She was distracted from checking it out closer when another blast made her duck. This time the splash of water was close enough to soak her through before she had time to turn around and see what it was.

Lyssa paled, hands clutching the controls of her commandeered boat as she hit the starter switch and threw power to the engines.

Time to get the hell out of here before that crazy bastard sinks me.

“Three away,” Eric said to himself as the third deployment module launched out the port hatch. He shuffled his way over to the fourth one and was working on the control panel when a sound caught his attention.

He looked up-deck, in the direction of the sound, and paled beneath his armor. He’d been so focused on his work that he hadn’t noticed the daylight filtering in from above him where the Drasin had chewed through the doors covering the entrance to the flight deck. Against the light of the Sun he could see the monstrous silhouettes skittering across the inclined deck, moving far too quickly in his direction for comfort.

Eric cast his thoughts back to the Priminae weapon he’d left with the loader and slowly began to edge back in that direction.

If they don’t spot me, maybe I can get to . . .

That idea went up in smoke when three of the alien beasts surged forward, apparently giving up on whatever method they’d been using to keep from sliding down the deck. As they surged toward him, Eric kicked off the deck himself, catapulting across the space and falling forty feet to where the loader was parked.

The magnets in the big machine’s feet were more than strong enough to handle the impact of his form, armor and all, but even cushioned as he was the impact with the machine blew the breath from his lungs. Eric forced himself to move even though his body was practically convulsing, rolling into the steel cage of the pilot’s compartment and slamming his hand down on the controls.

The harness dropped over him, securing him in place as he reached for the controls while his lungs filled with the air they’d been demanding for the last few seconds. He gasped inside his armor even as his hands began working the stick grip instinctively.

The grip felt familiar in his hand as he jammed it forward and brought the big machine’s right arm up to block just as the closest Drasin leapt at him.

Eric felt the loader sway back under that weight, and he began to sweat just a little. His own impact had been negligible to the loader’s magnetic contacts, but the mass of a Drasin? That was something else.

Have to get this thing off me, or we’re both going to experience one hell of a tumble.

The thirty-degree incline of the deck would give him more than enough time to accelerate to lethal speeds if the magnetic contacts of the loader lost their hold, which was likely for both him and the Drasin or Drasins who caused it. There was only one of him, however, and Eric suspected that the enemy would be more than happy with the trade.