Chris Wooding - The Black Lung Captain

Trinica was firm. 'Anything's better than nothing.'

Frey watched Jez working away in the yellow lamplight. Trinica was right, of course. She was always smarter than he was. She never let him get away with anything. She decimated his excuses. Saw right through him when he tried to weasel out of things. He remembered that about her. She pushed him, always. She wouldn't let him be weak.

You're like the head of a family, she'd said. And that was true. He'd told himself that they were all adults, that they could handle their own problems, but in his heart he'd known that he just didn't want to deal with them himself.

But a captain should lead by example. He couldn't ignore it any longer. He needed to clear the air.

You always let things fester. Well, not this time.

He took a steady breath and began to walk towards Jez. Trinica stayed where she was. After a few steps, he stopped and looked back at her.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry,' he said. 'Sorry as all damnation for the way it turned out.'

Trinica gave him a forlorn smile. 'Me, too,' she said.

Jez heard the Cap'n coming, but she didn't turn to look. Only when it became clear that he wanted to talk to her did she stop hacking at the ice. But she still didn't meet his eyes. She was angry. She'd been angry for days now.

How easily they turned on her. How many times had she saved their lives? Who among them could claim to be half as useful as she was? She didn't gripe like Pinn or slob around like Malvery. She didn't fall apart like Harkins or desert them like Crake. She deserved her place more than anyone on board.

But none of that counted, because she was a Mane.

At first, she'd been ashamed. Ashamed of her condition, ashamed that they'd seen the bestial side of her that she'd hoped to hide for ever. Ashamed that she'd kept the secret from them. She'd skulked about the Ketty Jay, keeping herself to herself. Her only confidant was Silo. When she wasn't in her quarters or about her duties, she was in the engine room. They didn't speak often, but she was content just to be there, to help out where she could. Silo understood.

But shame only lasted so long, and then it began to sour. With even uneasy greeting in the corridor, every hour passed in silence in the cockpit with the captain, her bitterness grew. She was sick of being sorry. She found it pathetic that the crew were all pretending that nothing had happened, and yet they couldn't look her in the eye.

Nobody made any move, whether to make peace or to kick her off the Ketty Jay. She waited even day for the axe to fall, but eventually it became apparent that no one was holding it.

Now, as the Cap'n stood next to her, she wondered if the time had finally come.

'Jez?' he said. 'Can we talk?'

She shrugged with an insulting lack of respect. 'Whatever you want.'

'And you can cut out the attitude, Jez, or we're never going to get anywhere.'

He wasn't usually so assertive. It surprised her, but not enough to make her drop the hostility in her tone. 'Where exactly are you trying to get to, Cap'n?' she asked.

He glared at her for a moment, then snorted. 'Forget it,' he said. 'This isn't worth it. Bad idea.'

He turned and began to stalk away from her. But that brief exchange had fired her up. All the pressure in her had just been given a vent. The Cap'n wanted to talk? Well, she'd talk.

'Cap'n!' she snapped.

He stopped and turned around. 'You got something to say?'

'Yeah, Cap'n, I do,' she said. 'I want to tell you I'm rot-damned tired of the way I'm being treated on board this aircraft. I'm tired of being a ghost to all you men just because you're too chickenshit to deal with your feelings. There's a sight too many secrets on the Ketty Jay. A little more conversation and a little less ducking the bloody issue would do us all a lot of good.'

She threw the hammer and chisel on the ground and spat after it. Felt good. Felt good to go past the point of caring what the consequences were. She strode up to the Cap'n. She was shorter than him, but so what? It was time he heard how it was.

'I got caught by a Mane,' she said. 'Didn't turn me all the way, but it turned me enough. I'm part Mane, but I'm still human. I think like I used to, and I feel like I used to. And I might add that my being a Mane accounts for my frankly phenomenal navigational skills, without which you'd be long dead and your precious craft would be a heap of slag.' She threw her hood back and glared up at him furiously. 'Do you get it, Cap'n? I'm part Mane. You deal with that or you kick me off, but I'm not living like this any more.'

Her words rang out into silence, swallowed by the cold wind that blew through the town. Frey's face was stony and grim.

'What happened on the All Our Yesterdays ?' he asked.

'I don't know.'

'What if it happens again?'

'I don't know. I can't promise I won't.'

'I have a crew to think about,' he said.

'Yes!' she cried. 'And I'm part of it!' She paced away from him, smoothed her hair back, reded her ponytail. Something she did when she was anxious or upset. 'I'm in trouble, Cap'n,' she said. 'I'm turning. Into what, I don't know. How long it'll take, I don't know. Maybe I'll beat it. Maybe it's unstoppable. But I'm scared. I'm scared I'll lose my mind. And the only person who might have explained any of it to me was Crake, and now he's gone! Because of another damn secret that he couldn't share.'

'I don't think you'll lose your mind,' said Frey.

Her tone made it clear what she thought of his knowledge on the subject. 'You don't? Why not?'

'Because this professor guy told me so. He said the daemon was more like . . . like a sin-boat.'

'Symbiote,' she corrected automatically.

'Yeah, that. And it doesn't take you over or control you or anything. It just . . . well . . . kind of helps you out, I suppose. That and it makes you look like shit.'

She stared at him, aghast. 'You spoke to that professor a month ago!'

Frey looked like he wished he hadn't opened his mouth.

'And you didn't tell me?' she yelled.

'Things were . . . weird between us,' he mumbled. 'Wasn't sure how to.'

'The way you just did would have been fine!' She slapped the landing strut in frustration. "Spit and pus, Cap'n! You know what it would have meant to me? To know that?'

'Sorry,' Frey said sheepishly.

She put her face in her hands. Her shoulders heaved with each breath.

'Are you crying?' Frey asked.

'I'm trying to calm down so I don't kill you,' she replied through her fingers.

'Oh.'

She took her hands away, shook her head, blew out a breath. Under control, Jez. Keep it under control.

She put her hand on her hip and poked Frey in the chest with a finger. 'I'll tell you what,' she said. 'I'll give you a choice. I quit the Ketty Jay. Right here and now.'

Frey looked stricken. 'Wait, you're quitting?'

'Ah! Ah!' she said. 'I'm not done. It seems you have a vacancy for a navigator now. So I offer my services. I'm a navigator. You won't find any better. But I'm also part Mane, with all the things that entails.' She folded her arms and stared at him defiantly. 'Now I've told you, upfront. Either hire me, and we start again from scratch, or don't, and I'll leave right now. But no more of this pussyfoot bullshit.'

Frey stood there in the slowly freezing slush and regarded her thoughtfully. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Nothing showed on his face, as if this was a game of Rake and he was considering his hand.

All or nothing. What's it to be?

Then he tutted, and looked up at the sky. 'Who am I kidding? We wouldn't last two days without you. You're the best damn navvie I've ever seen.'