The Black Lung Captain (63 page)

'
Come on!
' Grist howled. '
You ain't even tryin'!
'

Frey stared, appaled by his courage. Grist was surrounded by pieces of dead Manes, a butcher in a slaughterhouse, bleeding from dozens of wounds. He was visibly weakening, but he stil kept his feet. No matter how they fought, they couldn't bring him down.

In the end, it was his own blood that did it. He slipped on the slick floor, and disappeared beneath the tide. This time, he didn't come up again.

They savaged him as he struggled on the floor. They plucked out his eyes and tore out his tongue. They ripped his bely open and puled his innards from them in great loops. They gnawed his hands while he stil thrashed, peeled muscle from bone,
shredded
him.

Frey had never heard screaming like it.

Then, at last, it was over. As much as Frey had hated Grist, he was glad when they were done, and silence returned. As if at a signal, the Manes began to retreat, melting away into the depths of the craft. What was left of Harvin Grist was scarcely recognisable as human, a bag of red and broken bones connected by strips of sinew.

Malvery cleared his throat. 'In my professional opinion,' he said, 'that feler is dead.'

Jez, who'd stood apart from the fighting, walked up to Frey. ~
The sphere is deactivated. The vortex is closing. You must move with haste ~

'What about Jez? You ain't keeping her!' Malvery said.

~ We do not hold her captive. She has chosen her path ~

'Oh, aye? And what path is that?'

~ She was given the Invitation. She refused ~

'I didn't know you could
refuse
,' Frey said. 'Of course she refused, then! Why wouldn't she?'

~ Few do. You cannot understand the choice she has made ~

Frey wasn't going to argue about it. But the creature before him was stil not Jez, his navigator. 'Then what is she, if she's not one of you?'

~ A half-Mane ~

'Wasn't she one already?'

~ It is different now. She has accepted her Mane side, as we have accepted her humanity. She no longer resists us. In time, she will learn to control
those aspects of us that she bears, or find others to teach her ~

'There are others?'

~ Some are agents of our cause in the world beyond the Wrack. Others tread their own way. One day our kind and yours will meet, in war or peace.

On that day, there may be need of those who can bridge the gap between us ~

Frey was too tired and numb to take it al in. It was al too much for him right now. He just wanted to go. He wanted to take his crew and Trinica and leave as fast as he bloody wel could.

~ She chose you over us, Captain. That is a rare honour indeed ~

Then a shadow passed from her, some dark alter ego departing, and she sagged and staggered. When she raised her head, the feral look was gone from her.

The shift in her aspect was subtle but unmistakable. She was back. She pushed some loose hair away from her forehead and gave them a wan smile.

Malvery thundered over to her and swept her up in a bear hug, planting a huge kiss on her cheek. Silo came next, and laid his hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met, and a certain understanding passed between them, something that Frey had no knowledge of. But whatever it was, the half-Mane navigator and the silent Murthian shared something in that moment. Unless Frey was mistaken, Silo was proud of her.

Frey joined them, and hugged her too. She was the smalest on his crew, but sometimes she was tougher than al of them. To have her back, to be
chosen
by her, filed him with a nameless gladness. She was precious, like al of his crew, and it was only then that he truly realised what a loss it would have been if she'd left them.

Jez laughed as she pushed him away. 'Give a girl some space, you bunch of lunks!' she said. 'We don't have time for al this. That big hole in the sky isn't going to be there too much longer, and I for one am not staying. So anyone who doesn't want to spend the rest of their lives stuck at the North Pole . . .
run for it!'

By the time they came up on the deck, the dreadnought was detaching itself and puling away from the
Storm Dog.
Other dreadnoughts were in the sky, droning out of the grey mist, shadows that took on shape and detail as they approached. Returning combatants from Sakkan, some smoking from wounds in their huls.

Frey and the others sprinted back to the
Ketty Jay.
The crew fanned out to their posts, fired by their captain's urgency. Frey put Jez in the pilot's seat.

'Get us out of here!'

Jez didn't need any further invitation. She released the magnetic clamps and had the
Ketty Jay
airborne in moments. It was only when she lit the thrusters that Frey realised something was badly wrong.

'Silo!' he caled. He pushed past Trinica and Crake, who were just arriving in the cockpit, and headed down the corridor towards the engine room. He stuck his head through the open door. 'What's that noise?'

'Engines are iced, Cap'n,' came the reply. The
Ketty Jay's
engine room was like a miniature version of the
Storm Dog's.
Silo, as usual, was invisible, lost somewhere in the walkways. 'She can't take these temperatures. There's cracks in the tanks.'

'Hold her together! Just til we get out!'

Silo didn't bother to reply to that. Frey returned to the cockpit, listening anxiously to the clattering noise coming from the thrusters. Trinica and Crake hovered about. They could do nothing to help.

'She sounds bad, Cap'n,' said Jez, whose mental clarity had apparently returned. She seemed no worse for her experience. In fact, she seemed considerably better.

'Don't push the thrusters if you can help it,' he told her.

Til do what I can.'

The
Ketty Jay
moved away from the
Storm Dog,
leaving her hanging in the sky, empty and abandoned. In another time and another place, Frey would have cheerfuly stolen her. But al he wanted now was to get to safety in one piece.

The bleak world of ice and the strange city in the distance were lost to sight, as Jez turned the craft away and took them into the deeper mist. They slipped past the dreadnoughts that were gliding in the other direction. Later, maybe, he'd think about the things he'd seen here, and marvel at the day's events. For now, he was too preoccupied.

Trinica was watching him. Her mind was a mystery, as it ever was. He'd known better than to expect gratitude, but it stil rankled that he'd had no word of thanks from her. No words at al, in fact. He'd risked his life and the lives of his crew to come here and get her. They might yet al die on her account. Wasn't that worth a little praise?

Instead, she studied him as if he was some new and mildly fascinating thing she'd never noticed before. Her attention made him slightly uncomfortable.

You stabbed me in the back and I saved your life in return. I'm better than you. Live with that.

He was conscious of an awkward pressure against his ribs. Irritably, he opened his coat and puled the roled-up sheaf of papers from his inside pocket. Since Crake was nearby, he held them out to him.

'What's this?' Crake asked.

'Grist's father's research. Apparently it's compeling evidence that the Awakeners have been using daemonism to create Imperators.'

'They've
what?
Crake exclaimed. He snatched them from his grasp. 'Give me that!'

'Yeah, didn't I mention it? When you were away we went to Bestwark University, and we met—'

'No, you bloody wel did
not
mention it!' Crake began leafing through the papers excitedly, their predicament suddenly forgotten.

'To tel you the truth, I sort of forgot about it til I was in Grist's cabin. Didn't seem al that important.'

Crake stared at him, aghast. 'Do you know what this
means?
he asked, brandishing the folio.

'Reckon so. If it got into the Archduke's hands, it could help bring down the Awakeners, or something,' he said offhandedly. He didn't much care whether the Awakeners were around or not, but Crake certainly did.

'Spit and blood! This is incredible!'

'Yeah, wel, enjoy it,' said Frey, listening to the labouring thrusters. 'It won't be so incredible if the prothane engine doesn't hold out.'

The mist closed in around them, and the wind began to pick up fast. The
Ketty Jay
started to shake and rattle. Jez stared out into the gloom. What she was seeing, Frey couldn't tel. The route back was invisible to him, but she seemed to know exactly where she was heading. She twitched the flight stick, banked and dived. Frey steadied himself against the navigator's desk. It was going to be rough.

The wind buffeted them as they flew further in, and Jez was forced to manoeuvre more and more.There was a screeching noise coming from the port thruster.

Frey bit his lip and hoped. If the thrusters failed now, they'd be tossed about in the tempest until they came apart.

If only he'd had the time and money to get the parts Silo had been asking for. If only he didn't live this hand-to-mouth, breadline existence. If they died today, it would be his mediocrity that was to blame.

You can do it, girl,
he thought, addressing his aircraft.
Hang on.

The
Ketty Jay
bucked and surged as she fought through the storm.

Lightning flickered in the clouds. Frey felt useless. He wanted to be doing something, but there was nothing he could do. Having given up his seat as pilot, he was just a passenger. He watched Jez, or gazed out at the mist, or listened to the disturbing sounds coming from the engine. Mostly, he wiled the aircraft to stay together, and tried to keep his balance as they were jostled around. There were safer places to be while the
Ketty Jay
was fighting through such savage turbulence, but no one would leave the cockpit.

Time ticked by. Moment after agonising moment. Frey lost track of it altogether.

'Not far now,' Jez said.

Frey exchanged a cautiously optimistic look with Crake. Crake, who was clutching the papers tight in one hand and steadying himself with his other, gave him a brave smile. Maybe they'd make it after al.

Then the thrusters coughed and hacked and, with a final bang, the engine blew out.

No.

Frey felt himself go cold. The world seemed deadened, the silence profound. The injustice was like a blade under the breastbone. To have got so close. So close, and to fal at the final hurdle.

No.

Outside was the endless, empty grey. They drifted, somewhere in the vague, strange space between the Wrack and Sakkan.

No.

Then the wind hit them, and this time there was no way to ride it. The
Ketty Jay
was flung hard, throwing Frey off his feet. He crashed into Trinica and they went down together, sliding along the floor to fetch up against a bank of instruments. Crake was thrown against the navigator's station. He cracked his head on the side of the desk and fel senseless to the floor, papers scattering al around him.

Jez stabbed at the ignition franticaly. The thrusters didn't respond. Frey tried to get to his feet, but the
Ketty Jay
plunged, and he was lifted from the floor and slammed down hard. Jez wrestled with the controls, but her efforts were futile.

Everything was futile.

They were shaken like a rag in a dog's mouth. Without thrust, they had no control. Everything not fixed down went flying about the cockpit. There was the squeal of tearing metal from the corridor. The jolts came fast and from al directions, making it impossible to find their feet. Something snapped and crashed down in the cargo hold. The windglass cracked.

The craft was breaking up. And there was nothing any of them could do about it.

Frey crawled across the floor towards Trinica. One of her black contact lenses had falen out in the chaos, revealing the green eye he knew. That eye was the one he focused on. The eye of the woman he'd loved. There was the woman he'd risked it al to save. And she was scared; he could see it. Frightened of the end.

She didn't want it to be over.

He reached out a hand to her. She snatched it and clutched it hard.

Her hand in his. He could think of worse ways to die.

At least he'd tried, he thought. It was reckless, headstrong and stupid, but it was real and it was worth it. With a little more luck, he'd have made a story that every freebooter, raconteur and drunk would have told for a decade. The man who went into the Wrack, rescued the dread pirate Dracken, and came back to tel the tale. They'd al know the name of the
Ketty Jay
then. If he never did anything else, at least he'd have done that, and made a tale worth teling of his life.

He just needed a little more luck. But everyone's luck ran out sometime.

'Cap'n!' Jez cried. 'Cap'n, look!'

The tone of her voice drove him to his feet. He puled Trinica up with him, and they staggered a few steps to clutch the back of Jez's seat.

Bleary lights in the mist.
Electric
lights, and a huge shadow behind them. Another dreadnought? No, dreadnoughts flew without lights. Then what?

'It's the
Delirium Trigger
!' said Jez, an amazed smile breaking out over her face. 'It's the bloody
Delirium Trigger!'

And it was. Vast, ugly, brutal, looming from the cloud. The wind couldn't threaten a frigate of her size. Thick snakes uncoiled from her shadowy decks and slammed into the hul of the
Ketty Jay.
Magnetic grapples, clamping on. The lines went taut, and the
Ketty Jay
began to move through the storm, hauled inexorably forward by the
Delirium Trigger's
massive engines. They were puled towards the mouth of the vortex, and the safety of the world they knew.

Frey couldn't believe it. It didn't seem possible. Jez was cheering in her seat, but he just stared, gaping, unable to credit their reprieve.