Starfinder

THE DECOY

SKYHIGH EASED BACK ON the sticks of his dragonfly, bringing the craft level with the horizon. Now that the sun was down, there was only moonlight to guide him. He watched the distant mountains, guiding the dragonfly into another long, lazy turn. The whine of the engine and the beating of glass wings shattered the peace of the forest below. Somewhere behind him floated the Avatar. The moon and stars shone down through the dragonfly’s canopy, projecting a wavy reflection of Skyhigh’s smiling face.

It felt good to be in the air again, away from the crowded Avatar. Since breaking through the Reach they’d been running low and slow, leaning over observation platforms to locate Moth and Fiona. So far, they’d found nothing.

Except for the mermaids.

Skyhigh nearly fell overboard when he saw them.

At first the mermaids had stared back up at them, amazed and horrified by the airship’s arrival. Skyhigh and his crewmates had crowded the rails, waving and hooting at the beautiful creatures until the mermaids dived away, disappearing into their shining green lagoon.

After that, the day fell into tedium. Commander Donnar paced the deck while the Avatar crawled through the sky. Rendor kept to his quarters, not appearing until the sun went down. As the Avatar floated stationary above the ground, Skyhigh took his dragonfly for his first patrol.

No one had ordered him to be quiet or subtle. Both those things were impossible for a dragonfly anyway. He fired up the engine, looked out into the dark void, then rocketed from the Avatar’s hangar. He felt the moonlight on his face, the thick air of the forest rising against his wings, and the glorious sense of freedom he only got when flying.

For almost an hour the sky remained perfect. Each time Skyhigh wheeled the craft around for another orbit he saw the Avatar’s yellow beacon flashing in the distance. He wasn’t sure why he was on patrol or what Rendor expected him to find, but the dragonfly’s guns were loaded. Skyhigh’s mind drifted as he flew over the moonlit forest. The engine sang to him like a lullaby.

Completing his turn, he spotted the Avatar’s beacon. He leveled the wings, pointed the craft for another orbit, then noticed its position in the sky. The darkness made it hard to be certain, but the airship seemed lower to him now.

His first thought was that the Avatar was in trouble. He throttled up the power just as something struck the canopy. Instantly the glass spider-webbed.

“Great,” he fumed, jerking the ship to the right, away from whatever had hit him. Probably a bird, he supposed. The canopy shook, threatening to shatter. Skyhigh settled the ship by reducing power. Just as he got it back under control, another blow came.

“Hey!”

The dragonfly lurched left on a damaged wing. Skyhigh glanced for a look, but the wings were still moving too quickly to see. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the sticks, but when he saw the black form sweep across the moonlight he knew he hadn’t hit a bird.

The thing flashed by too quickly to describe. Its batlike wings swooped down toward the dragonfly. Skyhigh banked into a corkscrew. Through the twisting, broken canopy he could see the yellow beacon still descending.

“What are they doing?” he cried, slamming the dragonfly upright again. From somewhere behind him the thing caught up, pounding on the fuselage.

“That’s it!” spat Skyhigh. He jerked back the gun lever and hooked it around his finger. “You’re a fighter? Then let’s fight!”

He pushed in the throttle, jerked back the sticks, and rolled the dragonfly into a loop. As the craft screamed out of its roll, he squinted through the canopy. When a hint of wing caught the moonlight, Skyhigh squeezed the trigger.

A rat-a-tat of bullets sailed across the sky. The bat-thing dove and weaved. It raced headlong for Skyhigh, crashing again against his ship. The canopy shattered. A storm of glass and rushing wind pounded Skyhigh’s helmet. His dragonfly plummeted.

Skyhigh didn’t shout or panic. His hands worked the sticks, his feet pumped the pedals. The broken wings of his craft strained to bite the air. Wind pulled tears from his eyes as the ground rushed toward him. He listened to the whine of his engine and the telltale wail of his wings, while he was wrestling the controls. Slowly at first, the spin corrected. As the wind got under the craft again, the dragonfly’s nose started to lift. Skyhigh held his breath when he saw the trees.

“Hurry,” he whispered. “Now now now…”

He rammed the sticks back hard, willing the dragonfly skyward. The tallest of the trees scraped the bottom of the craft as it tore overhead, splintering branches. Skyhigh punched the throttle one more time. He was still a good way from the Avatar, but when he sighted her again she was already grounded, settled in a clearing. Men swarmed out of her hull.

“Rendor…”

The dragonfly screamed over the treetops. A minute passed, then another. The trees thinned out below him; Skyhigh had the clearing in sight. The Avatar’s beacon grew brighter and brighter, calling him home.

“Come on,” he told his broken craft. “Just hold together…”

Too late, he saw a glimmer of the thing barreling toward him. Too late, he tried to turn. Another crash, another broken wing, and the dragonfly was falling.

“No!”

Skyhigh held the nose as level as he could, bracing himself for the crash. Pilots died in crashes. Friends died.

“Not me, boys,” he yelled. “Not me!”

He cleared the trees, streaking down like a meteor. Up ahead he saw the Avatar. Grass and rocks rushed past him. He pumped the pedals, twisting what was left of the wings to catch the wind and bleed off speed.

He’d crashed before, he told himself.

Just let me walk away from it. Just let me walk away…

It was the last thought he had as he buried the dragonfly in the dirt.

He was only unconscious for a moment. When he opened his eyes, the engine was screaming. Stubs of glass wings beat the empty air. He saw blood on the console, then tasted it on his lips. Breathing through his broken nose felt like fire in his nostrils.

“Fire…”

He had to get out of the dragonfly. He found his wits, tore off his helmet, and somehow managed to free himself from the cockpit. As he staggered from the vessel, he remembered that what happened wasn’t just an accident—something had attacked him.

He drew his dagger and ran for the Avatar.

“Hey!” he shouted. “I’m here!”

A whoosh of air swept overhead. Skyhigh didn’t look up, and he didn’t look back. He simply ran as fast as he could, shouting, hoping someone would hear him.

“Here! I’m here!”

Behind him, the bat-thing dropped from the sky. Skyhigh heard its footfalls shuffling nearer. He scrambled toward the Avatar, saw figures stirring in dark hiding spots, then heard the unmistakable voice of Rendor.

“Now!”

A tidal wave of light seared Skyhigh’s eyes. An inhuman screech echoed behind him. A gunshot fired amid the shouts. Blinded, Skyhigh turned his face away, stumbling over. He hit the ground, then felt hands grabbing him up again. He opened his eyes to yellow spots and the blurred sight of crewmen swarming the clearing. Ahead of him, something was fighting to free itself from a tangle of nets and ropes.

“Get off me!” roared Skyhigh, shaking off the crewmen. He couldn’t even see their faces. As they fought to drag him back to the Avatar, Skyhigh heard Rendor again.

“Let him go.”

At once the men backed off. Slowly, Skyhigh’s vision began to clear. Rendor was smiling. Behind him, the captured creature wailed and cursed.

“You all right?”

Skyhigh was breathing too hard to answer. He nodded, pointing at the thing. “What is that?”

“Well done,” said Rendor. “That was excellent work. Just excellent!”

“What?” sputtered Skyhigh. “You mean you sent me out here to lure that thing?”

The thing’s violent cries made it impossible for Rendor to answer. From out of his coat he pulled a hidden pistol. He strode over to the tangled creature, kicked it onto its back, and put the weapon to its head.

“Quiet!”

The fanged mouth snapped shut. The thing rolled its eyes nervously toward the gun. Skyhigh strained for a better look. A mass of yellow hair sprouted from the creature’s head. Two veiny wings folded against its back, protruding from its dark robes. Around its waist hung a fat silver chain. Rendor squatted down beside it and cocked the hammer of his pistol.

“I can put you out of your misery, monster,” he said. “Or you can help me. You have three seconds. Decide.”