Chris Wooding - The Black Lung Captain

'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.'

Malvery and Silo backed up the passageway, laying down gunfire as they went. A half-dozen Manes swarmed to-. wards 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 gunsmoke. '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 they could fight their way in, he doubted they had enough ammo to deal with those kind 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.'

He 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.

His thoughts were interrupted by a screech and a flurry of limbs, as a Mane launched itself out of an open doorway just ahead of him. It crashed into Malvery, hard enough to knock the bulky doctor off his feet, and sank its teeth into his shoulder. Malvery rolled around bellowing as Silo and Frey tried to grab hold of the ragged ghoul. The very touch of it was appalling: taut muscles sliding under clammy skin. They pulled it away far enough for Malvery to get his boot into its throat. He slammed it against the wall, put his shotgun to its temple, and fired. Frey shuddered as he was pelted with brain flecks.

'Bastard!' snarled Malvery, as he dusted himself down and got to his feet. His face had turned red with anger. He pulled back his coat to examine his shoulder, which was dark with blood.

Frey spat in case any bits of Mane skull had got in his mouth. 'You alright, Doc?'

'Got a good chunk of me,' he grumbled. 'Coat got the worst of it.' He rolled his shoulder and sucked in his breath through his teeth with a hiss. 'I'll live.'

They found what they were looking for a few minutes later, tucked away in a short, dead-end corridor. It was a pressure hatch, set into the floor, with a turn-wheel in the centre. Frey spun it and pulled it open. A ladder led down.

'Whaddya know?' said Malvery, amazed. 'It's actually here.'

'Reckon the Manes don't have escape hatches like this,' Frey said. 'Didn't occur to them to look.'

'Guess they skimped on the safety regs, too,' Malvery said.

The ladder led down on to one of the gantries that surrounded the monstrous engine assembly. It was the size of a small building, a mass of oily pistons, gears and magnets, nestling inside a web of walkways. Inside that structure, prothane was processed ready to feed to the thrusters, and aerium was pulverised into gas. It was dormant now, but it still radiated heat from recent use. The room was sweltering. Metal parts ticked and grumbled as they cooled. Shadows lurked in the folds of the room, hiding under pipes and in corners.

Frey heard voices from somewhere within the room. The echoes mangled the words, turning them ghostly and strange, but he caught the tone. Angry and fearful. Desperate men arguing.

And then, calm and measured, a woman's voice.

Trinica!

A surge of excitement ran through him. It had to be her! It wasn't too late, then! He could rescue her, bring her out the way they came in, and get back to the Ketty Jay. The Manes wouldn't stop them. They didn't care as long as they got the sphere. All he had to do was deal with Grist.

But as well as the voices, he could hear the Manes. They were howling outside, pounding and scratching at the door. The echoes made it seem as if they were everywhere, trying to claw through the very walls.

The sound chilled him. The Manes would find a way inside somehow. He was dreadfully sure of that.

Silo closed the hatch behind them. Frey searched ahead for Grist and Trinica. The walkways were made of grilles and bars; it was possible to see through the gaps underfoot, to the levels below. But he could find no sign of them, and he decided they must be the other side of the engine assembly.

He turned to his crew and put his finger to his lips. Jez didn't react. She had her head cocked, listening to the wails of the Manes outside. Silo had to shake her by the shoulder to make her focus.

'Concentrate!' Frey hissed.

She nodded, but she was already slipping away again.

He led them down a set of steps to a lower level and began to circle round the greasy bulk of the engine, alert for danger. It stank of aerium and prothane, strong enough to make his head feel light. The door of the engine room came into view below, visible through the intervening mesh of walkways. It was stout metal and shut tight. Frey felt slightly reassured. Not even Bess would get through that in a hurry.

Then he saw movement. At first he thought it was a trick of his vision, a product of the fumes in the air. When he narrowed his eyes and peered closer, it became more pronounced. No mistake, then. It took him a moment to work out what he was seeing, and a while longer to believe it.

An arm was slowly coming through the door. Reaching out of the solid metal, as if its owner was no more substantial than smoke. As Frey watched in horror, a shoulder followed, and a head. It was a Mane, this one ethereal and elegant, a slender figure with a deathly pallor, wearing tattered robes. Its face was that of a handsome young man, with thin lips and high cheekbones. But its eyes were pale and blank like a cave-fish.