The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [182]
Beyond, and all around, the dreadnoughts were descending on Sakkan. They sank out of the maelstrom, through the eerie half-light. Black, ragged iron monsters, a dozen or more. The damned ghosts of a frigate fleet, come from the land of the dead. As they neared the ground, ropes snaked from their decks. The Manes swarmed down them, scampering headfirst, hand over hand. They wore human shape, but they were far from human. They dropped to the ground like spiders and were lost from sight.
Jez is one of them? I don’t believe it! I won’t believe it!
The thought of Jez brought his mind out of a tailspin, enough to pull a coherent thought together. He should run. He should get in the Firecrow and flee while he still had the chance.
But what about Jez? What about his plan to rescue her? What about being brave?
Taking on Grist’s gang single-handed would have been easy compared to this. The Manes were dropping all over the city, infesting the streets that lay between him and her. Trying to reach her would be suicide. And then he’d still have to take on Grist’s gang single-handed.
It was too much for his fragile courage. An impossible task. He felt his resolve failing under the weight of the Manes’ presence. But even though he couldn’t bring himself to go to her rescue, he wouldn’t run out on her either. He couldn’t do that. He was a coward and he knew it, but there were limits. If he left now, he wouldn’t be able to return. The shame would be too much, even for a man who lived his life ashamed.
What could he do, then? What could he do?
As he looked frantically this way and that, he caught sight of something. Aircraft in the distance, heading toward Sakkan instead of away. They came from the east, beneath the black clouds, silhouetted by a low, glowering sun. Frigates, by the size. Maybe ten of them, flying in formation, approaching at top speed. There was only one organization he knew of that could summon ten frigates and have them fly with that kind of discipline.
The Navy! The Navy is here!
His heart lifted a little. A ray of hope. How had they got here so fast? Well, he wasn’t in any mind to complain. The Navy was here. There would be a battle over Sakkan, as well as in the streets.
The realization spurred him, and he found the strength to move. On the ground, he was worse than useless: a pathetic shell of a man. But in the sky, ah, there he wasn’t so meek. Up there, his enemy respected him. And if they didn’t, they soon learned to.
He needed the safety of the cockpit. He could seal himself inside. Within the protective canopy of windglass, he was the master of his own small world. There, he had a chance. If he had to stay, if there was to be a fight, then he’d take it to the air.
A siren had begun to sound in the distance, a low, sinister yowl that floated over the rooftops. It was joined by another, from the far side of the city. He ran for the Firecrow and was halfway up the ladder to the cockpit when there was a shriek of metal from behind and above him. A wave of heat and pressure shoved him in the back. He looked over his shoulder to see two fighter craft spinning toward the ground, trailing flame. A cacophony of screams rose from the far side of the pad. The crashed fighters hit the ground, plowing through men and aircraft alike, sending up blooming fountains of fire in their wake.
Harkins scrambled into the cockpit, pulled the canopy shut, and activated the aerium engines. He was usually obsessive about preflight checks, but not this time. He was desperate to be off the ground, to get up into the freedom above. He flicked the thrusters to ready and grabbed the flight stick.
A moment. Something was amiss. For an instant, he thought he caught a whiff of a familiar scent. The foul musk of that damned cat, which it sprayed all over the Ketty Jay to mark its territory.
Then he looked down into his lap and realized that his crotch was sodden in a great dark patch.
Ah, he thought. That must be it. He’d been too scared to notice.
The Firecrow sat up on its wheel struts and rose from the ground.