Starfinder

MORNING PATROL

SKYHIGH SCANNED THE HORIZON as the warm sun of dawn struck the side of his face. He had taken flight less than twenty minutes ago, but already he was many miles away from the safety of the Avatar, streaking southward over hills and forests. He watched with awe as sunlight peeled back the darkness, marveling at the world it uncovered. Since the grounding of the Avatar, Skyhigh had made this same patrol a dozen times. So far, he’d seen a handful of Redeemers and some distant, flashing clouds that looked oddly like horses, but he hadn’t seen a single Skylord yet. They would come soon enough, he supposed, because Rendor was sure of it. But for now, for this one brief morning, they were safe.

Wind buffeted the dragonfly’s glass wings. Skyhigh fought the craft for control. She hadn’t flown the same since her fight with Alisaundra. Though Bottling and his crew had patched her up, she handled more like a donkey cart now than a precision machine. Still, her guns were working and she was airborne, and for that Skyhigh was grateful. In a day or two more the Avatar would be airworthy too, and they could finally get moving again. Skyhigh hoped Rendor would keep his promise and not leave the Reach, but there were men like Donnar onboard who wanted to head home—without Moth and Fiona.

Skyhigh leveled the craft and stretched his vision as far as he could. Twenty minutes south, in daylight hours only. Those were his orders, and as he watched the chronometer on his console tick down the seconds, he prayed he’d see nothing more than a bird up ahead. Once the Skylords came they’d be trapped. And once they were trapped, no one would be in the mood to search for the children. Skyhigh still didn’t know if Rendor wanted Fiona back or just the Starfinder, but it didn’t really matter. If they fled home to Calio, the kids would be doomed.

“Ten… nine… eight… seven…”

Finally the chronometer clicked down to zero. Relieved, Skyhigh banked the dragonfly westward, toward the rising sun.

“Sorry, Skylords,” he sang. “Not today!”

He could report a clear sky, at least for one more patrol. Skyhigh settled back, letting out the breath he’d been holding. He narrowed his eyes against the sunlight, estimated a flight time, and dialed up a new time on the chronometer. In less than an hour he’d be back at camp. He’d breakfast quick, catch a nap while the crew checked and fueled the dragonfly, then head back out for his late morning loop. If things stayed quiet…

A sudden mass eclipsed the sun, heading straight for the dragonfly.

“Holy…!”

Skyhigh jerked back the sticks, shooting the craft upward and back. The engine shrieked in the riptide of air. Up came the thing, racing toward him, the biggest, darkest Redeemer Skyhigh could imagine. He made to turn, but the creature was already on him, beating its gigantic wings as it hovered in midair. Skyhigh’s finger curled around the gun trigger. If he could just draw a bead…

The outline of the thing against the sun seemed wrong somehow. Finally, a great horned head shot fearlessly toward the tiny craft. Through the clouded glass blinked massive yellow eyes. A fanged mouth opened wide, revealing a reptilian tongue.

“Rendor!” roared the creature.

Skyhigh’s hand slipped from the trigger. It wasn’t a Redeemer’s voice that shook his craft, but a dragon’s. Its scaly face filled the canopy, frowning in annoyance at Skyhigh’s silence.

“Are you hard of hearing, human?” it bellowed. “Take me to Rendor!”