The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,132

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 all 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 all.

'Wake up Malvery, will you?' he said. 'And Silo. Tell 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'll stay here, with Harkins. Keep in touch with the earcuffs. I've a feeling we might need a quick getaway, and I'll need you to fly the Ketty Jay if we do.'

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

'Wait. Before you go, tell 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 fellow 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 generally 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 willing to work for next to nothing.

Well, 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 all that was for later. Right now, he had enough on his plate.

Still, 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 called from down the corridor.

They assembled outside the Ketty Jay, yawning and stamping their boots against the cold. Malvery was still 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 well 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