscles strained as she gained on her target. Sweat popped out on her brow. With a final surge, she flung herself onto the seat. Her hands trembled violently as she fumbled to fasten the harness. The buckle eluded her slippery fingers. Gritting her teeth, she managed to snap the straps in place.
Not that it would do much good. In a few more minutes, they’d be finished.
Gasping for breath, she yanked the mask over her nose. Her heart pounded a staccato beat as though it meant to leap from her chest. Her breath came in short, hard bursts, while a wave of dizziness assailed her.
Outside, they’d descended through the clouds. The ocean rushed to greet them. Her mind shoved aside images of the impact to come. At least it would be fast.
Sadness overwhelmed her at the loss of all she wanted to do yet with her life and at the grief her parents would feel. The blow of losing a daughter would bring them endless pain, despite the problems Jen had caused over the years. Well, at least they’d meet in the afterlife, if one existed.
She gripped her armrests, clearing her mind and giving herself up to God. They were in His hands now. A brief thought flickered in her brain that she should assume crash position, but why bother? She might as well meet her fate with open eyes.
Paz’s face loomed in front of her, giving her a jolt. The last she’d seen of him, he’d been aiming in her direction but then that brilliant flash of white light had
erupted.
“Give me your earrings.” Despite their imminent death, his voice remained calm but authoritative.
“What?”
“I need your kewa stones. Diamonds.”
Oxygen deficiency must be making him daft. “You’re confused. Put a mask on.” She hadn’t seen what happened up front except that the thug who’d attacked them had breached the cockpit. Maybe the pilot, if merely stunned, would recover in time to gain control of the aircraft.
Paz crouched beside her, his powerful thighs holding him in place against the jet’s steep angle.
“Listen to me. I can align the diamond crystals to transmit power from my comm unit.” He tapped his wristwatch. He must have put it back on when he’d changed clothes at the film studio. “If I get the frequency right, I’ll be able to interface my modulator with the ignition sequence for the engines.”
“Huh?” Jen didn’t understand a word he said, but she unscrewed her earrings and handed them over.
Paz sped toward the flight deck. Noticing how he breathed well enough on his own, she cast her mask off. Perhaps they’d dropped low enough for the pressure to equalize.
Wondering what he planned to do, she unsnapped her seat belt and followed him. She stumbled down the sharply pitched aisle, gripping the seat backs for support. A glimpse of the pilots’ slumped bodies ahead reinforced her worst fears.
She swallowed against a rising tide of panic. Maybe this was just a nightmare. Her psyche detached, seeking defensive maneuvers and an analysis of her plight.
Who were those ugly men with deformed features? How had they appeared out of nowhere and then disappeared into thin air? What sort of blast had they set off to kill the engines?
This was real all right. Numb with the certainty that they were about to die, she sank into the seat nearest the flight deck, fastened the safety strap, and prayed.
The aircraft shuddered, its vibration increasing with the rapid rate of descent. Her teeth clamped together when they hit an air pocket. Her stomach heaved and then dropped. She tightened her grip on the armrests, biting her lip against the urge to scream.
The jet shook so hard it rattled her bones. Surely they’d break up in midair. Would the breath be sucked from her lungs in the thin atmosphere? Would she experience instant blackness? That would be better than being crushed on impact.
She caught a blur of movement from up front. Paz had tossed the pilot’s body aside and taken his seat. Foolish man. Did he plan to cobble together a power source as though he were switching telephone lines?
He yanked back on the control column, gripping it with two hands. It bucked with the craft’s movement but he maintained his tight hold. His arm muscles bulged with strain, as he wrestled it back. The plane’s nose inched upward, and then the world tilted.
Jen squeezed her eyes shut, certain they were going into a spin and would crash within minutes.
Her head reeled. By the grace of God, the deck beneath her feet stabilized. When she opened her eyes, she gasped. Paz had miraculously managed to level their attitude although they continued to sink.
Gravity could be a bummer.
“Jen, come here. I need your help.” He didn’t break concentration but continued to peer forward.
The plane banked left and then dipped right, as though he were testing its maneuverability. He must have had some flying experience but maybe not in a jet.
“You have to keep the nose steady while I restart the engines.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Now, please.”
“Okay.” After undoing her harness, she staggered forward.
“Good girl. Get the copilot out of his seat. Just put him on the floor behind you.”
She swallowed hard, wondering what type of weapon would scorch the first officer’s head. His body felt like a lead weight, as she dragged him sideways to the deck. She managed to haul him out of the way before stepping over his still form to achieve the co-pilot’s chair. She fastened the restraint, aware of the plane’s erratic motion and how the deck tilted and heaved.
A console sat between her and Paz, its array of levers and buttons looking like the space shuttle’s command center. She stared at the blank monitor screens.
He noticed the direction of her glance. “The EM pulse zapped the electronics. We’ll have to fly on visual, but don’t worry. The aircraft has backup systems for emergencies like this.”
“That’s good to know.” Her lip curled. “Now what?”
“Okay, see what I’m doing?” Paz nodded at his hands, taut on the wheel. “Just hold your column the same way and keep the horizon in a straight line.”
“How long can we stay in the air?” And who’s gonna land the damn thing?
“The manual systems are still working. We can always glide her down if necessary. See those dials over there? They’re standby indicators for altimeter, airspeed, and attitude.”
Yielding the controls to her, he pressed something on his wristwatch and then held it close to his mouth. “Paz to anyone. Come in.”
Was he nuts? Maybe the lack of oxygen had gone to his brain.
The plane seesawed, and she struggled to maintain a level attitude. Her palms grew greasy with sweat.
He fiddled with the dial and tried again. “Paz to Zohar. Sire, are you there? Can anyone answer?” No response. He shot her a wry grin. “Well, it was worth a try.”
“Don’t tell me, that’s some sort of radio?”
Noting her skeptical glance, he shrugged. “It’s a comm unit. I thought maybe I could raise my team from up here, but I guess not.”
The jet dipped to the right. Jen adjusted their attitude, her heart thumping wildly. She muttered prayers that she hadn’t remembered since childhood.
Please, please, let us survive.
Paz took his space-age wrist radio and set it in his lap. Before she could blink, he’d popped it open and picked at the circuits. Her diamond earrings rested in his lap.
Focusing out the window, she kept to her task and tried not to notice how the plane kept descending. Without power, she struggled to maintain an even position relative to attitude. Ocean stretched in every direction below like a vast blue carpet.
The engines coughed, died once, and then sputtered into life. “All right, I’ll take it now,” Paz said.
Happy to comply, she yielded the controls.
“We need to find a place to bring her down just in case my frequency modulator stops transmitting. I can do a water landing if necessary, but it would be nice to find a piece of land.”
“There,” she cried, pointing as a shape took form on the horizon. “Is that an island?”
“We’ll see.” He surveyed the console. “There should be a manual throttle here somewhere. Ah, here it is. Let’s give this a try.”
He pulled back on the black lever, and the airspeed slowed. The nose dipped to a few inches below the horizon, and they began a controlled descent.
“Supposing that’s a rock up ahead, it will still give us a place to gain ground if we have to land on water. Can you swim?” Paz spared her a glance.
Jen bit her lower lip. “Yes, but I’d expect there are flotation devices aboard.”
“Let’s wait and see if we’ll need them first.”
As their altitude above sea level decreased, the chunk of land enlarged into a sizable island with sandy beaches, a mountainous interior, and signs of civilization. She and Paz could summon help, assuming they got down in one piece.
“That strip of sand on the far side is our best bet, but it could get rough.” Paz grinned at her. “You’re doing great, by the way. Just swing in there, and you’ll be fine.”
“Swing? Do you mean hang in there?”
His shoulder rose then fell. “Right. I get the slang terms mixed up sometimes.”
“You think?” This day couldn’t get any stranger. If they survived, he owed her a bucketful of explanations.
A muscle in his jaw clenched, as he scanned the console with narrowed eyes. “Here, this sh
ould extend the flaps and lower the landing gear.”
A moment later, various thuds and thumps rocked the craft. They dropped further, their airspeed reduced. Paz approached the beach heading into the wind, fighting to keep the wings straight.
The ocean rushed at them. That strip of sand ahead looked so tiny that Jen’s breath came in pants. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white. They were coming in too fast and too high!
Paz killed the power just before touchdown. Jen’s teeth clattered together as they bumped the beach, bounced into the air, and bumped again. Sand spewed in all directions. Then the jet skidded along the narrow strip toward a tangle of trees ahead.
“We’re not stopping.” She stared forward with horrified fascination, her heart threatening to jump out of her chest.
“Hold on.” Paz pressed on the brake pedals. His hands gripped the wheel, arm muscles bulging with strain.
They tipped sideways, and a terrible rending noise tore the air. Jen’s blood froze solid as part of the wing ripped off with a horrendous scraping sound. The deck tilted, and then suddenly, they stopped. Her side of the jet dipped toward the sand.
She breathed in a couple of rapid, shallow breaths—stunned they were still intact. A grove of bamboo stood dead ahead. If they had not stopped, they would have been skewered.
Dear God, we made it.
She sat motionless, unable to budge, her body trembling.
“Get out.” Paz jabbed his thumb toward the exit. “Fire is a risk since we weren’t able to dump the fuel. Plus we need to vacate this site.”
His grim face told her there might be other reasons for haste. What if the natives were hostile?
One thing at a time, Jen. Get your ass out of here.
Paz collected the parts from his wrist device, unsnapped his harness, and rose. Jen followed suit, but she gathered her wits enough to grab her purse while he popped the escape hatch. Her cell phone was inside. Maybe, by some miracle, it would work in this remote location.
Warrior Rogue (The Drift Lords Series) Page 4