The Black Lung Captain

Twenty-Seven

Marduk was a cold, bleak and bitter place, even with summer coming on. It was the northernmost of the Nine Duchies, sharing a mountain border to the west with Yortland, which was the only colder place on the continent. Cruel winds blew down from the arctic, off the Poleward Sea. The month of Thresh had begun, heralding the start of the summer, but there was little of summer here.

Frey and Trinica walked along winding, slushy trails. Beyond the nearby buildings, snow-capped mountains rose hard and black. It was not yet dusk, but the peaks had swallowed the sun and the town of Raggen Crag was in twilight.

Neither had spoken for a long time. Wrapped in thick hide coats with furred hoods pulled over their heads, they wandered the paths of Raggen Crag without purpose or intention. It was enough, just to walk.

Lights glowed in the windows of the houses, which had been built in groups, huddled together for warmth. The sound of rumbling industrial boilers could be heard within. The roofs and roads were piled with drifts of dirty snow. Black arctic birds swung overhead, or sat on the heating pipes and puffed up their feathers.

It was a grim and simple settlement, like many others Frey had visited lately. They must have hit twenty-five towns in the last thirty days, and still Grist eluded them. There were sightings, hints -enough evidence to keep them in the chase - but nothing that had brought them closer to their target.

Every day, Frey scoured the broadsheets. But there was no sign of any disaster. No doomsday weapon unleashed.

What was Grist up to? What did he mean to do with the sphere he'd stolen? What was he waiting for?

If Frey was frustrated, his crew were doubly so. They were tired and bored. None of them cared about this mission the way he did. Nobody wanted to be dragged around a miserable duchy like Marduk while summer was wasting in the south. Pinn was almost permanently drunk, and Malvery had taken to joining him. Harkins was hardly ever seen on the Ketty Jay, he only came on board for brief visits, and even then he was so skittish that Frey could barely get a sensible word out of him. Silo was his usual self. Jez stayed out of everyone's way. Crake and Bess were gone.

But there was Trinica. At least there was Trinica.

Having Trinica on board hadn't been easy at first. No matter how much they tried to get on, their history always lay between them. The spectre of their unborn child kept them apart. Neither could forgive the other for that. There were so many sharp edges to their conversations.

But they persisted, driven by their common cause. Their encounters with Osric Smult and Professor Kraylock had convinced them that they needed each other, if they wanted to find Grist. In the days that followed, they worked well together. Trinica knew people who wouldn't even open the door to Frey. Frey, in turn, knew lowlifes who were beneath Trinica's notice. Trinica had a way with the high-borns; Frey knew how to butter up drunks. Between them they scoured the inns and drinking houses of the remote northern settlements, plumbing the locals for information.

But there was little information to be had. Grist had disappeared, seemingly without trace.

As time passed, they got used to each other again. The barbed comments came less often. Conversations were no longer loaded with implications. They were no longer walking on eggshells.

More and more, Frey found himself forgetting that they were supposed to be enemies. And it seemed Trinica was forgetting too.

It wasn't all plain sailing. The longer he spent with Trinica, the more he was exposed to her rapid, jagged changes of mood. She was prone to black depressions which made her difficult company. But he learned to ride out her fits of anger and her sullen episodes. Because for every storm there was a period of clear skies and sunlight, where she was suffused with childish joy. or testing him with a wry and wicked wit. For those times, there was little he wouldn't endure.

This evening she was thoughtful, and there was a kind of quiet sadness to her. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but he'd long learned to stop searching for cause and effect where Trinica was concerned. She was a different woman to the one he'd left behind, but now she was free of that ghoulish make-up he could almost believe the last twelve years had never happened.

'I'm worried about your crew,' she said suddenly. They were the first words spoken for half an hour.

He blinked. 'You are?'

'Aren't you?'

He thought about that. Worried wasn't exactly the word he'd use. He was aware that the atmosphere aboard the Ketty Jay wasn't good, but he'd assumed it would sort itself out without any interference from him.

'It's just this whole Grist thing,' he said. 'Once we catch the bastard, they'll be alright.'

'They won't, Darian. They're coming apart. I know it's mostly my fault, but still—'

' Your fault? How's that?'

She gave him a look, her pale face framed by the furred rim of her hood. 'You must see that they hate me.'

Darian plucked at the back of his glove. 'Hate is a bit strong,' he said. 'If we held a grudge against everyone who'd ever screwed us over, we'd have to leave the country. It's not like we've never been ripped off before.'

'Ah,' she said. 'But I'll bet you never invited the thief on board afterwards, though.'

'That's true. Except once, and that was to kick the shit out of him.'

She sighed, blowing out a plume of steam. Their feet crunched through the thin crust of old snow that lay on the paths. Two townsmen walked past leading a shaggy beast of burden, which was towing a piece of machinery on a cart. Frey had seen several of the creatures over the past month but he still wasn't exactly sure what they were. Something between a cow and a ram, he supposed, but since they came buried under a mass of knotted and tangled fur, it was difficult to tell. All he knew was that they were immensely strong and they stank like a mouldy underwear drawer. He vaguely wondered if they were good to eat.

'Listen,' she said. 'You were never the best at seeing what was in front of you, so I'll explain. Your crew resent me. Not only because I stole from them, but because I'm taking up your time.'

'You think they're jealous?' he scoffed. 'Trinica, they're not children.'

'Some of them aren't far off,' she said.

'S'pose you're right at that.'

'Darian, they've lost a friend in Crake. Even I can see that, and I never knew him. At times like that, when things are uncertain and times are bad, a crew looks to its captain for guidance and reassurance. But you're not there. You're with me. They can't understand it, and they don't like it. Darian, do any of them even know we were almost married?'

'No,' he said, uncomfortable. 'I think you're making a bit much of this, though.'

'No, I'm not. I would have said something weeks ago, but I didn't want to tell you how to run your crew.'

'I've done alright so far,' he said. He was on the defensive, and it came out snappy.

'You have. But now you need to do better,' she said. 'Being a captain, it's more than just making good decisions and giving the right orders. It's about trust. You're like the head of a family. They need to trust you, and you need to trust them.'

'They do trust me!' Frey protested. 'Why do you think they've stuck with me?'

'It's a testament to their loyalty that they have,' she said. 'But it won't last forever. You're barely talking to your navigator. For what reason, I can't tell, but it's been going on for a month. The rest of your crew don't really understand why they're being dragged through town after town, because you haven't explained to them why it's important to you. And all of them are feeling the loss of Crake, but their captain doesn't appear to care.'

'I do care!'

'But they can't see that.'

Frey didn't like the way this conversation had turned. He knew she was trying to help him, but he still didn't like to be criticised. He bit back a sarcastic comment and tried not to look surly.

When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, cushioning the content. 'You let things fester,' she said. 'It's your way. You're not good at talking about the things that really matter, so you avoid it instead. You wait and hope that everything will turn out well.' She paused, gazing at the ground before her. 'Remember when you left me, Darian?'

'Of course I do,' he said, prickling.

'You were unhappy for so long, weren't you?' Her tone was sad, sympathetic. It confused him. He'd expected an attack.

'I just . . .' he began, but already the words were clogging up. Damn it, he could never say how he felt and make it sound right. 'It was like I was trapped,' he managed at last. 'I was nineteen.'

'You were angry with me for asking you to marry me. For getting pregnant,' she said it matter-of-factly.

'I wanted to be with you,' said Frey awkwardly. 'I just didn't want to marry you. That's a big thing, you know? I was just a boy. I had a thousand things to do with my life.'

'But you didn't say that. You didn't say any of it.'

Frey was silent. He remembered how it was, on the day of the wedding. How he'd left it till the last minute, and when there was no other way out, he ran.

'I've thought about that day a lot,' Trinica said, as they trudged down a slope between two clusters of houses. Back towards the tiny landing pad and the Ketty Jay. 'I wondered what things would have been like if you'd spoken up earlier. Or if you'd married me anyway, despite your reservations.' She bit her lip, closed her eyes, shook her head. 'I can't see it. Any way you cut it. Wouldn't have worked.'

'I was nineteen,' said Frey quietly. 'So were you.'

'Yes. I was, once.'

The landing pad came into view. The lamp-posts were on. A dozen craft, none bigger than the Ketty Jay, rested there. As they approached, they could hear the sound of short, sharp impacts. Jez was there, buried inside a fur-lined coat, chipping ice from the landing struts.

Trinica stopped. Frey stopped with her. 'What?' he asked.

'You should go and talk to her,' Trinica said.

'About what?'

'About whatever's going on between you. I'll walk a little more.'

Frey felt suddenly unwell. 'I don't know what to say,' he protested feebly.

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.'

'Because I'm part Mane,' she said. 'Because I can read the wind, and see in the dark. Because I just know where things are sometimes. Because I'm part Mane. Say it.'

Frey nodded. 'Okay. Because you're part Mane. And whatever goes along with that. I get it.'

'So,' she said. 'Am I hired?'

Frey grinned. 'You're hired.'

'I want a bigger cut of the profits.'

'What?' Frey was appalled. Jez just stared at him, arms folded, until he threw up his hands.

'Fine! When there's profits to give you, you'll get your cut,' he said. 'If we ever make any.'

Jez felt a grin spreading across her own face. She felt lighter than air. There was a huge sense of release. This whole thing had been building up and building up. Just talking about it made it better. Ironic, really, that it had taken the most silent member of the crew to teach her that.

She held out her hand. 'Thank you, Cap'n. And sorry for keeping it from you. Me being a Mane and all. I won't let you down again.'

He clasped her hand and then, to her surprise, he pulled her into a rough hug. 'Likewise,' he said.

The Happy Amputee was Raggen Crag's classiest bar, which wasn't saying much. It was a grubby, dingy room, lit by blackened bulbs, with tarnished metal fixtures and brass countertops. A broken-down band played on the stage. The locals drank hard liquor and talked in low voices.

Pinn sat at a table in a comer, sweeping a bleary and baleful glare across the room. He was drunk. Mean, stinking drunk. In one meaty hand was the ferrotype of his sweetheart that usually hung from the dash of his Skylance. Malvery sat next to him. hovering on the edge of coma, his eyelids drooping. His round, green glasses sat askew on his nose. Every so often, his head would dip towards the table, and then he'd startle awake briefly before sliding into unconsciousness once again. Several bottles of grog were clustered on the table in front of them.

'Look at 'em,' Pinn snarled.

'Mmf?' Malvery inquired.

'Them!' he said, motioning with his chin. 'The Cap'n and his whore.'

Malvery blinked and tried to focus. Near the bar, Frey and Trinica were deep in conversation with two local men. Tough-looking, ugly sorts.

'Leave 'em alone.' Malvery mumbled. 'Cap'n knows what he's doin'.'

Pinn scowled and took another swig of grog. The Cap'n definitely didn't know what he was doing. Palling around with that slut. Oh, she might have cleaned off that ghoul mask that she wore, but Pinn wasn't fooled. She was still a woman. Treacherous as quicksand. Not that Pinn had ever been near quicksand, but he'd definitely heard it was treacherous.

Bewitched, that was what the Cap'n was. What else could it be? What else could explain it? This past month, you hardly ever saw them apart. The Cap'n was all spry as a lark while everyone else sloped around feeling rotten. What was it between them, anyway? Pinn had thought the Cap'n hated her. Pinn had thought they were enemies. Why ask her along?

All Pinn knew was that Trinica had robbed them blind. Twice! Having that bitch on board was rubbing it in everyone's faces. He'd have been rich if not for her. Maybe then he'd have gone back to Lisinda. Maybe then she wouldn't have sent him a letter telling him she was marrying some other man.

He stared at the ferrotype in his hand. Those eyes, that had once gazed at him so adoringly. Even now, they might be gazing that way at someone else. He ground his back teeth together at the thought.

Every day since he'd received that letter had been a torment of indecision. Should he go back to her, to try and pry her from his rival? Or was that exactly what his rival wanted? He needed to do something to prevent the marriage, but he couldn't return yet, poorer than when he'd left. And what if he was already too late? A cold and manly indifference was surely better than coming home to see the gleam of triumph in his rival's eyes.

For a month now, he'd been paralysed. But with each day that passed, matters became a little more urgent. He had to do something. He just didn't know what.

Malvery turned his head with a slow movement, as if he was underwater. He saw Pinn staring at the ferrotype, and snorted.

'Forget her, mate,' he slurred. 'She ain't worth it.'

'Shut your face, Doc. You don't know her.'

'Come on,' said Malvery. 'Be honest. You weren't ever gonna go back to her anyway. Even if she didn't get married.'

'I was!' Pinn snapped. 'When I got—'

'When you got rich, yeah, yeah.' The idiot grin of the truly hammered spread across his face. 'But you ain't never gonna be rich, Pinn. Nor 'm I. Nor are any of us.' He aimed a finger at Pinn, squinting down its length as if it was a gun. 'You know that, don'tcha?'

'I,' Pinn declared indignantly,'love her.'

'You,' Malvery replied,'left her.'

Pinn didn't really understand what the doctor was driving at. He finished his mug of grog and poured some more.

'Look, mate,' said Malvery, slapping him heavily on the shoulder. 'You can't mope about for ever. She's gone. Plenny more fishies in the sea.'

Pinn stared into Lisinda's eyes. 'I don't want fishes,' he said, suddenly forlorn.

The loud scrape of a chair pulled across the floor startled him. He looked up and saw Frey and Trinica sitting down at their table. He spared her a disgusted grimace before turning his attention to the Cap'n.

'We're moving out,' Frey announced. He seemed excited.

'Now?' Malvery groaned.

Frey thumbed at Pinn. 'Soon as he can fly.' He snatched away the remainder of the grog. 'Get some coffee inside you.'

'Hey! I can fly anytime!' Pinn cried. He lunged for the grog, his hand slipped, and he crashed on to the table, scattering the empty bottles everywhere.

Frey waited for the cacophony of smashing glass to subside. 'We'll wait a few hours, eh?' he suggested.

'What's the story, Cap'n?' Malvery asked.

'There's a town called Endurance, not too far from here. Big aerium-mining operation. Those fellers we were talking to just came from there. Apparently, a bunch of Century Knights have turned up. And guess who they're looking for?'

'Grist?'

'Right. Apparently they're asking for this bloke who they think used to be part of his crew. Feller named Almore Roke. They think he's in Endurance.'

Malvery frowned. 'Why are they lookin' for Grist?'

'Good question,' said Trinica. 'We don't know. But this man Roke sounds like the best lead we're likely to get.'

'Oh, is that right?' sneered Pinn. 'You calling the shots now?'

Frey gave him a hard look. 'No,' he said. 'I am. Sober up and get yourself back to the Ketty Jay. Malvery, see that he does.'

Frey and Trinica got up and left. Pinn waited till they were gone then began mumbling swear words under his breath.

'Don't worry,' said Malvery, who'd perked up a bit. 'Everythin' will be back to normal before you know it. I'll get us some coffee.'

It was almost dawn when Frey flopped into his pilot seat, yawning. He'd managed a couple of hours of sleep before he was roused by Jez. Pinn and Malvery had returned from the bar, and Pinn looked together enough to fly. They probably should have left it till the morning, but Frey was worried they'd miss their opportunity if they did. They needed to get to Endurance as soon as possible.

Jez was already at her station. In the frosty lamplight, he could see Harkins running through pre-flight checks. The pilot had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, having slept in the cockpit of the Firecrow again. Pinn was clambering into his Skylance nearby.

'Plot us a course for Endurance,' Frey said over his shoulder.

'Did it three hours ago, Cap'n,' she replied.

'Why aren't I surprised?' He stretched and tried to shake off the fuzz of sleep. 'Hey, Jez, you've been hanging about with Silo, right? How's the engine?'

'Holding together. He still needs those parts, you know.'

'Yeah,' said Frey. 'Maybe one day we'll have the money to buy them and the luxury of staying in one place long enough to get them ordered in.'

'We can dream, Cap'n.'

Frey smiled to himself. He'd missed their little interchanges. The cockpit had seemed cold and hollow without them. Maybe there was still the sense that they were trying a little too hard, but that would fade. They'd broken through the barrier. The tension between them was gone.

He felt positive, for the first time in quite a while. Squaring things up with Jez had given him a sense of achievement. One problem fixed. And now they had a solid lead on Grist. At last, something to chase. He was starting to think that things were turning around.

He watched as Pinn settled into his cockpit and flooded the aerium tanks. The Skylance rose gently into the air. Malvery shambled through the doorway of the cockpit and stood there, red-eyed.

'Good work getting him back in one piece,' said Frey. 'I thought you'd be out of it by now.'

'Too much coffee,' Malvery said.

'Malvery, meet our new navigator, Jez,' he said. 'She's part Mane, you know. Don't hold it against her.'

Malvery caught the change in the air and played along. 'Pleased to meet you,' he said. 'I'm Malvery. Resident alcoholic.'

Jez grinned. 'It's an honour to travel in such esteemed company.'

'It is, isn't it?' Malvery said. 'Now, you'd better excuse me. Think I need some grog to take the edge off that coffee.'

Frey was peering through the windglass at the Skylance as it rose. 'You think he might be too drunk to fly?' he asked Malvery idly, as the doctor headed out of the cockpit. 'Maybe we should've waited till—'

He was interrupted by a flash of light and a deafening boom, loud enough to cause Malvery to fall over. Frey cringed back in his seat, blinking rapidly, dazzled. When his vision had cleared, the Skylance was gone.

He snatched up his earcuff and clipped it on. 'Pinn!' he said. 'Pinn, what happened?' But the only reply was Harkins' incoherent gibber. The sudden noise had turned him to jelly.

'Calm down, Harkins!' he snapped. 'What happened? Did you see? Where's Pinn?'

'He . . . ah . . . uuhhh . . . I . . .'

Useless. Frey turned around in his seat. Malvery was just picking himself up off the floor. 'What just happened?'

'Afterburners,' said Jez. 'Pinn hit his afterburners and flew off. You know that craft is rigged for speed.'

'Hit them by accident?'

'I don't think so, Cap'n.'

'But he doesn't know how to get where we're going!'

There was silence for a moment. Realisation dawned on Frey. 'He's not coming, is he?'

'I don't ... I don't reckon he is,' said Malvery. The doctor was ashen-faced. Perhaps, like Frey, the thought that Pinn would ever leave them was beyond his comprehension. Pinn was too dim and unambitious, and besides, he had nowhere else to go.

They'd misjudged him. The young pilot could take any amount of abuse and mockery and laugh it off with good humour, but the news from his sweetheart had finally proven too much.

No, Frey thought to himself. It's not that, and you know it. It's Trinica. It's because you brought Trinica on board. You knew he hated her, and you ignored him.

Frey turned back to the controls, stony-faced. His good mood had withered and died. 'Give me a heading, Jez. I'm taking us up.'

'But what about Pinn?' Harkins wailed in his ear.

'Pinn's gone, Harkins,' said Frey. 'Forget him.'