He decided it was probably Trinica’s fault. While she was around he restrained himself from messing with other women, which meant he’d been celibate for a couple of weeks now, ever since they cooked up this plan together. But just being near Trinica was enough to leave him embarrassingly frisky, and Ashua had begun to seem like an awfully tempting alternative.
No, he told himself sternly. Behave.
The crew were waiting with the Rattletraps at the bottom of the slope. Even in the shade it was swelteringly hot, and they were guzzling water when he arrived.="2ived.
‘Train’s coming,’ he said.
‘About time,’ Malvery said. ‘Reckon Pinn’s about to melt.’
Pinn was sitting with his back to one of the buggies, his skin glistening. His little thatch of hair was plastered to the top of his chubby head. ‘How does anyone live in this bloody country?’ he gasped. ‘I feel like I’m a pie.’
Frey prodded him with his boot. ‘Come on. Little exercise’ll do you good,’ he said.
Pinn grumbled sourly as they clambered onto the Rattletraps. Frey had divided up the crew according to who could drive, who could shoot and who was just plain useless. Mentally claiming captain’s privilege, he’d chosen the best personnel for his own buggy. Silo was driving and Malvery would operate the gatling gun mounted atop the roll cage. Silo seemed confident in his ability and Malvery, while not the world’s best shot, at least had experience manning the Ketty Jay ’s autocannon.
Ashua would get Pinn on the gatling and Harkins riding shotgun. Usually he’d have left the jittery pilot behind, as he was hopeless with a weapon, but Harkins had insisted on coming, throwing glances at Jez all the while. No one had any doubt who he was trying to impress.
Jez, for her part, was riding with Crake. He was almost as bad as Harkins with a gun, but they needed him to handle Bess. She would go in the back, ready to be unleashed once they’d brought the train to a stop.
‘Alright!’ he called, when everyone was aboard. ‘I didn’t see any defences beyond the armour plate, but let’s not get sloppy. There’ll be men aboard with weapons, at least. I don’t want any of my crew getting shot. Doctors are expensive, and Malvery’s likely to saw the wrong arm off.’
‘Hey!’ said Malvery. ‘Don’t forget I’m gonna be standing right behind you with a gatling gun, smart-arse.’
The crew laughed good-humouredly. They were surprisingly relaxed, considering what was coming. Only Harkins looked in danger of panicking.
‘Everyone remember the plan?’ Frey cried. He could hear the train approaching now, a distant rumbling, getting louder.
‘Yes, Cap’n!’
‘Well, I’m sure you won’t mind reminding me then.’
Malvery rolled his eyes. ‘We’ll be heading for the engine carriage at the front, to try and stop the train,’ he said, in a dreary sing-song. ‘Ashua, Pinn and Harkins are gonna keep the bad guys busy while we do, and-’ eight="0" width="20" align="justify"›‘Aren’t we the bad guys?’ Pinn asked suddenly.
They all stared at him. He shrugged. ‘Well, I mean, we’re robbing them, right?’
‘We’re never the bad guys!’ said Frey, horrified at the suggestion. He was surprised the moral objection had come from Pinn rather than Crake. Pinn didn’t have any morals, so he probably just wanted the attention.
He needed to nip this in the bud before they all started arguing, so he gestured towards Silo, the shaven-headed, umber-skinned Murthian, who was sitting next to him.
‘Look at this man. Proud example of his race.’ Silo gazed at him inscrutably. ‘A race that the Sammies have been keeping brutally enslaved for the last five hundred years. And the Daks are no better: they’re willing conspirators. Ashua tells me that train will be full of Daks, with maybe a few Sammies in there to keep an eye on things. Does that sound like slavery to you? No. The Daks run this country while the Sammies sit back and lick the cream. So don’t feel bad about popping one or two of ’em, ’cause frankly, they’re all bastards in my book.’
He surveyed his crew to gauge the effect of his words. Nobody seemed much bothered. Pinn just looked confused.
‘Plus,’ he raised a finger, ‘those on that train are gonna be armed guards. They’re paid to get shot. If people like us didn’t try to rob trains, they’d be out of a job.’
‘We’re providing employment opportunities now?’ Crake asked, deadpan.
‘Exactly!’ said Frey. ‘Greasing the wheels of foreign capital, and that.’
‘Cap’n,’ said Crake. ‘I do believe you know as much about economics as Pinn does about hygiene.’
Malvery mopped his pate, which had reddened and begun to peel. ‘Look, as long as we stop short of killing women and children, and we ain’t shooting adorable little puppy dogs in the face, I’m in. Now can we stop bullshitting and get this done? I want to get out of the sun.’
‘You’re not in the sun.’
‘Out of the shade, then. To somewhere shadier. Like the inside of a freezer.’
‘Or a bar!’ Pinn suggested brightly.
Malvery clicked his fingers and pointed at Pinn. ‘Man’s got the right idea.’
‘Tonight you can get boozed up till your e
The din of the train had grown to fill the air now. Ashua was shouting ‘Go! Go! Go!’ before she’d even reached her Rattletrap. She leaped into the driver’s seat, hit the ignition button and floored the accelerator. Her wheels spun against the ground for a few seconds, throwing up a cloud of red dust. When they bit, it threw the Rattletrap forward so suddenly that Pinn almost tipped off the back. Frey, Silo and Malvery raced off just behind her, with Jez, Crake and Bess trailing.
They’d practised with the Rattletraps throughout the morning, to check that they worked properly and to get the drivers used to them, but Frey still found the sense of speed exhilarating. It wasn’t the same as being in a cockpit, where there was a brass-and-chrome dash and thick panes of windglass between him and the world outside. Rattletraps were built low to the ground, and their roll cages seemed pitifully inadequate as protection. Though they travelled much slower than an aircraft did, it felt like just the opposite. He was fragile and invincible all at once as he hurtled into the face of the elements.
They sped out of the shadow of the slope and into sight of the tracks an instant before the train appeared. Ashua’s timing had been less than perfect: the train was almost past them by the time they’d matched its speed. But the Rattletraps were fast, and they began gaining ground immediately.
The tracks passed through a wide corridor of land flanked by hilly ridges on either side. The land was flat near the tracks, but it became bumpy and rough further away. By hugging close to the train, the Rattletraps ate up the distance.
It was only when they were close that Frey realised what a monstrous machine the train was. A great dirty ogre of iron and grime, filthy with desert dust, charging across the landscape. It was a mobile fortress, built for the rigours of travel across the hellish terrain of the Samarlan interior. Faced with its strength, he suddenly began to have his doubts about whether they could stop it at all.
But it was too late for that now.
There were slatted metal windows in the sides of the train. As they progressed up its length, they saw men running to and fro inside the carriages, alarmed shadows in the gloom.
‘Pinn! Malvery!’ he yelled. ‘Keep ’em busy!’
Pinn whooped and opened up with the gatling gun, stitching bullet-holes along the side of the train. Malvery was a little more accurate, aiming for the windows. The bullets had little effect on the train’s armour plating, but it made the men inside duck and scurry, and it kept them from returning fire.
Frey turned te Frey tuto Silo and grinned. ‘Some fun, huh? Bet you’re glad to be home, getting some of your own back,’ he said.
But Silo just looked at him, and his eyes were dark and flat in his narrow face, and Frey was suddenly sorry he’d spoken at all. He opened his mouth to say something else when Silo suddenly shouted a warning.