Ketty Jay 04 - The Ace of Skulls (37 page)

Do you?
she thought.
Is that even possible?

He turned to her, an eager look on his face, and behind it something faintly desperate. ‘Maybe I could show you. I could teach you how to suppress it so nobody even notices you’re a half-Mane. I’ve seen how the others treat you. They flinch away; they can’t help themselves. You’ve lost control, that’s all! I could help you get it back!’

For the first time she saw him, unclouded by thoughts of love. She felt something unfamiliar then. Pity. Pity for this poor, pathetic creature who denied what he was. So what if he’d been made this way against his will? It was done. You could only deny your nature for so long.

‘I don’t want to control it,’ she said.

She met his eyes, and saw the shock there. He couldn’t believe what she was saying. But she’d never been more sure of anything. She got up, and walked past him, and went out of the room.

The last promise that humanity had offered her had turned out to be a lie. This was not a human love, but the love of the Manes for one another. Out there were her kin, ever waiting, ever faithful. They wanted her to join them. And she couldn’t think of a single reason to resist them any longer.

Twenty-Five

A Rude Awakening – Wrath – The Gathering – Divided Loyalties – Silo Steps Up

F
rey dreamed he was in a metal box and someone was banging violently on the outside. Then he woke to find it was true.

‘Cap’n! Get up, you dozy sod!’ yelled Malvery, hammering at the door to his quarters. He jerked out of his bunk, tried to stand, and his feet went out from under him. He fell among the scattered luggage that covered the floor, bashing his elbow on the corner of his bed. He swore at the top of his lungs. Today was not starting well.

He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Malvery was standing there, holding a shotgun, wearing the grubby union suit that he slept in and heavy boots on his feet. The sight of the doctor in his underwear confused Frey for a moment. Then he remembered that he was wearing long johns himself, and he realised Malvery must be just out of bed like he was.

‘They’ve found us!’ he cried. What little hair he had left was sticking everywhere, and his eyes were cracked with a hangover. ‘The Coalition’s here!’ And with that, he ran off up the corridor. He’d only done up one button on the arse-flap of the union suit. Frey saw something he never wanted to see again.

He stood there and rubbed the back of his head dreamily. He’d taken a lot of Shine yesterday, and everything was just a little too hectic right now. The news took a moment to penetrate.

When it did, his eyes flew open and he sprinted for the cockpit.

The sound of thrusters grew all around him as he hurried to the front of the cockpit and stared up through the windglass. He swore again as he saw what was up there. A Tabington Wrath, a heavy fighter craft, about half the size of the
Ketty Jay
but with three times the armaments. It was a brick of dark metal, bulky and brutal. It kept its nose towards the
Ketty Jay
as it swung in to land, weapons trained. He wouldn’t get off the ground before they blew him to pieces. Nor would Malvery have time to get up in the autocannon cupola and swing it round.

But he couldn’t just do nothing. Drave would string him up if he got hold of him. The lethargy that grief had brought on was swept away by the need to survive.

Get outside. Fight if you have to. Flee if you can. But you can’t stay here.

He ran the other way, met Silo coming up the corridor. The Murthian was dressed in engineer’s overalls. He slung a pistol to Frey without a word and they headed down into the hold.

Someone had already opened the cargo ramp as they descended. An icy blast of wind flurried through and grey light seeped in. Jez was heading outside, rifle in hand; Malvery was on her heels. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Bess went thumping past, eager to see what all the fuss was about.

Frey caught sight of Ashua, who was hovering between going outside and staying put. She met his eye, looked away in disgust, and followed the others.

Frey ran after her. He didn’t have a plan. He didn’t have anything. He was simply swept along in the momentum. Small arms would be no good against a Tabington Wrath, but he was damned if he’d hide inside his aircraft either. He felt stupid and reckless. He was in the mood to shoot someone.

They found Harkins and Pelaru outside. The chill hit him through his long johns and his bare feet sank into cold, wet earth. The grass was dewed with the morning. The crew had taken cover where they could find it: behind the
Ketty Jay
’s landing struts, behind the Firecrow, behind black volcanic rocks. Bess was stamping the ground; she’d been idle too long. The Wrath descended from a gloomy sky, coming in to land alongside them.

‘How’d they know we were here?’ Ashua cried over the roar of the engines.

‘Who cares?’ Frey shouted, though the question hadn’t been directed at him. ‘If they give us any shit, gun the bastards down!’

Malvery looked at him in disbelief. ‘That’s Coalition troops up there!’ he said, pointing.

‘I’m not going quietly to the noose, Malvery,’ he called back.

‘Look!’ said Ashua.

The electroheliograph on the Wrath was flashing. Frey made a hopeless attempt to figure it out before remembering that Jez was with them too.

‘Jez!’ he called.

‘I got it, Cap’n,’ she replied. ‘They don’t want to fight, Cap’n. They’re saying there’s no need for the weapons.’

‘We’ll decide that,’ said Frey.

‘Hold your fire till they’re down!’ Silo shouted. Frey felt a momentary surprise at hearing Silo give an order. Sometimes he had to remind himself that the Murthian was his first mate. It had only been a few months since he’d accepted the job, and Frey still wasn’t used to him being assertive.

The Wrath settled itself in the clearing alongside the
Ketty Jay
, and put down its passenger ramp. Frey blinked to try to clear the lingering fog in his head and sighted down his pistol at the doorway. If Kedmund Drave stuck his head out of that door . . .

‘Whoa! Whoa! Don’t shoot!’ came a voice from inside. And out came Crake, hands held to the sky, a wide grin on his face.

The tension broke. The crew laughed and cried out in relief. They broke cover and went running over to him.

‘Wait!’ Frey called, but nobody was listening. ‘There’s still . . . I mean, Coalition craft . . . Guns . . . Oh, never mind.’ And he went running over himself.

Bess led the charge, pounding across the turf. Crake had to prevent her from hugging him for fear of snapping his bones. But he hugged her first of everyone, and pressed his face against her faceplate, and whispered something that could only be an apology.

When he was done with Bess, he greeted the rest. Ashua lit up at the sight of him. Malvery roared with laughter and pummelled him on the shoulder. The others were grinning, except Pelaru, who stood apart. Even Jez got in on the joy, and Crake, to his credit, didn’t flinch when he touched her. Silo clasped his arm hard. Finally Frey made his way through the press, and Crake’s eyes met his.

Frey felt the warmth of new hope at the sight of his friend. Even though bleak despair lay on his shoulders, Crake lifted him. He’d come back. Frey’s crew was one of the few good things he’d found in this world, and Crake was a big part of that. In the back of his mind, he’d feared the worst when he lost Crake in Korrene, and he blamed himself for it. But that, at least, wouldn’t weigh on his conscience any more.

They looked at each other, both trying to find the words. In the end, none were needed. They embraced, and that was enough.

‘Damned good to have you back, mate,’ Frey said, with feeling.

‘Seems you misplaced your daemonist, Captain Frey,’ said a voice. Samandra Bree was standing on the ramp, one hand on a cocked hip, gazing at them from beneath her tricorn hat with an amused look on her face.

‘Ah, he’s never gone for long,’ Malvery boomed.

‘Not while I’ve got this,’ said Crake, holding up his compass. As ever, it was pointing towards the silver ring on Frey’s little finger.

‘So you made it to the forward base after we lost you, then?’ Frey asked Crake.

‘Not exactly,’ he said. ‘Long story. But what about you? What did I miss? Did you find Trinica?’

Her name killed the mood like a curse. The happiness slid off Frey’s face and he went ashen.

‘Oh,’ said Crake.

Samandra came down the ramp. She laid a supportive hand on Crake’s back, sensing the tragedy in the air. Nobody spoke for a few moments. The wind blew between them, smelling of rain.

‘Miss Bree,’ said Malvery gravely. ‘We gotta talk. There’s some things the Coalition need to know.’

She looked him up and down. ‘Well, alright,’ she said. ‘Can they wait until you’ve all changed out of your pyjamas, though?’

They gathered in the
Ketty Jay
’s mess over several pots of strong coffee. By the time they’d all squeezed in, there wasn’t much room left. Colden Grudge stood against the wall near the ladder, hulking, bearded and crag-faced. Leaning in the corner was Morben Kyne, arms crossed and head lowered, his cowl hanging over his mask. Silo watched the two Century Knights carefully from where he stood on the other side of the room. He knew Grudge and trusted him well enough, but Kyne was an unknown.

The rest were jammed round the table that was fixed in the centre of the room. Even Slag had attended, sensing an occasion. The oven had been left open and he was sitting inside. He groomed his paw and watched proceedings with half an eye.

They told their stories, and Silo listened. Frey’s he knew. Crake’s he didn’t. The news that the Awakeners were trying to take the countryside by pushing out or converting the aristocracy was troubling, but hardly unexpected. The fact that they were using Imperators to do it made things a sight more serious.

There were things that didn’t add up about the daemonist’s tale, however. He told them his father employed the Shacklemores to find him and bring him back to help Condred, but it sounded more like a kidnapping. The others believed him, but Murthians were adept at reading faces, and he saw a pain much deeper than the loss of his father and family home. Crake’s story was an edited version: there were things he wasn’t telling them.

Samandra’s account was truthful, at least. When Crake hadn’t returned, she’d asked about. It seemed she had a hard time believing Crake would skip out on her when they’d made plans. Well, that woman might be a little full of herself, but she was right. She remembered Crake’s reaction when he saw the Shacklemores in the camp, so she went and asked them, and they told her where he’d been taken. They couldn’t turn down a Century Knight.

‘I’d heard my father had sent bounty hunters looking for me,’ said Crake. ‘I didn’t know why, but I didn’t want to go back. That’s why I reacted that way. You’d know why if you met him.’

That was a lie. Silo knew it. And he saw in Jez’s face that she knew it too. Whatever Crake thought the Shacklemores wanted him for, it wasn’t for any family reunion. But the
Ketty Jay
was a place where a man might keep his secrets, and Silo wasn’t about to pry.

When all the stories were done, they sat in the silence that followed new revelations.

‘So what do we do now?’ Malvery asked eventually. ‘We tell the Archduke, right?’ He was looking at Bree. Authority had shifted to her, as far as he was concerned. Divided loyalties in that man, that was certain. Silo would have to keep an eye on him, like he did with Ashua and Pelaru.

Bree sat back and spread her fingers out on the table. ‘I gotta be honest, fellers. Me, I believe you. You might be a bunch of selfish bastards without the least regard for anything but the safety of your own precious arses, but even you lot aren’t stupid enough to be on the Awakeners’ side for real.’

‘Er . . .’ said Ashua. ‘Thanks?’

‘Problem is, you gotta convince the Archduke and his generals,’ she continued. ‘And you wouldn’t believe how stubborn a bunch of dumb old men with medals can be. When we told ’em about what went down in Samarla, I swear they’d’ve called it desert fever or some such bullshit if we hadn’t been Century Knights. Even then, they couldn’t see why they needed to concern ’emselves, since we blew the place up. That little box of delivery orders you gave us, Doc, that was the only thing that convinced ’em. Men like that, they need proof before they’ll do a damn thing.’

‘Told you,’ Ashua said to Malvery, and took a mouthful of coffee.

Malvery ignored her. ‘But you can tell them, can’t you? They’ll believe you.’

‘I ain’t seen what you seen,’ she said. ‘I can vouch for you, but I can’t lie to ’em. And, no offence, but you lot ain’t much in the Archduke’s good graces since you killed his son.’

Ashua choked and blasted a mouthful of coffee across the table into Crake’s face. Crake took out a handkerchief and dabbed at his cheeks.

‘That happens a lot,’ he told Samandra by way of explanation.

‘You killed his bloody
son
?’ Ashua cried. ‘Earl Hengar? Why didn’t anyone tell me that before I joined this ham-arsed outfit?’

‘Slipped my mind,’ Frey said. He was looking steadily at Pelaru. ‘Besides, it was an accident. You know we were set up.’

Silo was watching Pelaru as well. That may have been new information to him, or it might not. Either way, the whispermonger knew too much. It might become necessary to ensure he didn’t leave the
Ketty Jay
. Ever.

‘Look, whatever excuses you got don’t improve the Archduke’s disposition any,’ said Samandra. ‘You got off the death warrant ’cause you led us to Retribution Falls, but there’s a long way from that to forgivin’ you, and even longer to believin’ you. Not when Kedmund Drave himself says he saw you fightin’ on the Awakeners’ side with his own eyes.’

‘Oh, Cap’n,’ said Crake, in the tone of a disappointed parent. ‘You didn’t.’

‘I was chasing you through a warzone after you minced off in a strop!’ Frey cried. ‘It was that or get shot by some git in a dress.’