The Black Lung Captain - Chris Wooding [204]
“You trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Think!” Frey said, addressing Jez. “You know this type of craft. Where’s the most defensible place? If you were Harvin Grist, where would you go?”
He tried to think of the answer himself as he opened the chest. Looking for Maurin Grist’s research was a tactic to keep him occupied, to prevent him from doing anything stupid. His thoughts were on Trinica and how to save her.
Inside the chest were piles of documents and accounts, bound up in folders. On top of them lay a large manila folio of papers. He picked it up and ruffled through the papers within. It took only a few glances to establish the subject matter. He rolled them up absently and stuffed them in the inner pocket of his greatcoat.
“Come on, Jez!” he said, because he couldn’t find an answer himself.
“Engine room,” said Silo.
Jez’s face lit up. “He’s right. On a frigate like this, it must have walls a foot thick.”
Frey snapped his fingers at the Murthian. “Engine room. Then that’s where we’re going.”
THE ENGINE ROOM—INTRUDERS—TIME RUNS OUT
alvery and Silo backed up the passageway, laying down gunfire as they went. A half dozen Manes swarmed toward them, sinewy limbs stretching out, jaws gaping. But lever-action shotguns were devastating in a confined space.
Blood sprayed the dirty walls. The men kept firing until nothing moved.
“Not that way, I reckon,” said Malvery. He took off his glasses and wiped them with his thumb. Silo was calmly reloading.
Frey gazed at the sickening clutter of bodies through the haze of gun smoke. “We’ll never get down to the lower decks like this.” He ran his hand through his hair and swore. Every moment might be Trinica’s last, but he couldn’t get to her. The deeper into the Storm Dog they went, the more Manes they came across.
He could hear them howling down below. The sound was terrifying. Even if Frey and his crew could fight their way in, he doubted they had enough ammo to deal with those kinds of numbers.
“What are they doing down there?” he muttered to himself.
Jez responded as if the question was directed at her. “Can’t tell,” she said, her voice faint and dreamy. “The sphere … It’s too loud. They want the sphere, that’s all. They’re not interested in us.”
Frey exchanged a glance with Malvery. They were losing her. The longer she stayed here, the more her mind drifted out of focus. Soon she’d be no use to them at all. They had to get her away. But he wasn’t leaving without Trinica.
What if Jez turned Mane, right here? Could he bring himself to shoot her if she became one of them?
He didn’t like that idea. He hurried to change his train of thought. “The engine room on a craft like this, it’ll be huge, right?” he said.
“Should think so,” said Malvery.
“There’s got to be a back way in, then.”
Silo’s eyes widened suddenly. “You’re right, Cap’n.”
“I am?” he asked, surprised.
“Most every engine room got an escape hatch, ’n case fire cut you off from the door. All kinds o’ things go wrong in an engine room. You don’t wanna be stuck in there when they do.”
“The Ketty Jay doesn’t have one,” said Frey.
“Ain’t the first safety regulation you broke,” Silo pointed out.
“S’pose not,” said Frey. “Let’s get looking for it, then. Jez!”
She blinked out of a daze.
“Escape hatch!” he barked at her.
“We’re on the deck above the engine room,” she said. She thought for a moment. “Could be anywhere around here. In the floor.”
“Split up, get looking!” said Frey.
“Split up?” said Malvery, pointing at the pile of dead Manes cluttering the corridor. “Bad idea, Cap’n.”
“Just find it!” said Frey.
They hurried up the passageway, scanning the floor, investigating likely alcoves and side corridors. The gunfire from the lower decks had ceased, but since Jez had said that the sphere was still broadcasting, he had to assume the Manes hadn’t got hold of it yet. That meant Grist was still down there. Trinica too.