The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [107]
“Listen up!” Frey snapped. “Hightail it, both of you. You won’t last two minutes against that many Equalizers.”
“You sure?” asked Pinn.
“Yes! Get to the rendezvous! We’ll be right behind you.”
“See you later, then.”
By the time they reached the Ketty Jay, the Storm Dog was rising from the ground, thrusters already lit to push her forward. The Delirium Trigger was coming in fast, guns blazing. All the artillery was focused on the Storm Dog. The Ketty Jay was either unnoticed or considered unimportant. Either was fine with Frey.
He raced up the cargo ramp and headed for the cockpit. Malvery came panting along behind him, while the rest of them bundled into the hold. The craft rocked with the force of nearby explosions as Frey flung himself into the pilot’s seat, punched in the ignition code, and boosted the aerium engines to maximum. She rose on her struts with the usual chorus of groans and squeaks and lifted herself off the ground.
Malvery hurried into the cockpit, red-faced and sweating. “Anything I can do?”
“Just hold on tight!” Frey said. Malvery clung to the door frame and squeezed his eyes shut as Frey shoved the thrusters to maximum.
Nothing happened. Frey tried again. Still nothing. The Ketty Jay was gliding upward into the storm, but she had no way to push herself forward. The thrusters wouldn’t light. The engines had finally broken down on him.
Malvery opened one eye. “Did we escape?” he asked.
“Silo!” Frey yelled. “Get up here!”
But it was too late. The cockpit flooded with blinding whiteness. Three Equalizers hove into view, their machine guns trained on him, lights shining.
“I think they’ve got us covered, Cap’n,” said Malvery.
“I think so too,” said Frey. He vented aerium until the Ketty Jay was heavier than air again. She stopped rising and began to sink gently to the ground.
In the distance he could see the Storm Dog lumbering away toward the rumbling clouds. The Delirium Trigger was harrying her the whole way, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. He watched the Storm Dog disappear into the storm. With her went the sphere he’d worked so hard to obtain. Stolen from him. Again.
“Bugger,” said Malvery.
“Bugger,” Frey agreed, and they came down to earth with a bump.
CAPTIVE—BEST OF ENEMIES—JEZ AWAKES—CRAKE’S ANNOUNCEMENT
arian, Darian, Darian,” said Trinica Dracken, as if to a wayward child. “What am I going to do with you?”
She was wearing a slight, contemplative smile. Lightning flickered outside; sharp shadows lunged across her ghost-white face.
Frey leaned back in his chair and took an idle survey of her cabin. Brass and dark wood. Electric lights, set low. A bookcase with novels and manuals and maps. Foreign titles were mixed in among them. Trinica had been schooled in Samarlan and Thacian from a young age. The advantages of a privileged upbringing, Frey supposed.
“You could start by giving me back all the money you stole from me outside Retribution Falls,” he suggested. Then he grinned. “On second thought, keep it. It’ll just about cover the damage to your aircraft.”
Trinica sat behind her desk, next to a cracked window of reinforced windglass. The cabin had been tidied and cleaned before his arrival—Trinica liked to be neat—but she couldn’t disguise all the evidence of the pounding the Delirium Trigger had taken. Outside in the corridor, there were the sounds of running feet, and the air smelled of burned oil.
“You shouldn’t have robbed me,” said Frey. “I let you off the first time, on account of our previous good feeling toward each other. But twice? Not a chance.”
She gave a derisive snort. “Yes, Darian. Grist has run off with your treasure, and your crew is languishing in my brig. You’ve certainly come out on top this time.”
“You didn’t do so well yourself.”
“I’ll survive.”
“So will I.”
“Ah, but that’s my decision now, isn’t it?” she said. Her black eyes hardened. “You’ve inconvenienced me greatly.”
Frey made a do-I-look-like-I-care face. “I didn’t ask you to get involved. Actually, I seem to recall I had the sphere first.”
“You’ve cost me