Seek out the Overworked Commodore

edit

Looking up You find him stood atop a cliff, overlooking the island's feasts and fires. "Flight Captain. It's the d___edest thing," he says by way of greeting. "But I keep thinking about the view." His eyes are unfocused, his head tilted up. Not this view. The Overworked Commodore, through dire necessity, led the final offensive against the Starved weapon in the Roof. "The Neath from above – not a sight many have seen. The things we found up there..."

He clears his throat. "The entire Admiralty owes you its thanks for your aid. Without the First of the Last, the offensive would have been in dire straits."

And how is he faring, returned to the Admiralty's preferred and watery turf?

A chuckle. "My zee-legs took a while to return. But I am well enough." He looks once more to the false-stars. "I've been wondering if we shouldn't form some sort of air force. Subordinate to the Admiralty, of course. I am composing a great many letters to the Dark-Spectacled Admiral..."