Deryn

I don't know where I am when the alarms start. I'd just run off aimlessly, trying to escape Alek and my own wordless admissions. But when I hear the signal for an attack, I reach the deck in record time. Something to do, finally, something to get my mind off the mess my life has become.

The captain's waiting for me. "Mr. Sharp, we need you to do recon work. Are you able?"

"I'm able," I reply swiftly.

"But her arm-" I jerk at the voice. Alek has found his way up here, it seems.

"Injured or not, Mr. Sharp is still the best airman we have to spare," Captain Hobbes replies coolly. I nod, before Alek starts a mutiny, and walk over to where the crewmen are already securing a Huxley to one of the many mooring spots. Alek follows me anxiously.

"Can I help?"

I sigh. "The bumrags on watch last time didn't even see the fire spitters till I was falling. Be my lookout, and wave like mad if you see any nasties coming.

"But," he begins desperately, looking rather out of his depth, "I don't..."

I put my hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes. "I trust you," I say quietly. That shuts him up, as I intended. I clamber into the harness, reaching up to brush my human fingers against the Huxley's gasbag. "Hey beastie," I whisper. "You and I are going to go on a little trip, and neither of us is going to come back crispy. I hope."

I ascend swiftly, and soon I'm bobbing at the end of my tether. Looking down, I gulp, finding a whole new meaning in the phrase 'a dead long drop'. This is my first time flying since my accident. It's a bit nerve-wracking.

Middies aren't afraid of heights, I tell myself. But another voice chimes in: I'm not afraid of heights. I'm afraid of falling.

"Aye well, I suppose we all are. The trick is not letting go." It's not until after I answer that I realize I spoke out loud. I can't hold back a giggle. What a picture I make - a half cracked lassie sitting in the air gabbing to herself. This won't do.

Reasserting myself, I look around. There are the German planes, three at port, one at starboard. I signal this information down, then squint at the starboard plane, looking for the distinctive shape of a fire spitter. It's no use - I haven't got a good angle. Then I remember and look down. Alek is following his orders and indeed waving like a madman. I smile and reach up to spook the Huxley. In a cloud of hydrogen, I reach the deck and step off, relishing the feeling of moving through the air. I'd missed this.

"What's it like to fly again?" Alek asks.

I grin. "Brilliant."