The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [156]
“It’ll take a day, at least,” she said. “Maybe two. Break in the new crewmen. Trial flight. Fire the guns. All of that.” She pulled 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.”
She turned toward him slightly. Black birds flapped through the air overhead, croaking. “About what?”
“About everything. Grist, you. About why I was dragging them all over everywhere.”
“You told them about us?”
“Not everything. Enough.”
“How did they take it?”
“Well, after they’d picked themselves off the floor, I think they were glad to know. It explains a lot for them, I suppose.”
Trinica laid a gloved hand on his arm and gave him a wan smile. Frey felt his throat tighten suddenly and his eyes began to prickle. The moment of affection, this lightest of contacts, had caught him by surprise. He looked away and stared intently into the middle distance, forcing back the threat of tears.
Blood and dust, Frey! Hold it together! You’re supposed to be a man!
“They wanted to try to get Crake back,” he said. “I said yes. Least I could do. Jez thinks she might be able to talk to him. She knows what’s eating him up.”
“What about Pinn?”
“Pinn’s gone,” said Frey, a touch of regret creeping into his voice. He couldn’t help feeling that it was mostly his fault they’d lost their best pilot. “If he ever told anyone where he came from, they don’t remember. Don’t have the first clue where to look for him. If he wants to come back, he’ll have to find us. But somehow I doubt the lad’s got the brains for it.”
“Will you replace him, then?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I suppose I’ll have to eventually. Won’t be the same, though.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You know, there’s a little part of me that’s gonna miss that fat, stupid moron.”
He studied the Delirium Trigger. A shuttle craft was departing from the Iktak docks and heading up toward it. Perhaps it was carrying engineers, still applying finishing touches to the delicate mechanisms inside. Maybe, once all the major work was done, they’d moved it out of the hangar to make space for another craft.
Thinking about things like that stopped him thinking about other things.
“It’s a good idea,” said Trinica. “About Crake.” She sounded weary and unenthusiastic, but then, she always did when she was depressed.
Frey rolled his shoulders. “We could do with getting Bess back if we need to do any fighting on the ground. Nobody can kick your head off like Bess can.”
“Come on. It’s not about Bess. You miss Crake too. Admit it.”
Frey poked at the frozen ground with the toe of his boot. “Yeah,” he said. “A lot more than Pinn, anyway.” He looked over at her. “You won’t go after Grist while I’m gone?”
“I’ll wait for you, Darian,” she said. But, tired as she seemed, she didn’t say it with much conviction. Frey wanted more assurance than that.
“Trinica,” he said. He made her face him. He wanted her to know it was serious. “I can trust you, can’t I? Because if you turned on me again …” He trailed off, not knowing how to end it.
“You can trust me,” she said, more firmly this time.
Frey was satisfied with that. They stood together in silence, watching the activity in the docks below. Aircraft taking off, engineers tinkering with engines, foremen directing the moving of heavy equipment.
“All this will be different, you know,” she said at length.
He knew what she meant. She meant the feeling between them. She meant herself. After this, she’d return to the Ketty Jay. She’d don her black outfit and chop at the hair that had grown during their time together. She’d put on her white makeup and her garish lipstick and those contact lenses that made her eyes monstrous. She’d become the pirate