Read Online The Black Lung Captain by Chris Wooding - Free Book Online
Authors: Chris Wooding
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heard many stories about the strange and savage land of Kurg, and he believed them al. Tales of tribes of elegant seductresses, and of warrior women who sought strong men to mate with. What kind of exotic ladies might he find there? Surely they'd be fascinated by his foreign ways and amazing aircraft? They'd be fighting to get into bed with him.
Not that he'd sleep with any of them, of course. He'd resist their charms, and it would make them want him al the more. They'd be impressed by his utter devotion to his sweetheart Lisinda, who waited for him back home.
Of course, his devotion only ever lasted so long. In the end he'd give in. His body's needs were scarcely his fault. Any man worth caling a man had masculine urges too strong to control. The important thing was that his love was for Lisinda alone. It wasn't cheating if the women didn't mean anything.
He looked at the smal, framed ferrotype of Lisinda, hanging from his dash. What was she doing now, he wondered? Was she thinking of him, even now, as he was of her? He traced her face with a fond finger.
Five years since he'd seen her. Five years since the eighteen-year-old Pinn left her to make his fortune. Five years she'd been waiting for him. At least, he assumed that was what she was doing. After al, she'd told him she loved him and, her being a woman, that meant for ever. Women didn't say that shit lightly.
Five years. That was devotion for you. What a lucky man he was.
It wouldn't be some down-and-out pilot she ended up marrying. It would be a hero. The kind they put on the cover of adventure novels.
Artis Pinn. Hero. He liked the sound of that.
'It won't be long, my love,' he said to the ferrotype. 'Soon I'l be rich, and everyone wil know my name. Then I'l come back, just like I promised. You only deserve the best.'
'You only deserve the best, ' mimicked Harkins in a soppy voice. Frey howled with laughter.
Pinn went pale. Nobody had spoken for so long, he'd forgotten half the crew could hear him through Crake's daemonic communicators. He ripped his earcuff off and threw it angrily in the footwel, cutting off Frey's gales of mirth, now laughing so hard he'd begun to choke.
'Bastards!' he snarled. Then he shook his head and started to chuckle himself.
Jez sat in her seat at the navigator's station, listening to the sounds of the Ketty Jay. The ticks and groans and creaks were familiar to her now. Silo's repairs on the engines were holding up, but she was bothered by the tone of the thrusters, which was slightly lower than usual. Frey had noticed it too, and it niggled at him.
Flying in a straight line through calm skies, there was little for a navigator or a pilot to do. Frey yawned. Jez felt like yawning too, but she couldn't. She hadn't been able to since the day she died.
She'd been thinking about that day ever since their meeting with Grist. Perhaps it was the talk of the Azryx and Professor Malstrom that brought it al back. If not for the Professor and his quest to unearth their lost civilisation, she'd never have gone to that blizzard-lashed settlement in the frozen north. How different things might have been then.
They came in their black dreadnoughts and their ragged clothes. The Manes. Feral ghouls from beyond the Wrack, the great cloud-cap that shrouded Atalon's northern pole. They captured those they wanted, turning them into Manes, and kiled those they didn't. Jez was one of the captured, but the process of transformation was interrupted. Jez escaped, only to freeze to death in the night.
But by then, the damage had been done. She wasn't fuly a Mane, but she was Mane enough. Though her heart had stopped beating, she lived. Or perhaps existed was a better word. She'd wandered for years, moving from place to place, until she found somewhere that would accept her. On the Ketty Jay, they didn't ask questions. They didn't know what had happened to her, they didn't want to, and she'd never told them.
Probably best that way. Manes struck fear into
Not that he'd sleep with any of them, of course. He'd resist their charms, and it would make them want him al the more. They'd be impressed by his utter devotion to his sweetheart Lisinda, who waited for him back home.
Of course, his devotion only ever lasted so long. In the end he'd give in. His body's needs were scarcely his fault. Any man worth caling a man had masculine urges too strong to control. The important thing was that his love was for Lisinda alone. It wasn't cheating if the women didn't mean anything.
He looked at the smal, framed ferrotype of Lisinda, hanging from his dash. What was she doing now, he wondered? Was she thinking of him, even now, as he was of her? He traced her face with a fond finger.
Five years since he'd seen her. Five years since the eighteen-year-old Pinn left her to make his fortune. Five years she'd been waiting for him. At least, he assumed that was what she was doing. After al, she'd told him she loved him and, her being a woman, that meant for ever. Women didn't say that shit lightly.
Five years. That was devotion for you. What a lucky man he was.
It wouldn't be some down-and-out pilot she ended up marrying. It would be a hero. The kind they put on the cover of adventure novels.
Artis Pinn. Hero. He liked the sound of that.
'It won't be long, my love,' he said to the ferrotype. 'Soon I'l be rich, and everyone wil know my name. Then I'l come back, just like I promised. You only deserve the best.'
'You only deserve the best, ' mimicked Harkins in a soppy voice. Frey howled with laughter.
Pinn went pale. Nobody had spoken for so long, he'd forgotten half the crew could hear him through Crake's daemonic communicators. He ripped his earcuff off and threw it angrily in the footwel, cutting off Frey's gales of mirth, now laughing so hard he'd begun to choke.
'Bastards!' he snarled. Then he shook his head and started to chuckle himself.
Jez sat in her seat at the navigator's station, listening to the sounds of the Ketty Jay. The ticks and groans and creaks were familiar to her now. Silo's repairs on the engines were holding up, but she was bothered by the tone of the thrusters, which was slightly lower than usual. Frey had noticed it too, and it niggled at him.
Flying in a straight line through calm skies, there was little for a navigator or a pilot to do. Frey yawned. Jez felt like yawning too, but she couldn't. She hadn't been able to since the day she died.
She'd been thinking about that day ever since their meeting with Grist. Perhaps it was the talk of the Azryx and Professor Malstrom that brought it al back. If not for the Professor and his quest to unearth their lost civilisation, she'd never have gone to that blizzard-lashed settlement in the frozen north. How different things might have been then.
They came in their black dreadnoughts and their ragged clothes. The Manes. Feral ghouls from beyond the Wrack, the great cloud-cap that shrouded Atalon's northern pole. They captured those they wanted, turning them into Manes, and kiled those they didn't. Jez was one of the captured, but the process of transformation was interrupted. Jez escaped, only to freeze to death in the night.
But by then, the damage had been done. She wasn't fuly a Mane, but she was Mane enough. Though her heart had stopped beating, she lived. Or perhaps existed was a better word. She'd wandered for years, moving from place to place, until she found somewhere that would accept her. On the Ketty Jay, they didn't ask questions. They didn't know what had happened to her, they didn't want to, and she'd never told them.
Probably best that way. Manes struck fear into
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