The Black Lung Captain (41 page)

But a captain should lead by example. He couldn't ignore it any longer. He needed to clear the air.

You always let things fester.
Wel, not this time.

He took a steady breath and began to walk towards Jez. Trinica stayed where she was. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at her.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry,' he said. 'Sorry as al damnation for the way it turned out.'

Trinica gave him a forlorn smile. 'Me, too,' she said.

Jez heard the Cap'n coming, but she didn't turn to look. Only when it became clear that he wanted to talk to her did she stop hacking at the ice. But she stil didn't meet his eyes. She was angry. She'd been angry for days now.

How easily they turned on her. How many times had she saved their lives? Who among them could claim to be half as useful as she was? She didn't gripe like Pinn or slob around like Malvery. She didn't fal apart like Harkins or desert them like Crake. She deserved her place more than anyone on board.

But none of that counted, because she was a Mane.

At first, she'd been ashamed. Ashamed of her condition, ashamed that they'd seen the bestial side of her that she'd hoped to hide for ever. Ashamed that she'd kept the secret from them. She'd skulked about the
Ketty Jay,
keeping herself to herself. Her only confidant was Silo. When she wasn't in her quarters or about her duties, she was in the engine room. They didn't speak often, but she was content just to be there, to help out where she could. Silo understood.

But shame only lasted so long, and then it began to sour. With even uneasy greeting in the corridor, every hour passed in silence in the cockpit with the captain, her bitterness grew. She was sick of being sorry. She found it pathetic that the crew were al pretending that nothing had happened, and yet they couldn't look her in the eye.

Nobody made any move, whether to make peace or to kick her off the
Ketty Jay.
She waited even day for the axe to fal, but eventualy it became apparent that no one was holding it.

Now, as the Cap'n stood next to her, she wondered if the time had finaly come.

'Jez?' he said. 'Can we talk?'

She shrugged with an insulting lack of respect. 'Whatever you want.'

'And you can cut out the attitude, Jez, or we're never going to get anywhere.'

He wasn't usualy so assertive. It surprised her, but not enough to make her drop the hostility in her tone. 'Where exactly are you trying to get to, Cap'n?' she asked.

He glared at her for a moment, then snorted. 'Forget it,' he said. 'This isn't worth it. Bad idea.'

He turned and began to stalk away from her. But that brief exchange had fired her up. Al the pressure in her had just been given a vent. The Cap'n wanted to talk? Wel, she'd talk.

'Cap'n!' she snapped.

He stopped and turned around. 'You got something to say?'

'Yeah, Cap'n, I do,' she said. 'I want to tel you I'm rot-damned tired of the way I'm being treated on board this aircraft. I'm tired of being a ghost to al you men just because you're too chickenshit to deal with your feelings. There's a sight too many secrets on the
Ketty Jay.
A little more conversation and a little less ducking the bloody issue would do us al a lot of good.'

She threw the hammer and chisel on the ground and spat after it. Felt good. Felt good to go past the point of caring what the consequences were. She strode up to the Cap'n. She was shorter than him, but so what? It was time he heard how it was.

'I got caught by a Mane,' she said. 'Didn't turn me al the way, but it turned me enough. I'm part Mane, but I'm
still human.
I think like I used to, and I feel like I used to. And I might add that my being a Mane accounts for my frankly phenomenal navigational skils, without which you'd be long dead and your precious craft would be a heap of slag.' She threw her hood back and glared up at him furiously. 'Do you get it, Cap'n? I'm part Mane. You deal with that or you kick me off, but I'm not living like this any more.'

Her words rang out into silence, swalowed by the cold wind that blew through the town. Frey's face was stony and grim.

'What happened on the
All Our Yesterdays
?' he asked.

'I don't know.'

'What if it happens again?'

'I don't know. I can't promise I won't.'

'I have a crew to think about,' he said.

'Yes!' she cried. 'And I'm part of it!' She paced away from him, smoothed her hair back, reded her ponytail. Something she did when she was anxious or upset.

'I'm in trouble, Cap'n,' she said. 'I'm turning. Into what, I don't know. How long it'l take, I don't know. Maybe I'l beat it. Maybe it's unstoppable. But I'm scared.

I'm scared I'l lose my mind. And the only person who might have explained any of it to me was Crake, and now he's gone! Because of another damn secret that he couldn't share.'

'I don't think you'l lose your mind,' said Frey.

Her tone made it clear what she thought of his knowledge on the subject. 'You don't? Why not?'

'Because this professor guy told me so. He said the daemon was more like . . . like a sin-boat.'

'Symbiote,' she corrected automaticaly.

'Yeah, that. And it doesn't take you over or control you or anything. It just . . . wel . . . kind of helps you out, I suppose. That and it makes you look like shit.'

She stared at him, aghast. 'You spoke to that professor a
month
ago!'

Frey looked like he wished he hadn't opened his mouth.

'And you didn't
tell
me?' she yeled.

'Things were . . . weird between us,' he mumbled. 'Wasn't sure how to.'

'The way you just did would have been fine!' She slapped the landing strut in frustration. "Spit and pus, Cap'n! You know what it would have meant to me? To know that?'

'Sorry,' Frey said sheepishly.

She put her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved with each breath.

'Are you crying?' Frey asked.

'I'm trying to calm down so I don't kil you,' she replied through her fingers.

'Oh.'

She took her hands away, shook her head, blew out a breath.
Under control, Jez. Keep it under control.

She put her hand on her hip and poked Frey in the chest with a finger. 'I'l tel you what,' she said. 'I'l give you a choice. I quit the
Ketty Jay.
Right here and now.'

Frey looked stricken. 'Wait, you're quitting?'

'Ah! Ah!' she said. 'I'm not done. It seems you have a vacancy for a navigator now. So I offer my services. I'm a navigator. You won't find any better. But I'm also part Mane, with al the things that entails.' She folded her arms and stared at him defiantly. 'Now I've told you, upfront. Either hire me, and we start again from scratch, or don't, and I'l leave right now. But no more of this pussyfoot bulshit.'

Frey stood there in the slowly freezing slush and regarded her thoughtfuly. It was impossible to tel what he was thinking. Nothing showed on his face, as if this was a game of Rake and he was considering his hand.

All or nothing. What's it to be?

Then he tutted, and looked up at the sky. 'Who am I kidding? We wouldn't last two days without you. You're the best damn navvie I've ever seen.'

'Because I'm part Mane,' she said. 'Because I can read the wind, and see in the dark. Because I just
know
where things are sometimes. Because I'm part Mane.

Say it.'

Frey nodded. 'Okay. Because you're part Mane. And whatever goes along with that. I get it.'

'So,' she said. 'Am I hired?'

Frey grinned. 'You're hired.'

'I want a bigger cut of the profits.'

'What?' Frey was appaled. Jez just stared at him, arms folded, until he threw up his hands.

'Fine! When there's profits to give you, you'l get your cut,' he said. 'If we ever make any.'

Jez felt a grin spreading across her own face. She felt lighter than air. There was a huge sense of release. This whole thing had been building up and building up.

Just talking about it made it better. Ironic, realy, that it had taken the most silent member of the crew to teach her that.

She held out her hand. 'Thank you, Cap'n. And sorry for keeping it from you. Me being a Mane and al. I won't let you down again.'

He clasped her hand and then, to her surprise, he puled her into a rough hug. 'Likewise,' he said.

The Happy Amputee was Raggen Crag's classiest bar, which wasn't saying much. It was a grubby, dingy room, lit by blackened bulbs, with tarnished metal fixtures and brass countertops. A broken-down band played on the stage. The locals drank hard liquor and talked in low voices.

Pinn sat at a table in a comer, sweeping a bleary and baleful glare across the room. He was drunk. Mean, stinking drunk. In one meaty hand was the ferrotype of his sweetheart that usualy hung from the dash of his Skylance. Malvery sat next to him. hovering on the edge of coma, his eyelids drooping. His round, green glasses sat askew on his nose. Every so often, his head would dip towards the table, and then he'd startle awake briefly before sliding into unconsciousness once again. Several bottles of grog were clustered on the table in front of them.

'Look at 'em,' Pinn snarled.

'Mmf?' Malvery inquired.

'Them!' he said, motioning with his chin. 'The Cap'n and his whore.'

Malvery blinked and tried to focus. Near the bar, Frey and Trinica were deep in conversation with two local men. Tough-looking, ugly sorts.

'Leave 'em alone.' Malvery mumbled. 'Cap'n knows what he's doin'.'

Pinn scowled and took another swig of grog. The Cap'n definitely
didn't
know what he was doing. Paling around with that slut. Oh, she might have cleaned off that ghoul mask that she wore, but Pinn wasn't fooled. She was stil a woman. Treacherous as quicksand. Not that Pinn had ever been near quicksand, but he'd definitely heard it was treacherous.

Bewitched, that was what the Cap'n was. What else could it be? What else could explain it? This past month, you hardly ever saw them apart. The Cap'n was al spry as a lark while everyone else sloped around feeling rotten. What was it between them, anyway? Pinn had thought the Cap'n hated her. Pinn had thought they were enemies. Why ask her along?

Al Pinn knew was that Trinica had robbed them blind. Twice! Having that bitch on board was rubbing it in everyone's faces. He'd have been rich if not for her.

Maybe then he'd have gone back to Lisinda. Maybe then she wouldn't have sent him a letter teling him she was marrying some other man.

He stared at the ferrotype in his hand. Those eyes, that had once gazed at him so adoringly. Even now, they might be gazing that way at someone else. He ground his back teeth together at the thought.

Every day since he'd received that letter had been a torment of indecision. Should he go back to her, to try and pry her from his rival? Or was that exactly what his rival wanted? He needed to do something to prevent the marriage, but he couldn't return yet, poorer than when he'd left. And what if he was already too late? A cold and manly indifference was surely better than coming home to see the gleam of triumph in his rival's eyes.

For a month now, he'd been paralysed. But with each day that passed, matters became a little more urgent. He had to do something. He just didn't know what.

Malvery turned his head with a slow movement, as if he was underwater. He saw Pinn staring at the ferrotype, and snorted.

'Forget her, mate,' he slurred. 'She ain't worth it.'

'Shut your face, Doc. You don't know her.'

'Come on,' said Malvery. 'Be honest. You weren't ever gonna go back to her anyway. Even if she didn't get married.'

'I was!' Pinn snapped. 'When I got—'

'When you got rich, yeah, yeah.' The idiot grin of the truly hammered spread across his face. 'But you ain't never gonna
be
rich, Pinn. Nor 'm I. Nor are any of us.' He aimed a finger at Pinn, squinting down its length as if it was a gun. 'You know that, don'tcha?'

'I,' Pinn declared indignantly,'
love
her.'

'You,' Malvery replied,'
left
her.'

Pinn didn't realy understand what the doctor was driving at. He finished his mug of grog and poured some more.

'Look, mate,' said Malvery, slapping him heavily on the shoulder. 'You can't mope about for ever. She's gone. Plenny more fishies in the sea.'

Pinn stared into Lisinda's eyes. 'I don't want fishes,' he said, suddenly forlorn.

The loud scrape of a chair puled across the floor startled him. He looked up and saw Frey and Trinica sitting down at their table. He spared her a disgusted grimace before turning his attention to the Cap'n.

'We're moving out,' Frey announced. He seemed excited.

'Now?' Malvery groaned.

Frey thumbed at Pinn. 'Soon as he can fly.' He snatched away the remainder of the grog. 'Get some coffee inside you.'

'Hey! I can fly anytime!' Pinn cried. He lunged for the grog, his hand slipped, and he crashed on to the table, scattering the empty bottles everywhere.

Frey waited for the cacophony of smashing glass to subside. 'We'l wait a few hours, eh?' he suggested.

'What's the story, Cap'n?' Malvery asked.

'There's a town caled Endurance, not too far from here. Big aerium-mining operation. Those felers we were talking to just came from there. Apparently, a bunch of Century Knights have turned up. And guess who they're looking for?'

'Grist?'

'Right. Apparently they're asking for this bloke who they think used to be part of his crew. Feler named Almore Roke. They think he's in Endurance.'

Malvery frowned. 'Why are
they
lookin' for Grist?'

'Good question,' said Trinica. 'We don't know. But this man Roke sounds like the best lead we're likely to get.'

'Oh, is that right?' sneered Pinn. 'You caling the shots now?'

Frey gave him a hard look. 'No,' he said. 'I am. Sober up and get yourself back to the
Ketty Jay.
Malvery, see that he does.'

Frey and Trinica got up and left. Pinn waited til they were gone then began mumbling swear words under his breath.