The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [199]
Far back on the deck stood a command tower, a black pile of spikes and rivets with armored slits for windows. If there was a captain, he’d be there, along with the pilot. So that was where Harkins was heading.
He cut the thrusters further, coming in slow to give his enemy a chance to react. Then he flew over the Ketty Jay, leapfrogging her in the air, and headed straight for the command tower.
“You want to play chicken?” he muttered. “Well, I’m the biggest chicken of them all!”
He didn’t fire his machine guns as he came. He refused to. He’d leave them in no doubt of his intentions. He’d let them know he wasn’t going to pull away.
He’d let them know he was going to ram the command tower, and if their captain valued his inhuman life, he’d move aside.
The Manes were scrambling to the deck guns, but they wouldn’t get there in time. The dreadnought cruised toward him, framed by the flashing churn of the vortex. Harkins squared his shoulders and flew straight.
His heart slammed against his ribs, his muscles rigid as he held the Firecrow steady. The dreadnought was huge now, growing faster and faster. The Firecrow juddered and rocked around him. The thrusters roared in his ears.
I’m not moving. He projected his thoughts at his opponent. Are you?
“Harkins, what the shit do you think you’re doing?” Pinn asked. “They’re Manes! This is not the time to grow a backbone!”
Pinn. He was the worst of those who laughed at him. Well, one way or another, no one would be laughing after this.
He was coming up on the deck of the dreadnought. Close enough to see the faces of the scurrying figures there. They howled and pointed. Perhaps they sensed his intention, but they couldn’t stop him.
Closer. His hand began to shake on the stick. Doubts ate away at his resolve. What would it feel like to die? What would come after?
Closer. He was passing over the bow of the dreadnought. Suddenly all the bravado he’d gained from beating up a cat deserted him. The cowardly voice in his head rose to a shriek. His arms trembled with the effort of resisting the urge to pull away.
Don’t do it!
Don’t do what? Don’t carry on, or don’t crack and flee?
The deck streaked past beneath him. The tower rose ahead. He was still aiming right for the bridge. The wind shook and battered the Firecrow, as if the whole craft might come apart.
He gritted his teeth to clamp down on the blubbering wail rising up from his chest. The black metal slab of the command tower thundered toward him, the promise of fiery oblivion with it.
Just this once, he thought. Just this once. Be a man.
Then there was a deafening blast of escaping gas, and the command tower tilted as the frigate vented its aerium tanks on the starboard side. The dreadnought listed hard and dipped. Manes went scrabbling and sliding across the deck toward the gunwales. Harkins rolled to his own starboard as the bigger craft bowed aside, and the Firecrow raced past the command tower, wings vertical, with half a meter to spare.
Harkins blinked in shock. The dreadnought was diminishing behind him, the vortex gaping ahead. He unclipped his straps and twisted to look over his shoulder.
The dreadnought was venting on its port side to level itself up, but the added weight was making it sink fast. As it moved out of the way, he saw the Ketty Jay flying over the top of the dipping craft, trailing in his wake.
“Wa-hooo! You crazy bastard!” Pinn was ecstatic. “That was the bravest damn thing I ever saw!”
A tentative smile spread across his face. That had been brave, hadn’t it? And even better, he was still alive to enjoy it.
He turned away from the vortex, back toward the Ketty Jay. The electroheliograph on her back was flashing rapidly. Break off. Don’t follow. Meet at Iktak.
Harkins understood. The fighter craft would likely be destroyed in the unknown stresses of the vortex. Maybe the Ketty Jay would too. But there was nothing