The Black Lung Captain (42 page)

'Don't worry,' said Malvery, who'd perked up a bit. 'Everythin' wil be back to normal before you know it. I'l get us some coffee.'

It was almost dawn when Frey flopped into his pilot seat, yawning. He'd managed a couple of hours of sleep before he was roused by Jez. Pinn and Malvery had returned from the bar, and Pinn looked together enough to fly. They probably should have left it til the morning, but Frey was worried they'd miss their opportunity if they did. They needed to get to Endurance as soon as possible.

Jez was already at her station. In the frosty lamplight, he could see Harkins running through pre-flight checks. The pilot had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, having slept in the cockpit of the Firecrow again. Pinn was clambering into his Skylance nearby.

'Plot us a course for Endurance,' Frey said over his shoulder.

'Did it three hours ago, Cap'n,' she replied.

'Why aren't I surprised?' He stretched and tried to shake off the fuzz of sleep. 'Hey, Jez, you've been hanging about with Silo, right? How's the engine?'

'Holding together. He stil needs those parts, you know.'

'Yeah,' said Frey. 'Maybe one day we'l have the money to buy them and the luxury of staying in one place long enough to get them ordered in.'

'We can dream, Cap'n.'

Frey smiled to himself. He'd missed their little interchanges. The cockpit had seemed cold and holow without them. Maybe there was stil the sense that they were trying a little too hard, but that would fade. They'd broken through the barrier. The tension between them was gone.

He felt positive, for the first time in quite a while. Squaring things up with Jez had given him a sense of achievement. One problem fixed. And now they had a solid lead on Grist. At last, something to chase. He was starting to think that things were turning around.

He watched as Pinn settled into his cockpit and flooded the aerium tanks. The Skylance rose gently into the air. Malvery shambled through the doorway of the cockpit and stood there, red-eyed.

'Good work getting him back in one piece,' said Frey. 'I thought you'd be out of it by now.'

'Too much coffee,' Malvery said.

'Malvery, meet our new navigator, Jez,' he said. 'She's part Mane, you know. Don't hold it against her.'

Malvery caught the change in the air and played along. 'Pleased to meet you,' he said. 'I'm Malvery. Resident alcoholic.'

Jez grinned. 'It's an honour to travel in such esteemed company.'

'It is, isn't it?' Malvery said. 'Now, you'd better excuse me. Think I need some grog to take the edge off that coffee.'

Frey was peering through the windglass at the Skylance as it rose. 'You think he might be too drunk to fly?' he asked Malvery idly, as the doctor headed out of the cockpit. 'Maybe we should've waited til—'

He was interrupted by a flash of light and a deafening boom, loud enough to cause Malvery to fal over. Frey cringed back in his seat, blinking rapidly, dazzled.

When his vision had cleared, the Skylance was gone.

He snatched up his earcuff and clipped it on. 'Pinn!' he said. 'Pinn, what happened?' But the only reply was Harkins' incoherent gibber. The sudden noise had turned him to jely.

'Calm down, Harkins!' he snapped. 'What happened? Did you see? Where's Pinn?'

'He . . . ah . . . uuhhh . . . I . . .'

Useless. Frey turned around in his seat. Malvery was just picking himself up off the floor. 'What just happened?'

'Afterburners,' said Jez. 'Pinn hit his afterburners and flew off. You know that craft is rigged for speed.'

'Hit them by accident?'

'I don't think so, Cap'n.'

'But he doesn't know how to get where we're going!'

There was silence for a moment. Realisation dawned on Frey. 'He's not coming, is he?'

'I don't ... I don't reckon he is,' said Malvery. The doctor was ashen-faced. Perhaps, like Frey, the thought that Pinn would ever leave them was beyond his comprehension. Pinn was too dim and unambitious, and besides, he had nowhere else to go.

They'd misjudged him. The young pilot could take any amount of abuse and mockery and laugh it off with good humour, but the news from his sweetheart had finaly proven too much.

No,
Frey thought to himself.
It's not that, and you know it. It's Trinica. It's because you brought Trinica on board. You knew he hated her, and you
ignored him.

Frey turned back to the controls, stony-faced. His good mood had withered and died. 'Give me a heading, Jez. I'm taking us up.'

'But what about Pinn?' Harkins wailed in his ear.

'Pinn's gone, Harkins,' said Frey. 'Forget him.'

Twenty-Eight

A Quiet Landing — Worrying Evidence —

An Urchin — Oldrew Sprine

Early morning, and the town of Endurance lurked beneath an anvil-grey sky. Powdery snow sifted down from the clouds, swirling in flurries, dusting the ground.

It was a mean, bare place, crammed into a fold in the mountains, surrounded by hard horizons of dark rock. Simple square buildings crowded in tight, huddled against the bitter north-eastern winds. A short way distant was a mineshaft: the reason for the town's existence. Gargantuan machinery - pumps and elevators and drils - surrounded the entrance. Railway tracks led in and out. Mine carts sat idle. A road led along the mountainside to a refinery at the edge of town. It was a black, sprawling mass of pipes and chimneys, squat and low, a malevolent presence overlooking the drab, slumped houses and joyless streets.

The landing pad was al but deserted, and nobody was around to guide the
Ketty Jay
in. Frey eyed the settlement as he descended. No sign of life. No activity at the mine. The refinery was dormant: no smoke came from its chimneys.

'It's quiet,' he muttered. He left a dramatic pause and then said:

'T—'

' Too
quiet?' Jez suggested.

'That was
my
line,' Frey said, miffed. He'd always wanted a chance to say it.

'Sorry, Cap'n,' said Jez. Judging by her grin, she wasn't.

He returned his attention to the town below. He didn't like this. Not at al.

'Wake up Malvery, wil you?' he said. 'And Silo. Tel them to bring shotguns.'

'What about Captain Dracken?'

He thought about that for a moment. 'Her too,' he said. He wasn't sure how useful she'd be, but she'd never agree to stay behind. 'You'l stay here, with Harkins.

Keep in touch with the earcuffs. I've a feeling we might need a quick getaway, and I'l need you to fly the
Ketty Jay
if we do.'

'Cap'n.' She made to leave, but Frey stopped her.

'Wait. Before you go, tel me what you think of those.' He pointed down at the landing pad, where three very unusual aircraft sat. Them, and no others.

'The two on the far side are a Keeley Skywave and a Modderich Grace,' she said. 'Serious luxury craft. And the other's a Tabington Claw. It's the workshop's flagship model, fighter transport, top of the line. It's either escort for the other two or it belongs to some folks who are a sight rougher than the owners of the luxury craft.'

'That's what I thought,' said Frey. 'Alright. Go and wake the others.'

He brought the
Ketty Jay
in and settled her down with a puff of snow. Harkins came sinking through the air to starboard. The pilot had hardly said a word since Pinn's surprise exit. Frey wondered if Harkins was missing their constant bickering. Pinn might have been a torment, but at least he paid attention to his felow outflyer.

Frey was trying not to think about what Pinn's departure would do to his crew. There was no doubt that Pinn was an idiot, but he was generaly an amusing one, and Frey had got used to having him around. Every group needed a scapegoat, and Pinn was the perfect candidate, being too stupid to realise when people were making fun of him. He'd been Malvery's only drinking buddy after Crake had left. Apart from that, he was a fine outflyer, and he'd taken his aircraft with him. After losing Bess and now Pinn, Frey was getting light on muscle.

Damn it! Why did he bolt now? Just when I'd got Jez back on the team.

He was unhappy with how the whole affair had played out. Unhappy with Pinn for leaving without a word. Unhappy with himself for letting it get to that point.

He'd always taken Pinn for granted, and now it had come back to bite him. It would be hard to replace him. There weren't many pilots that good who were wiling to work for next to nothing.

Wel, he'd deal with it as soon as he could. Maybe Malvery knew where Pinn's hometown was, and they could head over there and entice him back. But al that was for later. Right now, he had enough on his plate.

Stil, one thing was for sure. With Pinn gone, it was going to be a lot quieter round here.

He looked over his shoulder, checking the cockpit was empty.

'Too quiet,' he said aloud, then sank back into his seat with a satisfied smile.

'I heard that, Cap'n!' Jez caled from down the corridor.

They assembled outside the
Ketty Jay,
yawning and stamping their boots against the cold. Malvery was stil half-drunk, squinting like a newborn puppy in the feeble morning light. Frey adjusted his earcuff.

'You there, Jez?'

'I'm here,' came his navigator's disembodied voice. He looked up and raised a hand. From the cockpit, she raised one in reply.

They headed out into the empty streets of Endurance, their breath steaming in the morning air. Frey rubbed his hands to keep them warm. He wished he could have worn gloves, but gloves and pistol triggers didn't work wel together. Trinica stuck close to him. Silo and Malvery flanked them with shotguns.

The town was as silent and deserted as it had seemed from the air. Soft snow gathered in the crevices of worn stone wals. They peered suspiciously down aleys and kept a look out for movement on the rooftops, but the only movement came from the drifting flakes in the air, which settled on the furred fringes of their hoods and melted away.

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Frey was finding it hard to stay alert with Trinica next to him. He was worried about bringing her along. He didn't know if she could handle herself in combat, and the only time he'd ever seen her shoot was when she fired a pistol point-blank at his chest, back in Duke Grephen's stronghold the winter before last. But there was another reason, too. He didn't want her getting hurt.

They hadn't gone far from the landing pad when they turned a corner and came across a heap of loose scaffolding and rubble in the middle of the street. They approached it carefuly. Upon closer inspection, they saw pieces of broken furniture stuffed in there too. The fabric had been pierced by bulet holes.

'What's this look like to you?' Frey asked the company in general.

'It looks like a barricade,' Trinica replied.

Frey frowned. 'What's been going on here?'

There was a scuffle of movement to his left. Frey turned quickly; his arm snapped out straight, pistol leveled.

Staring at them from the mouth of an aleyway was a boy. Ragged, dirty, no more than thirteen. His eyes widened in fright, and he fled.

'Hey!' Frey cried, breaking into a sprint. He pelted towards the aleyway with Trinica and Silo in pursuit.

'Oh, damnation. Don't make me run!' Malvery complained, accelerating to a boozy waddle in their wake.

The wind whipped along the narrow spaces between the buildings, blowing the powdery snow ahead of it. Frey wiped his eyes, trying to catch sight of his target. There! A clatter of empty petrol containers, somewhere to his right. The boy had tripped over them.

'Hey! I'm not going to hurt you!' he yeled.
Unless I have to run my arse all over town to catch you, that is.

The boy could shed some light on things, perhaps. Like what had happened to the Century Knights. Like where everybody had gone. Like how to find Almore Roke, Grist's old crewmate.

Frey ran to the comer, and saw another aley, wider than the last, heading between the houses. The overturned petrol containers were stil roling on the stony, frosted ground. At the end was the boy, his mouth in an O, terrified. He was waiting to see if Frey had folowed him. When he saw the chase was on, he disappeared round the corner.

'Come back!' Frey caled, as he put on an extra burst of speed. 'I just want to talk!'

'Cap'n!' Silo was caling after him. 'Cap'n, wait!'

But Frey couldn't wait. Not if he was going to catch that boy. He rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. The boy was gone. In his place were six men crouched behind an overturned cart, their rifles leveled at him.

Ambush. Frey stared at them in shock.

'Bugger,' he said.

He felt his arm wrenched hard. Silo puled him sideways just as the rifles opened up. Bulets chipped at the wals and whined through the air. He was yanked back around the corner, out of the line of fire, where he tripped and fel to the ground.

'I seen less obvious traps in my time,' the Murthian said.

Frey ignored him. 'Oi!' he yeled at the gunmen, scrambling to his feet. 'What did I do to deserve
that?

'Darian!' Trinica caled. He looked to where she was pointing. Another six men had appeared at the other end of the aley, blocking them in. They had rifles too, aimed and ready to fire.

'Whoa! Whoa!' he shouted in alarm, holding up his hands. 'Don't shoot!' He looked around at his companions. 'Guns down, everyone. Let's not make the nice people nervous, eh?'

They laid their weapons on the ground, making no sudden moves. The men approached suspiciously. They were grubby, their faces seamed and lined, and they wore heavy, tatty clothes.

'They ain't mercs,' said one.

'Just 'cos they ain't wearin' the uniform, don't mean they ain't workin' for the company,' argued another.

The first man waved the barrel of his gun towards Trinica. 'Mercs don't use women, far as I know.' He raised his voice, caling to the men around the corner.

'It's alright! We got 'em!'

Frey saw the six men who'd fired on him come swaggering round the corner. 'Anything I can do?' Jez said in his ear. She'd been listening on the
Ketty Jay.