The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,203

full of it, always talking about that bloody girl of his. Thought I'd call his bluff. To tell you the truth, I posted it a couple of months ago, when I was leathered. Forgot all about it till it turned up in Marlen's Hook.'

Frey pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

'Well, I never thought he'd actually go, did I?' Malvery protested. 'I'm fond of the lad, myself.'

Frey took a deep breath before replying. He thought about all the trouble he'd have faced if Pinn hadn't come back, and he'd been forced to find a new pilot. He wondered if their fight over Sakkan might have turned out differently. Harkins might have been shot down by the Blackhawks. They might never have made it through at all.

But they had come through. They were all safe and well. Given that, it was hard to be angry at Malvery, even if he thought he probably should. The doctor was too much of an affable sort. Besides, no harm was intended, and Pinn seemed more spry than ever since his return.

'I think, on balance, you did him a favour,' he said. 'But keep it to yourself, eh? And don't do it again.'

'Aye, Cap'n.' Malvery said with a grin. 'I'll be good.'

Frey sighed. His aircraft might have been fixed up like new, but his crew were just as they'd always been. Argumentative, dysfunctional and ill-disciplined. Yet for all that, he was glad of them. Individually, they were hopeless. But somehow, when they were all together, they became something greater than the sum of their parts.

He couldn't believe there had been a time when he'd almost let them slip away from him. What had he been thinking? It was a dirty world out there, and these were the only true friends he had. You didn't throw that away. Not for money, fame or anything else.

He heard quiet footsteps on the cargo ramp. Malvery turned. 'You've got a visitor,' he said.

It was her. Trinica. Without her make-up, without her contact lenses. Not the pirate queen, but the woman beneath. She'd come as herself. Just the sight of her warmed him.

'Morning, ma'am,' said Malvery, as she joined them.

'Good morning, Doctor.'

Malvery looked at Frey, then back at Trinica. 'Think I'll make myself scarce. See what they've done to the infirmary.' He slapped Frey's shoulder and strolled off, whistling.

Frey barely noticed. All his attention was on her. Her hair was still uneven and ragged, but she'd made the best of it for his sake. She was wearing a hide coat and furs against the Yortland cold. There was nothing of glamour about her, but still she mesmerised him.

Her eyes searched his with that strange curiosity he'd noticed in her gaze ever since he'd rescued her from the Storm Dog. As if she'd never seen him before. As if he was some fascinating artefact that she was trying to puzzle out.

Then she looked away, and began to examine her surroundings. 'I came to see if everything was to your liking.'

'Haven't taken her up yet,' he said. 'But they told me they did a complete overhaul. Reckon she'll fly like a dream now.'

'You're disappointed,' she said, with a tiny smile. 'You'll miss her quirks.'

'Yeah, a little.'

'You always did like to do things the difficult way.'

'Can't argue with that,' he said. 'Thanks for fixing her up. Really. I bet they did a fine job.'

'It was the least I could do,' she said. The space between their sentences felt heavy with unspoken words. Then, as if it had just occurred to her, 'I have some things I should return to you.'

She produced a handful of small objects from her coat. Crake's paraphernalia, that she'd taken from him in Grist's hangar. The earcuffs, the skeleton key, the brass whistle, the compass and pocket watch. When she'd given them to Frey, she began to take the silver ring off her finger.

'Not that,' said Frey, holding up his hand. 'That's yours.'

She hesitated. 'And the compass?'

'That's mine.'

She smiled reluctantly. 'Very well, Darian,' she said. 'As you wish.' And she slipped the ring back into place.

'So where now for you?' he asked, before he could begin to feel mawkish.

'I believe I might pay a visit to Osric Smult, a certain whisper-monger of my acquaintance. He and I have unfinished business. And you?'

'Bestwark University. We'll go see Professor Kraylock. Reckon he'll know what to do with Maurin Grist's research.'

'It'll be a powerful blow to the Awakeners. Have you thought what will happen if they discover you were behind it?