Read Online The Black Lung Captain by Chris Wooding - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Chris Wooding
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unknown plague?'
Frey gave her a look. 'Just get back to your charts, why don't you?'
She grinned and saluted. 'Right you are, Cap'n!'
Six
The Expedition Sets Out - Rain —
Jez Takes First Watch — Silo's Story
Crake puled the colar of his coat up and hunched his shoulders against the cold. It always seemed to be cold nowadays. On the Ketty Jay or off it, there was a chil in his core that never quite went away.
The clouds were iron-grey overhead, and an arctic breeze came from the north, pushing through the rainforest. The Ketty Jay sat in a bald, rocky clearing, with tree-covered mountains on either side. Crake stood under her tail, the cargo ramp lying open behind him. In the distance, a waterfal plunged hundreds of feet from a ridge of cliffs. When the wind was right, Crake could hear its dul, sulen roar.
Nearby, the Storm Dog was easing itself down. The air was sharp with the smel of aerium gas as it vented its tanks.
The Storm Dog was craggy and rectangular, like a beam of black, petrified timber. Its prow was blunt and its hul pocked and uneven, stained with cloud-rime and iceburn. It sank on to its landing struts with an artless crunch and settled in the clearing. The air shimmered and rippled as it wheezed out the last of its aerium in an invisible cloud, then its engines shut off.
For a moment, there was quiet. An awesome, massive silence. Only the stir of the wind sounded over the endless industry of the waterfal. Crake tipped back his head, closed his eyes, and basked in the nothingness.
'Hey, Crake!' Pinn yeled from the cargo hold. 'Give us a hand here! Half of this is your stuff!'
Crake's eyes fluttered open. The birds and insects of the rainforest, which had been silenced by the disturbance, began to pick up their songs again. Hydraulics whirred as the Storm Dog opened its cargo ramp. The moment had passed.
Too brief. Al too brief.
The others were coming down the Ketty Jay's ramp, carrying packs and equipment. Tents, weapons, food, and Crake's daemonist equipment, which they'd need when they reached their destination. Bess came clumping down with an armful of gear and laid it down among the other packs with a child's exaggerated care.
Then she scampered over to Crake - as much as a half-ton armoured suit could scamper -and settled on her haunches in front of him.
'Wel done,' he said, patting her flank. 'What a helpful girl you are.'
Bess leaned in, pushing her face-grile closer. Points of light twinkled in the darkness behind. Eyes like stars. She gave a quizzical coo: an ethereal, other-worldly sound.
'I'm alright, Bess. Don't you worry,' said Crake, forcing a smile.
Bess wasn't fooled. She reached out one gloved hand and stroked Crake's arm clumsily. Metal, chain mail and leather dragged down his coat, almost tearing his sleeve off. Crake felt sudden tears threatening, and swalowed. He gave the golem an awkward hug. She was too big to get his arms around.
'Don't you worry,' he said again.
'Wil you stop flirting with your girlfriend and carry something?' Pinn yeled from the cargo ramp, as he went back in for another pack.
They assembled in a spot between the aircraft: six from the Ketty Jay, six from the Storm Dog, including Hodd. Frey wanted Silo to come, and Harkins had volunteered with great enthusiasm to stay with Bess on the Ketty Jay. Bess was the Ketty Jay's watchdog, ensuring that nobody but the crew came aboard with al their limbs stil attached. But the Cap'n needed somebody human to keep an eye on things while they were away, and he was happy to leave Harkins behind. The pilot was a liability in a firefight and he had a jumpy trigger finger at the best of times. In the rainforest, he'd be a disaster. More likely to shoot himself in the foot than kil one of the enemy.
Along with Hodd and Captain Grist came the Storm Dog's emaciated, bug-eyed bosun, Edwidge Crattle, and three crewmen caled Gimble, Tarworth and Ucke. They were a seedy-looking trio, but then Crake had hardly
Frey gave her a look. 'Just get back to your charts, why don't you?'
She grinned and saluted. 'Right you are, Cap'n!'
Six
The Expedition Sets Out - Rain —
Jez Takes First Watch — Silo's Story
Crake puled the colar of his coat up and hunched his shoulders against the cold. It always seemed to be cold nowadays. On the Ketty Jay or off it, there was a chil in his core that never quite went away.
The clouds were iron-grey overhead, and an arctic breeze came from the north, pushing through the rainforest. The Ketty Jay sat in a bald, rocky clearing, with tree-covered mountains on either side. Crake stood under her tail, the cargo ramp lying open behind him. In the distance, a waterfal plunged hundreds of feet from a ridge of cliffs. When the wind was right, Crake could hear its dul, sulen roar.
Nearby, the Storm Dog was easing itself down. The air was sharp with the smel of aerium gas as it vented its tanks.
The Storm Dog was craggy and rectangular, like a beam of black, petrified timber. Its prow was blunt and its hul pocked and uneven, stained with cloud-rime and iceburn. It sank on to its landing struts with an artless crunch and settled in the clearing. The air shimmered and rippled as it wheezed out the last of its aerium in an invisible cloud, then its engines shut off.
For a moment, there was quiet. An awesome, massive silence. Only the stir of the wind sounded over the endless industry of the waterfal. Crake tipped back his head, closed his eyes, and basked in the nothingness.
'Hey, Crake!' Pinn yeled from the cargo hold. 'Give us a hand here! Half of this is your stuff!'
Crake's eyes fluttered open. The birds and insects of the rainforest, which had been silenced by the disturbance, began to pick up their songs again. Hydraulics whirred as the Storm Dog opened its cargo ramp. The moment had passed.
Too brief. Al too brief.
The others were coming down the Ketty Jay's ramp, carrying packs and equipment. Tents, weapons, food, and Crake's daemonist equipment, which they'd need when they reached their destination. Bess came clumping down with an armful of gear and laid it down among the other packs with a child's exaggerated care.
Then she scampered over to Crake - as much as a half-ton armoured suit could scamper -and settled on her haunches in front of him.
'Wel done,' he said, patting her flank. 'What a helpful girl you are.'
Bess leaned in, pushing her face-grile closer. Points of light twinkled in the darkness behind. Eyes like stars. She gave a quizzical coo: an ethereal, other-worldly sound.
'I'm alright, Bess. Don't you worry,' said Crake, forcing a smile.
Bess wasn't fooled. She reached out one gloved hand and stroked Crake's arm clumsily. Metal, chain mail and leather dragged down his coat, almost tearing his sleeve off. Crake felt sudden tears threatening, and swalowed. He gave the golem an awkward hug. She was too big to get his arms around.
'Don't you worry,' he said again.
'Wil you stop flirting with your girlfriend and carry something?' Pinn yeled from the cargo ramp, as he went back in for another pack.
They assembled in a spot between the aircraft: six from the Ketty Jay, six from the Storm Dog, including Hodd. Frey wanted Silo to come, and Harkins had volunteered with great enthusiasm to stay with Bess on the Ketty Jay. Bess was the Ketty Jay's watchdog, ensuring that nobody but the crew came aboard with al their limbs stil attached. But the Cap'n needed somebody human to keep an eye on things while they were away, and he was happy to leave Harkins behind. The pilot was a liability in a firefight and he had a jumpy trigger finger at the best of times. In the rainforest, he'd be a disaster. More likely to shoot himself in the foot than kil one of the enemy.
Along with Hodd and Captain Grist came the Storm Dog's emaciated, bug-eyed bosun, Edwidge Crattle, and three crewmen caled Gimble, Tarworth and Ucke. They were a seedy-looking trio, but then Crake had hardly
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