The Black Lung Captain - By Chris Wooding Page 0,3

other, with doors to the crew's quarters and Malvery's tiny infirmary between them. Hydraulics whirred as the cargo ramp closed, sealing the aircraft.

He pushed into the engine room, a small space cluttered by black iron gantries, allowing access to all parts of the complex assembly overhead. It was warm and smelled of machinery. Frey cast around for signs of his engineer, but the only crew member in sight was Slag the cat, a scraggy clump of black fur, watching him from an air vent.

'Silo! Where are you?'

'Up here, Cap'n,' came the reply, although Frey still couldn't see him. He guessed his engineer was working around the other side of the assembly. The Ketty Jay, like most aircraft, had two separate sets of engines: aerium for lift and prothane for thrust. Both were tangled together in this room in a confusing jumble of pipes, tanks and malevolent-looking gauges.

'Are we ready to go?' Frey asked, addressing the room in general.

'Wouldn't advise it, Cap'n.'

'Can she fly? he persisted. 'It's a bit urgent, Silo.'

A short pause. 'Yuh,' he said at last. 'Gonna fly like a slug though.'

'That'll do,' said Frey, and pelted out of the engine room, his feet squishing in his boots.

Jez was already at the navigator's station when Frey bundled into the cockpit and threw himself into his seat.

'Destination?' she asked.

'Up,' he replied, and boosted the aerium engines to maximum. The Ketty Jay groaned and shrieked as her tanks filled. Frey leaned forward and peered through the windglass of the cockpit. The first of the villagers had reached the clearing now, but they were too late. The Ketty Jay was dragging herself off the ground and into the air.

Some of them aimed rifles and tried to fire, but their weapons were still too wet to work. One of them made a suicidal dive for the Ketty Jay's landing struts as they retracted. Luckily for him, he fell short. The villagers raged and yelled and threw what stones they could find, but the Ketty Jay kept rising.

Frey felt secure enough to make an obscene gesture at his pursuers. 'Thought you had me, didn't you? Well, let's see you yokels fly!' He slumped back in his seat as they cleared the treetops. Deep relief sank into his bones.

Jez got up from the navigator's station and stood next to him, staring into the night sky with sudden and worrying intensity. Frey followed her gaze.

There were several small, dark shapes in the distance, coming closer.

'Tell me those aren't what I think they are,' he said.

'Yeah,' said Jez. 'It's the villagers. They've got planes.'

Two

A Ramshackle Squadron — Technical Difficulties —

A Moment Of Clarity — The Fruits Of Persistence

Frey stared out of the cockpit at the dim shadows of the approaching planes. He was getting toward the end of his tether. The paltry amount of money he'd stolen from the orphanage could not be worth this level of aggravation.rey stared out of the cockpit at the dim shadows of the approaching planes. He was getting toward the end of his tether. The paltry amount of money he'd stolen from the orphanage could not be worth this level of aggravation.

'Planes,' he said, in the dull tone of one perilously close to going berserk. 'Jez, explain to me how come a bunch of backward country folk have their own air defence force.'

Jez narrowed her eyes. 'Cropdusters modified for fighting forest fires. Mail planes for local deliveries. Personal flyers. There's a small cargo craft in there. Some of them are prop-driven.' She counted. 'There's eight of them in all.'

'Propellers?' Frey scoffed. 'Any of them have guns?'

'Not that I can see. Some of them are open-cockpit two-seaters, though. The passengers have rifles.'

Frey could barely make out the shape of the aircraft at this distance and in this light. But it was no surprise to him that Jez could see every detail. Her eyesight was, literally, inhuman.

He glanced at his navigator. She looked like a normal young woman. Very normal, he thought uncharitably, since his habit was to only pay attention to the pretty ones. She wore practical, shapeless overalls and kept her brown hair in an unflattering ponytail. But she was more than she appeared to be. Frey had made it his business not to think about what she actually was, but the fact that she had no heartbeat was a pretty hefty clue that something wasn't quite right.

Still, all of them had their secrets, and on the Ketty Jay you didn't ask. She was an outstanding navigator and as loyal as