Frey was a man who’d kept his world and his responsibilities small. Silo knew that path well. It was safer that way. But life had a way of involving a man in bigger things.
Frey lifted his head and looked at Silo. ‘What do you think?’ he asked. Once, he would never have consulted Silo about anything. He wouldn’t have thought to. But things had changed, and they weren’t changing back.
Silo weighed his words. As ever, he wouldn’t be rushed. A man shouldn’t speak if he didn’t have something worth saying.
‘Time was I thought I didn’t have no stake in any o’ this,’ he said. ‘Not this war, not your woman. Vards ain’t my people, and Vardia ain’t my land. Gonna be a foreigner here no matter what I do, so why take a side, right?’ He lowered his head. ‘But after last night, I been thinkin’ different.’
He pushed away from the wall and began to pace round the table. ‘Sammies been handin’ over Azryx tech, ’cause they want the Awakeners in power so they can get to the aerium here. My bet is, once they get their fleet fuelled up, they won’t come askin’ no more. They reckon they can take this country like they took mine, they reckon the Awakeners are just a bunch o’ priests couldn’t run a country if their lives depended on it.’
There was an unfamiliar agitation in him. As if saying the words confirmed them in his mind. He began to speak louder, faster. He felt himself firing up. Mother, this was truth!
‘But they wrong!’ he said. ‘These are daemons, damn it! They don’t think like us. They ain’t gonna rule this land, they gonna enslave it. They gonna turn your leaders one by one until there ain’t nobody left to stand up to ’em, and by the time the Sammies come it’s gonna be too late. You can’t fight an army of daemons. It ain’t gonna be Vardia that gets invaded, it’s gonna be Samarla and Thace and every damn place else! There ain’t gonna be no place to run. We don’t stop this now, ain’t just us gonna be goin’ under. We fightin’ for the world here. And I’m damned if I’m lettin’ anyone make me a slave again!’
The whole room was staring at him. Even the cat had paused with its paw in its mouth, and was gazing at him in wonder as if he was an alien. After a moment, Frey turned his head to Malvery.
‘Doc?’
‘What he said,’ said Malvery, thumbing at Silo.
‘Ashua?’
‘Shit, I’m inspired,’ she said with a grin. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘Jez?’
‘To stop the Imperators? I’m in.’
‘Harkins.’
Harkins saluted. ‘Ready to fight for the Coalition, Cap’n!’
‘Pelaru?’ said Frey, and then caught himself. ‘Oh, wait, I don’t give a shit what you think. Alright, we go catch an Imperator. But after that, I’m going after Trinica. And you all better damn well back me up when I do. Fair enough?’
There were general mutters of reluctant agreement from the crew.
‘Which leaves us with just one problem,’ said Samandra. ‘How do we lure an Imperator to us?’
Frey leaned forward, his face grim. ‘As to that,’ he said. ‘I’ve got an idea.’
Twenty-Six
The sun beat down on Frey’s shoulders, shining bright in a cloudless sky. The sea spread out before him, glittering in the midday heat. Insects creaked and hummed; birdsong filled the air. The Barabac Delta had been sultry even in winter, but here in the Feldspar Islands, further south and near the equator, there were no seasons to speak of. Just the same perfect day, over and over.
He stood on a stone balcony overlooking the Ordic Abyssal. Far below, waves rolled against the feet of the cliffs. At his back, tiered gardens rose up the slope, a private wonderland of shady paths, splashing brooks, covered walkways and secret arbours. Statues peeked from hidden nooks. Domed gazebos rose above the foliage. Along the coast to his right he could see the roof of a mansion, just visible through the trees.
Another time he might have found this place beautiful. It was the kind of paradise where a man might find contentment for a while. But there was no contentment here, and the beauty couldn’t touch him. He felt cut off from the world. His body occupied a space, but he was connected to nothing. His responses were automatic, predetermined. Sometimes he felt like he was watching himself, a disinterested observer of someone else’s life.
He existed, but nothing more.
What am I doing here? he thought to himself.
This wasn’t how things were supposed to end up. He’d never asked for much. He’d never seriously coveted wealth and power. All he’d wanted was the freedom to do what he wanted. But somewhere along the line he’d acquired a crew that he cared about. Somehow he’d fallen back in love with a woman he thought he’d left behind.
And then he’d lost her. They’d forced a daemon into her body, into her mind. He tormented himself night and day by imagining how that felt. Was she still awake in there, screaming silently as the daemon pulled at her nerves like a puppeteer, making her limbs dance? Or had she been crushed by the onslaught, leaving nothing left of the woman he’d known? Would he ever get her back, or would the attempt claim his life and that of every friend he had?
There is hope. Crake had told him that. But he wasn’t sure he could let himself believe it. Hope was a dangerous thing for all of them. Giving up now might save everyone. Everyone but Trinica, anyway.
This was why he never wanted responsibility for anyone but himself. It hurt too damned much when you lost them.
‘Captain Darian Frey,’ said a voice behind him. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’
He turned away from the vista, and put a smile on his face for Amalicia Thade.
She was wearing a dark blue dress, cut low at the neck to show the necklace of precious stones that lay against her collarbone. Black hair tumbled over her shoulders. She was smiling, the easy smile of a young woman who knew how to use it as a weapon. Her skin and features were flawless, her eyes dark and mischievous. She was even more breathtaking than the last time he saw her, when he’d been aiming a gun at her head.
‘Amalicia,’ he said, warily. ‘You look well.’ Despite her appearance, he feared her a little. Not many people had beaten him up quite so savagely and frequently as Amalicia had.
‘Marriage agrees with me, I think,’ she said, holding out her hand to show him the ring on her finger. He made a pretence of admiring it.
‘I heard,’ he said. ‘Congratulations. And where is your, er, husband?’
‘Harbley’s away on business, I’m afraid. I believe it’s best you and he never meet, anyway. I don’t think you’d get on.’
‘Yeah, I’m pretty sure you’re right.’ Harbley Trove sounded like the kind of stuffed-arse ponce that Frey couldn’t bear. Athletic, good-looking, heir to a vast fortune, he was rarely out of the gossip section of the broadsheets. Frey still remembered the day when Pinn came dancing gleefully up to the cockpit to show him the article. Amalicia had given up her fantasy of marrying a pirate captain and chosen a heroic aristocrat with a nose so proud and noble you could use it to mine for coal.
She touched his face lightly. ‘You look terrible. Have you been sleeping?’ she asked with false concern.
‘It’s been a rough couple of days,’ he said neutrally.
‘Shall we walk?’ She offered her arm to him, and he took it. The touch brought back faint memories of sex. She’d been willing, unskilled and over-enthusiastic. It was hard to square up the squealing young woman he remembered with the elegant lady that walked beside him.