Chris Wooding - The Black Lung Captain

'When did you stop being a common man ?' Samandra asked.

Roke ignored her jab. 'There's no law against associating with Samarlans, last I heard. Our own Earl Hengar was well known for his dalliances. So why am I treated like a criminal?'

'Because it is illegal to sell them aerium, especially since a lot of folk think they're tooling up a navy to have another go at invading us,' said Samandra. 'And that would make you a traitor. Anyway, you'll be given safe passage when the Navy get here. And you'll be released after you've satisfied our curiosity as to why a man high up in an eminent aerium mining company is so chummy with one of our old enemies from the South.'

'That's not good enough,' said Roke.

'Well, it'll have to be.'

Roke rolled his eyes and looked at Frey. 'Your friend here doesn't grasp the basics of negotiation, does she?'

'She does seem an inflexible sort,' Frey agreed.

'Perhaps you're a more reasonable man to deal with?'

'Hey!' snapped Samandra. 'You're dealing with the Century Knights, not him.'

'Then I'm afraid we have nothing more to—'

Roke was interrupted by a rumble that ran through the building, making the walls shudder. Frey listened in alarm as the refinery began to echo with distant groans, shrieks, and eerie wails, as if some enormous metal monster was slowly shaking itself awake.

'The refinery!' Roke exclaimed. 'They've started it up!'

'Who?'

'The workers! Them and their bloody Underground!' Roke sprang out of his chair, agitated. 'They've got inside.' His eyes widened. 'They're going to overload the machines!'

'That sounds like it'll be a bad thing,' Frey observed carefully.

'They'll blow us all to pieces!'

'Right,' said Frey. 'Definitely bad, then.'

The window overlooking the refinery floor was crowded with bodies. The besuited officials of Gradmuth Operations had emerged in a panic, alarmed by the noise from below. They jostled for space with the mercs, hoping to see what was going on. Frey pushed through the common room to the window and looked down.

The refinery had come alive. Great rock-chewing machines gnashed their teeth. Vats of viscous liquid had begun to churn. Kilns glowed as they roared into life. There was a furious racket of grinding gears. A thin smoke had begun to rise. Frey saw men running among the equipment, yanking levers, thumping buttons.

'How did they get in?' someone cried.

Gunfire rattled outside. The mercs on the gate were engaging the invaders. Frey doubted the miners and factory workers were stupid enough to try a full-frontal assault. Much more likely, they'd got in behind the defences and were overrunning the refinery compound.

He'd wondered where most of the village had disappeared to. By the sounds of it, they were all here.

Roke pushed in next to him, with Samandra at his shoulder. At the same time, the overhead lamps died. The refinery was already dim -natural light was shut out - but now it was plunged into darkness, lit only by the fiery red of the awakening furnaces. The scampering figures below became daemonic, mischievous imps racing through the bloody glow.

'They're sabotaging the refinery! Those bastard muck-scraping ingrates!' Roke said. 'We have to get out of here!'

'I'm not going down there!' said a bewhiskered and monacled company man. 'There's dozens of them! With guns! We'll be lynched!'

'Idiot!' Roke said. 'Don't you know what happens if you turn the machines on out of sequence? The kilns will fire up before the coolant starts flowing. The steam pumps will rupture if there's no one to man the valves. This place is going to tear itself apart!'

The company man went white and started to gibber in a manner that reminded Frey of Harkins at his best. 'But . . . but . . . but ... if they blow up the refinery . . . where will they work? What about their jobs?'

'Damned Underground insurrectionists!' spluttered one of his fellows. 'Got them so stirred up they don't know which side their bread's buttered!'

The mercs, who'd overheard the news of the imminent disaster, began jostling for the exit.

'Hey! You all stay your damn selves here or I'll shoot your cowardly hides!' Samandra yelled.

There was a boom that made them all jump, and a shower of concrete dust fell from the ceiling. Colden Grudge was standing in the doorway to the common area, his autocannon smoking. Grissom sloped over to stand next to him and shucked back his duster, revealing knives and pistols. Suddenly nobody felt like leaving any more.

'What can we do?' Samandra asked Roke.

'Get us out of here!' he said.

'That's what they want. They'll be waiting for us outside, with overwhelming numbers, and we can't protect all of you. What else?'

Roke thought for a moment. 'There's a master override switch. It shuts down the refinery in case of emergency. They won't be able to turn it back on without a code, and only the staff know that. I can show you.'

'Not you,' said Samandra. 'You're staying here. The Navy's going to want a word with you.'

'I'll take you,' volunteered a young man with oiled blond hair in a neat centre-parting. A brave and gallant-looking sort, too young to know what danger was. Probably eager to get the attention of the beautiful Century Knight.

Samandra favoured him with a knee-weakening smile. 'Much appreciated, sir.' She turned and began calling out orders. 'Grudge, Jask, with me. Grissom, you stay and guard the staff.'

'I'm not babysitting this bunch of—' Grissom began to protest, but Frey cut him off.

'We'll stay,' he said.

Samandra looked him over suspiciously. Sizing him up in the red darkness.

'Safer up here. Besides, I'm the only one of my lot that can shoot worth a shit,' he lied. 'And I said I'd look after her.' He thumbed at Trinica.

'The passenger. Right,' said Samandra. She frowned at him. A you'd better not be up to something kind of frown. Frey put on his most winning grin.

'Tick-tock, Samandra!' said Grissom, by the door.

'Fine,' she said. 'I can't spare a Knight anyway. Don't even think about going anywhere, though. You'd never make it to your aircraft.'

'Hey,' said Frey, raising his hands. 'Nobody wants to keep me alive more than I do.'

Samandra gave him one last, uncertain look. 'Weapons are on the table,' she said, pointing to the shotguns and pistols that had been brought up by the mercs. 'Good luck.' Then she was heading towards the exit, herding their enthusiastic young guide ahead of her, shouting for the mercs to back them up.

Frey waited till they were gone and said, 'Did you hear that, Jez?'

'Certainly did, Cap'n,' said his navigator, in his ear. 'Meet you on the roof of the refinery in ten minutes?'

'Ten minutes,' he said. He turned to Malvery, who'd scooped up a shotgun and was admiring it. 'Doc, pull that Sammie out of there,' he said, pointing at the door where Jask had stood.

'That's my guest!' Roke protested. 'You'd better not be—'

Til make you a deal, Roke,' Frey interrupted him. He picked up a pistol, checked it, and began loading it. New model. Pristine condition. Very nice. 'I get you and the Sammie out of here, you tell me where Grist is. Simple, right?'

'Agreed,' said Roke, without hesitation. 'There's a port nearby where I can arrange transport for my guest and I. Take us there and I'll tell you.'

'How do we get to the roof?'

'The roof?' Roke thought for a moment. 'The access door is locked and the head caretaker isn't here. No idea where the key is. We'll have to take the elevator.' He motioned at the window. 'Out there.'