back. Jez couldn’t help a smile. His guffaw was infectious.
There was something immediately likeable about Malvery. It was hard to withstand the force of his good humour, and despite his large size he seemed unthreatening. A great, solid belly pushed out from his coat, barely covered by a faded pullover that was stained with the evidence of a large and messy appetite. His hair had receded to a white circlet around his ears, leaving him bald on top, and he wore small round glasses with green lenses.
‘What happened to your last navigator?’ she asked.
‘Found out he’d been selling off spare engine parts on the side. He navigated himself out the cargo door with the Cap’n’s toe up his arse.’ Malvery roared again, then, noticing Jez’s expression, he added, ‘Don’t worry, we were still on the ground. Not that the thieving little bastard didn’t deserve dropping in a volcano.’ He scratched his cheek. ‘Tell you the truth, we’ve had bad luck with navigators. Been through seven in the past year. They’re always ripping us off or disappearing in the night or getting themselves killed or some damn thing.’
Jez whistled. ‘You’re making this job sound awfully tempting.’
Malvery clapped her on the back. ‘Ah, it ain’t so bad. We’re a decent lot. Not like the cut-throat scum you might take on with otherwise. Pull your weight and keep up, you’ll be fine. You take a share of whatever we make, after maintenance or whatnot, and the Cap’n pays fair.’ He studied the Ketty Jay fondly, balled fists resting on his hips. ‘That’s about as much as you can ask for in this day and age, eh?’
‘Pretty much,’ said Jez. ‘So what are you lot into?’
Malvery’s look was unreadable behind his glasses.
‘I mean, cargo hauling, smuggling, passenger craft, what? Ever work for the Coalition?’
‘Not bloody likely!’ Malvery said. ‘The Cap’n would sooner gulp a pint of rat piss.’ He reddened suddenly. ‘Pardon the language.’
Jez waved it away. ‘Just tell me what I’m signing up for.’
Malvery harumphed. ‘We ain’t what you’d call a very professional lot, put it that way,’ he said. ‘Cap’n sometimes doesn’t know his arse from his elbow, to tell you the truth. Mostly we do black market stuff, smuggling here and there. Passenger transport: people who want to get somewhere they shouldn’t be going, and don’t want anyone finding out. And we’ve been known to try a bit of light piracy now and again when the opportunity comes along. I mean, the haulage companies sort of expect to lose one or two cargoes a month, they budget for it, so there’s no harm done.’ He made a vague gesture in the air. ‘We sort of do anything, really, if the price is right.’
Jez deliberated for a moment. Their operation was clearly a shambles, but that suited her well enough. They didn’t seem like types who would ask many questions, and she was lucky to find work at all in Scarwater, let alone something in her field of expertise. To keep moving was the important thing. Staying still too long was dangerous.
She held out her hand. ‘Alright. Let’s see how it goes.’
‘Fine decision! You won’t regret it. Much.’ Malvery enfolded her hand in thick, meaty fingers and shook it enthusiastically. Jez couldn’t help wondering how he managed to button his coat with fingers like that, let alone perform complex surgery.
‘You really a doctor?’ she asked.
‘Certified and bona fide!’ he declared, and she smelled rum on his breath.
They heard a thump from within the belly of the craft. Malvery wandered round to the Ketty Jay’s stern, and Jez followed. The cargo ramp was down. Inside, someone was rolling a heavy steel canister along the floor in the gloom. The angle prevented Jez from seeing anything more than a pair of long legs clad in thick trousers and boots.
