The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,202
was saying. 'Fixed up your thrusters, too, but the guts of 'em were good, so we kept most of it. Blackmore P-12s.' He grinned. 'They don't make 'em like that any more.'
The engineer was a short man, but stout, making up in width what he lost in height. A well-attended gut hung over his belt, but his shoulders and arms looked stuffed with cannonballs. Orange hair fell down his back in braided ropes, and his jawline was outlined with studs of metal.
'We did over your control system and some of the internals. She ought to fly better now, at any rate. Don't know how you kept her together all this time. Your Murthian's a bloody genius.' He thumbed at Silo.
Frey was finding it hard to keep up with his accent. All Yorts spoke Vardic, but it was so heavily inflected that you had to pay strict attention to get any meaning out of it. He suspected they did it on purpose, thorny buggers that they were.
'Sounds like you did a thorough job,' he said uneasily. He was worried that the Ketty Jay wouldn't be the same old girl he knew. After fifteen years of flying her, he'd learned to compensate for all her little tics and problems. They were part of her character. He felt bad about losing them.
The engineer didn't notice. 'Lot of environmental damage on the hull, so we gave her a patch and weld, scrubbed her out. Basically did her over, top to bottom. She'll be better now than when you bought her.'
That's what I'm afraid of, Frey thought. Then he told himself to stop being a grouch. He'd just had his aircraft given an all-over service by one of the best workshops in the North, and it hadn't cost him a shillie. That put a smile on his face.
'I can't wait to fly her,' he said. 'She looks great.'
She did look great. She'd been polished up so she looked factory-new. And Frey had never seen the cargo hold so tidy. His crew looked amazed. Like him, they'd never realised there was so much space in here.
'Anything you couldn't fix?' Frey asked, half-hopefully.
The engineer pointed to an air duct, where Slag was hiding, watching them malevolently. 'Your cat's disposition,' the engineer replied. 'Damned thing kept attacking us whenever we went near the vents.'
'The cat?' Harkins scoffed loudly. He made a lunging movement towards the vent. Slag took fright and disappeared in a scrabble of claws. Harkins crossed his arms and looked smug. 'Who's scared of a cat? You are about twenty times his size, after all.'
Everyone turned to look at him. The engineer gave him a flat glare.
'Er . . .' said Harkins.
'Don't mind him,' Frey told the engineer. 'He laughs in the face of danger.' He slung his arm around Harkins' shoulders. Harkins tensed up, as if expecting to be hit. 'May I introduce my outflyer, "Fearless" Harkins. You know, one time, he played chicken with a dreadnought and won!'
'Him?' the engineer asked.
'Hey, I could have done that, if I'd got there in time!' Pinn protested. 'I'd have won, too!'
'I'll leave you all to have a look around, eh?' the engineer said, somehow making it a threat directed at Harkins. Then he stomped off. Frey took his arm away and Harkins relaxed visibly.
' "Fearless" Harkins, eh?' he said, glancing sidelong at Jez.
'Don't let it go to your head,' Pinn grumbled.
The crew scattered throughout the craft, keen to see what had been done. Only Malvery stayed behind with Frey.
'I bet they even cleaned the infirmary,' Frey said.
Malvery snorted. 'About time someone did.'
'How's the shoulder?'
'Fine. Crake's hand's healing up okay, too. It won't lose any mobility.'
'He seems better these days,' said Frey. 'Happier. So does Jez.'
'We all do, Cap'n. Been through the wars, come out alive. This is the second time we pulled off something we really shouldn't have got away with. The lads are getting confident, I reckon.'
Frey and the doctor considered the empty hold. The subdued clamour of the docks filled up the silence.
'Thought I was losing you lot for a while there,' Frey said eventually.
'Who, us? Nah.' Malvery said. 'Where would we go?'
'Off to find new sweethearts, like Pinn?'
Malvery roared with laughter. 'Chance would be a fine thing.' Then his laughter tailed off and he harumphed uneasily.
'What is it?' Frey asked, sensing something wrong.
'Actually, Cap'n,' he said. 'About that. I've got a confession to make. You know that letter from Lisinda that Pinn got?'