" The only consolation we have is that few of those will have active weapons either," Prometheus told them.
Palamedes looked over at Scathach. "When you say 'few...,'" she began.
"Some will be armed," Prometheus clarified.
"Incoming!" Saint-Germain yelled. "Two of them have launched missiles."
"Sit down and strap yourselves in," Prometheus commanded. The group scrambled to get into the seats behind him, and he added, "We're too slow to outrun them, and the smaller ones are infinitely more maneuverable."
"Is there good news?" Scathach demanded.
"I am the finest flier in Danu Talis," The Elder said.
Scathach smiled. "If anyone else said that I would think they were boasting. But not you,Uncle."
Prometheus glanced quickly at the Warrior. "How many times do I have to tell you-I'm not your uncle."
"Not yet,anyway," she muttered under her breath.
"Everyone strapped in?" Prometheus asked. Without waiting for an answer, he brought the triangular vimana straight up into the air, then flipped it back, so that the ground was directly overhead and the sky below them, before he leveled it off and the earth and sky resumed their normal positions.
"I'm going to throw up," Scatty muttered. "

― Michael Scott , The Warlock (The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel, #5)