The Murthian folded his arms. ‘Could happen, Cap’n. But it’s one in a million.’
‘See? It could happen!’ Pinn crowed, having recovered his breath.
‘But it’s one in a million!’ Frey said through gritted teeth. ‘About the same chance as you shutting up for five minutes so I can think.’
Slag unfurled from his spot on top of the cabinet and dropped down to the countertop with a thump. He thought little, if at all, of the other beings with whom he shared the craft, but he was feeling unaccountably piqued that nobody was paying any attention to him amid this puzzling furore. Harkins, who had been keeping his head down anyway, cringed into the corner as he caught sight of the cat. Slag gave him a stare of utter loathing, then leaped to the table so he could get into the middle of things.
‘The question isn’t whose fault it is—’ Jez began.
‘Not mine, that’s for sure!’ Frey interjected.
Jez gave him a look and continued. ‘It’s not whose fault it is. The question is whether we’re going to get blamed for it.’
‘Well, thanks to Harkins being a bloody great chicken, we probably will,’ Pinn said sullenly.
‘That guy was a good pilot!’ Harkins protested. ‘He was a . . . he was a fantastic pilot! Well, fantastic, or he had a death wish or something. What kind of idiot flies full throttle through mountain passes in the mist? The . . . the crazy kind, that’s what kind! And I’m a good pilot, but I’m not some crazy idiot! You said minimum escort, someone said minimum escort! No one said anything about . . . about four Swordwings and one of them being a pilot like that! What’s a pilot like that doing flying escort to some grubby old freighter?’
‘I’d have caught him,’ said Pinn. ‘I caught the one I was chasing.’
‘Well, yours was probably shit,’ Harkins muttered.
Jez was pacing around the mess as the pilots argued, head bowed thoughtfully. As she drew close to Slag, he arched his back and hissed at her. Something about this human bothered him. He didn’t understand why, only that he felt threatened whenever she was around, and that made him angry. He hated Harkins for being weak, but he was afraid of Jez.
‘What’s got into him?’ Crake wondered.
‘Ugly sack of mange,’ sneered Pinn. ‘It’s finally lost its tiny little mind.’
‘Hey!’ said Frey, defensive. ‘No bitching about the cat.’ He put out his hand to stroke Slag, and quickly withdrew it as Slag took a swipe at him.
‘Why not? Bloody thing’s only fit to use as a duster anyway. Wring its neck, stick a broom handle up it’s—’
‘Shut up about the cat!’ Jez said, surprising them into quiet. For such a little thing she’d proved herself unusually feisty, and she commanded respect far out of proportion to her physical size. ‘We’ve got more important things to deal with.’
She walked in a slow circle around the mess, stepping between them as she spoke. ‘We caught them by surprise. Even if that Swordwing got away - he might have crashed in the mist - then he’d have barely had time to work out what was going on before he ran. Harkins was on his tail almost immediately. He’d have had other things on his mind.’
‘You don’t think he could identify us?’ Frey said.
‘I doubt it,’ Jez replied. ‘There are no decals on the craft that identify us as the Ketty Jay, and we’re not exactly
