She took her hand away from the lever. There were no solutions out there. Just white emptiness and cold.
Ocken! she thought suddenly. Bargo Ocken! Than man owes you enough to set you up for a long time!
The thought of him drove her to her sleeping-nook, where she’d hidden the communication device under her blankets, between the pipes. She let the fabric curtain fall behind her. Once closed in, she felt a little safer. She dug out the device and turned it over in her hands. A small brass cube, with a button on one face and a small glass light on another.
Get off this craft right now. Get in touch with Ocken. Take your payoff.
An ascending hum sounded from all around her, making the pipes vibrate. The engines were warming. The Cap’n was preparing for take-off.
Beyond the curtain of her nook, she heard footsteps as several people made their way down into the hold. Voices came to her, getting louder as they neared the bottom of the metal stairs.
‘What about you? Are you coming with us?’ said Crake.
‘No, no, I don’t think so.’ She recognised the high, nervous tones of the politician, Plome. ‘Can’t see what help I’d be, to be honest. I shall stay here with the staff and see to things. They’re not happy about being locked up like that. And someone needs to explain to the Tarlocks what happened to their property. Not a job I relish, I tell you that!’
Bullshit, thought Ashua, who distrusted politicians of any kind. Youjust don’t want to be in Thesk when the fleet arrives tomorrow. Well, you might be a weasel, but you’ve got some sense at least.
She should go. Nothing was stopping her. Nothing but herself.
Ashua thought of herself as a loner, but as far back as she could remember, she’d never been alone. A child couldn’t survive on the streets of Rabban without help. Her earliest memories were peopled by benefactors and guardians. Adults who took pity on her, older children who fed and protected her, kids her own age who provided strength in numbers. Later there was Maddeus, father figure and employer both. Though she prowled the streets, tough as an alley-cat, she always had a home to go back to after he took her in.
And even when Maddeus sent her away, she had Shasiith, a city full of contacts and acquaintances to support her. When Shasiith had gone bad, when Jakeley Screed came after her and the Sammies were out for her blood, she’d jumped on board the Ketty Jay and found her support there.
But now there was nowhere left to go. And she found that she didn’t want to leave anyway.
Her life had been filled with companions of necessity, her friendships more like alliances, easily broken when the need arose. Even Maddeus, distant intellectual Maddeus, had put her aside when it suited him. But in her time on the Ketty Jay she’d found people she liked and, more importantly, whom she trusted: Malvery, Crake, even the Cap’n when he wasn’t being an arsewit. She respected Silo and was even sort of fond of Harkins. And Bess, well. . she couldn’t deny a certain affection for the golem, too. She’d always secretly wanted a pet.
She knew them now, and she’d seen how they were with one another. For all their bickering, they looked after each other, and the Cap’n looked after them. And she was part of that now. Maybe not as much as the others, but still. They wouldn’t drop her if things got tough. If she needed help, they’d give it. She believed that, and it touched her. She’d never had that in her life before.
Walking out now felt like a betrayal. She could face the Cap’n, maybe, but not Crake and certainly not Malvery. She’d have to slip away, and would hurt them worse by doing so.
She didn’t want to do that. But she didn’t want to die, either. The war was coming to Thesk, and they were heading right to its heart. Even if they weren’t treated as traitors, they’d be caught up in the fight. And this one would make the battle she’d just been through seem like a street-corner spat between children.
But it was that, or be alone.
The hydraulics kicked in with a thump, and the cargo ramp opened. A swirl of cold air stirred the curtain. It was bitter out there, but warm in her nook. The pipes radiated a drowsy heat, and she was protected in her hollow.
‘Are you sure you can straighten things out with Drave and the Archduke?’ Crake was saying as they walked down the ramp.
‘Drave’s a tough nut, but he ain’t stupid. He’ll listen to us,’ said another voice: Samandra Bree. So the other footsteps must have been the other two Century Knights. ‘ ’Sides, honey, if he don’t, there ain’t gonna be much left worth survivin’ for anyway.’
‘That’s a good point,’ said Crake. ‘I never thought of that.’
‘Optimism,’ said Samandra. ‘Keeps me young.’
Their voices faded. When the ramp began to raise, she almost bolted. But she balled up a blanket in her fist and gripped it hard, willing herself not to move. Finally the ramp closed with a boom that echoed through the hold.
She relaxed her hand. So it was done. She’d made her choice. She’d passed through a gate, and it had shut behind her. She felt better for it.
She looked at the device in her hand. Leaving or not, she still had a job to do. If the Awakeners were heading for Thesk, then the Thacians needed to know. Pelaru might have already told his people about the Awakeners’ secret weapon, but even if he had, he hadn’t known when or where the strike would come. Perhaps Ocken could get the message to someone who could help. Perhaps the Thacians could make the Archduke listen to Frey’s warnings. Vardia and Thace had been allies for a long time, united against Samarlan aggression. Thace wouldn’t want to see Vardia fall to the Awakeners and end up an ally of Samarla. That would make their neighbours twice as dangerous.
So she’d send the message. She’d do what she could for the good of the country. And after that, she was going to find Malvery, and she was going to get really, really drunk.
The engine room had always been Silo’s domain, and he went there once the Ketty Jay was airborne, to escape the prevailing mood. Here he could lose himself in the noise and heat, disappear among the walkways and pipes. Silo was a man comfortable with his own company, and right now he wanted no one else’s.
Jez’s death had hit them all hard. There was a sense of shock among the crew, but no time to grieve or heal. That was bad. Silo had seen his fair share of grief; he knew the kind of things it might make a man do, if he didn’t get it out. But there’d be no quarter yet. They’d been caught in a whirlpool for a long time now, since way back in the days of Retribution Falls. Now they were nearing the centre. It was down to them whether they’d be swallowed or spat back out.
Well, what gonna come, gonna come, he thought. Too late to pull out now.
Each of the crew were dealing with the tragedy in their own way. Crake had thrown himself into his work. He was on the Wrath with Kyne, in the Century Knight’s sanctum, using the readings they’d taken from the Imperator to knock up some countermeasures as best they could. And maybe when he was done, if there was time, he’d find solace in the Samandra’s arms.
Harkins was flying the Firecrow. That was where he was happiest. Malvery was drinking, and Ashua was drinking with him for company. She didn’t feel it like the others did, but she was there for the doc, and that was good. Malvery was the kind of man who needed to talk it out.
They’d survive. They’d get through. Silo had sorrow of his own, but his was more measured. Life as a slave, and later as a resistance fighter, had inured him somewhat to the pain of loss. Death was part of Murthian life, always at their shoulder. He’d honour his friend when the moment was right.