The Black Lung Captain (46 page)

Frey had forgotten that Trinica spoke Samarlan. He was almost as surprised as Roke.

'Er . . .' said Roke. 'You get us both out
unharmed
if you want to know where Grist is,' he reminded Frey.

Frey shook his head and cursed. 'You tel that bastard that we're in Vardia now, and Silo's no slave.' Roke dropped back to do so. Frey went over to Silo, shoving the Samarlan aside on his way. The Samarlan squawked in outrage. Roke did his best to calm him.

Silo was looking at the floor, every muscle tense. Frey thought about putting an arm on his shoulder, then thought better of it. 'Silo . . .'

'Been nine years since anyone spoke to me that way,' Silo said, through gritted teeth. 'Damned if it don't stil make me cringe like a dog.'

'Don't listen to him. They're just words. You're free now.'

'If I was free,' said Silo, Td've shot him the moment I laid eyes on him.'

A sudden explosion made them al flinch. A roling cloud of smoky flame rose up above the machines to their right. More gunfire broke out nearby. They heard Grudge's autocannon once again. The miners and workers would be no match for the Century Knights, but Frey was happy to have someone to draw the heat off while they made for the elevator.

'I've just had a thought,' said Frey. 'What happens to the elevator if they shut down the refinery?'

'It stops working,' said Roke. 'Obviously.'

'Bugger,' said Frey. 'Let's move, people! Time's wasting!'

They came across several more workers as they ran through the factory, but they had an advantage that their enemies didn't. The insurrectionists always paused to be sure they weren't attacking their own; Frey and his companions shot on sight.

'I don't mind saying, Cap'n, I don't feel too great about this,' said Malvery, as he stepped over the corpse of another refinery worker. 'They've got a fair grievance, after al. He realy
is
seling to the Sammies. Ain't we fighting on the wrong side?'

'Hey, I'm al for the peaceful exit, Doc.
They're
the ones who want to shoot
us,'
said Frey. 'Far as I'm concerned, we're just getting our retaliation in first.'

'I suppose so,' said Malvery with a sigh. He fired at some kid at the end of the aisle, who threw down his weapon and went scrambling away. 'Think I'm just emotional right now. Been getting that way lately, when I'm hungover.'

'Uh-huh,' said Frey, not realy listening.

'Maybe I should lay off the swabbing alcohol and go back to grog.'

'Maybe.'

They found the elevator soon after. It was little more than a smal box with a folding gate, set inside a caged passage that rose up into the darkness. It was waiting at ground level, so Frey puled it open and ushered everyone in. He could hear running footsteps approaching. The noise and the darkness made it hard to tel where they were coming from. The Samarlan hesitated, obviously considering the prospect of being crammed in there with so many people. This time it was Trinica who shoved him inside.

Frey puled the gate closed and Roke hit the button. The elevator clanked and squealed and began to rise, just as a group of refinery workers ran into view.

They were slow to react - it took them a few moments to spot Roke among the passengers - but when they did, they were furious. One of them pounded the button that caled the elevator, but to no avail. Finaly some of them started shooting, but by that time the elevator had moved high up into the darkness, and their shots only ricocheted off the protective cage.

The refinery fel away beneath them. As they rose over the machines, Frey could see more fires starting at the far end. Vats glowed with heat; troughs of molten rock were overflowing; steam engines were pumping at a distressing rate. One massive piston arm came loose and went spinning across the room to crash into a set of pipes on the other side. As predicted, the refinery was ripping itself apart.

I hope you know what you're doing, Samandra,
he thought.

Then the refinery disappeared beneath them, and they were traveling through a short passage of concrete, with grey daylight at the top. A doorway to the roof.

The elevator had almost made it when they shuddered to a halt.

'I reckon they found your master override switch, then,' Malvery said. 'Never doubt the Century Knights, that's what I say.' He eyed the gap between the top of the elevator and the bottom of the doorway, which was barely large enough for a man of Malvery's bulk to squeeze through. 'We cut it a little fine, though.'

There were gates across the doorway, which Frey puled aside. Malvery gave him a boost and he crawled out on to the flat roof. Black chimneys rose al around him. Cold air chiled his cheeks, nose and forehead. He heard engines, and looked up to see the
Ketty Jay
approaching through the snowy sky.

'Right on time, Cap'n,' Jez said in his ear. 'Not like you to be so punctual.'

'I'm ful of surprises these days,' Frey said, giving her a wave.

They were safe up here. The Century Knights would have their hands ful defending the staff of Gradmuth Operations from their irate employees. And better stil, he had Roke, a man who claimed to know where Grist was. In fact, when you thought about it, he'd done pretty bloody wel. Trinica had better be impressed with
that.

Frey walked to the edge of the roof as the others climbed out of the elevator and the
Ketty Jay
eased in to land between the chimneys. There was gunfire from below. Workers and mercs battling in the courtyard, taking cover behind anything they could find. From up here, the conflict seemed a lot less urgent than it had when he was down among it. Let them fight it out; it wasn't his affair. He had more important things to deal with.

He heard a commotion behind him and turned around to see that the Samarlan had started up on Silo again. Damn it, this was getting out of hand. He strode over there. Silo was walking awray, his head down and his fists clenched, but the Samarlan was folowing him, yeling at him in his own strange language.

'What happened now?' Frey asked Trinica as he came closer.

'The Samarlan's annoyed because Silo got out of the elevator before he did,' said Trinica. 'It's not done, apparently.' Trinica looked up at him. 'Darian, I don't know how much more your man's going to take of this. That Samarlan seems to stil think he's a—'

She never finished, because at that moment the Samarlan, angered that Silo was ignoring him, slapped him round the back of the head. Frey groaned and put his hand over his face.

'That's done it,' he said.

Silo rounded on the Samarlan, stared at him a moment, then smashed the butt of his shotgun into his mouth. The Samarlan staggered back, clutching his bleeding face, his eyes wide. He was making incoherent gasping noises, as if he couldn't catch his breath. Silo descended on him, his expression furious. He grabbed the Samarlan by his shoulders and began dragging him towards the edge of the roof.

'Stop him!' Roke cried in alarm. 'Unharmed! That was the deal!'

Malvery looked to Frey expectantly, waiting for the signal to intervene. But Frey had had enough of asking Silo to take the Samarlan's abuse, just so he could get some information. He'd been putting Harvin Grist before the needs of his crew for too long now.

'Sorry, Roke,' he said. 'Your mate's got it coming.'

'Bloody right,' muttered Malvery, with an approving nod.

The Samarlan didn't even resist as Silo puled him along. No doubt he was stil too shocked at being struck. He probably never even entertained the thought that Silo would throw him off the roof, until he was airborne.

They listened to his shril scream al the way down. It was cut short with a faint thump. Silo walked back towards Frey, and stood before him.

'Feel better?' Frey inquired.

'Sorry71 did that, Cap'n,' he said, but his head was held high and he looked prouder than Frey had ever seen him.

'No, it's me who should be sorry,' said Frey. 'You're a free man on my crew. You shouldn't have had to suffer that.'

He held out his hand. Silo took it and shook.

Roke was gaping in disbelief. 'You kiled . . . you just . . . !' He took a step back from Silo, as if from a madman. 'The deal's off! You hear?'

He got another step before he heard the click of a pistol hammer being cocked, and felt the muzzle of a gun in the back of his head. Trinica was on the other end of it.

'You gave it a good try,' said Trinica to Frey. 'But that's enough of being nice. Let's do this quick and easy.' And she shot Roke in the back of the knee.

Roke dropped to the ground, trying to scream but unable to make a noise. Blood steamed on the snow-covered roof. Trinica walked round to stand over him.

Frey and the others had instinctively stepped back. Suddenly, al his romantic thoughts of his old sweetheart had disappeared. This was the Trinica who'd robbed and kiled and plundered her way across Vardia. Even without her make-up and attire, he could see it in her manner. Utterly cold. Utterly ruthless. No one was getting in her way.

'Now,' she said to Roke. 'Grist. Where?'

Roke just gasped at her. She shot him in the hand, pulverising it into a bloody mash of tendon and shattered bone. He found his voice then.

Roke just gasped at her. She shot him in the hand, pulverising it into a bloody mash of tendon and shattered bone. He found his voice then.

'He's in Sakkan! Two hundred kloms north-west of Marduk! Warehouse complex on the east edge of the city! That's where we always hid out. He moves his drugs through it. Heavily guarded! He's got his own hangar there and everything! Big enough for the
Storm Dog!'

Trinica shrugged at Frey. 'That's where he is,' she said, and she shifted her aim to Roke's forehead.

'Trinica!' said Frey sharply. She looked over at him. He shook his head slowly.

'Whyever not?' she asked. 'This way he can't talk to anyone else.'

The stark logic in her voice chiled him more than the freezing air. Over the past month he'd almost begun to believe this side of her had faded away, and a new tenderness had replaced her steely brutality. The fact that he'd been mistaken came as unpleasant shock.

'Don't be like this, Trinica,' he said.

'But this is how I am, Darian,' she replied.

Roke whimpered and blubbered on the ground, his eyes fixed on the barrel of the pistol pointed at his head. Trinica's gaze was locked with Frey's.

Frey had seen enough murders in his time. He'd just watched his engineer throw a man off the roof. But that was done in anger, was heavily provoked and, to Frey's mind, wel deserved. Roke might be a scumbag, maybe even a traitor, but he'd given them the information they wanted. To shoot him now was just too cold-blooded.

Or maybe it was just that it was Trinica holding the gun. Maybe, if she puled that trigger, he'd lose her for ever.

Please don't be like this.

Frey's heart thumped in his chest. Snow drifted through the space between them. Seconds crawled past.

'Very wel,' she said at last. 'As you wish.' Then she lowered her gun and walked off towards the
Ketty Jay
without another word. Frey let out the breath he'd been holding.

'I need a doctor!' Roke cried suddenly. He was cradling his destroyed hand, face slack with shock. 'Someone get me a doctor!'

Frey turned to Malvery.

'Don't look at
me,'
Malvery said. 'I've barely got enough supplies to look after you lot. I ain't wasting any on him.'

'Sorry,' said Frey to Roke. 'Looks like you're on your own.'

'Maybe you can ask one of the factory workers for help,' Malvery added maliciously.

Roke was stil howling when they left him, and he kept howling until the sound of the
Ketty Jay's
engines drowned him out.

Thirty-One

A Place For Partings — A Gift —

The Grog Hatch — The Paths Our Hearts Take Us

The
Delirium Trigger
hung at anchor over the docks, between the frozen land and the ice-blue sky. She floated silently on aerium balast, linked to the ground by thick chains. Fresh welding scars and burn marks marred her skin, tokens of her battle with the
Storm Dog.
The patch-up job hadn't been pretty, but that was the price of speed.

Frey and Trinica stood by a wooden railing on a hilside path that overlooked the Yort settlement of Iktak. Here the path bulged outward, perhaps intended as a rest point, a place for carts to pass, or even a convenient spot to take in the view. Frey couldn't imagine it was the latter. There was little to view in Iktak, just a depressing, industrial knot of pipes and factories and grimy snow that never quite thawed. That, and the bleak tundra beyond, an empty expanse broken by streaks of shrubbery in toxic colours.

Frey had stood in this exact spot when he'd said his goodbyes to Crake, a month ago. Back then the
Delirium Trigger
had been going in for repairs. Now, it seemed they were al but completed.

A place for partings, then,
he thought. For there was another one coming, and he'd feel this one even more keenly than the last.

After they left Endurance, a hasty conference in the cockpit had determined their next move. Fly to Iktak, colect the
Delirium Trigger,
and then move on Grist's hideout in ful force. Trinica was confident that her craft would be ready. She knew the workshop and said it was the best in the North. She'd offered them enough to make sure her craft was repaired within a month. It appeared her trust hadn't been misplaced.

'It'l take a day, at least,' she said. 'Maybe two. Break in the new crewmen. Trial flight. Fire the guns. Al of that.' She puled her fur-and-hide coat closer around her shoulders. 'I won't take them into battle untested. Not against Grist.'

'Fair enough. He hasn't made a move this past month. Whatever he's waiting for, what's another day or two? Better to be ready, right?'

'Indeed.'

'I've a trip of my own planned, anyway.'

'Oh yes?'

'I had a talk with my crew.'