The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [136]
You always let things fester. Well, not this time.
He took a steady breath and began to walk toward Jez. Trinica stayed where she was. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at her.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry as all damnation for the way it turned out.”
Trinica gave him a forlorn smile. “Me too,” she said.
JEZ HEARD THE CAP’N coming, but she didn’t turn to look. Only when it became clear that he wanted to talk to her did she stop hacking at the ice. But she still didn’t meet his eyes. She was angry. She’d been angry for days now.
How easily they turned on her. How many times had she saved their lives? Who among them could claim to be half as useful as she was? She didn’t gripe like Pinn or slob around like Malvery. She didn’t fall apart like Harkins or desert them like Crake. She deserved her place more than anyone on board.
But none of that counted, because she was a Mane.
At first, she’d been ashamed. Ashamed of her condition, ashamed that they’d seen the bestial side of her that she’d hoped to hide forever. Ashamed that she’d kept the secret from them. She’d skulked about the Ketty Jay, keeping to herself. Her only confidant was Silo. When she wasn’t in her quarters or about her duties, she was in the engine room. They didn’t speak often, but she was content just to be there, to help out where she could. Silo understood.
But shame lasted only so long, and then it began to sour. With every uneasy greeting in the corridor, every hour passed in silence in the cockpit with the captain, her bitterness grew. She was sick of being sorry. She found it pathetic that the crew was all pretending that nothing had happened and yet they couldn’t look her in the eye.
Nobody made any move, either to make peace or to kick her off the Ketty Jay. She waited every day for the ax to fall, but eventually it became apparent that no one was holding it.
Now, as the Cap’n stood next to her, she wondered if the time had finally come.
“Jez?” he said. “Can we talk?”
She shrugged with an insulting lack of respect. “Whatever you want.”
“And you can cut out the attitude, Jez, or we’re never going to get anywhere.”
He wasn’t usually so assertive. It surprised her, but not enough to make her drop the hostility in her tone. “Where exactly are you trying to get to, Cap’n?” she asked.
He glared at her for a moment, then snorted. “Forget it,” he said. “This isn’t worth it. Bad idea.”
He turned and began to stalk away from her. But that brief exchange had fired her up. All the pressure in her had been given a vent. The Cap’n wanted to talk? Well, she’d talk.
“Cap’n!” she snapped.
He stopped and turned around. “You got something to say?”
“Yeah, Cap’n, I do,” she said. “I want to tell you I’m rot-damned tired of the way I’m being treated on board this aircraft. I’m tired of being a ghost to all you men just because you’re too chickenshit to deal with your feelings. There’s a sight too many secrets on the Ketty Jay. A little more conversation and a little less ducking the bloody issue would do us all a lot of good.”
She threw the hammer and chisel on the ground and spat after it. Felt good. Felt good to go past the point of caring what the consequences were. She strode up to the Cap’n. She was shorter than he was, but so what? It was time he heard how it was.
“I got caught by a Mane,” she said. “Didn’t turn me all the way, but it turned me enough. I’m part Mane, but I’m still human. I think like I used to, and I feel like I used to. And I might add that my being a Mane accounts for my frankly phenomenal navigational skills, without which you’d be long dead and your precious craft would be a heap of slag.” She threw her hood back and glared up at him furiously. “Do you get it, Cap’n? I’m part Mane. You deal with that or you kick me off, but I’m not living like this anymore.”
Her words rang out into silence, swallowed by the cold wind that blew through the town. Frey’s face was stony and grim.
“What happened on the All Our Yesterdays?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What