Starfinder

CLOSER

FIONA BENT LOW OVER HER grandfather’s toolbox, careful not to bang her head in the small control room. A bank of levers covered the nearest wall, webbed with wires and steam conduits. Metal struts hung low across the ceiling—the airship’s exposed, riveted skeleton. Fiona rummaged through the wooden box, shunting aside spools of string and discarded hardware.

“Is this it?” she asked, pulling out a small, box-headed wrench. She placed the wrench in Rendor’s hand, who knew it instantly by touch.

“That’s it,” he replied, and the wrench disappeared beneath the console. With only his legs and torso exposed, he began tightening the newly repaired speaking tube.

Fiona sat back, eager to give the tube a try. She had worked on it with her grandfather the entire morning, first removing it, then hammering it back into shape, and now trying to maneuver it back into position. The metal tube rose up from under the console like a hooded cobra, its bendable joints shining and newly oiled. A tulip-shaped mouthpiece covered its other end. Underneath the console, Fiona could hear her grandfather tightening bolts. There wasn’t much she understood about the Avatar, but she was learning quickly.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Not yet.”

Fiona stifled a sigh. If she sounded bored, even a little, he might send her away. There were others who could better help her grandfather. Since recovering from his altitude sickness, he had spent nearly every waking hour with her. They ate together, made inspections of the Avatar, sat with the centaurs around their fires at night, and—on brief occasions—even talked.

Mostly, though, they made ready for war. Each day, scouts like Tyrin returned from the mountains with tales of fiery chariots and Redeemers hung with silver chains, of monsters called cloud horses and other, balloonlike beings the centaurs called “ogilorns.” These huge, bulbous jellyfish things were as big as the Avatar, Jorian claimed, and when he sketched one in the dirt for them, Fiona nearly fainted.

“Purple they are,” Jorian had said. “With hanging tentacles twice as long as the rest of them.”

Ogilorns were rare, Jorian had told them, from a part of the world no centaur had ever seen. No one knew why they did the Skylords’ bidding either, though the Chieftain took a guess.

“Slaves now,” he concluded. “Conquered like the dragons.”

Fiona thought hard about this as her grandfather finished with the speaking tube.

“Grandfather?”

“Yeah?”

“If an ogilorn is like a jellyfish, then a gun should be able to kill it, right? Like popping a balloon, right?”

“Hope so. Hang on now. Almost done…”

“What happens if the Avatar gets hit like that? Will it pop like a balloon?”

“You know what happens if an airship gets a hole in it?”

“What?”

“Not much. That’s why the envelope’s kept at low pressure. Slow leaks only. And the lifting gas is stored in different places. That’s all those bladders you see tucked between the stringers. When we’re done here I’ll show you.”

Fiona noticed the way her grandfather’s voice changed whenever he spoke about airships. She still didn’t have much interest in them—not like Moth, at least—but she loved how excited her grandfather sounded, like a little kid.

“What made you invent the airships?” she asked. “Why’d you want to fly so bad?”

He laughed. “What?”

“Was it your brother and the wings?”

Rendor pushed himself out from beneath the console. He sat up, frowning. “Did I tell you that story?”

“My mom did,” Fiona answered.

“Huh. I told that story to Moth before he was captured. Funny you should bring it up.”

“Whatever happened to Uncle Conrad?”

Her grandfather smiled sadly. “He died a long time ago, before your mother was born. Bastard never did make me those wings!”

Fiona tried to laugh. She wanted more from her grandfather, about her uncle, about everything, but every time she pushed, the old man made a joke. She flicked a fingernail against the speaking tube.

“Ready now?”

Rendor wiped his oily hands on his pants. “Run down to the bridge. Give it a try.”

Fiona crawled out of the control room, then hurried through the narrow corridor toward the bridge, squeezing past others on the way. The Avatar was a maze to her, but she managed to find the bridge simply by pointing her nose in the right direction. The space was empty, except for Commander Donnar, who busied himself with a bank of gauges and a note pad. The tarp that covered the broken bridge had been temporarily pulled away, revealing the sun-splashed village and its centaurs, most going about their daily routines, others gathered around Jorian, training for the coming battle. Donnar gave Fiona a cursory nod as she headed for the speaking tube near the navigation deck.

“Hello?” she said, putting her lips to the mouthpiece. “Can you hear me?”

After a moment came her grandfather’s reply.

“It works! I can hear you perfectly, Fiona! How do I sound?”

“Fine,” said Fiona. “A little echoey.”

“That’s normal. Keep talking. Tell me what you see.”

“Uhm…” Fiona looked out the open space where the glass windshield once had been. “I see the village. Jorian’s outside with his warriors. They’re charging each other, training for the fight.”

“Okay. That’s good, Fiona.”

“Oh, and I see young ones too,” Fiona noted. She smiled as she watched a team of little centaurs running along the field beside the older ones. “They’re kicking a ball. Huh.”

“What?”

“They’re just having a good time, is all.” Fiona couldn’t pull her eyes away. “It’s like they don’t even know about the trouble coming.”

There was a long pause at the other end of the tube. Fiona tapped the mouthpiece.

“Can you still hear me?”

“Yes.” The voice was softer now, cautious. “Are you alone on the bridge?”

Fiona glanced at Donnar. The grizzled commander overheard Rendor’s question. He nodded at Fiona, okaying her lie.

“Yes,” she told her grandfather.

“Move closer to the tube.”

Fiona put her face very close. “I am.”

Another pause, this one longer than the first. Fiona waited, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck here,” he said suddenly. “You shouldn’t be. I shouldn’t have taken you to Calio.” He took a shaking breath. “I’m sorry, Fiona. All right?”

Fiona swallowed. “Yes,” she answered. She put her ear against the tube and closed her eyes.

“When your mother died… you think I didn’t want you, but that’s not true. I just wanted to be Governor more. My ambition…” Rendor struggled with his words. “I was right about the Skylords though. You see that now, don’t you, Fiona?”

Fiona nodded. “I do.”

He answered with a sigh. Fiona looked at Donnar. The old commander tinkered with his gauges, pretending not to hear.

“Why are you telling me all this?” asked Fiona into the mouthpiece. “Why now?”

“Because you need to know it. You’ve always needed to know it. Now because…” He stopped himself. “Fiona, before, when you asked about the Avatar…”

“Uh-huh?”

“It wasn’t all true. If we pump the envelope too full…”

Donnar turned from his work, looking grimly at Fiona.

“Hidrenium changes when its over-pressured,” continued Rendor. “If it’s shocked by a charge, it explodes.”

“Huh?”

“It could make the Avatar a flying bomb.”

Fiona understood perfectly. “That’s crazy! You can’t—”

“Skyhigh can get you out of here in his dragonfly, Fiona. The Starfinder too. If it comes to that… I’ll do what I have to do.”

“Skyhigh’s gone! And what about you? What about the crew?” Fiona turned to Donnar, who was suddenly rushing toward the broken window. Outside she heard a commotion. “Hold on,” she told her grandfather.

All around the village the centaurs were staring skyward. Fiona went to Donnar’s side and leaned out over the bridge. A small winged creature hovered high over the village.

“A Redeemer!”

But before Fiona could rush back to the speaking tube, she heard another sound rushing forward, a loud, familiar clanging sound. She turned toward it, stunned to see a dragonfly. Out on the field, Jorian tilted his bow skyward.

“Wait!” cried Fiona. “That’s Skyhigh!”

Jorian heard her shout and held his glowing arrow. The Redeemer turned toward the speeding dragonfly. Rendor crashed onto the bridge.

“What’s happening?” he asked as he maneuvered for a look.

Fiona couldn’t answer. Jorian and his centaurs watched, astounded as Skyhigh’s dragonfly screamed overhead. Rendor pointed toward the mountains, toward another object, slower than the dragonfly but much, much larger.

“That’s a cloud horse,” said Donnar.

Fiona squinted for a better look. Something was riding the creature, barely visible through the sparkling mists. She knew the rider in an instant.

“Unbelievable…”