The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,127

things that really matter, so you avoid it instead. You wait and hope that everything will turn out well.' She paused, gazing at the ground before her. 'Remember when you left me, Darian?'

'Of course I do,' he said, prickling.

'You were unhappy for so long, weren't you?' Her tone was sad, sympathetic. It confused him. He'd expected an attack.

'I just . . .' he began, but already the words were clogging up. Damn it, he could never say how he felt and make it sound right. 'It was like I was trapped,' he managed at last. 'I was nineteen.'

'You were angry with me for asking you to marry me. For getting pregnant,' she said it matter-of-factly.

'I wanted to be with you,' said Frey awkwardly. 'I just didn't want to marry you. That's a big thing, you know? I was just a boy. I had a thousand things to do with my life.'

'But you didn't say that. You didn't say any of it.'

Frey was silent. He remembered how it was, on the day of the wedding. How he'd left it till the last minute, and when there was no other way out, he ran.

'I've thought about that day a lot,' Trinica said, as they trudged down a slope between two clusters of houses. Back towards the tiny landing pad and the Ketty Jay. 'I wondered what things would have been like if you'd spoken up earlier. Or if you'd married me anyway, despite your reservations.' She bit her lip, closed her eyes, shook her head. 'I can't see it. Any way you cut it. Wouldn't have worked.'

'I was nineteen,' said Frey quietly. 'So were you.'

'Yes. I was, once.'

The landing pad came into view. The lamp-posts were on. A dozen craft, none bigger than the Ketty Jay, rested there. As they approached, they could hear the sound of short, sharp impacts. Jez was there, buried inside a fur-lined coat, chipping ice from the landing struts.

Trinica stopped. Frey stopped with her. 'What?' he asked.

'You should go and talk to her,' Trinica said.

'About what?'

'About whatever's going on between you. I'll walk a little more.'

Frey felt suddenly unwell. 'I don't know what to say,' he protested feebly.

Trinica was firm. 'Anything's better than nothing.'

Frey watched Jez working away in the yellow lamplight. Trinica was right, of course. She was always smarter than he was. She never let him get away with anything. She decimated his excuses. Saw right through him when he tried to weasel out of things. He remembered that about her. She pushed him, always. She wouldn't let him be weak.

You're like the head of a family, she'd said. And that was true. He'd told himself that they were all adults, that they could handle their own problems, but in his heart he'd known that he just didn't want to deal with them himself.

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. Well, 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 all 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 still 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 fall 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