The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,8

gantries. The hold was all but empty, full of echoes. The whine as the Ketty Jay extended her landing struts was loud in here.

Crake was at the bottom of the steps, still holding the lockbox full of coins Frey had given him. He was clinging on to a handrail. There was a bruise on the side of his head.

'What's going on out there, Frey?' he asked. 'I'd have come up, but I didn't dare take the stairs, the way you were flying.'

'Don't worry about it. Give me the box.'

Crake did so. Frey felt the Ketty Jay sink and slow, then there was a jolt as she settled on to her struts. He grabbed an emergency flare from a half-empty rack and pulled the lever to lower the cargo ramp at the Ketty Jay's rear. Hard white brightness flooded in from the landing lamps on her underside. Beyond was the deep green grass of a wild meadow.

He went out into the meadow and stood in the full glare of the lights. Three planes were coming down the valley towards him. He thrust the box in the air with one hand.

'Here's your money, since you want it so much!' He threw it sulkily on the ground, lit the flare, and tossed it to the earth next to the box. 'Now leave me alone!'

He went inside, closed the ramp, and headed back to the cockpit. Jez slipped out of his seat and he took the Ketty Jay up again.

'Doc!' he called. 'What are they doing behind us?'

'Most of 'em are breaking off,' Malvery said. 'One's landing where you left the flare.'

'Does it look like they're coming after us?'

'Doesn't look that way, Cap'n.'

'Good. Make sure they're not following, then you can come down.'

'Right-o.'

Frey pulled the Ketty Jay out of the valleys and into the sky. A profound depression had settled on him. After a long while, Malvery clambered down from the cupola and headed wordlessly off to his infirmary. Jez got up and stood by Frey's shoulder, peering through the ruined windglass at the moon beyond.

'You know what's worse than robbing a bunch of defenceless orphans?' Frey said.'Failing to rob a bunch of defenceless orphans.'

She patted him on the shoulder. 'Brave try, Cap'n.'

'Oh, shut up.'

Three

A Curious Lot — A Night On The Town —

Frey Is Maudlin

Thornlodge Hollow nestled among the hills and trees of the Vardenwood, minding its own business. It was a town of moderate wealth and prosperity, situated far from the main trade routes. The houses on the riverside were tall and narrow, with tall, narrow windows to match. Cobbled lanes meandered past serene shopfronts. Winding paths led away through the forest to farms and smallholdings and miniature satellite villages. Pretty bridges spanned picturesque streams. The folds of the hills concealed glades and meadows.hornlodge Hollow nestled among the hills and trees of the Vardenwood, minding its own business. It was a town of moderate wealth and prosperity, situated far from the main trade routes. The houses on the riverside were tall and narrow, with tall, narrow windows to match. Cobbled lanes meandered past serene shopfronts. Winding paths led away through the forest to farms and smallholdings and miniature satellite villages. Pretty bridges spanned picturesque streams. The folds of the hills concealed glades and meadows.

It was a pleasant and perfectly normal place. Most people didn't know where it was, pirates and smugglers included. A good spot for the crew of the Ketty Jay to hole up and lick their wounds for a while.

The landing pad was some way out of town, on a hilltop, hemmed in by tall trees. Its perimeter was illuminated by gaslit lamp-posts, which cast a yellow light on the underside of the leaves. It wasn't large, but there wasn't much traffic in a place like Thornlodge Hollow. Twenty craft of various sizes rested there, from small one-man flyers to a pair of cargo barques that occupied a quarter of the pad by themselves. A portable oil-powered generator grumbled away next to the dock master's hut, where there was a spotlight to guide down aircraft. Night breezes pushed through the evergreens, carrying the smell of new growth.

Jez and Silo walked a slow circuit around the Ketty Jay, studying her as they went. She was a shabby thing to look at, patched up in a dozen places, a bastard combination of a heavy combat craft and a cargo hauler. Yet there was a defiance about her, a certain blunt strength that Jez was fond of. She was built tough, a survivor.