Chris Wooding - The Black Lung Captain

We're going too fast!

The rock and scree slope raced to meet them as the Ketty Jay curved gracelessly into the tributary valley. Frey hauled on the stick as hard as he could, but the turn was just a fraction too tight, and he knew they weren't going to make it. He hit the airbrakes and boosted the aerium tanks at the same time, lightening and slowing the craft.

Too little, too late. There was no way he was going to miss that wall. With that realisation came a flash, a moment of stunning clarity in his mind.

What will I leave behind?

Then the Ketty Jay screamed into the tributary, her belly almost scraping the valley wall. Frey blinked. Not dead after all.

There was no time for shock. He levelled the craft, hit the thrusters and tried to make up the speed he'd lost. He could tell Jez was staring at him in disbelief, but he didn't want to meet her eyes right now.

'Malvery! Are they still on us?'

'Two of 'em! We've lost the rest!' Malvery was still in good humour, apparently unaware of their near-death experience. 'One coming up on us fast!'

Jez shook herself and went back to her maps. 'Another tributary coming up. Hard left. The angle's steep, but the tributary's wider.'

Frey's eyes flickered over the valley. Rock and grass and water. The world beyond the smudged windglass seemed startlingly sharp, yet he was flying in a daze.

'Cap'n?' Jez prompted.

'Hard left. Got it.' He tapped his earcuff. 'Hey, Harkins, Pinn? Still there?'

'We're still here.'

'You've done enough. Get going. We'll meet you at the rendezvous.'

'At bloody last,' Pinn said. 'Bye, bye, country boys!'

Frey heard him whoop as he pushed the Skylance to maximum, then he faded out of range. Harkins would be gone too. The villagers' planes couldn't come close to the speed of the fighters.

He spotted the turn ahead of them. Plenty of space, especially as they'd shed some velocity. He was lining up for it when one of the villagers pulled in front of him. It was another two-seater, powered by thrusters and aerium like all modern craft. In the back seat was a man with a rifle, levelling up for another shot at the Ketty Jay. Frey gave him a glance and ignored him, concentrating instead on the upcoming manoeuvre. Let him waste a bullet. Since the pilot was ahead of him, he wouldn't be able to match Frey's sudden turn.

Ready . . .

Ready . . .

Now!

Frey banked hard, and at the same moment the windglass of his cockpit cracked noisily, making him jump. Between the dust, the dark, and the crazed shatter-pattern on the windglass, he could hardly see a thing. Yelling in fear, clinging to his flight stick, he pulled the Ketty Jay through the turn more by feel and luck than anything else.

'He shot my damn windglass!' Frey cried. He jerked his head about, searching frantically for an unshattered section to see through, and found one just in time to spot the cropduster come flying directly towards him along the valley. He yelled again, threw his whole weight on the stick, and the Ketty Jay dived, hard enough to send the cropduster shooting over their heads.

'What the bloody shit was that? It almost killed me!' Malvery shouted from the cupola.

Frey levelled the Ketty Jay with trembling hands. 'He tried to ram us,' Frey said in disbelief. 'He tried to ram us!' Then his face and voice hardened. 'Alright. That's it\' He turned in his seat. 'Jez. Take the Ketty Jay. Turn on the belly lamps and put her down on the valley floor.'

Jez didn't question the order. She got up and switched with him in the pilot's seat. Frey heard her decelerating as he stormed out of the cockpit and into the passageway. He went past the ladder that led to the cupola, where Malvery's feet could be seen dangling.

'Cap'n?' Malvery said, but Frey swept by him, heading for the cargo hold.

His jaw was set tightly as he stamped down steps and passed along gantries. The hold was all but empty, full of echoes. The whine as the Ketty Jay extended her landing struts was loud in here.

Crake was at the bottom of the steps, still holding the lockbox full of coins Frey had given him. He was clinging on to a handrail. There was a bruise on the side of his head.

'What's going on out there, Frey?' he asked. 'I'd have come up, but I didn't dare take the stairs, the way you were flying.'

'Don't worry about it. Give me the box.'

Crake did so. Frey felt the Ketty Jay sink and slow, then there was a jolt as she settled on to her struts. He grabbed an emergency flare from a half-empty rack and pulled the lever to lower the cargo ramp at the Ketty Jay's rear. Hard white brightness flooded in from the landing lamps on her underside. Beyond was the deep green grass of a wild meadow.

He went out into the meadow and stood in the full glare of the lights. Three planes were coming down the valley towards him. He thrust the box in the air with one hand.

'Here's your money, since you want it so much!' He threw it sulkily on the ground, lit the flare, and tossed it to the earth next to the box. 'Now leave me alone!'

He went inside, closed the ramp, and headed back to the cockpit. Jez slipped out of his seat and he took the Ketty Jay up again.

'Doc!' he called. 'What are they doing behind us?'

'Most of 'em are breaking off,' Malvery said. 'One's landing where you left the flare.'

'Does it look like they're coming after us?'

'Doesn't look that way, Cap'n.'

'Good. Make sure they're not following, then you can come down.'

'Right-o.'

Frey pulled the Ketty Jay out of the valleys and into the sky. A profound depression had settled on him. After a long while, Malvery clambered down from the cupola and headed wordlessly off to his infirmary. Jez got up and stood by Frey's shoulder, peering through the ruined windglass at the moon beyond.

'You know what's worse than robbing a bunch of defenceless orphans?' Frey said.' Failing to rob a bunch of defenceless orphans.'

She patted him on the shoulder. 'Brave try, Cap'n.'

'Oh, shut up.'

Thornlodge Hollow nestled among the hills and trees of the Vardenwood, minding its own business. It was a town of moderate wealth and prosperity, situated far from the main trade routes. The houses on the riverside were tall and narrow, with tall, narrow windows to match. Cobbled lanes meandered past serene shopfronts. Winding paths led away through the forest to farms and smallholdings and miniature satellite villages. Pretty bridges spanned picturesque streams. The folds of the hills concealed glades and meadows.hornlodge Hollow nestled among the hills and trees of the Vardenwood, minding its own business. It was a town of moderate wealth and prosperity, situated far from the main trade routes. The houses on the riverside were tall and narrow, with tall, narrow windows to match. Cobbled lanes meandered past serene shopfronts. Winding paths led away through the forest to farms and smallholdings and miniature satellite villages. Pretty bridges spanned picturesque streams. The folds of the hills concealed glades and meadows.

It was a pleasant and perfectly normal place. Most people didn't know where it was, pirates and smugglers included. A good spot for the crew of the Ketty Jay to hole up and lick their wounds for a while.

The landing pad was some way out of town, on a hilltop, hemmed in by tall trees. Its perimeter was illuminated by gaslit lamp-posts, which cast a yellow light on the underside of the leaves. It wasn't large, but there wasn't much traffic in a place like Thornlodge Hollow. Twenty craft of various sizes rested there, from small one-man flyers to a pair of cargo barques that occupied a quarter of the pad by themselves. A portable oil-powered generator grumbled away next to the dock master's hut, where there was a spotlight to guide down aircraft. Night breezes pushed through the evergreens, carrying the smell of new growth.