The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,162

No records, no docking fees. Nice little place to hole up. And I can move my product through here without anyone takin' an interest.'

'Your father's reseach,' said Trinica. 'You still have it?'

'Safe in my cabin, don't you worry.'

'You're aware of the repercussions if it was made public? If it could be proved that the Awakeners have been using the daemonic techniques pioneered here?'

'Aye, I've got a notion. Would that offend you, Cap'n Dracken? You've a soft spot for the Awakeners?'

'I don't have a soft spot for anyone,' Dracken replied. 'I wondered if you were intending to take revenge on them. Your father was most likely murdered by an Imperator. I assume you knew that?'

'I figured as much,' said Grist. 'The thought had crossed my mind, I'll admit. But I've more urgent business to deal with first.' He broke out into a tremendous coughing fit that left him wheezing and watery-eyed. His crewmen shifted uneasily, glancing at one another.

'You alright?' asked Frey. 'Wouldn't want you to keel over and die. Much.'

Grist wiped spittle from his beard and went over to the small chest that was sitting on a nearby table. He opened it up. 'I'm touched by your concern, Cap'n, but I ain't keeling over anytime soon.' He took out the metal sphere that Frey had first seen on the Mane dreadnought. 'Not now I got this.'

Jez's attention fixed on the sphere. Smooth black metal with silver lines curving all over its surface. There was no symmetry to it - at least, no symmetry that a human would recognise - but as Jez stared at it, the pattern seemed to almost make sense, straining on the edge of recognition. There was a chanting in her head, louder even than the voices of the ghosts here. A wordless summons, from far away. Far to the north, behind the Wrack. The Manes. Wanting her.

'What is it?' she heard herself say. 'What have we been chasing all this time?'

'This?' he held it up. 'It's an alarm.'

Frey blinked. 'A what?'

'An alarm.'

'Not a doomsday device, then?'

Grist peered at it. 'Not really.'

'Oh.'

'It's a distress beacon,' Grist said. 'All dreadnoughts carry them. You remember I told you about that Navy report, when they found a downed dreadnought? I neglected to mention a couple o' things. Like how there were still Manes alive on it, and the Navy fought 'em back. And how one of 'em locked itself behind one of those daemonically guarded doors that your man Crake had so much fun gettin' through. And how, right after, a half-dozen dreadnoughts appeared. Appeared, Frey. A hole got punched in the sky, and they came sailin' through.' He puffed on his cigar. 'That takes power of a kind you and I can't imagine. Dad reckoned that whatever provided it, it was behind that door. And he was right.'

'What about the dreadnought we found?' asked Frey. 'Why didn't they use the sphere?'

'Maybe they didn't want to go back,' said Jez. 'They'd rejected the Manes. It killed them in the end.'

She shivered with the memory of the terrible, endless loneliness. But that's how we all live, every day. Sealed up in our own little worlds. We only know of each other what we choose to show.

Frey frowned. 'Listen, Grist. I had a chat with an Awakener, back on the All Our Yesterdays. He told me that thousands of people would die if that fell into the wrong hands. Now you're telling me it's just an alarm?'

'Oh, right,' said Grist. 'See, he was probably thinkin' of what'll happen when the alarm goes off. What'll happen to all the people in this city when them Manes turn up, after I activate this thing.' He turned and stared at Jez, his face hardening. 'Or rather, when you do.'

Crake sat with his back against the wall of the store room, and whistled a tune to himself.

'Dunno how you can be so damn calm, while we're cooped up in this place and the Cap'n and Jez are in who knows what kind of trouble,' said Malvery, who was pacing the floor. He walked up to the metal door that sealed them in, and hammered on it with his fist. 'Hey! We're freezing in here! Give us some rum, for pity's sake!' When he got no response, he pulled his coat tighter around him and continued to stomp up and down. Silo, sitting in the corner, watched him blandly.

'May I have your pocket watch, Malvery?' he asked. 'Trinica's men took mine. Presumably they thought it was possessed.'

Malvery