The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [175]
Nothing happened. He glanced up at the sky. The hazy white blanket seemed to be staying up there.
He fixed his gaze on the enemy’s lair. The open cockpit. The ladder rungs, built into the flank of the craft, that would take him there.
He moved his back legs forward, until all four paws were on the tarmac. His tail still lay flat on the lip of the cargo ramp. His last connection with the Ketty Jay.
The big people were occupied. The machines paid him no attention.
He steeled himself. Then he scampered forward.
For the first time in his long and violent life, Slag departed the Ketty Jay.
“LET ME GET THIS straight,” said Frey. “You said that activating that sphere would bring a horde of Manes down on us. So … er … exactly why would you want to do that? If you want to commit suicide, there’s a gun in your hand. Do us all a favor.”
“Suicide?” Grist burst out laughing and ended with a wheeze. “Oh, no, Cap’n. I ain’t committing suicide. Just the opposite, actually.” He sucked on his cigar and let it seep out through his lips. “See, I’m dying anyway. You may have noticed this delicate little cough of mine? Well, I got the Black Lung. The rot’s eatin’ me up from the inside. Docs said it were only a matter of time, and there weren’t much o’ that.” He held up his cigar and contemplated the glowing tip. “Like I said, tobacco’s a harsh mistress.” He stuck it back in his mouth and showed yellow teeth. “But I don’t wanna die, Cap’n Frey. I’m havin’ too much fun livin’. And as far as I know, there’s only one way to live forever.”
Jez felt a jolt of horror as it clicked into place. “You want to become a Mane,” she said.
Grist gave her a slow look. “Now you get it.”
“You,” said Frey, “are bloody well cracked in the head.”
“Think so?” Grist walked slowly around the daemonist’s cage at the center of the sanctum. “Live forever, maraudin’ the skies?” he cried, his growling voice echoing into the darkness. “Part of the greatest crew in existence? Possessin’ who knows what supernatural abilities?” He pulled on his cigar and blew out a plume of dirty smoke. “Damn, I’ll have my own craft in no time, mark my words. Man of my experience.” He nodded to himself. “I can think of worse ways to spend eternity.”
Frey appeared to consider that. “Nope,” he concluded at length. “Still cracked.”
Grist gave him a look. “Some things are worth riskin’ everythin’ for.”
“Why do it this way?” Jez asked. “Why do you need the sphere?” She felt panic clawing at her. She saw what was coming.
“You know how hard it is to find a Mane when you want one?” Grist said. “They come without warning, and they’re gone in a flash. No pattern, no rhyme or reason. Here’s a man desperate to meet ’em and, even with my dad’s notes, I couldn’t get close. So I’ll bring them to me.”
“But why Sakkan? We could do this out in the snows. There’s no need to unleash the Manes on all these people!”
“It’s a gift,” said Grist. “Best to announce myself with a bang, I reckon. ‘Here I am,’ I’ll say. ‘And here’s a thousand new recruits, an’ all.’ I’ll come to ’em as a hero.” He grinned. “They won’t be dyin’, you know. Those who don’t resist, they’ll be turned. And you of all people should know that ain’t so bad.”
Jez looked around at Grist’s crewmates, hoping that some of them would react to this insanity. What she saw was not doubt but excitement. These few were Grist’s inner circle. Perhaps they, too, dreamed of immortality. At any rate, Grist had persuaded them to his way of thinking. There would be no help there.
“And what about you?” she said to Trinica. “Presumably you don’t care if a whole city is taken by the Manes.”
“You presume correctly,” said Trinica.
“You think he’s going to let you go after explaining all this to you?” she demanded, pointing at Grist. “He’ll betray you, just like he did everyone else.”
“Actually, ma’am, the only reason I’m explaining it at all is for Cap’n Dracken’s benefit,” said Grist. “Someone needs to know what happened