The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [141]
He brought the Ketty Jay in and settled her down with a puff of snow. Harkins came sinking through the air to starboard. The pilot had hardly said a word since Pinn’s surprise exit. Frey wondered if Harkins was missing their constant bickering. Pinn might have been a torment, but at least he paid attention to his fellow outflier.
Frey was trying not to think about what Pinn’s departure would do to his crew. There was no doubt that Pinn was an idiot, but he was generally an amusing one, and Frey had got used to having him around. Every group needed a scapegoat, and Pinn was the perfect candidate, being too stupid to realize when people were making fun of him. He’d been Malvery’s only drinking buddy after Crake had left. Apart from that, he was a fine outflier, and he’d taken his aircraft with him. After losing Bess and now Pinn, Frey was getting light on muscle.
Damn it! Why did he bolt now? Just when I’d got Jez back on the team.
He was unhappy with how the whole affair had played out. Unhappy with Pinn for leaving without a word. Unhappy with himself for letting it get to that point. He’d always taken Pinn for granted, and now it had come back to bite him. It would be hard to replace him. There weren’t many pilots that good who were willing to work for next to nothing.
Well, he’d deal with it as soon as he could. Maybe Malvery knew where Pinn’s hometown was, and they could head over there and entice him back. But all that was for later. Right now he had enough on his plate.
Still, one thing was for sure. With Pinn gone, it was going to be a lot quieter round here.
He looked over his shoulder, checking that the cockpit was empty.
“Too quiet,” he said aloud, then sank back into his seat with a satisfied smile.
“I heard that, Cap’n!” Jez called from down the corridor.
THEY ASSEMBLED OUTSIDE THE Ketty Jay, yawning and stamping their boots against the cold. Malvery was still half drunk, squinting like a newborn puppy in the feeble morning light. Frey adjusted his earcuff.
“You there, Jez?”
“I’m here,” came his navigator’s disembodied voice. He looked up and raised a hand. From the cockpit, she raised one in reply.
They headed out into the empty streets of Endurance, their breath steaming in the morning air. Frey rubbed his hands to keep them warm. He wished he could have worn gloves, but gloves and pistol triggers didn’t work well together. Trinica stuck close to him. Silo and Malvery flanked them with shotguns.
The town was as silent and deserted as it had seemed from the air. Soft snow gathered in the crevices of worn stone walls. They peered suspiciously down alleys and kept a lookout for movement on the rooftops, but the only movement came from the drifting flakes in the air, which settled on the furred fringes of their hoods and melted away.
Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but Frey was finding it hard to stay alert with Trinica next to him. He was worried about bringing her along. He didn’t know if she could handle herself in combat, and the only time he’d ever seen her shoot was when she fired a pistol point-blank at his chest, back in Duke Grephen’s stronghold the winter before last. But there was another reason too. He didn’t want her getting hurt.
They hadn’t gone far from the landing pad when they turned a corner and came across a heap of loose scaffolding and rubble in the middle of the street. They approached it carefully. Upon closer inspection, they saw pieces of broken furniture stuffed in there too. The fabric had been pierced by bullet holes.
“What’s this look like to you?” Frey asked the company in general.
“It looks like a barricade,” Trinica replied.
Frey frowned. “What’s been going on here?”
There was a scuffle of movement to his left. Frey turned quickly; his arm snapped out straight, pistol leveled.
Staring at them from the mouth of an alleyway was a boy. Ragged, dirty, no more than thirteen. His eyes widened in fright, and he fled.
“Hey!” Frey cried, breaking into a sprint. He pelted toward the alleyway, with Trinica and Silo in pursuit.
“Oh, damnation. Don’t make me run!” Malvery