The Black Lung Captain (3 page)

Frey didn't count himself in that category, of course. In some vague, il-defined way, he thought himself more noble than that.

Innocent folk, however, were another matter. These vilagers only wanted their money back. Their dogged persistence made him feel guilty, and he was mad at them for that. Theft was only fun if you didn't have to think about the consequences. He didn't actualy want the orphanage to close or those children to starve. He'd sort of assumed that the vilagers would stump up to cover the shortfal. But since they were so desperate to get it back, he began to wonder whether they could actualy afford it.

Bloody yokels. They were ruining his first successful escapade in months.

The valeys in this part of the Vardenwood were deep and narrow. A complex river system snaked through trenches between the hils, banked by sheer, rocky slopes. Down on the valey floor the wals pressed in tight. The waters thundered through, swolen by the spring floods, glittering silver-grey in the moonlight.

Frey knew the
Ketty Jay
was operating wel below par, but he could stil fly better than any amateur could. It took nerve to race through enclosed spaces in an aircraft at night. Nerve that he was betting his pursuers didn't have.

'They're taking potshots at us, Cap'n,' Pinn said in his ear.

'Folow me down into the valeys. Buzz them when you can. Just keep them occupied.'

Pinn muttered something Frey didn't quite catch and then shut up again.

Frey rubbed at his earcuff absently. The early versions of the daemon-powered communicators had leached energy from their users, tiring them out the more they talked to each other. Crake had refined them since, giving them better range and minimising the draining effect. Now they could gabble on to their heart's content, but that only meant they argued and bitched more. Frey wondered if he hadn't preferred the way it was before.

'How's that cropduster, Malvery?' he caled.

'Faling behind,' the doctor replied from the cupola.

Frey smiled. The
Ketty Jay
had finaly built up some speed. Not enough to outstrip the vilagers' craft, but enough to make them work to keep up. Stil, it was going to be difficult flying through the valeys in her condition. Since the
Ketty Jay
took so long to accelerate, he couldn't use his air brakes. He'd be forced to take every turn at speed.

Just be extra careful
, he told himself, knowing that he wouldn't be.

The
Ketty Jay
swooped into a valey. Slopes of grass and rock blurred by on either side, punctuated by scrawny trees hanging on at unlikely angles. Frey boosted the aerium engines - at least
they
worked fine - and puled back on the flight stick to level out a few dozen metres above the river. The valey floor was wide here, and there were smal, isolated farming communities on the banks, their windows dark. The
Ketty Jay
roared past them, kicking up spray and panicking their sleepy herds. Frey took a smal, malicious pleasure in that.

'Malvery? The cropduster?'

'He's gone. Puled off. Can't see him now. Others are coming in though.'

Well, at least we've scared one of them off. Let's see how long the rest of them last in the valleys.

Frey looked up and saw several of the vilagers' rustbucket aircraft angling down towards him. Harkins and Pinn were doing their best to harass them, but the vilagers' resolve was unshakable.

Jez was rustling charts at her station. 'Valey branches right up ahead, Cap'n. That one's narrower.'

'We'l take it,' said Frey.

The vilagers intercepted them before they got to the fork, descending from above to surround the
Ketty Jay.
Suddenly Frey found himself in the midst of a swarm of smal aircraft that buzzed around him like clumsy bees. He wiped at the inside of the cockpit windglass in a futile attempt to clear the dust that stubbornly clung to the other side. He didn't dare take evasive action. The vilagers were flying too close.

He heard the sharp tap of a bulet hitting the
Ketty Jay.
'They're shooting at us,' Malvery caled, sounding unconcerned.

'Let 'em, if it makes 'em happy,' said Frey. The
Ketty Jay'
s armour plating could take a good deal more than that.

'Turn coming up,' Jez warned him.

Frey flexed his hand on the flight stick. 'Pinn! Harkins! Keep going straight on. Take as many with you as you can. I'm going right.'

'Got it, Cap'n!' said Harkins. Then he screamed.

'What? What?' Frey demanded.

'Something hit me!'

Frey searched for Harkins among the planes that surrounded them, and located the Firecrow. It appeared to be undamaged. Then his eye fel on a nearby vilager, who was riding shotgun in an ancient open-top biplane, above and to the left of Harkins. As Frey watched, the man lobbed a smal object out of the cockpit. It dropped through the air and bounced off the Firecrow's wing. Harkins screamed again and banked in panic. He almost colided with a one-man flyer that was hard on his tail.

'It happened again!'

'They're throwing stuff at you,' Frey informed him. 'With pretty extraordinary accuracy. I think the last one was a wrench.'

'A
wrench
?!' Harkins shrieked. 'What . . . how ... I mean, what kind of madmen
are
these? I don't have to take this! Cap'n, I've got a bad feeling ... I mean to say . . . It's just . . . Alsoul's bals, I'd rather fight the Navy than these lot!'

'Turning coming up
now!'
Jez said.

Frey saw it. The branching valey was a
lot
narrower.

'Everyone, get out of the way!' Frey yeled at the craft around him. 'I'm coming through, like it or not!' With that, he wrenched the flight stick to the right. Planes scattered as the
Ketty Jay
slewed away. Frey and Jez were pressed into their seats. There was a raucous series of crashes as every unsecured object on the
Ketty
Jay
tipped over. The artificial horizon on Frey's dash tipped sideways.

We're going too fast!

The rock and scree slope raced to meet them as the
Ketty Jay
curved gracelessly into the tributary valey. Frey hauled on the stick as hard as he could, but the turn was just a fraction too tight, and he knew they weren't going to make it. He hit the airbrakes and boosted the aerium tanks at the same time, lightening and slowing the craft.

Too little, too late. There was no way he was going to miss that wal. With that realisation came a flash, a moment of stunning clarity in his mind.

What will I leave behind?

Then the
Ketty Jay
screamed into the tributary, her bely almost scraping the valey wal. Frey blinked. Not dead after al.

There was no time for shock. He leveled the craft, hit the thrusters and tried to make up the speed he'd lost. He could tel Jez was staring at him in disbelief, but he didn't want to meet her eyes right now.

'Malvery! Are they stil on us?'

'Two of 'em! We've lost the rest!' Malvery was stil in good humour, apparently unaware of their near-death experience. 'One coming up on us fast!'

Jez shook herself and went back to her maps. 'Another tributary coming up. Hard left. The angle's steep, but the tributary's wider.'

Frey's eyes flickered over the valey. Rock and grass and water. The world beyond the smudged windglass seemed startlingly sharp, yet he was flying in a daze.

'Cap'n?' Jez prompted.

'Hard left. Got it.' He tapped his earcuff. 'Hey, Harkins, Pinn? Stil there?'

'We're stil here.'

'You've done enough. Get going. We'l meet you at the rendezvous.'

'At bloody last,' Pinn said. 'Bye, bye, country boys!'

Frey heard him whoop as he pushed the Skylance to maximum, then he faded out of range. Harkins would be gone too. The vilagers' planes couldn't come close to the speed of the fighters.

He spotted the turn ahead of them. Plenty of space, especialy as they'd shed some velocity. He was lining up for it when one of the vilagers puled in front of him. It was another two-seater, powered by thrusters and aerium like al modern craft. In the back seat was a man with a rifle, leveling up for another shot at the
Ketty Jay.
Frey gave him a glance and ignored him, concentrating instead on the upcoming manoeuvre. Let him waste a bulet. Since the pilot was ahead of him, he wouldn't be able to match Frey's sudden turn.

Ready . . .

Ready . . .

Now!

Frey banked hard, and at the same moment the windglass of his cockpit cracked noisily, making him jump. Between the dust, the dark, and the crazed shatter-pattern on the windglass, he could hardly see a thing. Yeling in fear, clinging to his flight stick, he puled the
Ketty Jay
through the turn more by feel and luck than anything else.

'He shot my damn windglass!' Frey cried. He jerked his head about, searching franticaly for an unshattered section to see through, and found one just in time to spot the cropduster come flying directly towards him along the valey. He yeled again, threw his whole weight on the stick, and the
Ketty Jay
dived, hard enough to send the cropduster shooting over their heads.

'What the bloody shit was that? It almost killed me!'
Malvery shouted from the cupola.

Frey leveled the
Ketty Jay
with trembling hands. 'He tried to ram us,' Frey said in disbelief. 'He tried to
ram
us!' Then his face and voice hardened. 'Alright.

That's
it\'
He turned in his seat. 'Jez. Take the
Ketty Jay.
Turn on the bely lamps and put her down on the valey floor.'

Jez didn't question the order. She got up and switched with him in the pilot's seat. Frey heard her decelerating as he stormed out of the cockpit and into the passageway. He went past the ladder that led to the cupola, where Malvery's feet could be seen dangling.

'Cap'n?' Malvery said, but Frey swept by him, heading for the cargo hold.

His jaw was set tightly as he stamped down steps and passed along gantries. The hold was al but empty, ful of echoes. The whine as the
Ketty Jay
extended her landing struts was loud in here.

Crake was at the bottom of the steps, stil holding the lockbox ful 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 puled 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 ful glare of the lights. Three planes were coming down the valey 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 caled. '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 folowing, then you can come down.'

'Right-o.'

Frey puled the
Ketty Jay
out of the valeys 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 Holow nestled among the hils 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 tal and narrow, with tal, narrow windows to match. Cobbled lanes meandered past serene shopfronts. Winding paths led away through the forest to farms and smalholdings and miniature satelite vilages. Pretty bridges spanned picturesque streams. The folds of the hils concealed glades and meadows.hornlodge Holow nestled among the hils 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 tal and narrow, with tal, narrow windows to match.

Cobbled lanes meandered past serene shopfronts. Winding paths led away through the forest to farms and smalholdings and miniature satelite vilages. Pretty bridges spanned picturesque streams. The folds of the hils 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 hiltop, hemmed in by tal trees. Its perimeter was iluminated by gaslit lamp-posts, which cast a yelow light on the underside of the leaves. It wasn't large, but there wasn't much traffic in a place like Thornlodge Holow. Twenty craft of various sizes rested there, from smal 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 smel of new growth.