Exhilarating as it was to fly under his own power, it still demanded quite a bit of Roman’s concentration to sustain. He was essentially just using strong, controlled vibrations to fling himself through the air, and it all felt rather haphazard, like any simple misstep might send him whirling out of control. Moreover, if he hadn’t focused his soul into his head and strengthened his resilience there, the constant force against his skull would have left him completely disoriented. Voreese wouldn’t have let him fall unconscious, of course, but that hardly would have made much difference if he couldn’t even see or think straight.
As he drew closer, the jet’s true speed became clearer, and Roman slowed down to match it, gradually positioning himself beneath the blue-gray underbelly.
‘Fifteen souls on board,’ Voreese informed him. ‘Can’t tell if there’s a reaper with them, but if there is, then they know we’re here.’
‘Right,’ said Roman. ‘How do you want me to do this?’
‘You don’t even have a plan, do you?’
The plane banked right, hard and sudden.
‘Think faster, please.’
‘Shut the fuck up. Go around to the nose and get us a view of the pilot first.’
Roman accelerated and did as she requested. Through the window, they could see Hanjir, a burly man with wild hair. He was looking right back at them, and a reaper sat perched on his shoulder.
‘Guess that answers that,’ said Voreese privately.
‘Yeah, but now what?’ said Roman. ‘Garovel was right. If I just shoot it down, the soldiers in there will probably die.’
‘I’m sure there are parachutes on board,’ said Voreese.
‘Are you seriously telling me to attack it now?’
‘Bah. I guess not. Let’s just wait for it to land and then fight this asshole there. I hate to waste time, but--’
The pilot stood up from the controls.
‘The fuck does he think he’s doing?’ said Voreese. And then, publicly, ‘Hey! The fuck do you think you’re doing?!’
The other reaper chimed in now. ‘You morons are dead! Get ‘em, Hanjir!’