Paradise Warrior

By Jack Dey

When an honoured angel receives a secret mission to protect a baby Earth girl, he is given the heart of a man. Being chosen is a distinguished honour, but it means crossing over into the confines of four dimensions and into the Tempter's kingdom. It carries terrible dangers, restrictions and extreme temptations to indulge in the ways of the earth. Will he become part of the problem?

The stakes are high and complete evil sets out to win the game whichever way possible. The end justifies the means. Ignorance hides the perpetrators and deceit denies their existence. And we are all part of the game—whether we like it or not. We are the prize and the pawns. One mistake could cost us everything.

Thankfully, the battle is not ours and a power far greater than us already knows the outcome. But It is up to us to choose to fight on the winning side. Follow the clues, but reserve judgement. You could be an accidental hero.

A riveting story of courage, redemption, love and friendship. Paradise Warrior is not for the faint hearted.

Don't read it alone!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jack Dey
• Release date: Apr 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310626715

Jack Dey

Jack Dey, born to adventure, lives in the beautiful rainforest of tropical North Queensland, Australia. He has three loves in his life: Jesus; the Editor—his wife of 30 something years; and writing adventure novels. He is the author of MAHiNA; Paradise Warrior; Aunt Tabbie's Wings; The Secrets of Black Dean Lighthouse; The Legend of Ataneq Nanuq; The Valley of Flowers; La Belle Suisse (co-authored with Dodie La Mirounette); Zero; Naive; and Brindabella's Prophet. He is currently researching and writing his latest book, Apostate. Jack writes only to please Papa God and considers his writing a ministry, demanding nothing from the reader for his e-books. If you like Jack Dey’s books and would like to support his ministry, please consider praying for the team at Jack Dey and telling your friends about his other titles. New books are constantly being written with the intention of being a pencil in Jesus’ hand and bringing joy and encouragement to you, the reader.

Book preview

Rocketing skyward, Mendacante’s tiny frame blurred as he sped high above the community, causing a greater spectacle as he accelerated even faster. Close on his tail and grasping at air, two Yellow lights gained on the streaking comet, but Mendacante slipped skilfully out of their reach with a shattering one-eighty-degree backflip. Below, groups of people gathered and pointed skyward, marvelling at the sight as the little Grey corkscrewed backwards and dived, gathering speed as he plummeted towards the ground. Although bigger than he, the pursuing Yellow Lights were caught off-guard by his agile manoeuvre and they overshot him, losing the tormenting speck for vital seconds. Incensed by Mendacante's tactic and looking foolish, they threw themselves at a blinding rate towards the little Grey Light, gathering speed and rapidly closing the gap. Enjoying the chase and almost jubilant by the mistakes he was forcing his senior opponents to make, Mendacante appeared ready to self destruct in an over-calculation, but as the ground streaked ever closer, he suddenly shot sideways and the Yellow Lights disappeared into an explosion of powdery yellow, ploughing headlong into the unmoving ground.

Daydreaming again, little Grey? a gruff voice beside him shook Mendacante from the pleasurable thoughts. How do you think you are going to earn your colour if all you do is shirk your training?!

Mendacante recognised the gravelly voice of his drill sergeant wearing his yellow and blue coloured light proudly, glinting like a light through a prism and making sure his subordinates understood they were not yet worthy of the prestige that came with colour.

I..I was just going through some tactical procedures in my mind, sir.

Report to the colonnade and join your platoon. You will see what awaits those who do well.

With his dream of glory ripped into tatters, Mendacante dawdled and made his way slowly to the colonnade. His dream of becoming a hero and enjoying the adoration that came with colour seemed further away than ever after the rebuff from his commander and he wondered if he would ever make it out of the Grey Lights, the lowest in the ranks of the Army of The King. Remembering that his friend, Detanyun, was amongst those being honoured today, Mendacante’s demeanour abruptly lifted, skipping along and momentarily forgetting his own troubles while he hurried to join the other Grey Lights gathered around the great structure.

An impressive throng assembled around the place of honour, each in their respective colours and each in their ascending ranks. There were the Grey Lights at the back, next were the Yellow Lights, then the Blue Lights, Green Lights, and finally the Red Lights at the front. The platoon commanders of each group wore a base light of red, interspersed with bands of coloured light. The higher the rank, the more coloured bands.

When a warrior did well in his training, he was honoured at the colonnade and depending on his achievements, was assigned a higher coloured light. The newly honoured warrior was then given an assignment for The King, to prove himself worthy and maybe earn a coloured band if he did well in his assignment. Every warrior knew the assignment meant crossing over through the door in the dimensions that led into the Tempter's kingdom and the confines of four dimensions. Being chosen for dimensionalism was a distinguished honour, but it carried terrible dangers, restrictions and extreme temptations to indulge in the ways of the creatures of the earth.

In the legends of the phenomenal battles of Heaven, it is said that Lucifer, the impressive Fallen One, had led a revolt against The King and was thrown out by the High Prince Michael. When Lucifer fell, he took a third of the warriors with him and in so doing, they lost their light and their honour, never allowed to return. Dwelling forever in a place caught between dimensions in an eternity of darkness, these fallen warriors roamed the spiritual netherworlds, often finding entry points into human affairs when invited by humans looking for supernatural and military power.

The Son of The Great King Himself was the only one to take on four dimensions, become human, snub indulgences in the Tempter's kingdom, and on completion of His assignment there He was adorned with pure white light... an honour reserved only for the greatest warrior. However, the cost to the Son of the King was horrendous and when He returned, He was scarred and disfigured, beaten beyond recognition from His battle, but He succeeded in releasing the chosen ones from the captives of the Tempter's kingdom. There were rumours among the ranks of an ensuing battle soon to take place, where The Great King would send His Son back to the earth to rid it of the Tempter, judge the creatures identified by the Tempter's mark, and do away with the restrictions of the four dimensions forever.

Today however, there were murmurings that the impressive warrior, Michael, was going to be present, to honour a special warrior and assign him a dangerous mission. This was the stuff of dreams, the epitome of every warrior's desire to be honoured by the prodigious and humble warrior prince. From his distant position among the Grey Lights, Mendacante could see his friend proudly walk out into the middle of the colonnade with three other warriors. Detanyun's light shone a proudly brilliant yellow among the three other more superior Blue Lights.

Although Detanyun was a rank above Mendacante, he by no means treated Mendacante as if he was inferior. In fact, Detanyun had tried to coach the little Grey in all forms of combat, but giving up as the little junior warrior stumbled over, tripping on himself. Even in this, Detanyun recognised Mendacante’s ability to plan a battle strategy that left even his wiry skills stretched to the limit and trapped in an embarrassing defeat. As Detanyun became hopelessly ensnared in Mendacante’s trap, the sly little Grey would excitedly proclaim, …and checkmate! his crooked little smile evidence that he was enjoying Detanyun’s embarrassment. Though they were worlds apart in capability, their friendship was strong and for many years they had grown together in the Grey Light platoon until Detanyun had been honoured and moved up a rank. Now Mendacante spent most of his time dodging the drill sergeant and dreaming of glory that seemed to be always just out of reach.

A sudden 'aww' rumbled through the colonnade when a huge figure appeared, dressed in red light with six bars of colour, one on top of the other and topped off with a band of white light. Michael had made his entry and the gathering fell silent at the sight of the majestic warrior, while Michael's booming voice echoed across the gathering.

Fellow servants of The King, messengers and protectors of the chosen ones, we have come together to honour the achievements of these, your brother warriors. Through their impressive performance, training as warriors of The King, they have been chosen to represent Him in a commando assignment behind enemy lines. Their ability to carry out their assignment is imperative to set the groundwork for the plans of the next looming battle against the Fallen Ones.

Michael then walked up to the four warriors dwarfed in his presence and nodded toward each one. The three Blue Lights immediately turned green, one stage higher in rank, smiling in obvious appreciation to Michael and extremely proud of their promotion. Taken backwards slightly by the warrior prince’s massive size and his beaming smile, Detanyun gazed up toward the great warrior and immediately, Detanyun's yellow light turned red, sending a ripple of disbelief through the gathering. Michael reached down and handed Detanyun a medallion, a small gold circle encircling a six-sided star on a chain. The medallion awarded to The King's elite warriors.

Mendacante broke protocol and cheered from the ranks of the Grey Lights and was immediately castigated by his fellow Greys for drawing attention to them, but he didn't care. Mendacante was living his dream through his friend. Michael and Detanyun glanced towards the direction of the ruckus and Detanyun smiled. He couldn't see Mendacante, but he knew his voice.

Michael then handed Detanyun a red folder with the star emblem on the front, commended all four honoured warriors and made his way determinedly back to stand in the presence of The King.

*~*~*~*

Mendacante buzzed around Detanyun, while Detanyun sat with his back against a tree, staring dejectedly at the folder lying in his lap. Mendacante's euphoria at his friend's promotion to a Red Light warrior and his acceptance as a member of the Special Forces suddenly ceased as he surveyed his friend's downcast features.

What's wrong, Detanyun? Mendacante asked with concern.

My assignment is to watch over a baby Earth girl, Detanyun replied disappointedly, "an assignment any other colour, including you, could do. Am I to be a babysitter after so many years of intensive training? And now the Prince chooses to embarrass me... with this!"

Mendacante sat next to his friend and thought for a while. This baby must be very important if she is to be assigned a Special Forces Red Light. I’m sure there is more to the story, otherwise the Prince would have chosen someone else.

Yeah, I guess you're right, Mendacante.

When does your mission start?

Tomorrow. Michael will open the dimensions for me to cross over first thing in the morning.

Are you scared?

No, just disappointed!

*~*~*~*

Gabriel, who also stands in the presence of The King, met Michael at the entrance to the throne room. How did he take it, Michael?

As expected. He thinks we are sending him in as a babysitter.

Gabriel thought for a moment and then spoke again. The King wants to give him the heart of a human as soon as he crosses over, Gabriel whispered, fearing for Detanyun.

The heart of a human?! That’s a heavy load for any warrior to carry, Michael became unsettled, sharing Gabriel’s concern.

Michael stood rigidly while he contemplated the decree of the King, replying to the command in the only way a knowing and devoted warrior should. The King is the Great Wise One. He sees things from every angle, at every moment in time. He must have a plan, Gabriel.

*~*~*~*

Detanyun stood expectantly by the tree that marked the opening to the four dimensions. It was early morning and as he searched the surroundings, he could see Michael's huge outline approaching, moving swiftly towards him.

*~*~*~*

Concern gripped Michael as he drew near the tree to the dimensions and Detanyun waiting nearby. He knew the warrior wouldn't have any of his heavenly assets on Earth and for his own safety and the success of his mission, his identity would be masked while operating deep inside enemy territory. Michael approached the tree and commanded the dimensions to open, while Mendacante stood nearby, hiding, hoping to stay out of sight but also wanting to see his best friend leave for his assignment; and as a doorway appeared and hovered above the ground, Detanyun stepped towards it. Mendacante glanced to the place where Detanyun had been sitting and saw his medallion lying there. Rushing in before the doorway closed, Mendacante scooped up the chain and then sped towards Detanyun. Just as Mendacante was about to hand it over, the dimension closed and both Detanyun and Mendacante tumbled through.

Michael watched the scene unfold and then spoke softly to himself, "So this is the plan of The King."

*~*~*~*

Chapter 2

Yvette Lawrence stood gazing down at the dimly lit city street from her fifth-floor hotel room window. It had been snowing all day and she hoped her flight back home to Sydney wouldn’t be cancelled. She was tired and it seemed her latest trip to Chicago would result in yet another dead-end and another crushing disappointment. As she stared absentmindedly through the foggy window, a small voice beside her startled her.

Mummy, will we be able to leave here tomorrow? I miss Daddy and Grandma and Grandpa.

Yvette reached down and lifted her five year old, blonde haired daughter into her arms. The child wrapped her arms and legs about her mother and pressed into her chest. I hope so, sweetheart, she said, cuddling her while desperately trying to conceal her doubts.

Yvette had been chasing a ghost, a shadowy figure that had consumed a great portion of her adult life and she was beginning to despair of the apparent fruitless quest. Her husband, Greg, encouraged her search, while trying to understand the grief that drove her and didn't stand in her way. He seemed to think that one day it would finally pay off and Yvette’s restlessness would come to an end. Yvette sighed, wondering whether she would ever be rid of the hole in her heart, and at the same time, she was thankful for such a wonderful man and missed his embrace desperately. Tonight, as she pressed her forehead against the cold window frame, the familiar ache crept into her heart and she wondered whether all the globetrotting would be better left behind her. She felt sure this obsession would have left her when Chloe had been born, but it just grew even stronger as Chloe grew. Although June and Peter Willis loved and raised Yvette as their own, she still needed to know the circumstances of her adoption. She had to find her birth mother.

June secretly hoped Yvette would give up the search that had consumed most of her adult life. Each time June waved off Yvette from the airport on yet another attempt, she died a little bit more inside. June and Peter knew very little of the story surrounding Yvette's mother, only that she had abandoned Yvette at birth in the hospital in which she had been born. Her mother had simply vanished soon after she had given birth, never to be heard of again. The hospital staff found out later that the name she’d given, Debra Parkinson, was an assumed name, which left the baby girl as a ward of the state.

Eventually, Yvette had been fostered with friends of the Willis' who were living in Chicago at the time. On a second honeymoon, June and Peter had visited Chicago and dropped in to see their friends. Almost immediately, June fell in love with baby Yvette, which in turn set in motion a heart-rending, two year international legal battle to adopt Yvette and take her home to Sydney. Yvette was a loving child and had lived a stable and happy life with the Willis' until the crushing day when it slipped out about her adoption. Although she loved June and Peter, the search for her identity consumed her, leaving a trail of disappointment and frustration. A high point in her life was when she had met Greg at her twenty-first birthday party and they’d fallen in love. They’d married two years later and nine months after that, Chloe arrived.

Yvette’s melancholy ruminations suddenly subsided and her attention returned to the present, feeling Chloe’s embrace slipping and her sleeping body flailing in her mother’s arms. Yvette kissed her daughter’s forehead, walked over to the double bed they shared and placed her gently back in between the covers. Chloe stirred, turned over and went back to sleep. The television was talking to itself in the background and for some reason, Yvette glanced over at it. A weatherman was explaining a slow moving cold front settling in over Chicago, while more snow was expected overnight. Yvette longed to be back in Sydney where it was warm. Greg was anxiously waiting for their return and she longed to feel his warm arms wrapped tightly around her.

She had seen the crushed look in her mother's eyes and had felt torn between finding her identity and her real family, and hurting the only people who had loved and wanted her. After all, they had chosen her and fought for her, eventually winning and taken her as their own. A small tear dropped to the worn grey carpet. She glanced across to her daughter, sleeping peacefully in the double bed and tried to imagine what it must be like for June, letting her go each time on another attempt to find her blood mother. The thought suddenly occurred to her, June must think I am trying to replace her. The tears flowed as she saw in her memory the wounded look of the only mother she had ever known. No...no...Mother, I am not trying to replace you. I just want to know.

The telephone interrupted her thoughts. She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand and paused a moment to gain her composure. Hello.

Mrs Lawrence? a polished professional woman's voice greeted her ear.

Yes, speaking.

This is Tanya from Flight Centre Chicago. How are you? Tanya didn’t wait for Yvette’s response, as she had a head full of information and a rescheduling nightmare to complete before O’Hare was completely closed by the worsening snowstorm. Without an acknowledgement, Tanya hurriedly moved on. It is extremely likely O'Hare Airport will be closed to large commercial aircraft by morning, due to the forecast for more snow. Tanya heard Yvette's sigh and continued anyway, I have rescheduled your flight and if you don't mind doing a bit of a milk run, I can get you and your daughter across to Los Angeles Airport on a smaller plane and connect with a Qantas flight leaving LAX for Sydney. You will have to be ready to go by 4 am, though. Can you manage it?

Yvette's tone brightened. Yes, we will be ready and thank you so much, Tanya.

Yvette hurriedly packed their belongings even though it was close to midnight. She glanced over at the sleeping blonde form, relieved the call hadn’t woken her and was still fast asleep clutching her teddy bear. She thumbed her way through the timetable for the El and mentally marked the train which would take them directly to O'Hare. She glanced again through the window down at the street below. Snowflakes were still falling, their shadowy reflection illuminated by the streetlights and piles of snow covered the sidewalk.

*~*~*~*

Tony Barrett was an experienced Qantas pilot, flying A330-203s since their inception in 2000. He had been on the Sydney-LA run for many years and knew LAX airport like the inside of his own house. Although the A330s were usually a reliable aircraft, they weren't without their faults. To the greater part, when the aircraft was off the ground it would fly itself, leaving the pilot in a minder role, checking instruments, flight heading and the weather situation. The computerised plane was known among pilots as flying by wire. Barrett, being the captain and senior member of the flight crew, was responsible for the safety of all onboard his flight. As a standard company procedure, when the flight was halfway between Sydney and LA, he was required to check in with the Hawaii Control Tower. Barrett pressed the intercom button to make the call, wondering which one of the many people he knew in the tower would answer his transmission.

Qantas Flight, QF1156, to Control Tower Hawaii, do you read, over?

This is Hawaii Control Tower reading you loud and clear, QF1156, over.

Barrett immediately recognised the cheerful greeting of Samu, a large Hawaiian man. Good morning, Samu, over, Barrett responded.

Captain Barrett! So that's you flying the blip on my radar. Nice to hear from you, Samu replied. Your weather situation is clear right up to 45,000 feet. You will pick up some turbulence from a cold front coming down from the north around 200 miles out from LA. It shouldn't give you too much trouble, but ice and snow will close O'Hare later on this morning. You will fly over the top of your sister ship heading east at altitude 35,000 feet in approximately three hours. Maintain your present course and altitude and have a nice day. Hawaii Control, over and out.

Thanks, Samu. QF1156, over and out.

Barrett’s attention returned to the cockpit and the instruments glowing in the dark like some oversized computer game. The scene outside the windscreen of the cockpit was in complete darkness, while his passengers and crew would be fast asleep. The A330 tirelessly droned on into the early morning, now three quarters of the way into the journey to LA. They were on time; the aircraft was performing well and the fuel consumption was far below expectations, a situation which pleased him, giving credence to the professional image he liked to keep up. A fresh crew would be waiting to take the A330 on an immediate turnaround flight after refuelling and flight checks, with a new group of anxious passengers, back to Sydney.

Barrett let his thoughts wander for a moment as he contemplated his looming retirement. He had his yearly medical coming up and another simulator training session in a month. They would throw every conceivable emergency at him, but his calm and experience would outfox the simulator each time. The engineers who'd designed the simulator had interviewed Barrett to write the programme, using his experience to train younger pilots. He showed the engineers real life situations he had faced and how to put the pilots under extreme pressure, and in so doing, they would learn from his knowledge.

He was just about to wake his co-pilot so he could stretch his legs, when the ECAM flashed up an amber caution light for the right-hand engine. A memo scrolled across the screen at the same time. Barrett blinked at the sudden intrusion to his near perfect flight, then reached across and shook his co-pilot out of his sleep. The two men stared at the screen, reading the memo carefully. The right-hand engine had dropped oil pressure by a couple of kPa over the length of the flight and although it wasn't anything major at this point, it needed to be watched.

The A330 was a mass of complex computerised electronics and warning systems. The computer systems controlled every part of the aircraft, sending error messages to the pilot for each compromised situation. The messages were sent in colour code, depending on the urgency of the situation: from an amber message requiring a watchful eye; to a red, land as soon as possible message which was accompanied by an audible alarm. When an error occurred somewhere on the aircraft systems, it logged into the aircraft's maintenance computer and sent a message to the company’s maintenance department so that a suitably qualified, licensed aircraft maintenance engineer could retrieve the information and examine the fault in real time. Barrett recalled, in the past twelve months he had heard of two separate A330 G.E. engines that had blown up on takeoff. His instincts were aroused but he kept his thoughts to himself, and if maintenance thought it was a real threat, they would be in contact with him before they landed. Calmly, he entered the fault into his flight log. There would be no sleep for him now.

Thirty minutes out and just as the sun was starting to rise, he made contact with the LA Control Tower and explained the situation with the warning. He requested emergency services standing by as a precaution, while the lack of response from the company maintenance hangar concerned him. He prepared the aircraft for landing, setting the autopilot to track the Instrument Landing System beacon, automatically setting up the aircraft on the correct glide slope and lining it up for the centre of the runway. At present, the ILS was guiding the A330 autopilot, but he was ready to land the plane manually if the ECAM warning escalated. He pressed the fasten seat belt sign button and the bing echoed throughout the aircraft, waking sleeping passengers while the final decent into LAX began.

Just as Barrett was finalising the landing checklist, the ECAM warning blinked out and the system returned to normal.

That's odd, Barrett thought.

*~*~*~*

Chapter 3

As it turned to position itself on the end of the tarmac ready to make its run-up for takeoff, the twin turbo propped De Havilland Dash 8-100 slid awkwardly and sent a shudder into the airframe, adding to the fears of an already nervous passenger cabin. Yvette gripped the seat and glanced over at the flight attendant to see if she seemed concerned. When she calmly smiled back and continued to stroll the cabin, Yvette relaxed and gazed out of the window instead. Outside the modest aircraft window and in the lights of the petite airliner, Yvette could see the snow was beginning to fall faster and she felt sure they would abort takeoff and cancel the flight. From her window seat, the lights of Chicago’s O'Hare Airport terminal were almost obliterated by the thick, dark cloud, closing in quickly across the runway and obscuring the view from the windscreen of the small, turbo propped aircraft. Chloe held onto her mother's hand tightly and no one spoke among the thirty nervous passengers onboard. Everyone was locked silent into their own worlds of personal fear, wondering whether they would live to see LA.

The pilot pushed the throttles fully open and the twin turbo propped engines roared in response. The passengers braced themselves and heartbeats raced, too late to reconsider whether this connecting flight was going to be a good idea. The pilot released the brakes and the tiny aircraft started down the runway, slowly at first but gathering speed rapidly. Aircraft speed continued to increase until they were committed to takeoff and there was no turning back. The darkness sped by the window as the white line markings on the tarmac surface flashed past, faster and faster, illuminated in the lights of the tiny airliner. The eerie stroboscope of light hurt Yvette's tired eyes and she had to look away, focusing her fear instead on the seat in front.

While the turbo prop approached lift-off speed, it slipped sideways suddenly, causing the pilot to react, correcting the sudden unexpected movement. A muffled scream rippled through the cabin as the pilot quickly brought the slip back under his control and then finally pulled back on the stick, lifting the tiny Dash 8 into the air. As the small aeroplane bumped and jolted and then climbed effortlessly, a relieved cheer erupted through the plane while the cabin tilted, banking to the left on its way to find the designated route and climb through 25,000 feet. The foggy lights of Chicago quickly disappeared behind them in a blanket of heavy black cloud. A sudden patch of turbulence buffeted the plane and made the wings bounce up and down, throwing the stomachs of the passengers this way and that. Soon, the little aeroplane burst through the storm cloud and levelled out into clear air. The stars were unambiguous and shining at this level, while the dense, angry cloud slipped further behind them.

It seemed as if the pilot had only just turned off the seat belt sign when the audible ping alerted the flight attendant and she traversed the cabin, making sure the passengers complied with the pilot's directive and prepared everyone for landing again. LAX was just a short flight from Chicago and was now only fifteen minutes away. Yvette was feeling nauseous as the turbo prop began to slow and lose altitude on its decent into LAX airport. She hadn't eaten since early yesterday and all the rush and stress was telling on her. She would have some breakfast in the airport and only allow herself to relax once she and Chloe were safely on board flight QF1156 bound for Sydney.

*~*~*~*

I tell you, Captain Barrett, the computer isn’t showing any codes logged, both on my laptop and on the company database. See for yourself.

Tony Barrett gazed at the computer screen and the blinking light on the engineer's laptop from his seat in the cockpit. The engineer’s laptop was showing all systems functional. My co-pilot saw the amber light and read the message with me. Ask him yourself, an exasperated Tony Barrett complained.

The engineer sighed at the insistence of the pilot. We will check the engine over and carry out some tests, but without a fault code logged, we won't be able to tell anything. Besides, we will be getting pressure from management to get the plane back in the air.

Barrett felt annoyed at the constant pressure from management to keep the planes flying. What would it take for them to cross a line and put hundreds of innocent lives at risk? He filled in his flight log and carried out his post-flight checks, tired after an intense four hours of nursing the engine and then having it return to normal just before landing, without any trace of the fault. He felt a growing unease and added his recommendations to the bottom of his log entry: Aircraft should be removed from service and carefully checked before next commercial flight.

Barrett made his way off the empty aircraft and into LAX terminal. The in-flight service crew were already busy preparing to board the aircraft in a frenzy of cleaning and restocking for its next flight in two hours, while Tony Barrett had a permanent room booked at a close by hotel and he was looking forward to a hot shower and two days break before piloting another A330 back to Sydney.

*~*~*~*

Final boarding call for all passengers on Qantas Flight, QF1156, Los Angeles to Sydney. Your aircraft is ready to leave, a booming voice echoed through the departure lounge of LAX.

Yvette took Chloe's hand. That's us. We will soon be on our way home.

Yvette’s demeanour was one of relief, although leaving their boarding for the last possible moment before the long flight home. After making their way through customs, immigration and all the terrorist checks, they finally boarded the aircraft, found their seats and buckled in. Yvette felt the tension draining from her neck and shoulders and in a matter of 16 hours travelling, they would be back home with the ones they loved so dearly.

*~*~*~*

Captain Colin Brund was a fresh-faced wonder boy who had taken Qantas training by storm. He was twenty-nine and a man earmarked for promotion within the company. His arrogant knowledge and understanding of the aircraft he flew was matched by none... just ask him! His fine features and athletic good looks made him a magnet for every flight attendant in Qantas. He had a lady in every port and his charismatic personality made sure he would be the focus and life of every party.

As Brund was scheduled to be the next pilot for the trip back to Sydney at the controls of the A330, Barrett had tried to engage him on his concerns with the misbehaving aircraft, but after reading the report from the LAMEs, Brund had just fobbed Barrett off.

It's all good, Tony. I've got it under control, Brund reposited, his eyes following the smile of an attractive new flight attendant who happened to walk past.

*~*~*~*

Yvette had quickly fallen into an exhausted sleep in her cramped little space halfway down the aircraft, while Chloe fidgeted in her seat by the window, next to her mother.

A kindly flight attendant smiled at Chloe and whispered to her, Would you like a colouring in book and pencils to play with?

Chloe jumped at the chance and soon she was busy colouring in.

The A330 was an attractive aircraft and even though it was cramped, it still offered a comfortable journey. Apart from a bump every now and then, the ride was smooth and you could easily forget you were flying so high above the ground.

*~*~*~*

Colin Brund was scheduled to make a radio call into the Hawaii Control Tower. They had been flying for four hours now and were almost directly overhead. As soon as he had made the required call, he intended to wander through and check out the new flight attendant and get her number.

Hawaii Control Tower, this is Qantas Flight, QF1156, en route from LA to Sydney, do you read, over?

Samu recognised the voice of Brund. He didn't care for this hotshot cowboy lady killer and he had made his feelings known when they had met at a party for aircraft pilots in Hawaii, nearly coming to blows.

This is Hawaii Control Tower, reading you loud and clear. Your air space is clear; no significant weather until you get within five hundred miles of the Australian coast; maintain current altitude, over.

Brund recognised the big Hawaiian and decided to play dumb. Thank you for your assistance, Hawaii Control. Qantas Flight, QF1156, over and out.

Samu watched the blimp on his radar screen slowly moving to the outer edges. Air traffic was unusually light today for the busy airport and that always made the shift drag. He silently made a gesture of raising a cup to his mouth to a nearby colleague across the room. The colleague nodded enthusiastically and Samu disappeared into the kitchen, and soon was back with two steaming, hot cups of strong coffee. As Samu repositioned himself at his desk, carefully juggling his hot coffee and concentrating on the overstretched capacity of his cup, he glanced down at the blimp of Brund’s plane still moving slowly across his radar screen. At the same time, he checked the neighbouring weather satellite screen and noticed the cloud near the Australian coast had started to break up. Brund would have clear skies all the way to Sydney.

*~*~*~*

Colin Brund unbuckled his shoulder sash, slapped his co-pilot on the shoulder and wriggled out of his seat. Take over, Tex. I'm going to check out the talent.

Tex knew Brund's reputation as a ladies' man. It seemed wherever he cast his net, he always brought in a fish, and while shaking his head in disbelief, he continued on with his job. The scene outside the cockpit windshield was blue and cloudless. A dream run. Indicators showed a slight tailwind and the A330 was humming along sweetly. They would land in Sydney ahead of time and if this kept up, they would collect a fuel-saving bonus in their pay. Tex fiddled with the ECAM to see how much fuel they were using and then he would calculate the fuel bonus, a nice little reward since he and his new wife had just bought a house on the bayside in Sydney.

As he was scrolling through the menu, it suddenly blinked and an amber caution and warning light flashed up, followed by a memo scrolling across the screen: Right-hand engine oil pressure has fallen 3 kPa. Monitor condition. No immediate action required. Tex felt his stomach muscles tense. He pressed the intercom to call the flight attendant station and shortly after, Jeanie appeared at the door.

Are you ready to eat, Tex? she asked.

Arr... no. Can you get Brund back in here immediately?

Jeanie could see the amber light and scrolling memo. Anything wrong, Tex?

No. Just get Brund back here.

A few minutes passed before Brund appeared at the cockpit door. I got it! he boasted, waving a piece of paper with a 10 digit phone number written across it.

Brund's face fell as he saw the amber caution light glowing and the memo scrolling across the screen. Right-hand engine oil pressure? Brund parroted worriedly, divulging his prior knowledge of the fault.

Tex just nodded. We're right in the middle of the Pacific, too, Tex added.

Brund swallowed hard and tried to give the illusion of calm. Okay, so we monitor it. Have you entered it into the flight log?

Yep, already done.

Just then, another memo started scrolling across the screen: Engine temperature has climbed two