The Black Lung Captain by Chris Wooding

to the fire. Others had already crawled into their sleeping bags, exhausted.
    Standing there in the rain, she tried to bring on the trance. When she slipped into that strange state of hyper-awareness, she'd feel the forest instead of merely seeing it. She'd be able to sense the animals and identify' any threats. In the past, she'd even shared their thoughts. Once, during a gunfight, she'd read a man's mind, just before she shot him.
    In the chaos of sounds from the forest, she fancied she could hear the cries of the Manes. But no trance came. She couldn't make it happen. They took her without rhyme or reason, and she didn't have the trick of controling them. Perhaps she never would.
    She heard someone approaching from the direction of the fire. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Silo. Only his beak-like nose showed from the shadow of his hood. Without a word, he sat down on a rock next to Jez. He drew a shotgun from under his coat and stared out into the forest.
    They watched the forest together in comfortable silence for a time.
    Some of the crew found Silo awkward to be around, but Jez rather enjoyed his company. Everyone else talked a lot, usualy about nothing important. Silo talked hardly at al, but she had the impression that he made up the difference by thinking.
    'There's rage in my family,' he said, out of nowhere. Jez didn't know what to say to that, so she didn't say anything.
    'My papa had it,' he went on. 'And his brother. And their papa, and my brother. Al them dead now, but they had rage. It'd just come explodin' out o' them, and you better not be in their way when it did.'
    Jez was mildly surprised that he'd volunteered the information. She didn't even know he had a brother. She'd been aboard the Ketty Jay more than a year, but she stil knew hardly anything about him. Neither did anyone else, as far as she was aware.
    Silo propped his shotgun against a tree and began making a rol-up, hunching forward to shield it from the rain. Jez wondered if that was the end of the conversation, but then he spoke again.
    'My brother, one time, he got the rage when we was al chained up in the pens. Broke his ankle against the manacles, tryin' to get at some feler. Weren't fit for work for a long while after, but he was a strong 'un, so they wanted to see if it'd heal.' He licked the paper and sealed the rol-up. 'Didn't. Bones knitted bad, gave him a limp, so they kiled him.'
    There was a hiss of phosphorus as he struck a match, then the smel of acrid smoke.
    'Papa died the same. Picked a fight with some feler, Murthian like him, while they was haulin' rubble in a quarry. Smashed his head in with a rock. Sammies took him away and he didn't never come back.'
    Jez hadn't heard Silo talk at such length before. She was reluctant to speak in case she interrupted his flow, but she felt the moment demanded something.
    'Sorry about that,' she said.
    'Nothin' to be sorry about. There's what is, and what ain't.'
    Jez wished she'd kept her mouth shut. For a while, there was only the sounds of the forest and the rain. Then:
    'I got the rage, too.'
    Really? she thought. You? I've never seen you anything but calm. But she didn't say a word.
    'Used to be proud of it,' he said. 'They was afraid of me when I was young. I'd take on kids twice my age and give 'em worse than I got. Every day, I was angry. Angry that they kept us in chains 'n' pens 'n' camps. Murthians ain't like the Daks. Five hundred years and they stil ain't tamed us.' He took a drag and blew it out. 'Lately, I got to thinkin' maybe that's the problem. We're so damn proud of defyin' the Sammies, they'l never let us out from them chains. Bit more smarts and a bit less angry, and they'd think we was tame. We'd be like the Daks, in their homes, runnin' their businesses, lookin' after their children.' A pause. 'That's when we'd kil 'em.'
    Jez kept her eyes on the forest. She'd always felt a faint bond with the Murthian. Both of them, in their own way, were exiles from their own race.