Miller For

BOOKONEOFTHEEXPANSE
JAMESS.A.COREY
www.orbitbooks.net
Copyright
Copyright©2011byJamesS.A.Corey
ExcerptfromCaliban’sWarcopyright©2011byDanielAbrahamandTyFranck
Allrightsreserved.ExceptaspermittedundertheU.S.CopyrightActof1976,nopartofthis
publicationmaybereproduced,distributed,ortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,orstoredin
adatabaseorretrievalsystem,withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionofthepublisher.
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ISBN:978-0-316-12908-4
Contents
LeviathanWakesbyJamesS.A.Corey
Dedication
Extras
MeettheAuthor
Interview
APreviewofCaliban’sWar
Prologue:Julie
ChapterOne:Holden
ChapterTwo:Miller
ChapterThree:Holden
ChapterFour:Miller
ChapterFive:Holden
ChapterSix:Miller
ChapterSeven:Holden
ChapterEight:Miller
ChapterNine:Holden
ChapterTen:Miller
ChapterEleven:Holden
ChapterTwelve:Miller
ChapterThirteen:Holden
ChapterFourteen:Miller
ChapterFifteen:Holden
ChapterSixteen:Miller
ChapterSeventeen:Holden
ChapterEighteen:Miller
ChapterNineteen:Holden
ChapterTwenty:Miller
ChapterTwenty-One:Holden
ChapterTwenty-Two:Miller
ChapterTwenty-Three:Holden
ChapterTwenty-Four:Miller
ChapterTwenty-Five:Holden
ChapterTwenty-Six:Miller
ChapterTwenty-Seven:Holden
ChapterTwenty-Eight:Miller
ChapterTwenty-Nine:Holden
ChapterThirty:Miller
ChapterThirty-One:Holden
ChapterThirty-Two:Miller
ChapterThirty-Three:Holden
ChapterThirty-Four:Miller
ChapterThirty-Five:Holden
ChapterThirty-Six:Miller
ChapterThirty-Seven:Holden
ChapterThirty-Eight:Miller
ChapterThirty-Nine:Holden
ChapterForty:Miller
ChapterForty-One:Holden
ChapterForty-Two:Miller
ChapterForty-Three:Holden
ChapterForty-Four:Miller
ChapterForty-Five:Holden
ChapterForty-Six:Miller
ChapterForty-Seven:Holden
ChapterForty-Eight:Miller
ChapterForty-Nine:Holden
ChapterFifty:Miller
ChapterFifty-One:Holden
ChapterFifty-Two:Miller
ChapterFifty-Three:Holden
ChapterFifty-Four:Miller
ChapterFifty-Five:Holden
Epilogue:Fred
Acknowledgments
BooksbyJamesS.A.Corey
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Likemostchildren,thisbooktookavillage.Iwouldliketoexpressmydeepgratitudetomyagents,
ShawnaandDanny,andtomyeditorsDongWonandDarren.Alsoinstrumentalintheearlyformation
ofthebookwereMelinda,Emily,Terry,Ian,George,Steve,Walter,andVictor,oftheNewMexico
CriticalMasswritersgroup,andalsoCarrie,whoreadanearlydraft.Anadditionalthanksgoesto
Ian, who helped with some of the math, and who is responsible for none of the mistakes I made
understanding it. I also owe an enormous debt to Tom, Sake Mike, Non-Sake Mike, Porter, Scott,
Raja,Jeff,Mark,Dan,andJoe.Thanks,guys,fordoingthebetatesting.Andfinally,aspecialthanks
totheFuturamawritersandBenderBendingRodriguezforbabysittingthekidwhileIwrote.
BOOKSBYJAMESS.A.COREY
THEEXPANSE
LeviathanWakes
ForJayneandKat,whoencouragemetodaydreamaboutspaceships
Prologue:Julie
T heScopulihadbeentakeneightdaysago,andJulieMaowasfinallyreadytobeshot.
Ithadtakenalleightdaystrappedinastoragelockerforhertogettothatpoint.Forthefirsttwo
she’dremainedmotionless,surethatthearmoredmenwho’dputhertherehadbeenserious.Forthe
firsthours,theshipshe’dbeentakenaboardwasn’tunderthrust,soshefloatedinthelocker,using
gentle touches to keep herself from bumping into the walls or the atmosphere suit she shared the
spacewith.Whentheshipbegantomove,thrustgivingherweight,she’dstoodsilentlyuntilherlegs
cramped,thensatdownslowlyintoafetalposition.She’dpeedinherjumpsuit,notcaringaboutthe
warmitchywetness,orthesmell,worryingonlythatshemightslipandfallinthewetspotitlefton
thefloor.Shecouldn’tmakenoise.They’dshoother.
Onthethirdday,thirsthadforcedherintoaction.Thenoiseoftheshipwasallaroundher.The
faintsubsonicrumbleofthereactoranddrive.Theconstanthissandthudofhydraulicsandsteelbolts
asthepressuredoorsbetweendecksopenedandclosed.Theclumpofheavybootswalkingonmetal
decking.Shewaiteduntilallthenoiseshecouldhearsoundeddistant,thenpulledtheenvironmentsuit
off its hooks and onto the locker floor. Listening for any approaching sound, she slowly
disassembledthesuitandtookoutthewatersupply.Itwasoldandstale;thesuitobviouslyhadn’tbeen
usedorservicedinages.Butshehadn’thadasipintwodays,andthewarmloamywaterinthesuit’s
reservoirbagwasthebestthingshehadevertasted.Shehadtoworkhardnottogulpitdownand
makeherselfvomit.
Whentheurgetourinatereturned,shepulledthecatheterbagoutofthesuitandrelievedherself
intoit.Shesatonthefloor,nowcushionedbythepaddedsuitandalmostcomfortable,andwondered
whohercaptorswere—CoalitionNavy,pirates,somethingworse.Sometimessheslept.
On day four, isolation, hunger, boredom, and the diminishing number of places to store her piss
finallypushedhertomakecontactwiththem.She’dheardmuffledcriesofpain.Somewherenearby,
her shipmates were being beaten or tortured. If she got the attention of the kidnappers, maybe they
would just take her to the others. That was okay. Beatings, she could handle. It seemed like a small
pricetopayifitmeantseeingpeopleagain.
Thelockersatbesidetheinnerairlockdoor.Duringflight,thatusuallywasn’tahigh-trafficarea,
though she didn’t know anything about the layout of this particular ship. She thought about what to
say,howtopresentherself.Whenshefinallyheardsomeonemovingtowardher,shejusttriedtoyell
thatshewantedout.Thedryraspthatcameoutofherthroatsurprisedher.Sheswallowed,working
hertonguetotrytocreatesomesaliva,andtriedagain.Anotherfaintrattleinthethroat.
Thepeoplewererightoutsideherlockerdoor.Avoicewastalkingquietly.Juliehadpulledbacka
fisttobangonthedoorwhensheheardwhatitwassaying.
No.Pleaseno.Pleasedon’t.
Dave.Hership’smechanic.Dave,whocollectedclipsfromoldcartoonsandknewamillionjokes,
begginginasmallbrokenvoice.
No,pleaseno,pleasedon’t,hesaid.
Hydraulicsandlockingboltsclickedastheinnerairlockdooropened.Ameatythudassomething
wasthrowninside.Anotherclickastheairlockclosed.Ahissofevacuatingair.
Whentheairlockcyclehadfinished,thepeopleoutsideherdoorwalkedaway.Shedidn’tbangto
gettheirattention.
They’dscrubbedtheship.Detainmentbytheinnerplanetsnavieswasabadscenario,butthey’dall
trained on how to deal with it. Sensitive OPA data was scrubbed and overwritten with innocuouslooking logs with false time stamps. Anything too sensitive to trust to a computer, the captain
destroyed.Whentheattackerscameaboard,theycouldplayinnocent.
Ithadn’tmattered.
Thereweren’tthequestionsaboutcargoorpermits.Theinvadershadcomeinliketheyownedthe
place,andCaptainDarrenhadrolledoverlikeadog.Everyoneelse—Mike,Dave,WanLi—they’dall
justthrownuptheirhandsandgonealongquietly.Thepiratesorslaversorwhatevertheywerehad
draggedthemoffthelittletransportshipthathadbeenherhome,anddownadockingtubewithout
evenminimalenvironmentsuits.Thetube’sthinlayerofMylarwastheonlythingbetweenthemand
hardnothing:hopeitdidn’trip;goodbyelungsifitdid.
Juliehadgonealongtoo,butthenthebastardshadtriedtolaytheirhandsonher,stripherclothes
off.
Five years of low-gravity jui jitsu training and them in a confined space with no gravity. She’d
donealotofdamage.She’dalmoststartedtothinkshemightwinwhenfromnowhereagauntleted
fistsmashedintoherface.Thingsgotfuzzyafterthat.Thenthelocker,andShootherifshemakesa
noise.Fourdaysofnotmakingnoisewhiletheybeatherfriendsdownbelowandthenthrewoneof
themoutanairlock.
Aftersixdays,everythingwentquiet.
Shiftingbetweenboutsofconsciousnessandfragmenteddreams,shewasonlyvaguelyawareas
the sounds of walking, talking, and pressure doors and the subsonic rumble of the reactor and the
drive faded away a little at a time. When the drive stopped, so did gravity, and Julie woke from a
dreamofracingheroldpinnacetofindherselffloatingwhilehermusclesscreamedinprotestand
thenslowlyrelaxed.
Shepulledherselftothedoorandpressedhereartothecoldmetal.Panicshotthroughheruntil
shecaughtthequietsoundoftheairrecyclers.Theshipstillhadpowerandair,butthedrivewasn’t
onandnoonewasopeningadoororwalkingortalking.Maybeitwasacrewmeeting.Orapartyon
anotherdeck.Oreveryonewasinengineering,fixingaseriousproblem.
Shespentadaylisteningandwaiting.
Bydayseven,herlastsipofwaterwasgone.Nooneontheshiphadmovedwithinrangeofher
hearingfortwenty-fourhours.Shesuckedonaplastictabshe’drippedofftheenvironmentsuituntil
sheworkedupsomesaliva;thenshestartedyelling.Sheyelledherselfhoarse.
Noonecame.
Bydayeight,shewasreadytobeshot.She’dbeenoutofwaterfortwodays,andherwastebag
hadbeenfullforfour.Sheputhershouldersagainstthebackwallofthelockerandplantedherhands
against the side walls. Then she kicked out with both legs as hard as she could. The cramps that
followedthefirstkickalmostmadeherpassout.Shescreamedinstead.
Stupidgirl,shetoldherself.Shewasdehydrated.Eightdayswithoutactivitywasmorethanenough
tostartatrophy.Atleastsheshouldhavestretchedout.
Shemassagedherstiffmusclesuntiltheknotsweregone,thenstretched,focusinghermindlike
shewasbackindojo.Whenshewasincontrolofherbody,shekickedagain.Andagain.Andagain,
untillightstartedtoshowthroughtheedgesofthelocker.Andagain,untilthedoorwassobentthat
thethreehingesandthelockingboltweretheonlypointsofcontactbetweenitandtheframe.
Andonelasttime,sothatitbentfarenoughthattheboltwasnolongerseatedinthehaspandthe
doorswungfree.
Julie shot from the locker, hands half raised and ready to look either threatening or terrified,
dependingonwhichseemedmoreuseful.
Therewasnooneonthewholedecklevel:theairlock,thesuitstorageroomwhereshe’dspentthe
lasteightdays,ahalfdozenotherstoragerooms.Allempty.Shepluckedamagnetizedpipewrench
of suitable size for skull cracking out of an EVA kit, then went down the crew ladder to the deck
below.
Andthentheonebelowthat,andthentheonebelowthat.Personnelcabinsincrisp,almostmilitary
order.Commissary,wherethereweresignsofastruggle.Medicalbay,empty.Torpedobay.Noone.
Thecommstationwasunmanned,powereddown,andlocked.Thefewsensorlogsthatstillstreamed
showednosignoftheScopuli.Anewdreadknottedhergut.Deckafterdeckandroomafterroom
emptyoflife.Somethinghadhappened.Aradiationleak.Poisonintheair.Somethingthathadforced
anevacuation.Shewonderedifshe’dbeabletoflytheshipbyherself.
Butifthey’devacuated,she’dhaveheardthemgoingouttheairlock,wouldn’tshe?
She reached the final deck hatch, the one that led into engineering, and stopped when the hatch
didn’topenautomatically.Aredlightonthelockpanelshowedthattheroomhadbeensealedfrom
theinside.Shethoughtagainaboutradiationandmajorfailures.Butifeitherofthosewasthecase,
whylockthedoorfromtheinside?Andshehadpassedwallpanelafterwallpanel.Noneofthemhad
beenflashingwarningsofanykind.No,notradiation,somethingelse.
Therewasmoredisruptionhere.Blood.Toolsandcontainersindisarray.Whateverhadhappened,
ithadhappenedhere.No,ithadstartedhere.Andithadenededbehindthatlockeddoor.
Ittooktwohourswithatorchandpryingtoolsfromthemachineshoptocutthroughthehatchto
engineering.Withthehydraulicscompromised,shehadtocrankitopenbyhand.Agustofwarmwet
airblewout,carryingahospitalscentwithouttheantiseptic.Acoppery,nauseatingsmell.Thetorture
chamber, then. Her friends would be inside, beaten or cut to pieces. Julie hefted her wrench and
preparedtobustopenatleastoneheadbeforetheykilledher.Shefloateddown.
Theengineeringdeckwashuge,vaultedlikeacathedral.Thefusionreactordominatedthecentral
space.Somethingwaswrongwithit.Wheresheexpectedtoseereadouts,shielding,andmonitors,a
layerofsomethinglikemudseemedtoflowoverthereactorcore.Slowly,Juliefloatedtowardit,one
handstillontheladder.Thestrangesmellbecameoverpowering.
The mud caked around the reactor had structure to it like nothing she’d seen before. Tubes ran
throughitlikeveinsorairways.Partsofitpulsed.Notmud,then.
Flesh.
Anoutcroppingofthethingshiftedtowardher.Comparedtothewhole,itseemednolargerthana
toe,alittlefinger.ItwasCaptainDarren’shead.
“Helpme,”itsaid.
ChapterOne:Holden
A hundred and fifty years before, when the parochial disagreements between Earth and Mars had
beenonthevergeofwar,theBelthadbeenafarhorizonoftremendousmineralwealthbeyondviable
economic reach, and the outer planets had been beyond even the most unrealistic corporate dream.
ThenSolomonEpsteinhadbuilthislittlemodifiedfusiondrive,poppeditonthebackofhisthreeman yacht, and turned it on. With a good scope, you could still see his ship going at a marginal
percentage of the speed of light, heading out into the big empty. The best, longest funeral in the
historyofmankind.Fortunately,he’dlefttheplansonhishomecomputer.TheEpsteinDrivehadn’t
givenhumanitythestars,butithaddeliveredtheplanets.
Three-quarters of a kilometer long, a quarter of a kilometer wide—roughly shaped like a fire
hydrant—andmostlyemptyspaceinside,theCanterburywasaretooledcolonytransport.Once,ithad
beenpackedwithpeople,supplies,schematics,machines,environmentbubbles,andhope.Justunder
twentymillionpeoplelivedonthemoonsofSaturnnow.TheCanterburyhadhaulednearlyamillion
oftheirancestorsthere.Forty-fivemilliononthemoonsofJupiter.OnemoonofUranussportedfive
thousand, the farthest outpost of human civilization, at least until the Mormons finished their
generationshipandheadedforthestarsandfreedomfromprocreationrestrictions.
AndthentherewastheBelt.
If you asked OPA recruiters when they were drunk and feeling expansive, they might say there
wereahundredmillionintheBelt.Askaninnerplanetcensustaker,itwasnearertofiftymillion.Any
wayyoulooked,thepopulationwashugeandneededalotofwater.
SonowtheCanterburyandherdozensofsistershipsinthePur ’n’KleenWaterCompanymadethe
loop from Saturn’s generous rings to the Belt and back hauling glaciers, and would until the ships
agedintosalvagewrecks.
JimHoldensawsomepoetryinthat.
“Holden?”
He turned back to the hangar deck. Chief Engineer Naomi Nagata towered over him. She stood
almosttwofullmeterstall,hermopofcurlyhairtiedbackintoablacktail,herexpressionhalfway
betweenamusementandannoyance.ShehadtheBelterhabitofshruggingwithherhandsinsteadof
hershoulders.
“Holden,areyoulistening,orjuststaringoutthewindow?”
“Therewasaproblem,”Holdensaid.“Andbecauseyou’rereally,reallygood,youcanfixiteven
thoughyoudon’thaveenoughmoneyorsupplies.”
Naomilaughed.
“Soyouweren’tlistening,”shesaid.
“Notreally,no.”
“Well, you got the basics right anyhow. Knight’s landing gear isn’t going to be good in
atmosphereuntilIcangetthesealsreplaced.Thatgoingtobeaproblem?”
“I’llasktheoldman,”Holdensaid.“Butwhen’sthelasttimeweusedtheshuttleinatmosphere?”
“Never,butregssayweneedatleastoneatmo-capableshuttle.”
“Hey, Boss!” Amos Burton, Naomi’s earthborn assistant, yelled from across the bay. He waved
onemeatyarmintheirgeneraldirection.HemeantNaomi.AmosmightbeonCaptainMcDowell’s
ship;Holdenmightbeexecutiveofficer;butinAmosBurton’sworld,onlyNaomiwasboss.
“What’sthematter?”Naomishoutedback.
“Badcable.CanyouholdthislittlefuckerinplacewhileIgetthespare?”
Naomi looked at Holden, Are we done here? in her eyes. He snapped a sarcastic salute and she
snorted,shakingherheadasshewalkedaway,herframelongandthininhergreasycoveralls.
SevenyearsinEarth’snavy,fiveyearsworkinginspacewithcivilians,andhe’dnevergottenused
tothelong,thin,improbablebonesofBelters.Achildhoodspentingravityshapedthewayhesaw
thingsforever.
Atthecentrallift,Holdenheldhisfingerbrieflyoverthebuttonforthenavigationdeck,tempted
bytheprospectofAdeTukunbo—hersmile,hervoice,thepatchouli-and-vanillascentsheusedinher
hair—butpressedthebuttonfortheinfirmaryinstead.Dutybeforepleasure.
ShedGarvey,themedicaltech,washunchedoverhislabtable,debridingthestumpofCameron
Paj’sleftarm,whenHoldenwalkedin.Amonthearlier,Pajhadgottenhiselbowpinnedbyathirtytonblockoficemovingatfivemillimetersasecond.Itwasn’tanuncommoninjuryamongpeople
with the dangerous job of cutting and moving zero-g icebergs, and Paj was taking the whole thing
withthefatalismofaprofessional.HoldenleanedoverShed’sshouldertowatchasthetechplucked
oneofthemedicalmaggotsoutofdeadtissue.
“What’stheword?”Holdenasked.
“It’slookingprettygood,sir,”Pajsaid.“I’vestillgotafewnerves.Shed’sbeentellin’meabout
howtheprostheticisgonnahookuptoit.”
“Assumingwecankeepthenecrosisundercontrol,”themedicsaid,“andmakesurePajdoesn’t
heal up too much before we get to Ceres. I checked the policy, and Paj here’s been signed on long
enoughtogetonewithforcefeedback,pressureandtemperaturesensors,fine-motorsoftware.The
whole package. It’ll be almost as good as the real thing. The inner planets have a new biogel that
regrowsthelimb,butthatisn’tcoveredinourmedicalplan.”
“Fuck the Inners, and fuck their magic Jell-O. I’d rather have a good Belter-built fake than
anything those bastards grow in a lab. Just wearing their fancy arm probably turns you into an
asshole,”Pajsaid.Thenheadded,“Oh,uh,nooffense,XO.”
“Nonetaken.Justgladwe’regoingtogetyoufixedup,”Holdensaid.
“Tellhimtheotherbit,”Pajsaidwithawickedgrin.Shedblushed.
“I’ve, ah, heard from other guys who’ve gotten them,” Shed said, not meeting Holden’s eyes.
“Apparently there’s a period while you’re still building identification with the prosthetic when
whackingofffeelsjustlikegettingahandjob.”
HoldenletthecommenthangintheairforasecondwhileShed’searsturnedcrimson.
“Goodtoknow,”Holdensaid.“Andthenecrosis?”
“There’s some infection,” Shed said. “The maggots are keeping it under control, and the
inflammation’sactuallyagoodthinginthiscontext,sowe’renotfightingtoohardunlessitstartsto
spread.”
“Ishegoingtobereadyforthenextrun?”Holdenasked.
Forthefirsttime,Pajfrowned.
“Shityes,I’llbeready.I’malwaysready.ThisiswhatIdo,sir.”
“Probably,”Shedsaid.“Dependingonhowthebondtakes.Ifnotthisone,theoneafter.”
“Fuck that,” Paj said. “I can buck ice one-handed better than half the skags you’ve got on this
bitch.”
“Again,”Holdensaid,suppressingagrin,“goodtoknow.Carryon.”
Pajsnorted.Shedpluckedanothermaggotfree.Holdenwentbacktothelift,andthistimehedidn’t
hesitate.
The navigation station of the Canterbury didn’t dress to impress. The great wall-sized displays
Holden had imagined when he’d first volunteered for the navy did exist on capital ships but, even
there,moreasanartifactofdesignthanneed.Adesatatapairofscreensonlyslightlylargerthana
handterminal,graphsoftheefficiencyandoutputoftheCanterbury’sreactorandengineupdatingin
thecorners,rawlogsspoolingontherightasthesystemsreportedin.Sheworethickheadphonesthat
covered her ears, the faint thump of the bass line barely escaping. If the Canterbury sensed an
anomaly, it would alert her. If a system errored, it would alert her. If Captain McDowell left the
commandandcontroldeck,itwouldalerthersoshecouldturnthemusicoffandlookbusywhenhe
arrived.HerpettyhedonismwasonlyoneofathousandthingsthatmadeAdeattractivetoHolden.He
walkedupbehindher,pulledtheheadphonesgentlyawayfromherears,andsaid,“Hey.”
Adesmiled,tappedherscreen,anddroppedtheheadphonestorestaroundherlongslimnecklike
technicaljewelry.
“ExecutiveOfficerJamesHolden,”shesaidwithanexaggeratedformalitymadeevenmoreacute
byherthickNigerianaccent.“AndwhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Youknow,it’sfunnyyoushouldaskthat,”hesaid.“Iwasjustthinkinghowpleasantitwouldbe
tohavesomeonecomebacktomycabinwhenthirdshifttakesover.Havealittleromanticdinnerof
thesamecrapthey’reservinginthegalley.Listentosomemusic.”
“Drinkalittlewine,”shesaid.“Breakalittleprotocol.Prettytothinkabout,butI’mnotupforsex
tonight.”
“Iwasn’ttalkingaboutsex.Alittlefood.Conversation.”
“Iwastalkingaboutsex,”shesaid.
Holden knelt beside her chair. In the one-third g of their current thrust, it was perfectly
comfortable. Ade’s smile softened. The log spool chimed; she glanced at it, tapped a release, and
turnedbacktohim.
“Ade,Ilikeyou.Imean,Ireallyenjoyyourcompany,”hesaid.“Idon’tunderstandwhywecan’t
spendsometimetogetherwithourclotheson.”
“Holden.Sweetie.Stopit,okay?”
“Stopwhat?”
“Stoptryingtoturnmeintoyourgirlfriend.You’reaniceguy.You’vegotacutebutt,andyou’re
funinthesack.Doesn’tmeanwe’reengaged.”
Holdenrockedbackonhisheels,feelinghimselffrown.
“Ade.Forthistoworkforme,itneedstobemorethanthat.”
“Butitisn’t,”shesaid,takinghishand.“It’sokaythatitisn’t.You’retheXOhere,andI’mashorttimer.Anotherrun,maybetwo,andI’mgone.”
“I’mnotchainedtothisshipeither.”
Herlaughterwasequalpartswarmthanddisbelief.
“HowlonghaveyoubeenontheCant?”
“Fiveyears.”
“You’renotgoinganyplace,”shesaid.“You’recomfortablehere.”
“Comfortable?”hesaid.“TheCant’sacentury-oldicehauler.Youcanfindashittierflyingjob,
butyouhavetotryreallyhard.Everyonehereiseitherwildlyunder-qualifiedorseriouslyscrewed
thingsupattheirlastgig.”
“Andyou’recomfortablehere.”Hereyeswerelesskindnow.Shebitherlip,lookeddownatthe
screen,lookedup.
“Ididn’tdeservethat,”hesaid.
“Youdidn’t,”sheagreed.“Look,ItoldyouIwasn’tinthemoodtonight.I’mfeelingcranky.Ineed
agoodnight’ssleep.I’llbenicertomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I’llevenmakeyoudinner.Apologyaccepted?”
Heslippedforward,pressedhislipstohers.Shekissedback,politelyatfirstandthenwithmore
warmth.Herfingerscuppedhisneckforamoment,thenpulledhimaway.
“You’reentirelytoogoodatthat.Youshouldgonow,”shesaid.“Ondutyandall.”
“Okay,”hesaid,anddidn’tturntogo.
“Jim,”shesaid,andtheshipwidecommsystemclickedon.
“Holden to the bridge,” Captain McDowell said, his voice compressed and echoing. Holden
repliedwithsomethingobscene.Adelaughed.Heswoopedin,kissedhercheek,andheadedbackfor
the central lift, quietly hoping that Captain McDowell suffered boils and public humiliation for his
lousytiming.
ThebridgewashardlylargerthanHolden’squartersandsmallerbyhalfthanthegalley.Except
for the slightly oversized captain’s display, required by Captain McDowell’s failing eyesight and
general distrust of corrective surgery, it could have been an accounting firm’s back room. The air
smelledofcleaningastringentandsomeone’soverlystrongyerbamatétea.McDowellshiftedinhis
seat as Holden approached. Then the captain leaned back, pointing over his shoulder at the
communicationsstation.
“Becca!”McDowellsnapped.“Tellhim.”
RebeccaByers,thecommofficeronduty,couldhavebeenbredfromasharkandahatchet.Black
eyes, sharp features, lips so thin they might as well not have existed. The story on board was that
she’dtakenthejobtoescapeprosecutionforkillinganex-husband.Holdenlikedher.
“Emergency signal,” she said. “Picked it up two hours ago. The transponder verification just
bouncedbackfromCallisto.It’sreal.”
“Ah,”Holdensaid.Andthen:“Shit.Arewetheclosest?”
“Onlyshipinafewmillionklicks.”
“Well.Thatfigures,”Holdensaid.
Beccaturnedhergazetothecaptain.McDowellcrackedhisknucklesandstaredathisdisplay.The
lightfromthescreengavehimanoddgreenishcast.
“It’snexttoachartednon-Beltasteroid,”McDowellsaid.
“Really?” Holden said in disbelief. “Did they run into it? There’s nothing else out here for
millionsofkilometers.”
“Maybetheypulledoverbecausesomeonehadtogopotty.Allwehaveisthatsomeknucklehead
isoutthere,blastinganemergencysignal,andwe’retheclosest.Assuming…”
Thelawofthesolarsystemwasunequivocal.Inanenvironmentashostiletolifeasspace,theaid
and goodwill of your fellow humans wasn’t optional. The emergency signal, just by existing,
obligated the nearest ship to stop and render aid—which didn’t mean the law was universally
followed.
TheCanterburywasfullyloaded.Welloveramilliontonsoficehadbeengentlyacceleratedfor
thepastmonth.JustlikethelittleglacierthathadcrushedPaj’sarm,itwasgoingtobehardtoslow
down. The temptation to have an unexplained comm failure, erase the logs, and let the great god
Darwinhavehiswaywasalwaysthere.
But if McDowell had really intended that, he wouldn’t have called Holden up. Or made the
suggestionwherethecrewcouldhearhim.Holdenunderstoodthedance.Thecaptainwasgoingtobe
theonewhowouldhaveblownitoffexceptforHolden.Thegruntswouldrespectthecaptainfornot
wantingtocutintotheship’sprofit.They’drespectHoldenforinsistingthattheyfollowtherule.No
matterwhathappened,thecaptainandHoldenwouldbothbehatedforwhattheywererequiredbylaw
andmerehumandecencytodo.
“Wehavetostop,”Holdensaid.Then,gamely:“Theremaybesalvage.”
McDowell tapped his screen. Ade’s voice came from the console, as low and warm as if she’d
beenintheroom.
“Captain?”
“Ineednumbersonstoppingthiscrate,”hesaid.
“Sir?”
“HowhardisitgoingtobetoputusalongsideCA-2216862?”
“We’restoppingatanasteroid?”
“I’lltellyouwhenyou’vefollowedmyorder,NavigatorTukunbo.”
“Yes,sir,”shesaid.Holdenheardaseriesofclicks.“Ifwefliptheshiprightnowandburnlike
hellformostoftwodays,Icangetuswithinfiftythousandkilometers,sir.”
“Canyoudefine‘burnlikehell’?”McDowellsaid.
“We’llneedeveryoneincrashcouches.”
“Ofcoursewewill,”McDowellsighed,andscratchedhisscruffybeard.“Andshiftingiceisonly
goingtodoacouplemillionbucks’worthofbangingupthehull,ifwe’relucky.I’mgettingoldfor
this,Holden.Ireallyam.”
“Yes,sir.Youare.AndI’vealwayslikedyourchair,”Holdensaid.McDowellscowledandmade
anobscenegesture.Rebeccasnortedinlaughter.McDowellturnedtoher.
“Sendamessagetothebeaconthatwe’reonourway.AndletCeresknowwe’regoingtobelate.
Holden,wheredoestheKnightstand?”
“Noflyinginatmosphereuntilwegetsomeparts,butshe’lldofineforfiftythousandklicksin
vacuum.”
“You’resureofthat?”
“Naomisaidit.Thatmakesittrue.”
McDowellrose,unfoldingtoalmosttwoandaquartermetersandthinnerthanateenagerbackon
Earth.Betweenhisageandneverhavinglivedinagravitywell,thecomingburnwaslikelytobehell
on the old man. Holden felt a pang of sympathy that he would never embarrass McDowell by
expressing.
“Here’sthething,Jim,”McDowellsaid,hisvoicequietenoughthatonlyHoldencouldhearhim.
“We’rerequiredtostopandmakeanattempt,butwedon’thavetogooutofourway,ifyouseewhatI
mean.”
“We’llalreadyhavestopped,”Holdensaid,andMcDowellpattedattheairwithhiswide,spidery
hands.OneofthemanyBeltergesturesthathadevolvedtobevisiblewhenwearinganenvironment
suit.
“I can’t avoid that,” he said. “But if you see anything out there that seems off, don’t play hero
again.Justpackupthetoysandcomehome.”
“Andleaveitforthenextshipthatcomesthrough?”
“Andkeepyourselfsafe,”McDowellsaid.“Order.Understood?”
“Understood,”Holdensaid.
AstheshipwidecommsystemclickedtolifeandMcDowellbeganexplainingthesituationtothe
crew,Holdenimaginedhecouldhearachorusofgroanscomingupthroughthedecks.Hewentover
toRebecca.
“Okay,”hesaid,“whathavewegotonthebrokenship?”
“Lightfreighter.Martianregistry.ShowsErosashomeport.CallsitselfScopuli…”
ChapterTwo:Miller
DetectiveMillersatbackonthefoam-corechair,smilinggentleencouragementwhilehescrambled
tomakesenseofthegirl’sstory.
“Andthenitwasallpow!Roomfullupwithbladeboyshowlingandhumpingshank,”thegirlsaid,
wavingahand.“Looklikeadancenumber,’ceptthatBomie’sgotthislookhedidn’tknownothing
neverandeveramen.Youknow,que?”
Havelock,standingbythedoor,blinkedtwice.Thesquatman’sfacetwitchedwithimpatience.It
waswhyHavelockwasnevergoingtomakeseniordetective.Andwhyhesuckedatpoker.
Millerwasverygoodatpoker.
“Itotally,”Millersaid.Hisvoicehadtakenonthetwangofaninnerlevelresident.Hewavedhis
handinthesamelazyarcthegirlused.“Bomie,hedidn’tsee.Forgottenarm.”
“Forgotten fucking arm, yeah,” the girl said as if Miller had spoken a line of gospel. Miller
nodded,andthegirlnoddedbackliketheyweretwobirdsdoingamatingdance.
The rent hole was three cream-and-black-fleck-painted rooms—bathroom, kitchen, living room.
The struts of a pull-down sleeping loft in the living room had been broken and repaired so many
times they didn’t retract anymore. This near the center of Ceres’ spin, that wasn’t from gravity so
muchasmassinmotion.Theairsmelledbeerywitholdproteinyeastandmushrooms.Localfood,so
whoeverhadbouncedthegirlhardenoughtobreakherbedhadn’tpaidenoughfordinner.Ormaybe
theydid,andthegirlhadchosentospenditonheroinormaltaorMCK.
Herbusiness,eitherway.
“Followque?”Millerasked.
“Bomievacuatelikelosingair,”thegirlsaidwithachuckle.“Bang-headhops,kennistu?”
“Ken,”Millersaid.
“Now,allnewbladeboys.Overhead.I’mout.”
“AndBomie?”
The girl’s eyes made a slow track up Miller, shoes to knees to porkpie hat. Miller chuckled. He
gavethechairalightpush,slopinguptohisfeetinthelowgravity.
“Heshows,andIasked,quesi?”Millersaid.
“Comono?”thegirlsaid.Whynot?
The tunnel outside was white where it wasn’t grimy. Ten meters wide, and gently sloping up in
bothdirections.ThewhiteLEDlightsdidn’tpretendtomimicsunlight.Abouthalfakilometerdown,
someonehadrammedintothewallsohardthenativerockshowedthrough,anditstillhadn’tbeen
repaired.Maybeitwouldn’tbe.Thiswasthedeepdig,wayupnearthecenterofspin.Touristsnever
camehere.
Havelockledthewaytotheircart,bouncingtoohighwitheverystep.Hedidn’tcomeuptothe
lowgravitylevelsveryoften,anditmadehimawkward.MillerhadlivedonCereshiswholelife,and
truthtotell,theCorioliseffectupthishighcouldmakehimalittleunsteadysometimestoo.
“So,”Havelocksaidashepunchedintheirdestinationcode,“didyouhavefun?”
“Don’tknowwhatyoumean,”Millersaid.
Theelectricalmotorshummedtolife,andthecartlurchedforwardintothetunnel,squishyfoam
tiresfaintlysqueaking.
“HavingyouroutworldconversationinfrontoftheEarthguy?”Havelocksaid.“Icouldn’tfollow
evenhalfofthat.”
“That wasn’t Belters keeping the Earth guy out,” Miller said. “That was poor folks keeping the
educatedguyout.Anditwaskindoffun,nowyoumentionit.”
Havelocklaughed.Hecouldtakebeingteasedandkeeponmoving.Itwaswhatmadehimgoodat
teamsports:soccer,basketball,politics.
Millerwasn’tmuchgoodatthose.
Ceres, the port city of the Belt and the outer planets, boasted two hundred fifty kilometers in
diameter,tensofthousandsofkilometersoftunnelsinlayeronlayeronlayer.Spinningitupto0.3g
hadtakenthebestmindsatTychoManufacturinghalfageneration,andtheywerestillprettysmug
aboutit.NowCereshadmorethansixmillionpermanentresidents,andasmanyasathousandships
dockinginanygivendaymeantuppingthepopulationtoashighassevenmillion.
Platinum,iron,andtitaniumfromtheBelt.WaterfromSaturn,vegetablesandbeeffromthebig
mirror-fedgreenhousesonGanymedeandEuropa,organicsfromEarthandMars.Powercellsfrom
Io, Helium-3 from the refineries on Rhea and Iapetus. A river of wealth and power unrivaled in
humanhistorycamethroughCeres.Wheretherewascommerceonthatlevel,therewasalsocrime.
Wheretherewascrime,thereweresecurityforcestokeepitincheck.MenlikeMillerandHavelock,
whosebusinessitwastotracktheelectriccartsupthewideramps,feelthefalsegravityofspinfall
away beneath them, and ask low-rent glitz whores about what happened the night Bomie Chatterjee
stoppedcollectingprotectionmoneyfortheGoldenBoughSociety.
The primary station house for Star Helix Security, police force and military garrison for the
CeresStation,wasonthethirdlevelfromtheasteroid’sskin,twokilometerssquareanddugintothe
rock so high Miller could walk from his desk up five levels without ever leaving the offices.
Havelock turned in the cart while Miller went to his cubicle, downloaded the recording of their
interview with the girl, and reran it. He was halfway through when his partner lumbered up behind
him.
“Learnanything?”Havelockasked.
“Notmuch,”Millersaid.“Bomiegotjumpedbyabunchofunaffiliatedlocalthugs.Sometimesa
low-levelguylikeBomiewillhirepeopletopretendtoattackhimsohecanheroicallyfightthemoff.
Upshisreputation.That’swhatshemeantwhenshecalleditadancenumber.Theguysthatwentafter
himwerethatcaliber,onlyinsteadofturningintoaninjabadass,Bomieranawayandhasn’tcome
back.”
“Andnow?”
“And now nothing,” Miller said. “That’s what I don’t get. Someone took out a Golden Bough
purseboy,andthere’snopayback.Imean,okay,Bomie’sabottom-feeder,but…”
“Butoncetheystarteatingthelittleguys,there’slessmoneycominguptothebigguys,”Havelock
said.“Sowhyhasn’ttheGoldenBoughmetedoutsomegangsterjustice?”
“Idon’tlikethis,”Millersaid.
Havelocklaughed.“Belters,”hesaid.“Onethinggoesweirdandyouthinkthewholeecosystem’s
crashing. If the Golden Bough’s too weak to keep its claims, that’s a good thing. They’re the bad
guys,remember?”
“Yeah,well,”Millersaid.“Saywhatyouwillaboutorganizedcrime,atleastit’sorganized.”
HavelocksatonthesmallplasticchairbesideMiller ’sdeskandcranedtowatchtheplayback.
“Okay,”Havelocksaid.“Whatthehellisthe‘forgottenarm’?”
“Boxingterm,”Millersaid.“It’sthehityoudidn’tseecoming.”
ThecomputerchimedandCaptainShaddid’svoicecamefromthespeakers.
“Miller?Areyouthere?”
“Mmm,”Havelocksaid.“Badomen.”
“What?”thecaptainasked,hervoicesharp.Shehadneverquiteovercomeherprejudiceagainst
Havelock’sinnerplanetorigins.Millerheldupahandtosilencehispartner.
“Here,Captain.WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Meetmeinmyoffice,please.”
“Onmyway,”hesaid.
Millerstood,andHavelockslidintohischair.Theydidn’tspeak.BothofthemknewthatCaptain
Shaddidwouldhavecalledthemintogetherifshe’dwantedHavelocktobethere.Anotherreasonthe
manwouldnevermakeseniordetective.Millerlefthimalonewiththeplayback,tryingtoparsethe
finepointsofclassandstation,originandrace.Lifetime’swork,that.
CaptainShaddid’sofficewasdecoratedinasoft,femininestyle.Realclothtapestrieshungfrom
thewalls,andthescentofcoffeeandcinnamoncamefromaninsertinherairfilterthatcostabouta
tenthofwhattherealfoodstuffswouldhave.Sheworeheruniformcasually,herhairdownaround
hershouldersinviolationofcorporateregulations.IfMillerhadeverbeencalledupontodescribe
her,thephrasedeceptivecolorationwouldhavefiguredin.Shenoddedtoachair,andhesat.
“Whathaveyoufound?”sheasked,buthergazewasonthewallbehindhim.Thiswasn’tapop
quiz;shewasjustmakingconversation.
“GoldenBough’slookingthesameasSohiro’screwandtheLocaGreiga.Stillonstation,but…
distracted, I guess I’d call it. They’re letting little things slide. Fewer thugs on the ground, less
enforcement.I’vegothalfadozenmid-levelguyswho’vegonedark.”
He’dcaughtherattention.
“Killed?”sheasked.“AnOPAadvance?”
AnadvancebytheOuterPlanetsAlliancewastheconstantbogeymanofCeressecurity.Livingin
the tradition of Al Capone and Hamas, the IRA and the Red Martials, the OPA was beloved by the
people it helped and feared by the ones who got in its way. Part social movement, part wannabe
nation,andpartterroristnetwork,ittotallylackedaninstitutionalconscience.CaptainShaddidmight
not like Havelock because he was from down a gravity well, but she’d work with him. The OPA
wouldhaveputhiminanairlock.PeoplelikeMillerwouldonlyrategettingabulletintheskull,and
aniceplasticoneatthat.Nothingthatmightgetshrapnelintheductwork.
“Idon’tthinkso,”hesaid.“Itdoesn’tsmelllikeawar.It’s…Honestly,sir,Idon’tknowwhatthe
hellitis.Thenumbersaregreat.Protection’sdown,unlicensedgambling’sdown.CooperandHariri
shutdowntheunderagewhorehouseuponsix,andasfarasanyonecantell,ithasn’tstartedupagain.
There’salittlemoreactionbyindependents,butthataside,it’salllookinggreat.Itjustsmellsfunny.”
Shenodded,buthergazewasbackonthewall.He’dlostherinterestasquicklyashe’dgottenit.
“Well,putitaside,”shesaid.“Ihavesomething.Newcontract.Justyou.NotHavelock.”
Millercrossedhisarms.
“Newcontract,”hesaidslowly.“Meaning?”
“MeaningStarHelixSecurityhasacceptedacontractforservicesseparatefromtheCeressecurity
assignment,andinmyroleassitemanagerforthecorporation,I’massigningyoutoit.”
“I’mfired?”hesaid.
CaptainShaddidlookedpained.
“It’sadditionalduty,”shesaid.“You’llstillhavetheCeresassignmentsyouhavenow.It’sjustthat,
inaddition…Look,Miller,Ithinkthisisasshittyasyoudo.I’mnotpullingyouoffstation.I’mnot
takingyouoffthemaincontract.ThisisafavorsomeonedownonEarthisdoingforashareholder.”
“We’redoingfavorsforshareholdersnow?”Millerasked.
“Youare,yes,”CaptainShaddidsaid.Thesoftnesswasgone;theconciliatorytonewasgone.Her
eyesweredarkaswetstone.
“Right,then,”Millersaid.“IguessIam.”
Captain Shaddid held up her hand terminal. Miller fumbled at his side, pulled out his own, and
accepted the narrow-beam transfer. Whatever this was, Shaddid was keeping it off the common
network.Anewfiletree,labeledJMAO,appearedonhisreadout.
“It’salittle-lost-daughtercase,”CaptainShaddidsaid.“AriadneandJules-PierreMao.”
Thenamesrangabell.Millerpressedhisfingertipsontothescreenofhishandterminal.
“Mao-KwikowskiMercantile?”heasked.
“Theone.”
Millerwhistledlow.
MaokwikmightnothavebeenoneofthetoptencorporationsintheBelt,butitwascertainlyinthe
upper fifty. Originally, it had been a legal firm involved in the epic failure of the Venusian cloud
cities. They’d used the money from that decades-long lawsuit to diversify and expand, mostly into
interplanetarytransport.Nowthecorporatestationwasindependent,floatingbetweentheBeltandthe
inner planets with the regal majesty of an ocean liner on ancient seas. The simple fact that Miller
knew that much about them meant they had enough money to buy and sell men like him on open
exchange.
He’djustbeenbought.
“They’re Luna-based,” Captain Shaddid said. “All the rights and privileges of Earth citizenship.
Buttheydoalotofshippingbusinessouthere.”
“Andtheymisplacedadaughter?”
“Black sheep,” the captain said. “Went off to college, got involved with a group called the Far
HorizonsFoundation.Studentactivists.”
“OPAfront,”Millersaid.
“Associated,”Shaddidcorrectedhim.Millerletitpass,butaflickerofcuriositytroubledhim.He
wonderedwhichsideCaptainShaddidwouldbeoniftheOPAattacked.“Thefamilyputitdowntoa
phase.They’vegottwoolderchildrenwithcontrollinginterest,soifJuliewantedtobouncearound
vacuumcallingherselfafreedomfighter,therewasnorealharm.”
“Butnowtheywantherfound,”Millersaid.
“Theydo.”
“Whatchanged?”
“Theydidn’tseefittosharethatinformation.”
“Right.”
“Last records show she was employed on Tycho Station but maintained an apartment here. I’ve
foundherpartitiononthenetworkandlockeditdown.Thepasswordisinyourfiles.”
“Okay,”Millersaid.“What’smycontract?”
“FindJulieMao,detainher,andshipherhome.”
“Akidnapjob,then,”hesaid.
“Yes.”
Miller stared down at his hand terminal, flicking the files open without particularly looking at
them.Astrangeknothadtieditselfinhisguts.He’dbeenworkingCeressecurityforsixteenyears,
andhehadn’tstartedwithmanyillusionsinplace.ThejokewasthatCeresdidn’thavelaws—ithad
police. His hands weren’t any cleaner than Captain Shaddid’s. Sometimes people fell out airlocks.
Sometimesevidencevanishedfromthelockers.Itwasn’tsomuchthatitwasrightorwrongasthatit
wasjustified.Youspentyourlifeinastonebubblewithyourfood,yourwater,yourair shipped in
fromplacessodistantyoucouldbarelyfindthemwithatelescope,andacertainmoralflexibilitywas
necessary.Buthe’dneverhadtotakeakidnapjobbefore.
“Problem,Detective?”CaptainShaddidasked.
“No,sir,”hesaid.“I’lltakecareofit.”
“Don’tspendtoomuchtimeonit,”shesaid.
“Yes,sir.Anythingelse?”
CaptainShaddid’shardeyessoftened,likeshewasputtingonamask.Shesmiled.
“Everythinggoingwellwithyourpartner?”
“Havelock’sallright,”Millersaid.“Havinghimaroundmakespeoplelikemebetterbycontrast.
That’snice.”
Hersmile’sonlychangewastobecomehalfadegreemoregenuine.Nothinglikealittleshared
racismtobuildtieswiththeboss.Millernoddedrespectfullyandheadedout.
Hisholewasontheeighthlevel,offaresidentialtunnelahundredmeterswidewithfiftymetersof
carefullycultivatedgreenparkrunningdownthecenter.Themaincorridor ’svaultedceilingwaslit
by recessed lights and painted a blue that Havelock assured him matched the Earth’s summer sky.
Livingonthesurfaceofaplanet,masssuckingateveryboneandmuscle,andnothingbutgravityto
keepyourairclose,seemedlikeafastpathtocrazy.Thebluewasnice,though.
SomepeoplefollowedCaptainShaddid’sleadbyperfumingtheirair.Notalwayswithcoffeeand
cinnamonscents,ofcourse.Havelock’sholesmelledofbakingbread.Othersoptedforfloralscents
orsemipheromones.Candace,Miller ’sex-wife,hadpreferredsomethingcalledEarthLily,whichhad
alwaysmadehimthinkofthewasterecyclinglevels.Thesedays,heleftitatthevaguelyastringent
smellofthestationitself.Recycledairthathadpassedthroughamillionlungs.Waterfromthetapso
cleanitcouldbeusedforlabwork,butithadbeenpissandshitandtearsandbloodandwouldbe
again.ThecircleoflifeonCereswassosmallyoucouldseethecurve.Helikeditthatway.
Hepouredaglassofmosswhiskey,anativeCeresliquormadefromengineeredyeast,thentook
offhisshoesandsettledontothefoambed.HecouldstillseeCandace’sdisapprovingscowlandhear
hersigh.Heshruggedapologytohermemoryandturnedbacktowork.
Juliette Andromeda Mao. He read through her work history, her academic records. Talented
pinnacepilot.Therewasapictureofherateighteeninatailoredvacsuitwiththehelmetoff:pretty
girl with a thin, lunar citizen’s frame and long black hair. She was grinning like the universe had
givenherakiss.Thelinkedtextsaidshe’dwonfirstplaceinsomethingcalledtheParrish/Dorn500K.
Hesearchedbriefly.Somekindofraceonlyreallyrichpeoplecouldaffordtoflyin.Herpinnace—
theRazorback—hadbeatenthepreviousrecordandhelditfortwoyears.
Miller sipped his whiskey and wondered what had happened to the girl with enough wealth and
power to own a private ship that would bring her here. It was a long way from competing in
expensivespaceracestobeinghog-tiedandsenthomeinapod.Ormaybeitwasn’t.
“Poorlittlerichgirl,”Millersaidtothescreen.“Suckstobeyou,Iguess.”
He closed the files and drank quietly and seriously, staring at the blank ceiling above him. The
chair where Candace used to sit and ask him about his day stood empty, but he could see her there
anyway.Nowthatshewasn’theretomakehimtalk,itwaseasiertorespecttheimpulse.She’dbeen
lonely.Hecouldseethatnow.Inhisimagination,sherolledhereyes.
Anhourlater,hisbloodwarmwithdrink,heheatedupabowlofrealriceandfakebeans—yeast
andfunguscouldmimicanythingifyouhadenoughwhiskeyfirst—openedthedoorofhishole,and
atedinnerlookingoutatthetrafficgentlycurvingby.Thesecondshiftstreamedintothetubestations
andthenoutofthem.Thekidswholivedtwoholesdown—agirlofeightandherbrotheroffour—
met their father with hugs, squeals, mutual accusations, and tears. The blue ceiling glowed in its
reflectedlight,unchanging,static,reassuring.Asparrowfluttereddownthetunnel,hoveringinaway
thatHavelockassuredhimtheycouldn’tonEarth.Millerthrewitafakebean.
HetriedtothinkabouttheMaogirl,butintruthhedidn’tmuchcare.Somethingwashappeningto
theorganizedcrimefamiliesofCeres,anditmadehimjumpyashell.
ThisthingwithJulieMao?Itwasasideshow.
ChapterThree:Holden
A fternearlytwofulldaysinhighgravity,Holden’skneesandbackandneckached.Andhishead.
Hell, his feet. He walked in the crew hatch of the Knight just as Naomi was climbing up the ladder
fromitscargobay.Shesmiledandgavehimathumbs-up.
“Thesalvagemechislockeddown,”shesaid.“Reactoriswarmingup.We’rereadytofly.”
“Good.”
“Wegotapilotyet?”sheasked.
“Alex Kamal is on the ready rotation today, so he’s our man. I kind of wish Valka had been up.
He’snotthepilotAlexis,buthe’squieter,andmyheadhurts.”
“IlikeAlex.He’sebullient,”Naomisaid.
“Idon’tknowwhatebullientmeans,butifitmeansAlex,itmakesmetired.”
Holdenstarteduptheladdertoopsandthecockpit.Intheshinyblacksurfaceofadeactivatedwall
panel, Naomi’s reflection smirked at his back. He couldn’t understand how Belters, thin as pencils,
bouncedbackfromhighgsoquickly.Decadesofpracticeandselectivebreeding,heassumed.
Inops,Holdenstrappedintothecommandconsole,thecrashcouchmaterialsilentlyconforming
tohisbody.AtthehalfgAdeputthemonforthefinalapproach,thefoamfeltgood.Heletasmall
groan slip out. The switches, plastic and metal made to withstand hard g and hundreds of years,
clicked sharply. The Knight responded with an array of glowing diagnostic indicators and a nearsubliminalhum.
A few minutes later, Holden glanced over to see Alex Kamal’s thinning black hair appear,
followedbyhisroundcheerfulface,adeepbrownthatyearsofshipboardlifecouldn’tpale.Martianraised, Alex had a frame that was thicker than a Belter ’s. He was slender compared to Holden, and
evenso,hisflightsuitstretchedtightagainsthisspreadingwaistline.AlexhadflownintheMartian
navy,buthe’dclearlygivenuponthemilitary-stylefitnessroutine.
“Howdy,XO,”hedrawled.TheoldwestaffectationcommontoeveryonefromtheMarinerValley
annoyed Holden. There hadn’t been a cowboy on Earth in a hundred years, and Mars didn’t have a
blade of grass that wasn’t under a dome, or a horse that wasn’t in a zoo. Mariner Valley had been
settled by East Indians, Chinese, and a small contingent of Texans. Apparently, the drawl was viral.
Theyallhaditnow.“How’stheoldwarhorsetoday?”
“Smoothsofar.Weneedaflightplan.Adewillbebringingustorelativestopin”—hecheckedthe
timereadout—“forty,soworkfast.Iwanttogetout,getitdone,andgettheCantbackoncourseto
Ceresbeforeshestartsrusting.”
“Rogerthat,”Alexsaid,climbinguptotheKnight’scockpit.
Holden’sheadsetclicked;thenNaomi’svoicesaid,“AmosandShedareaboard.We’reallready
downhere.”
“Thanks.JustwaitingonflightnumbersfromAlexandwe’llbereadytogo.”
Thecrewwastheminimumnecessary:Holdenascommand,Alextogetthemthereandback,Shed
incasethereweresurvivorstotreat,NaomiandAmosforsalvageifthereweren’t.
Itwasn’tlongbeforeAlexcalleddown,“Okay,Boss.It’llbeaboutafour-hourtripflyin’teakettle.
Totalmassuseataboutthirtypercent,butwe’vegotafulltank.Totalmissiontime:elevenhours.”
“Copythat.Thanks,Alex,”Holdensaid.
Flying teakettle was naval slang for flying on the maneuvering thrusters that used superheated
steam for reaction mass. The Knight’s fusion torch would be dangerous to use this close to the
Canterbury and wasteful on such a short trip. Torches were pre-Epstein fusion drives and far less
efficient.
“Callingforpermissiontoleavethebarn,”Holdensaid,andclickedfrominternalcommtothe
linkwiththeCanterbury’sbridge.“Holdenhere.Knightisreadytofly.”
“Okay,Jim,goahead,”McDowellsaid.“Ade’sbringinghertoastopnow.Youkidsbecarefulout
there.ThatshuttleisexpensiveandI’vealwayssortofhadathingforNaomi.”
“Roger that, Captain,” Holden said. Back on the internal comm, he buzzed Alex. “Go ahead and
takeusout.”
HoldenleanedbackinhischairandlistenedtothecreaksoftheCanterbury’sfinalmaneuvers,the
steelandceramicsasloudandominousasthewoodplanksofasailingship.OranEarther ’sjoints
afterhighg.Foramoment,Holdenfeltsympathyfortheship.
Theyweren’treallystopping,ofcourse.Nothinginspaceeveractuallystopped;itonlycameinto
a matching orbit with some other object. They were now following CA-2216862 on its merry
millennium-longtriparoundthesun.
Adesentthemthegreenlight,andHoldenemptiedoutthehangarbayairandpoppedthedoors.
Alextookthemoutofthedockonwhiteconesofsuperheatedsteam.
TheywenttofindtheScopuli.
CA-2216862 was a rock a half kilometer across that had wandered away from the Belt and been
yankedaroundbyJupiter ’senormousgravity.Ithadeventuallyfounditsownsloworbitaroundthe
suninthevastexpansebetweenJupiterandtheBelt,territoryemptyevenforspace.
ThesightoftheScopulirestinggentlyagainsttheasteroid’sside,heldinplacebytherock’stiny
gravity, gave Holden a chill. Even if it was flying blind, every instrument dead, its odds of hitting
such an object by chance were infinitesimally low. It was a half-kilometer-wide roadblock on a
highwaymillionsofkilometersindiameter.Ithadn’tarrivedtherebyaccident.Hescratchedthehairs
standinguponthebackofhisneck.
“Alex,holdusattwoklicksout,”Holdensaid.“Naomi,whatcanyoutellmeaboutthatship?”
“Hull configuration matches the registry information. It’s definitely the Scopuli. She’s not
radiating in the electromagnetic or infrared. Just that little distress beacon. Looks like the reactor ’s
shutdown.Musthavebeenmanualandnotdamage,becausewearen’tgettinganyradiationleakage
either,”Naomisaid.
HoldenlookedatthepicturestheyweregettingfromtheKnight’sscopes,aswellastheimagethe
KnightcreatedbybouncingalaserofftheScopuli’shull.“Whataboutthatthingthatlookslikeahole
intheside?”
“Uh,”Naomisaid.“Ladarsaysit’saholeintheside.”
Holdenfrowned.“Okay,let’sstayhereforaminuteandrechecktheneighborhood.Anythingon
thescope,Naomi?”
“Nope.AndthebigarrayontheCantcanspotakidthrowingrocksonLuna.Beccasaysthere’s
nobodywithintwentymillionklicksrightnow,”Naomisaid.
Holdentappedoutacomplicatedrhythmonthearmofhischairanddriftedupinthestraps.He
felthot,andreachedovertoaimtheclosestair-circulationnozzleathisface.Hisscalptingledwith
evaporatingsweat.
Ifyouseeanythingouttherethatseemsoff,don’tplayheroagain.Justpackupthetoysandcome
home.Thosewerehisorders.HelookedattheimageoftheScopuli,theholeinitsside.
“Okay,” he said. “Alex, take us in to a quarter klick, and hold station there. We’ll ride to the
surfaceonthemech.Oh,andkeepthetorchwarmedupandready.Ifsomethingnastyishidinginthat
ship,IwanttobeabletorunawayasfastasIcanandmeltanythingbehindusintoslagwhileIdoit.
Roger?”
“Gotit,Boss.Knight’sinrun-like-a-bunnymodetillyousayotherwise,”Alexreplied.
Holdenlookedoverthecommandconsoleonemoretime,searchingfortheflashingredwarning
lightthatwouldgivehimpermissiontogobacktotheCant.Everythingremainedasoftgreen.He
poppedopenhisbucklesandshovedhimselfoutofthechair.Apushonthewallwithonefootsent
himovertotheladder,andhedescendedheadfirstwithgentletouchesontherungs.
In the crew area, Naomi, Amos, and Shed were still strapped into their crash couches. Holden
caughttheladderandswungaroundsothathiscrewdidn’tlookupsidedown.Theystartedundoing
theirrestraints.
“Okay,here’sthesituation.TheScopuligotholed,andsomeoneleftitfloatingnexttothisrock.
Nooneisonthescopes,somaybethatmeansithappenedawhileagoandtheyleft.Naomi,you’llbe
drivingthesalvagemech,andthethreeofuswilltetheronandcatcharidedowntothewreck.Shed,
youstaywiththemechunlesswefindaninjuredperson,whichseemsunlikely.AmosandIwillgo
intotheshipthroughthatholeandpokearound.Ifwefindanythingevenremotelyboobytrap–like,
we will come back to the mech, Naomi will fly us back to the Knight, and we will run away. Any
questions?”
Amos raised one beefy hand. “Maybe we oughta be armed, XO. Case there’s piratey types still
lurkingaboard.”
Holdenlaughed.“Well,ifthereare,thentheirrideleftwithoutthem.Butifitmakesyoufeelmore
comfortable,goaheadandbringagun.”
Ifthebig,burlyEarthermechanicwascarryingagun,itwouldmakehimfeelbettertoo,butbetter
nottosayit.Letthemthinktheguyinchargefeltconfident.
Holdenusedhisofficer ’skeytoopentheweaponlocker,andAmostookahigh-caliberautomatic
that fired self-propelled rounds, recoilless and designed for use in zero g. Old-fashioned slug
throwersweremorereliable,butinnullgravitytheywerealsomaneuveringthrusters.Atraditional
handgunwouldimpartenoughthrusttoachieveescapevelocityfromarockthesizeofCA-2216862.
The crew drifted down to the cargo bay, where the egg-shaped, spider-legged open cage of
Naomi’smechwaited.Eachofthefourlegshadamanipulatorclawattheendandavarietyofcutting
and welding tools built into it. The back pair could grip on to a ship’s hull or other structure for
leverage,andthefronttwocouldbeusedtomakerepairsorchopsalvageintoportablepieces.
“Hatson,”Holdensaid,andthecrewhelpedeachotherputonandsecuretheirhelmets.Everyone
checkedtheirownsuitandthensomeoneelse’s.Whenthecargodoorsopened,itwouldbetoolateto
makesuretheywerebuttonedupright.
While Naomi climbed into her mech, Amos, Holden, and Shed secured their suit tethers to the
cockpit’s metal cage. Naomi checked the mech and then hit the switch to cycle the cargo bay’s
atmosphereandopenthedoors.SoundinsideHolden’ssuitfadedtojustthehissofairandthefaint
staticoftheradio.Theairhadaslightmedicinesmell.
Naomiwentfirst,takingthemechdowntowardtheasteroid’ssurfaceonsmalljetsofcompressed
nitrogen,thecrewtrailingheronthree-meter-longtethers.Astheyflew,Holdenlookedbackupatthe
Knight:ablockygraywedgewithadriveconestuckonthewiderend.Likeeverythingelsehumans
builtforspacetravel,itwasdesignedtobeefficient,notpretty.ThatalwaysmadeHoldenalittlesad.
Thereshouldberoomforaesthetics,evenouthere.
TheKnightseemedtodriftawayfromhim,gettingsmallerandsmaller,whilehedidn’tmove.The
illusionvanishedwhenheturnedaroundtolookattheasteroidandfelttheywerehurtlingtowardit.
HeopenedachanneltoNaomi,butshewashummingtoherselfassheflew,whichmeantshe,atleast,
wasn’tworried.Hedidn’tsayanything,butheleftthechannelopentolistentoherhum.
Upclose,theScopulididn’tlookallthatbad.Otherthanthegapingholeinitsflank,itdidn’thave
anydamage.Itclearlyhadn’thittheasteroid;ithadjustbeenleftcloseenoughthatthemicrogravity
hadslowlyreeleditin.Astheyapproached,hesnappedpictureswithhissuithelmetandtransmitted
themtotheCanterbury.
Naomibroughtthemtoastop,hoveringthreemetersabovetheholeintheScopuli’sside.Amos
whistledacrossthegeneralsuitchannel.
“Thatwasn’tatorpedodidthis,XO.Thiswasabreachingcharge.Seehowthemetal’sbentinall
aroundtheedges?That’sshapedchargesstuckrightonherhull,”Amossaid.
Inadditiontobeingafinemechanic,Amoswastheonewhousedexplosivesurgerytocrackopen
theicebergsfloatingaroundSaturnandturnthemintomoremanageablechunks.Anotherreasonto
havehimontheKnight.
“So,” Holden said, “our friends here on the Scopuli stop, let someone climb onto their hull and
plant a breaching charge, and then crack them open and let all the air out. Does that make sense to
anyone?”
“Nope,”Naomisaid.“Itdoesn’t.Stillwanttogoinside?”
Ifyouseeanythingouttherethatseemsoff,don’tplayheroagain.Justpackupthetoysandcome
home.
But what could he have expected? Of course the Scopuli wasn’t up and running. Of course
somethinghadgonewrong.Offwouldhavebeennotseeinganythingstrange.
“Amos,”Holdensaid,“keepthatgunout,justincase.Naomi,canyoumakeusabiggerhole?And
becareful.Ifanythinglookswrong,backusoff.”
Naomibroughtthemechincloser,nitrogenblastsnomorethanawhitebreathonacoldnight.
The mech’s welding torch blazed to life, red hot, then white, then blue. In silence, the mech’s arms
unfurled—aninsectilemovement—andNaomistartedcutting.HoldenandAmosdroppedtotheship’s
surface,clampingonwithmagneticboots.HecouldfeelthevibrationinhisfeetwhenNaomipulleda
lengthofhullfree.Amomentlaterthetorchturnedoff,andNaomiblastedthefreshedgesofthehole
withthemech’sfire-suppressiongeartocoolthem.HoldengaveAmosthethumbs-upanddropped
himselfveryslowlyintotheScopuli.
The breaching charge had been placed almost exactly amidships, blasting a hole into the galley.
WhenHoldenlandedandhisbootsgrabbedontothegalleywall,hecouldfeelflash-frozenbitsof
foodcrunchunderthem.Therewerenobodiesinsight.
“Comeonin,Amos.Nocrewvisibleyet,”Holdencalledoverthesuitcomm.
HemovedofftothesideandamomentlaterAmosdroppedin,gunclutchedinhisrighthandand
apowerfullightinhisleft.Thewhitebeamplayedacrossthewallsofthedestroyedgalley.
“Whichwayfirst,XO?”Amosasked.
Holden tapped on his thigh with one hand and thought. “Engineering. I want to know why the
reactor ’soff-line.”
They took the crew ladder, climbing along it toward the aft of the ship. All the pressure doors
betweendeckswereopen,whichwasabadsign.Theyshouldallbeclosedbydefault,andcertainlyif
the atmosphere-loss alarm had sounded. If they were open, that meant there were no decks with
atmosphere left in the ship. Which meant no survivors. Not a surprise, but it still felt like a defeat.
Theypassedthroughthesmallshipquickly,pausinginthemachineshop.Expensiveenginepartsand
toolswerestillinplace.
“Guessitwasn’trobbery,”Amossaid.
Holdendidn’tsay,Thenwhatwasit?butthequestionhungbetweenthemanyway.
The engine room was neat as a pin, cold, and dead. Holden waited while Amos looked it over,
spendingatleasttenminutesjustfloatingaroundthereactor.
“Someonewentthroughtheshutdownprocedures,”Amossaid.“Thereactorwasn’tkilledbythe
blast, it was turned off afterward. No damage that I can see. Don’t make sense. If everyone is dead
fromtheattack,whoshutitdown?Andifit’spirates,whynottaketheship?She’llstillfly.”
“Andbeforetheyturnedoffthepower,theywentthroughandopenedeveryinteriorpressuredoor
ontheship.Emptiedouttheair.Iguesstheywantedtomakesurenoonewashiding,”Holdensaid.
“Okay,let’sheadbackuptoopsandseeifwecancrackthecomputercore.Maybeitcantelluswhat
happened.”
They floated back toward the bow along the crew ladder, and up to the ops deck. It too was
undamagedandempty.ThelackofbodieswasstartingtobotherHoldenmorethanthepresenceof
themwouldhave.Hefloatedovertothemaincomputerconsoleandhitafewkeystoseeifitmight
stillberunningonbackuppower.Itwasn’t.
“Amos,startcuttingthecoreout.We’lltakeitwithus.I’mgoingtocheckcomms,seeifIcanfind
thatbeacon.”
Amosmovedtothecomputerandstartedtakingouttoolsandstickingthemtothebulkheadnextto
it. He began a profanity-laced mumble as he worked. It wasn’t nearly as charming as Naomi’s
humming,soHoldenturnedoffhislinktoAmoswhilehemovedtothecommunicationsconsole.It
wasasdeadastherestoftheship.Hefoundtheship’sbeacon.
Noonehadactivatedit.Somethingelsehadcalledthem.Holdenmovedback,frowning.
Helookedthroughthespace,searchingforsomethingoutofplace.There,onthedeckbeneaththe
commoperator ’sconsole.Asmallblackboxnotconnectedtoanythingelse.
Hishearttookalongpausebetweenbeats.HecalledouttoAmos,“Doesthatlooklikeabombto
you?”
Amosignoredhim.Holdenturnedhisradiolinkbackon.
“Amos,doesthatlooklikeabombtoyou?”Hepointedattheboxonthedeck.
Amoslefthisworkonthecomputerandfloatedovertolook,then,inamovethatmadeHolden’s
throatclose,grabbedtheboxoffthedeckandhelditup.
“Nope. It’s a transmitter. See?” He held it up in front of Holden’s helmet. “It’s just got a battery
tapedtoit.What’sitdoingthere?”
“It’sthebeaconwefollowed.Jesus.Theship’sbeaconnevereventurnedon.Someonemadeafake
oneoutofthattransmitterandhookedituptoabattery,”Holdensaidquietly,stillfightinghispanic.
“Whywouldtheydothat,XO?Thatdon’tmakenokindasense.”
“Itwouldifthere’ssomethingaboutthistransmitterthat’sdifferentfromstandard,”Holdensaid.
“Like?”
“Likeifithadasecondsignaltriggeredtogowhensomeonefoundit,”Holdensaid,thenswitched
to the general suit channel. “Okay, boys and girls, we’ve found something weird, and we’re out of
here.EveryonebacktotheKnight,andbeverycarefulwhenyou—”
Hisradiocrackledtolifeontheoutsidechannel,McDowell’svoicefillinghishelmet.“Jim?We
mayhaveaproblem.”
ChapterFour:Miller
Millerwashalfwaythroughhiseveningmealwhenthesysteminhisholechirped.Heglancedatthe
sendingcode.TheBlueFrog.Itwasaportbarcateringtotheconstantextramillionnoncitizensof
Ceres that advertised itself as a near-exact replica of a famous Earth bar in Mumbai, only with
licensedprostitutesandlegaldrugs.Millertookanotherforkfuloffungalbeansandvat-grownrice
anddebatedwhethertoacceptconnection.
Shouldhaveseenthisonecoming,hethought.
“What?”heasked.
Ascreenpoppedopen.Hasini,theassistantmanager,wasadark-skinnedmanwitheyesthecolor
ofice.Thenearsmirkonhisfacewastheresultofnervedamage.Millerhaddonehimafavorwhen
Hasini had had the poor judgment to take pity on an unlicensed prostitute. Since then, security
detectiveandportsidebarmanhadtradedfavors.Theunofficial,grayeconomicsofcivilization.
“Yourpartner ’shereagain,”Hasinisaidoverthepulseandwailofbhangramusic.“Ithinkhe’s
havingabadnight.ShouldIkeepservinghim?”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Keephimhappyfor…Givemetwentyminutes.”
“Hedoesn’twanttobekepthappy.Heverymuchwantsareasontogetunhappy.”
“Makeithardtofind.I’llbethere.”
Hasini nodded, smirking his damaged smirk, and dropped the connection. Miller looked at his
half-eatenmeal,sighed,andshovedtheremainsintotherecyclingbin.Hepulledonacleanshirt,then
hesitated.TheBlueFrogwasalwayswarmerthanheliked,andhehatedwearingajacket.Instead,he
putacompactplasticpistolinhisankleholster.Notasfastadraw,butifitgotthatfar,hewasscrewed
anyway.
CeresatnightwasindistinguishablefromCeresinthedaytime.Therehadbeenamove,backwhen
thestationfirstopened,todimandbrightenthelightsthroughthetraditionalhumantwenty-four-hour
cycle,mimickingthespinofEarth.Theaffectationhadlastedfourmonthsbeforethecouncilkilledit.
On duty, Miller would have taken an electric cart down the wide tunnels and down to the port
levels.Hewastemptedeventhoughhewasoffduty,butadeep-seatedsuperstitionstoppedhim.Ifhe
tookthecart,hewasgoingasacop,andthetubesranjustfine.Millerwalkedtotheneareststation,
checkedthestatus,andsatonthelowstonebench.AmanaboutMiller ’sageandagirlnomorethan
threecameinaminutelaterandsatacrossfromhim.Thegirl’stalkwasasfastandmeaninglessasa
leakingseal,andherfatherrespondedwithgruntsandnodsatmoreorlessappropriatemoments.
Millerandthenewmannoddedtoeachother.Thegirltuggedatherfather ’ssleeve,demanding
hisattention.Millerlookedather—darkeyes,palehair,smoothskin.Shewasalreadytootallto be
mistakenforanEarthchild,herlimbslongerandthinner.HerskinhadthepinkflushofBelterbabies,
which came with the pharmaceutical cocktail that assured that their muscles and bones would grow
strong.Millersawthefathernoticehisattention.Millersmiledandnoddedtowardthekid.
“Howold?”heasked.
“Twoandahalf,”thefathersaid.
“Goodage.”
Thefathershrugged,buthesmiled.
“Kids?”heasked.
“No,”Millersaid.“ButI’veagotadivorceaboutthatold.”
They chuckled together as if it was funny. In his imagination, Candace crossed her arms and
lookedaway.Thesoftoil-and-ozone-scentedbreezeannouncedthetube’sarrival.Millerletfatherand
childgofirst,thenchoseadifferentcompartment.
The tube cars were round, built to fit into the evacuated passages. There were no windows. The
onlyviewwouldhavebeenstonehummingbythreecentimetersfromthecar.Instead,broadscreens
advertisedentertainmentfeedsorcommentedoninnerplanetpoliticalscandalsorofferedthechance
to gamble away a week’s pay at casinos so wonderful that your life would seem richer for the
experience. Miller let the bright, empty colors dance and ignored their content. Mentally, he was
holdinguphisproblem,turningitonewayandthentheother,notevenlookingforananswer.
It was a simple mental exercise. Look at the facts without judgment: Havelock was an Earther.
Havelock was in a portside bar again and looking for a fight. Havelock was his partner. Statement
afterstatement,factafterfact,facetafterfacet.Hedidn’ttrytoputtheminorderormakesomekind
ofnarrativeoutofthem;thatwouldallcomelater.Nowitwasenoughtowashtheday’scasesoutof
his head and get ready for the immediate situation. By the time the tube reached his station, he felt
centered.Likehewaswalkingonhiswholefoot,washowhe’ddescribedit,backwhenhehadanyone
todescribeitto.
TheBlueFrogwascrowded,thebarn-heatofbodiesaddingtothefake-Mumbaitemperatureand
artificial air pollution. Lights glittered and flashed in seizure-inducing display. Tables curved and
undulated,thebacklightmakingthemseemdarkerthanmerelyblack.Musicmovedthroughtheair
withaphysicalpresence,eachbeatalittleconcussion.Hasini,standinginaclotofsteroid-enhanced
bouncers and underdressed serving girls, caught Miller ’s eyes and nodded toward the back. Miller
didn’tacknowledgeanything;hejustturnedandmadehiswaythroughthecrowd.
Port bars were always volatile. Miller was careful not to bump into anyone if he could help it.
Whenhehadtochoose,he’drunintoBeltersbeforeinnerplanettypes,womenbeforemen.Hisface
wasaconstantmildapology.
Havelock was sitting alone, with one thick hand wrapping a fluted glass. When Miller sat down
besidehim,Havelockturnedtowardhim,readytotakeoffense,nostrilsflaredandeyeswide.Then
thesurpriseregistered.Thensomethinglikesullenshame.
“Miller,”hesaid.Inthetunnelsoutside,hewouldhavebeenshouting.Here,itwasbarelyenough
tocarryasfarasMiller ’schair.“What’reyoudoinghere?”
“Nothingmuchtodoatthehole,”Millersaid.“ThoughtI’dcomepickafight.”
“Goodnightforit,”Havelocksaid.
Itwastrue.Eveninthebarsthatcateredtoinnerplanettypes,themixwasrarelybetterthanone
Earther or Martian in ten. Squinting out at the crowd, Miller saw that the short, stocky men and
womenwerenearerathird.
“Shipcomein?”heasked.
“Yeah.”
“EMCN?” he asked. The Earth-Mars Coalition Navy often passed through Ceres on its way to
Saturn, Jupiter, and the stations of the Belt, but Miller hadn’t been paying enough attention to the
relativepositionoftheplanetstoknowwheretheorbitsallstood.Havelockshookhishead.
“CorporatesecurityrotatingoutofEros,”hesaid.“Protogen,Ithink.”Aservinggirlappearedat
Miller ’sside,tattoosglidingoverherskin,herteethglowingintheblacklight.Millertookthedrink
sheofferedhim,thoughhehadn’tordered.Sodawater.
“Youknow,”Millersaid,leaningcloseenoughtoHavelockthatevenhisnormalconversational
voicewouldreachtheman,“itdoesn’tmatterhowmanyoftheirassesyoukick.Shaddid’sstillnot
goingtolikeyou.”
HavelocksnappedtostareatMiller,theangerinhiseyesbarelycoveringtheshameandhurt.
“It’strue,”Millersaid.
Havelock rose lurching to his feet and headed for the door. He was trying to stomp, but in the
Ceresspingravityandhisinebriatedstate,hemisjudged.Itlookedlikehewashopping.Miller,glass
inhand,slidthroughthecrowdinHavelock’swake,calmingwithasmileandashrugtheaffronted
facesthathispartnerleftbehindhim.
The common tunnels down near the port had a layer of grime and grease to them that air
scrubbersandastringentcleanerscouldneverquitemaster.Havelockwalkedout,shouldershunched,
mouthtight,rageradiatingfromhimlikeheat.ButthedoorsoftheBlueFrogclosedbehindthem,the
sealcuttingoffthemusiclikesomeonehittingmute.Theworstofthedangerhadpassed.
“I’mnotdrunk,”Havelocksaid,hisvoicetooloud.
“Didn’tsayyouwere.”
“Andyou,”Havelocksaid,turningandstabbinganaccusingfingeratMiller ’schest.“Youarenot
mynanny.”
“Alsotrue.”
They walked together for maybe a quarter of a kilometer. The bright LED signs beckoned.
Brothels and shooting galleries, coffee bars and poetry clubs, casinos and show fights. The air
smelledlikepissandoldfood.Havelockbegantoslow,hisshoulderscomingdownfromaroundhis
ears.
“IworkedhomicideinTerrytown,”Havelocksaid.“IdidthreeyearsviceatL-5.Doyouhaveany
ideawhatthatwaslike?Theywereshippingkidsoutofthere,andI’moneofthreeguysthatstopped
it.I’magoodcop.”
“Yes,youare.”
“I’mdamngood.”
“Youare.”
They walked past a noodle bar. A coffin hotel. A public terminal, its displays running a free
newsfeed: COMMUNICATION PROBLEMS PLAGUE PHOEBE SCIENCE STATION. NEW ANDREAS K GAME NETS 6
BILLION DOLLARS IN 4 HOURS. NO DEAL IN MARS, BELT TITANIUM CONTRACT. The screens glowed in
Havelock’seyes,buthewasstaringpastthem.
“I’madamngoodcop,”hesaidagain.Then,amomentlater:“Sowhatthehell?”
“It’snotaboutyou,”Millersaid.“Peoplelookatyou,theydon’tseeDmitriHavelock,goodcop.
TheyseeEarth.”
“That’scrap.IwaseightyearsintheorbitalsandonMarsbeforeIevershippedouthere.Iworked
onEarthmaybesixmonthstotal.”
“Earth.Mars.They’renotthatdifferent,”Millersaid.
“TrytellingthattoaMartian,”Havelocksaidwithabitterlaugh.“They’llkickyourassforyou.”
“Ididn’tmean…Look,I’msurethereareallkindsofdifferences.EarthhatesMarsforhavinga
better fleet. Mars hates Earth for having a bigger one. Maybe soccer ’s better in full g; maybe it’s
worse. I don’t know. I’m just saying anyone this far out from the sun? They don’t care. From this
distance,youcancoverEarthandMarswithonethumb.And…”
“AndIdon’tbelong,”Havelocksaid.
The door of the noodle bar behind them opened and four Belters in gray-green uniforms came
out.OneofthemworethesplitcircleoftheOPAonhissleeve.Millertensed,buttheBeltersdidn’t
cometowardthem,andHavelockdidn’tnoticethem.Nearmiss.
“Iknew,”Havelocksaid.“WhenItooktheStarHelixcontract,IknewI’dhavetoworktofitin.I
thought it’d be the same as anywhere, you know? You go, you get your chops busted for a while.
Then,whentheyseeyoucantakeit,theytreatyoulikeoneoftheteam.It’snotlikethathere.”
“It’snot,”Millersaid.
Havelockshookhishead,spat,andstaredattheflutedglassinhishand.
“IthinkwejuststolesomeglassesfromtheBlueFrog,”Havelocksaid.
“We’re also in a public corridor with unsealed alcohol,” Miller said. “Well, you are, anyway.
Mine’ssodawater.”
Havelockchuckled,buttherewasdespairinthesound.WhenHavelockspokeagain,hisvoicewas
onlyrueful.
“You think I’m coming down here, picking fights with people from the inner planets so that
ShaddidandRamachandraandalltherestofthemwillthinkbetterofme.”
“Itoccurredtome.”
“You’rewrong,”Havelocksaid.
“Okay,”Millersaid.Heknewhewasn’t.
Havelockraisedhisflutedglass.“Taketheseback?”heasked.
“HowaboutDistinguishedHyacinth?”Millercountered.“I’llbuy.”
TheDistinguishedHyacinthLoungewasupthreelevels,farenoughthatfoottrafficfromtheport
levelswasminimal.Anditwasacopbar.MostlyStarHelixSecurity,butsomeoftheminorcorporate
forces—Protogen,Pinkwater,AlAbbiq—hungouttheretoo.Millerwasmorethanhalfcertainthat
hispartner ’slatestbreakdownhadbeenaverted,butifhewaswrong,bettertokeepitinthefamily.
ThedécorwaspureBelt—old-styleships’foldingtablesandchairssetintothewallandceilingas
ifthegravitymightshutoffatanymoment.Snakeplantanddevil’sivy—staplesoffirst-generation
airrecycling—decoratedthewallandfreestandingcolumns.Themusicwassoftenoughtotalkover,
loud enough to keep private conversations private. The first owner, Javier Liu, was a structural
engineer from Tycho who’d come out during the big spin and liked Ceres enough to stay. His
grandchildrenranitnow.JaviertheThirdwasstandingbehindthebar,talkingwithhalfofthevice
andexploitationteam.Millerledthewaytoabacktable,noddingtothemenandwomenheknewas
hepassed.Whilehe’dbeencarefulanddiplomaticattheBlueFrog,hechoseabluffmasculinityhere.
Itwasjustasmuchapose.
“So,” Havelock said as Javier ’s daughter Kate—a fourth generation for the same bar—left the
table,BlueFrogglassesonhertray,“whatisthissupersecretprivateinvestigationShaddidputyou
on?OristhelowlyEarthernotsupposedtoknow?”
“Isthatwhatgottoyou?”Millerasked.“It’snothing.Someshareholdersmisplacedtheirdaughter
andwantmetotrackherdown,shipherhome.It’sabullshitcase.”
“Soundsmoreliketheirbackyard,”Havelocksaid,noddingtowardtheVandEcrowd.
“Kid’snotaminor,”Millersaid.“It’sakidnapjob.”
“Andyou’regoodwiththat?”
Miller sat back. The ivy above them waved. Havelock waited, and Miller had the uncomfortable
sensethatatablehadjustbeenturned.
“It’smyjob,”Millersaid.
“Yeah,butwe’retalkingaboutanadulthere,right?It’snotlikeshecouldn’tgobackhomeifshe
wantedtobethere.Butinsteadherparentsgetsecuritytotakeherhomewhethershewantstogoor
not.That’snotlawenforcementanymore.It’snotevenstationsecurity.It’sjustdysfunctionalfamilies
playingpowergames.”
Millerrememberedthethingirlbesideherracingpinnace.Herbroadsmile.
“Itoldyouitwasabullshitcase,”Millersaid.
KateLiureturnedtothetablewithalocalbeerandaglassofwhiskeyonhertray.Millerwasglad
forthedistraction.Thebeerwashis.Lightandrichandjustthefaintestbitbitter.Anecologybasedon
yeastsandfermentationmeantsubtlebrews.
Havelockwasnursinghiswhiskey.Millertookitasasignthathewasgivinguponhisbender.
Nothinglikebeingaroundtheboysfromtheofficetotakethecharmoutoflosingcontrol.
“Hey,Miller!Havelock!”afamiliarvoicesaid.YevgenyCobbfromhomicide.Millerwavedhim
over,andtheconversationturnedtohomicide’sbraggingabouttheresolutionofaparticularlyugly
case. Three months’ work figuring out where the toxins came from ending with the corpse’s wife
awardedthefullinsurancesettlementandagray-marketwhoredeportedbacktoEros.
Bytheendofthenight,Havelockwaslaughingandtradingjokesalongwiththerestofthem.If
therewasoccasionallyanarrowedglanceorasubtledig,hetookitinstride.
Millerwasonhiswayuptothebarforanotherroundwhenhisterminalchimed.Andthen,slowly
throughout the bar, fifty other chimes sounded. Miller felt his belly knot as he and every other
securityagentintheplacepulledouttheirterminals.
CaptainShaddidwasonthebroadcastscreen.Hereyeswereblearyandfilledwithbankedrage;
shewastheverypictureofawomanofpowerwakenedearlyfromsleep.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said. “Whatever you’re doing, drop it and go to your stations for
emergencyorders.Wehaveasituation.
“Tenminutesago,anunencrypted,signedmessagecameinfromtheroughdirectionofSaturn.
Wehaven’tconfirmeditastrue,butthesignaturematchesthekeysonrecord.I’veputaholdonit,but
wecanassumesomeasshole’sgoingtoputitonthenetwork,andtheshitshouldhitthefanaboutfive
minutes after that. If you’re in earshot of a civilian, turn off now. For the rest of you, here’s what
we’reupagainst.”
Shaddidmovedtooneside,tappinghersysteminterface.Thescreenwentblack.Amomentlatera
man’sfaceandshouldersappeared.Hewasinanorangevacuumsuitwiththehelmetoff.AnEarther,
maybeinhisearlythirties.Paleskin,blueeyes,darkshort-croppedhair.Evenbeforethemanopened
hismouth,Millersawthesignsofshockandrageinhiseyesandthewayheheldhisheadforward.
“Myname,”themansaid,“isJamesHolden.”
ChapterFive:Holden
T enminutesattwog,andHolden’sheadwasalreadystartingtoache.ButMcDowellhadcalledthem
homeatallhaste.TheCanterburywaswarmingupitsmassivedrive.Holdendidn’twanttomisshis
ride.
“Jim?Wemayhaveaproblemouthere.”
“Talktome.”
“Beccafoundsomething,anditissufficientlyweirdtomakemyballscreepup.We’regettingthe
helloutofhere.”
“Alex,howlong?”Holdenaskedforthethirdtimeintenminutes.
“We’reoveranhourout.Wanttogoonthejuice?”Alexsaid.
Going on the juice was pilot-speak for a high-g burn that would knock an unmedicated human
unconscious.Thejuicewasthecocktailofdrugsthepilot’schairwouldinjectintohimtokeephim
conscious, alert, and hopefully stroke-free when his body weighed five hundred kilos. Holden had
usedthejuiceonmultipleoccasionsinthenavy,andcomingdownafterwardwasunpleasant.
“Notunlesswehaveto,”hesaid.
“Whatkindofweird?”
“Becca,linkhimup.Jim,Iwantyouseeingwhatwe’reseeing.”
Holdentonguedapainkillertabfromhissuit’shelmetandreranBecca’ssensorfeedforthefifth
time.ThespotinspacelayabouttwohundredthousandkilometersfromtheCanterbury.AstheCant
had scanned it, the readout showed a fluctuation, the gray-black false color gradually developing a
warmborder.Itwasasmalltemperatureclimb,lessthantwodegrees.HoldenwasamazedBeccahad
even spotted it. He reminded himself to give her a glowing review the next time she was up for
promotion.
“Wheredidthatcomefrom?”Holdenasked.
“Noidea.It’sjustaspotfaintlywarmerthanthebackground,”Beccasaid.“I’dsayitwasacloud
ofgas,becausewegetnoradarreturnfromit,buttherearen’tsupposedtobeanygascloudsouthere.
Imean,wherewoulditcomefrom?”
“Jim, any chance the Scopuli killed the ship that killed it? Could it be a vapor cloud from a
destroyedship?”McDowellasked.
“I don’t think so, sir. The Scopuli is totally unarmed. The hole in her side came from breaching
charges,nottorpedofire,soIdon’tthinktheyevenfoughtback.ItmightbewheretheScopulivented,
but…”
“Ormaybenot.Comebacktothebarn,Jim.Doitnow.”
“Naomi, what slowly gets hotter that gives no radar or ladar return when you scan it? Wild-ass
guesshere,”Holdensaid.
“Hmmmm…,”Naomisaid,givingherselftimetothink.“Anythingthatwasabsorbingtheenergy
from the sensor package wouldn’t give a return. But it might get hotter when it shed the absorbed
energy.”
TheinfraredmonitoronthesensorconsolenexttoHolden’schairflaredlikethesun.Alexswore
loudlyoverthegeneralcomm.
“Areyouseein’that?”hesaid.
HoldenignoredhimandopenedachanneltoMcDowell.
“Captain,wejustgotamassiveIRspike,”Holdensaid.
Forlongseconds,therewasnoreply.WhenMcDowellcameonthechannel,hisvoicewastight.
Holdenhadneverheardtheoldmansoundafraidbefore.
“Jim, a ship just appeared in that warm spot. It’s radiating heat like a bastard,” McDowell said.
“Wherethehelldidthatthingcomefrom?”
Holden started to answer but then heard Becca’s voice coming faintly through the captain’s
headset.“Noidea,sir.Butit’ssmallerthanitsheatsignature.Radarshowsfrigate-sized,”shesaid.
“Withwhat?”McDowellsaid.“Invisibility?Magicalwormholeteleportation?”
“Sir,” Holden said, “Naomi was speculating that the heat we picked up might have come from
energy-absorbingmaterials.Stealthmaterials.Whichmeansthatshipwashidingonpurpose.Which
meansitsintentionsarenotgood.”
As if in answer, six new objects appeared on his radar, glowing yellow icons appearing and
immediately shifting to orange as the system marked their acceleration. On the Canterbury, Becca
yelledout,“Fastmovers!Wehavesixnewhigh-speedcontactsonacollisioncourse!”
“Jesus H. Christ on a pogo stick, did that ship just fire a spread of torpedoes at us?” McDowell
said.“They’retryingtoslapusdown?”
“Yes,sir,”Beccasaid.
“Timetocontact.”
“Justundereightminutes,sir,”shereplied.
McDowellcursedunderhisbreath.
“We’vegotpirates,Jim.”
“Whatdoyouneedfromus?”Holdensaid,tryingtosoundcalmandprofessional.
“Ineedyoutogetofftheradioandletmycrewwork.You’reanhouroutatbest.Thetorpedoes
are eight minutes. McDowell out,” the captain said, his comm clicking off and leaving Holden
listeningtothefainthissofstatic.
The general comm exploded with voices, Alex demanding to go on the juice and race the
torpedoes to the Cant, Naomi chattering about missile-jamming strategies, Amos cursing at the
stealthshipandquestioningtheparentingofitscrew.Shedwastheonlyquietone.
“Everyone,shutup!”Holdenyelledintohisheadset.Theshipfellintoshockedsilence.“Alex,plot
thefastestcoursetotheCantthatwon’tkillus.Letmeknowwhenyouhaveit.Naomi,setupathreewaychannelwithBecca,you,andme.We’llhelphoweverwecan.Amos,keepcussingbutturnyour
micoff.”
Hewaited.Theclocktickedtowardimpact.
“Linkisup,”Naomisaid.Holdencouldheartwodistinctsetsofbackgroundnoiseoverthecomm
channel.
“Becca,thisisJim.I’vegotNaomionthischanneltoo.Telluswhatwecandotohelp.Naomiwas
talkingaboutjammingtechniques?”
“I’mdoingeverythingIknowtodo,”Beccasaid,hervoiceastonishinglycalm.“They’repainting
uswithatargetinglaser.I’mbroadcastinggarbagetoscrambleit,butthey’vegotreally,reallygood
shit.Ifwewereanycloser,thattargetinglaserwouldbeburningaholeinourhull.”
“Whataboutphysicalchaff?”Naomiasked.“Canyoudropsnow?”
WhileNaomiandBeccatalked,JimopenedaprivatechanneltoAde.“Hey,thisisJim.IhaveAlex
workingonafast-burnsolutionsowecangettherebefore…”
“Beforethemissilesturnusintoaflyingbrick?Goodidea.Takenbypiratesisn’tsomethingyou
wanttomiss,”Adesaid.Hecouldhearthefearbehindthemockingtone.
“Ade,please,Iwanttosaysomething—”
“Jim,whatdoyouthink?”Naomisaidontheotherchannel.
Holdencursed.Tocover,hesaid,“Uh,aboutwhichthing?”
“UsingtheKnighttotryanddrawthosemissiles,”Naomisaid.
“Canwedothat?”heasked.
“Maybe.Wereyoulisteningatall?”
“Ah…somethinghappenedhere,drewmyattentionforaminute.Tellmeagain,”Holdensaid.
“WetrytomatchthefrequencyofthelightscattercomingofftheCantandbroadcastitwithour
comm array. Maybe the torpedoes will think we’re the target instead,” Naomi said like she was
speakingtoachild.
“Andthentheycomeblowusup?”
“I’m thinking we run away while pulling the torpedoes toward us. Then, when we get them far
enoughpasttheCant,wekillthecommarrayandtrytohidebehindtheasteroid,”Naomisaid.
“Won’t work,” Holden said with a sigh. “They follow the targeting laser ’s scatter for general
guidance,buttheyalsotaketelescopeshotsofthetargetonacquisition.They’lltakeonelookatus
andknowwearen’ttheirtarget.”
“Isn’titworthashot?”
“Evenifwemanageit,torpedoesdesignedtodisabletheCantwouldmakeusintoagreasystretch
ofvacuum.”
“Allright,”Naomisaid.“Whatelsehavewegot?”
“Nothing.Verysmartboysinthenavallabshavealreadythoughtofeverythingwearegoingto
thinkofinthenexteightminutes,”Holdensaid.Sayingitoutloudmeantadmittingittohimself.
“Thenwhatarewedoinghere,Jim?”Naomiasked.
“Sevenminutes,”Beccasaid,hervoicestilleerilycalm.
“Let’s get there. Maybe we can get some people off the ship after it’s hit. Help with damage
control,”Holdensaid.“Alex,gotthatplotfiguredout?”
“Roger that, XO. Bleeding-g burn-and-flip laid in. Angled approach course so our torch won’t
burnaholeintheCant.Timetorockandroll?”Alexreplied.
“Yeah.Naomi,getyourpeoplestrappedinforhighg,”Holdensaid,thenopenedupachannelto
Captain McDowell. “Captain, we’re coming in hot. Try to survive, and we’ll have the Knight on
stationforpickuportohelpwithdamagecontrol.”
“Roger,”McDowellsaid,andkilledtheline.
HoldenopeneduphischanneltoAdeagain.“Ade,we’regoingtoburnhard,soIwon’tbetalking,
butleavethischannelopenforme,okay?Tellmewhat’shappening.Hell,hum.Hummingisnice.I
justreallyneedtohearyou’reallright.”
“Okay,Jim,”Adesaid.Shedidn’thumbutsheleftthechannelopen.Hecouldhearherbreathing.
Alexbeganthecountdownoverthegeneralcomm.Holdencheckedthestrapsonhiscrashcouch
andpalmedthebuttonthatstartedthejuice.Adozenneedlesstuckintohisbackthroughmembranesin
hissuit.Hisheartshudderedandchemicalbandsofirongrippedhisbrain.Hisspinewentdeadcold,
andhisfaceflushedlikearadiationburn.Hepoundedafistintothearmofthecrashcouch.Hehated
thispart,butthenextonewasworse.Onthegeneralcomm,Alexwhoopedasthedrugshithissystem.
Belowdecks, the others were getting the drugs that kept them from dying but kept them sedated
throughtheworstofit.
Alex said, “One,” and Holden weighed five hundred kilos. The nerves at the back of his eye
sockets screamed at the massive load of his eyeballs. His testicles crushed themselves against his
thighs. He concentrated on not swallowing his tongue. Around him, the ship creaked and groaned.
There was a disconcerting bang from belowdecks, but nothing on his panel went red. The Knight’s
torch drive could deliver a lot of thrust, but at the cost of a prodigious fuel-burn rate. But if they
couldsavetheCant,itwouldn’tmatter.
Overthebloodpoundinginhisears,HoldencouldhearAde’sgentlebreathingandtheclickof
herkeyboard.Hewishedhecouldjustgotosleeptothatsound,butthejuicewassingingandburning
inhisblood.Hewasmoreawakethanhe’deverbeen.
“Yes,sir,”Adesaidoverthecomm.
IttookHoldenasecondtorealizeshewastalkingtoMcDowell.Heturnedupthevolumetohear
whatthecaptainwassaying.
“—themainsonline,fullpower.”
“We’refullyloaded,sir.Ifwetrytoburnthathard,we’lltearthedriverightoffthemounts,”Ade
replied.McDowellmusthaveaskedhertofireuptheEpstein.
“Mr.Tukunbo,”McDowellsaid,“wehave…fourminutes.Ifyoubreakit,Iwon’tbillyou.”
“Yes, sir. Bringing mains online. Setting for maximum burn,” Ade said, and in the background
Holdencouldhearthehigh-gwarningKlaxon.TherewasalouderclickingasAdestrappedherself
in.
“Mainsonlineinthree…two…one…execute,”Adesaid.
The Canterbury groaned so loud Holden had to turn the comm volume down. It moaned and
shriekedlikeabansheeforseveralseconds,andthentherewasashatteringcrash.Hepulledupthe
exteriorvisual,fightingagainsttheg-inducedblackoutattheedgeofhisvision.TheCanterburywas
inonepiece.
“Ade,whatthehellwasthat?”McDowellsaid,hisspeechslurred.
“The drive tearing a strut. Mains are off-line, sir,” Ade replied, not saying Exactly like I said
wouldhappen.
“Whatdidthatbuyus?”McDowellasked.
“Notmuch.Thetorpedoesarenowatoverfortyklicksasecondandaccelerating.We’redownto
maneuveringthrusters,”Adesaid.
“Shit,”McDowellsaid.
“They’regoingtohitus,sir,”Adesaid.
“Jim,”McDowellsaid,hisvoicesuddenlyloudoverthedirectchannelhe’dopened.“We’regoing
down,andthere’snowayaroundit.Clicktwicetoacknowledge.”
Jimclickedhisradiotwice.
“Okay, so, now we need to think about surviving after the hit. If they’re looking to cripple us
beforeboarding,they’lltakeoutourdriveandourcommarray.Becca’sbeenbroadcastinganSOS
eversincethetorpedoeswerefired,butI’dlikeyoutokeepyellingifwestop.Iftheyknowyou’re
outthere,theyarelesslikelytotosseveryoneoutanairlock.Witnesses,youknow,”McDowellsaid.
Jimclickedtwiceagain.
“Turnaround,Jim.Hidebehindthatasteroid.Callforhelp.Order.”
Jim clicked twice, then signaled all-stop to Alex. In an instant, the giant sitting on his chest
disappeared,replacedbyweightlessness.Thesuddentransitionwouldhavemadehimthrowupifhis
veinshadn’tbeencoursingwithantinauseadrugs.
“What’sup?”Alexsaid.
“Newjob,”Holdensaid,teethchatteringfromthejuice.“We’recallingforhelpandnegotiatinga
releaseofprisonersoncethebadguyshavetheCant.Burnbacktothatasteroid,sinceit’stheclosest
wecangettocover.”
“Rogerthat,Boss,”Alexsaid.Headdedinalowervoice,“I’dkillforacoupleoftubesoranice
keel-mountedrailgunrightnow.”
“Ihearyou.”
“Wakeupthekidsdownstairs?”
“Letthemsleep.”
“Rogerthat,”Alexsaid,thenclickedoff.
Beforetheheavygstartedupagain,HoldenturnedontheKnight’sSOS.ThechanneltoAdewas
stillopen,andnowthatMcDowellwasofftheline,hecouldhearherbreathingagain.Heturnedthe
volumeallthewayupandlaybackinthestraps,waitingtobecrushed.Alexdidn’tdisappointhim.
“Oneminute,”Adesaid,hervoiceloudenoughtodistortthroughhishelmet’sspeakers.Holden
didn’tturnthevolumedown.Hervoicewasadmirablycalmasshecalledouttheimpactcountdown.
“Thirtyseconds.”
Holden wanted desperately to talk, to say something comforting, to make ludicrous and untrue
assertionsoflove.Thegiantstandingonhischestjustlaughedwiththedeeprumbleoftheirfusion
torch.
“Tenseconds.”
“Getreadytokillthereactorandplaydeadafterthetorpedoeshit.Ifwe’renotathreat,theywon’t
hitusagain,”McDowellsaid.
“Five,”Adesaid.
“Four.
“Three.
“Two.
“One.”
TheCanterburyshudderedandthemonitorwentwhite.Adetookonesharpintakeofbreath,which
cut off as the radio broke up. The static squeal almost ruptured Holden’s eardrums. He chinned the
volumedownandclickedhisradioatAlex.
Thethrustsuddenlydroppedtoatolerabletwogandalltheship’ssensorsflaredintooverload.A
brilliantlightpouredthroughthesmallairlockporthole.
“Report,Alex,report!Whathappened?”Holdenyelled.
“MyGod.Theynukedher.TheynukedtheCant,”Alexsaid,hisvoicelowanddazed.
“What’s her status? Give me a report on the Canterbury! I have zero sensors down here.
Everything’sjustgonewhite!”
Therewasalongpause;thenAlexsaid,“Ihavezerosensorsupheretoo,Boss.ButIcangiveyou
astatusontheCant.Icanseeher.”
“Seeher?Fromhere?”
“Yeah.She’sacloudofvaporthesizeofOlympusMons.She’sgone,Boss.She’sgone.”
That can’t be right, Holden’s mind protested. That doesn’t happen. Pirates don’t nuke water
haulers.Noonewins.Noonegetspaid.Andifyoujustwanttomurderfiftypeople,walkingintoa
restaurantwithamachinegunisaloteasier.
Hewantedtoshoutit,screamatAlexthathewaswrong.Buthehadtokeepittogether.I’mtheold
mannow.
“All right. New mission, Alex. Now we’re witnesses to murder. Get us back to that asteroid. I’ll
startcompilingabroadcast.Wakeeveryoneup.Theyneedtoknow,”Holdensaid.“I’mrebootingthe
sensorpackage.”
He methodically shut down the sensors and their software, waited two minutes, then slowly
brought them back online. His hands were shaking. He was nauseated. His body felt like he was
operatinghisfleshfromadistance,andhedidn’tknowhowmuchwasthejuiceandhowmuchwas
shock.
Thesensorscamebackup.Likeanyothershipthatflewthespacelanes,theKnightwashardened
against radiation. You couldn’t get anywhere near Jupiter ’s massive radiation belt unless you were.
ButHoldendoubtedtheship’sdesignershadhalfadozennuclearweaponsgoingoffnearbyinmind
when they’d created the specs. They’d gotten lucky. Vacuum might protect them from an
electromagneticpulse,buttheblastradiationcouldstillhavefriedeverysensortheshiphad.
Once the array came back up, he scanned the space where the Canterbury had been. There was
nothinglargerthanasoftball.Heswitchedovertotheshipthatkilledit,whichwasflyingoffsunward
ataleisurelyoneg.HeatbloomedinHolden’schest.
Hewasn’tscared.Aneurysm-inducingragemadehistemplespoundandhisfistssqueezeuntilhis
tendonshurt.Heflippedonthecommsandaimedatightbeamattheretreatingship.
“ThismessageistowhoeverorderedthedestructionoftheCanterbury,thecivilianicefreighter
thatyoujustblewintogas.Youdon’tgettojustflyaway,youmurderoussonofabitch.Idon’tcare
whatyourreasonsare,butyoujustkilledfiftyfriendsofmine.Youneedtoknowwhotheywere.Iam
sendingtoyouthenameandphotographofeveryonewhojustdiedinthatship.Takeagoodlookat
whatyoudid.ThinkaboutthatwhileIworkonfindingoutwhoyouare.”
Heclosedthevoicechannel,pulleduptheCanterbury’spersonnelfiles,andbegantransmittingthe
crewdossierstotheothership.
“Whatareyoudoing?”askedNaomifrombehindhim,notfromhishelmetspeakers.
Shewasstandingtherewithherhelmetoff.Sweatplasteredherthickblackhairtoherheadand
neck.Herfacewasunreadable.Holdentookoffhishelmet.
“I’mshowingthemtheCanterbury was a real place where real people lived. People with names
and families,” he said, the juice making his voice less steady than he would have liked. “If there’s
somethingresemblingahumanbeinggivingtheordersonthatship,Ihopeithauntshimrightupto
thedaytheyputhimintherecyclerformurder.”
“Idon’tthinktheyappreciateit,”Naomisaid,pointingatthepanelbehindhim.
The enemy ship was now painting them with its targeting laser. Holden held his breath. No
torpedoeslaunched,andafterafewseconds,thestealthshipturnedoffitslaserandtheengineflared
asitscootedoffathighg.HeheardNaomiletoutashudderingbreath.
“SotheCanterbury’sgone?”Naomiasked.
Holdennodded.
“Fuckmesideways,”saidAmos.
AmosandShedstoodtogetheratthecrewladder.Amos’facewasmottledredandwhite,andhis
big hands clenched and unclenched. Shed collapsed to his knees, slamming against the deck in the
heavytwo-gthrust.Hedidn’tcry.HejustlookedatHoldenandsaid,“Cameron’snevergoingtoget
thatarm,Iguess,”thenburiedhisheadinhishandsandshook.
“Slowdown,Alex.Noneedtorunnow,”Holdensaidintothecomm.Theshipslowlydroppedto
oneg.
“Whatnow,Captain?”Naomisaid,lookingathimhard.You’reinchargenow.Actlikeit.
“Blowingthemoutoftheskywouldbemyfirstchoice,butsincewedon’thavetheweapons…
followthem.Keepoureyesonthemuntilweknowwherethey’regoing.Exposethemtoeveryone,”
Holdenreplied.
“Fuckin’A,”saidAmosloudly.
“Amos,”Naomisaidoverhershoulder,“takeShedbelowandgethimintoacouch.Ifyouneedto,
givehimsomethingtoputhimtosleep.”
“Yougotit,Boss.”AmosputathickarmaroundShed’swaistandtookhimbelow.
Whenhewasgone,NaomiturnedbacktoHolden.
“No,sir.Wearenotchasingthatship.Wearegoingtocallforhelp,andthengowhereverthehelp
tellsustogo.”
“I—”Holdenstarted.
“Yes, you’re in charge. That makes me XO, and it’s the XO’s job to tell the captain when he’s
being an idiot. You’re being an idiot, sir. You already tried to goad them into killing us with that
broadcast.Nowyouwanttochasethem?Andwhatwillyoudoiftheyletyoucatchthem?Broadcast
another emotional plea?” Naomi said, moving closer to him. “You are going to get the remaining
fourmembersofyourcrewtosafety.Andthat’sall.Whenwe’resafe,youcangoonyourcrusade.
Sir.”
Holdenunbuckledthestrapsonhiscouchandstoodup.Thejuicewasstartingtoburnout,leaving
hisbodyspentandsickened.Naomiliftedherchinanddidn’tbackup.
“Gladyou’rewithme,Naomi,”hesaid.“Goseetothecrew.McDowellgavemeonelastorder.”
Naomi looked him over critically; he could see her distrust. He didn’t defend himself; he just
waiteduntilshewasdone.Shenoddedathimonceandclimbeddowntheladdertothedeckbelow.
Onceshewasgone,heworkedmethodically,puttingtogetherabroadcastpackagethatincludedall
the sensor data from the Canterbury and the Knight. Alex climbed down from the cockpit and sat
downheavilyinthenextchair.
“You know, Captain, I’ve been thinkin’,” he said. His voice had the same post-juice shakes as
Holden’sown.
Holdenbitbackhisirritationattheinterruptionandsaid,“Whatabout?”
“Thatstealthship.”
Holdenturnedawayfromhiswork.
“Tellme.”
“So,Idon’tknowanypiratesthathaveshitlikethat.”
“Goon.”
“Infact,theonlytimeI’veseentechlikethatwasbackwhenIwasinthenavy,”Alexsaid.“We
were working on ships with energy-absorbing skins and internal heat sinks. More of a strategic
weaponthanatacticalone.Youcan’thideanactivedrive,butifyoucangetintopositionandshutthe
drivedown,storeallyourwasteheatinternally,youcanhideyourselfprettygood.Addintheenergyabsorbing skin, and radar, ladar, and passive sensors don’t pick you up. Plus, pretty tough to get
nucleartorpedoesoutsideofthemilitary.”
“You’resayingtheMartiannavydidthis?”
Alextookalongshudderingbreath.
“Ifwehadit,youknowtheEartherswereworkin’onittoo,”hesaid.
They looked at each other across the narrow space, the implications heavier than a ten-g burn.
Holdenpulledthetransmitterandbatterythey’drecoveredfromtheScopulioutofthethighpocketof
hissuit.Hestartedpullingitapart,lookingforastamporaninsignia.Alexwatched,quietforonce.
Thetransmitterwasgeneric;itcouldhavecomefromtheradioroomofanyshipinthesolarsystem.
Thebatterywasanondescriptgrayblock.AlexreachedoutandHoldenhandedittohim.Alexpried
offthegrayplasticcoverandflippedthemetalbatteryaroundinhishands.Withoutsayingaword,he
heldthebottomuptoHolden’sface.Stampedintheblackmetalonthebottomofthebatterywasa
serialnumberthatbeganwiththelettersMCRN.
MartianCongressionalRepublicNavy.
Theradiowassettobroadcastonfullpower.Thedatapackagewasreadytotransmit.Holdenstoodin
frontofthecamera,leaningalittleforward.
“My name is James Holden,” he said, “and my ship, the Canterbury, was just destroyed by a
warship with stealth technology and what appear to be parts stamped with Martian navy serial
numbers.Datastreamtofollow.”
ChapterSix:Miller
T hecartspedthroughthetunnel,sirenmaskingthewhineofmotors.Behindthem,theyleftcurious
civiliansandthescentofoverheatedbearings.Millerleanedforwardinhisseat,willingthecarttogo
faster.Theywerethreelevelsandmaybefourkilometersfromthestationhouse.
“Okay,”Havelocksaid.“I’msorry,butI’mmissingsomethinghere.”
“What?”Millersaid.HemeantWhatareyouyammeringabout?HavelocktookitasWhatareyou
missing?
“Awaterhaulermillionsofklicksfromheregotvaporized.Whyarewegoingtofullalert?Our
cisternswilllastmonthswithoutevengoingonrationing.Therearealotofotherhaulersoutthere.
Whyisthisacrisis?”
Millerturnedandlookedathispartnerstraighton.Thesmall,stockybuild.Thethickbonesfrom
achildhoodinfullg.Justliketheassholeinthetransmission.Theydidn’tunderstand.IfHavelockhad
beeninthisJamesHolden’splace,hemighthavedonethesamestupid,irresponsible,idioticbullshit.
Forthespaceofabreath,theyweren’tsecurityanymore.Theyweren’tpartners.TheywereaBelter
andanEarther.MillerlookedawaybeforeHavelockcouldseethechangeinhiseyes.
“That prick Holden? The one in the broadcast?” Miller said. “He just declared war on Mars for
us.”
Thecartswervedandbobbed,itsinternalcomputeradjustingforsomevirtualhiccupinthetraffic
flowhalfakilometerahead.Havelockshifted,grabbingforthesupportstrut.Theyhitarampupto
thenextlevel,civiliansonfootmakingapathforthem.
“Yougrewupwherethewater ’smaybedirty,butitfallsoutoftheskyforyou,”Millersaid.“The
air ’sfilthy,butit’snotgoingawayifyourdoorsealsfail.It’snotlikethatouthere.”
“Butwe’renotonthehauler.Wedon’tneedtheice.Wearen’tunderthreat,”Havelocksaid.
Millersighed,rubbinghiseyeswiththumbandknuckleuntilghostsoffalsecolorbloomed.
“WhenIwashomicide,”Millersaid,“therewasthisguy.Propertymanagementspecialistworking
acontractoutofLuna.Someoneburnedhalfhisskinoffanddroppedhimoutanairlock.Turnedout
hewasresponsibleformaintenanceonsixtyholesuponlevelthirty.Lousyneighborhood.He’dbeen
cuttingcorners.Hadn’treplacedtheairfiltersinthreemonths.Therewasmoldgrowinginthreeof
theunits.Andyouknowwhatwefoundafterthat?”
“What?”Havelockasked.
“Notagoddamnthing,becausewestoppedlooking.Somepeopleneedtodie,andhewasone.And
thenextguythattookthejobcleanedtheductingandswappedthefiltersonschedule.That’swhatit’s
likeintheBelt.Anyonewhocameouthereanddidn’tputenvironmentalsystemsaboveeverything
elsediedyoung.Allusstilloutherearetheonesthatcared.”
“Selectiveeffect?”Havelocksaid.“You’reseriouslyarguinginfavorofselectiveeffect?Inever
thoughtI’dhearthatshitcomingoutofyou.”
“What’sthat?”
“Racistpropagandabullshit,”Havelocksaid.“It’stheonethatsaysthedifferenceinenvironment
haschangedtheBelterssomuchthatinsteadofjustbeingabunchofskinnyobsessive-compulsives,
theyaren’treallyhumananymore.”
“I’mnotsayingthat,”Millersaid,suspectingthatitwasexactlywhathewassaying.“It’sjustthat
Belters don’t take the long view when you screw with basic resources. That water was future air,
propellantmass,andpotablesforus.Wehavenosenseofhumoraboutthatshit.”
The cart hit a ramp of metalwork grate. The lower level fell away below them. Havelock was
silent.
“ThisHoldenguydidn’tsayitwasMars.JustthattheyfoundaMartianbattery.Youthinkpeople
are going to… declare war?” Havelock said. “Just on the basis of this one guy’s pictures of a
battery?”
“Theonesthatwaittogetthewholestoryaren’tourproblem.”
Atleastnottonight,hethought.Oncethewholestorygetsout,we’llseewherewestand.
Thestationhousewassomewherebetweenone-halfandthree-quartersfull.Securitymenstoodin
clumps, nodding to each other, eyes narrow and jaws tight. One of the vice cops laughed at
something,hisamusementloud,forced,smellingoffear.MillersawthechangeinHavelockasthey
walkedacrossthecommonareatotheirdesks.HavelockhadbeenabletoputMiller ’sreactiondown
to one man’s being oversensitive. A whole room, though. A whole station house. By the time they
reachedtheirchairs,Havelock’seyeswerewide.
CaptainShaddidcamein.Theblearylookwasgone.Herhairwaspulledback,heruniformcrisp
andprofessional,hervoiceascalmasasurgeoninabattlefieldhospital.Shesteppeduponthefirst
deskshecameto,improvisingapulpit.
“Ladiesandgentlemen,”shesaid.“You’veseenthetransmission.Anyquestions?”
“WholetthatfuckingEartherneararadio?”someoneshouted.MillersawHavelocklaughalong
withthecrowd,butitdidn’treachhiseyes.Shaddidscowledandthecrowdquieted.
“Here’s the situation,” she said. “No way we can control this information. It was broadcast
everywhere.Wehavefivesitesontheinternalnetworkthathavebeenmirroringit,andwehaveto
assume it’s public knowledge starting ten minutes ago. Our job now is to keep the rioting to a
minimum and ensure station integrity around the port. Station houses fifty and two thirteen are
helpingonittoo.Theportauthorityhasreleasedalltheshipswithinnerplanetregistry.Thatdoesn’t
meanthey’reallgone.Theystillhavetorounduptheircrews.Butitdoesmeanthey’regoing.”
“Thegovernmentoffices?”Millersaid,loudenoughtocarry.
“Notourproblem,thankGod,”Shaddidsaid.“Theyhaveinfrastructureinplace.Blastdoorsare
already down and sealed. They’ve broken off from the main environmental systems, so we aren’t
evenbreathingtheirairrightnow.”
“Well,that’sarelief,”Yevgenysaidfromtheclusterofhomicidedetectives.
“Nowthebadnews,”Shaddidsaid.Millerheardthesilenceofahundredandfiftycopsholding
theirbreath.“We’vegoteightyknownOPAagentsonthestation.They’reallemployedandlegal,and
youknowthisisthekindofthingthey’vebeenwaitingfor.Wehaveanorderfromthegovernorthat
we’renotgoingtodoanyproactivedetention.Noonegetsarresteduntiltheydosomething.”
Angryvoicesroseinchorus.
“Whodoeshethinkheis?”someonecalledfromtheback.Shaddidsnappedatthecommentlikea
shark.
“Thegovernoristheonewhocontractedwithustokeepthisstationinworkingorder,”Shaddid
said.“We’llfollowhisdirectives.”
Inhisperipheralvision,MillersawHavelocknod.Hewonderedwhatthegovernorthoughtofthe
question of Belter independence. Maybe the OPA weren’t the only ones who’d been waiting for
somethinglikethistohappen.Shaddidwenton,outliningthesecurityresponsetheywerepermitted.
Millerlistenedwithhalfanear,solostinspeculatingonthepoliticsbehindthesituationhealmost
misseditwhenShaddidcalledhisname.
“Millerwilltakethesecondteamtotheportlevelandcoversectorsthirteenthroughtwenty-four.
Kasagawa,teamthree,twenty-fivethroughthirty-six,andsoon.That’stwentymenapiece,exceptfor
Miller.”
“Icanmakeitwithnineteen,”Millersaid,thenquietlytoHavelock,“You’resittingthisoneout,
partner.HavinganEartherwithagunoutthereisn’tgoingtomakethingsbetter.”
“Yeah,”Havelocksaid.“Sawthatcoming.”
“Okay,”Shaddidsaid.“Youallknowthedrill.Let’smove.”
Miller rounded up his riot squad. All the faces were familiar, all men and women he’d worked
with over his years in security. He organized them in his mind with a nearly automatic efficiency.
Brown and Gelbfish both had SWAT experience, so they would lead the wings if it came to crowd
control.Aberforthhadthreewrite-upsforexcessiveviolencesinceherkidhadbeenbustedfordrug
runningonGanymede,soshewassecondstring.Shecouldworkoutheranger-managementissues
another time. Around the station house, he heard the other squad commanders making similar
decisions.
“Okay,”Millersaid.“Let’ssuitup.”
Theymovedawayinagroup,headingfortheequipmentbay.Millerpaused.Havelockremained
leaning against his desk, arms folded, eyes locked on the middle distance. Miller was torn between
sympathyforthemanandimpatience.Itwashardbeingontheteambutnotontheteam.Ontheother
hand, what the hell had he expected, taking a contract in the Belt? Havelock looked up, meeting
Miller ’sgaze.Theynoddedtoeachother.Millerwasthefirsttoturnaway.
The equipment bay was part warehouse, part bank vault, designed by someone more concerned
withconservingspacethangettingthingsoutefficiently.Thelights—recessedwhiteLEDs—gavethe
gray walls a sterile cast. Bare stone echoed every voice and footfall. Banks of ammunition and
firearms,evidencebagsandtestpanels,spareserversandreplacementuniformslinedthewallsand
filledmostoftheinteriorspace.Theriotgearwasinasideroom,ingraysteellockerswithhighsecurityelectroniclocks.Thestandardoutfitconsistedofhigh-impactplasticshields,electricbatons,
shinguards,bullet-resistantchestandthigharmor,andhelmetswithreinforcedfaceguards—allofit
designedtomakeahandfulofstationsecurityintoanintimidating,inhumanforce.
Millerkeyedinhisaccesscode.Thesealsreleased;thelockersopened.
“Well,”Millersaidconversationally.“Fuckme.”
Thelockerswereempty,graycoffinswiththecorpsesallgone.Acrosstheroom,heheardoneof
theothersquadsshoutinginoutrage.Millersystematicallyopenedeveryriotcontrollockerhecould
getto.Allofthemwerethesame.Shaddidappearedathisside,herfacepalewithrage.
“What’splanB?”Millerasked.
Shaddidspatonthefloor,thenclosedhereyes.Theyshiftedunderherlidslikeshewasdreaming.
Twolongbreathslater,theyopened.
“ChecktheSWATlockers.Thereshouldbeenoughintheretooutfittwopeopleineachsquad.”
“Snipers?”Millersaid.
“Youhaveabetteridea,Detective?”Shaddidsaid,leaningonthelastword.
Millerraisedhishandsinsurrender.Riotgearwasmeanttointimidateandcontrol.SWATgear
wasmadetokillwiththegreatestefficiencypossible.Seemedtheirmandatehadjustchanged.
Onanygivenday,athousandshipsmightbedockedonCeresStation,andactivitythererarelyslowed
andneverstopped.Eachsectorcouldaccommodatetwentyships,thetrafficofhumanityandcargo,
transportvans,mesocranes,andindustrialforklifts,andhissquadwasresponsiblefortwentysectors.
The air stank of refrigerant and oil. The gravity was slightly above 0.3 g, station spin alone
lending the place a sense of oppression and danger. Miller didn’t like the port. Having vacuum so
closeunderhisfeetmadehimnervous.Passingthedockworkersandtransportcrews,hedidn’tknow
whethertoscowlorsmile.Hewasheretoscarepeopleintobehavingandalsotoreassurethemthat
everythingwasundercontrol.Afterthefirstthreesectors,hesettledonthesmile.Itwasthekindoflie
hewasbetterat.
They had just reached the junction of sectors nineteen and twenty when they heard screaming.
Millerpulledhishandterminaloutofhispocket,connectedtothecentralsurveillancenetwork,and
calledupthesecuritycameraarray.Ittookafewsecondstofindit:amoboffiftyorsixtycivilians
stretching almost all the way across the tunnel, traffic blocked on both sides. There were weapons
beingwavedoverheads.Knives,clubs.Atleasttwopistols.Fistspumpedintheair.Andatthecenter
ofthecrowd,ahugeshirtlessmanwasbeatingsomeonetodeath.
“Showtime,”Millersaid,wavinghissquadforwardatarun.
He was still a hundred meters from the turn that would take them to the clot of human violence
when he saw the shirtless man knock his victim to the ground, then stomp on her neck. The head
twisted sideways at an angle that didn’t leave any question. Miller slowed his team to a brisk walk.
Arrestingthemurdererwhilesurroundedbyacrowdofhisfriendswouldbetoughenoughwithout
beingwinded.
Therewasbloodinthewaternow.Millercouldsenseit.Themobwasgoingtoturnout.Tothe
station, to the ships. If the people started joining the chaos… what path would it be likely to take?
Therewasabrothelonelevelupfromthereandhalfakilometeranti-spinwardthatcateredtoinner
planet types. The tariff inspector for sector twenty-one was married to a girl from Luna and had
braggedaboutitmaybeoncetoooften.
Thereweretoomanytargets,Millerthoughtevenashemotionedhissniperstospreadout.Hewas
tryingtoreasonwithafire.Stopithere,andnooneelsegotkilled.
Inhisimagination,Candacecrossedherarmsandsaid,What’splanB?
TheouteredgeofthemobraisedthealarmwellbeforeMillerreachedit.Thesurgeofbodiesand
threatsshifted.Millertippedbackhishat.Men,women.Darkskin,pale,goldenbrown,andallwith
thelong,thinbuildofBelters,allwiththesquare-mouthedangrygapeofchimpanzeesatwar.
“Letmetakeacoupleofthemdown,sir,”Gelbfishsaidfromhisterminal.“PutthefearofGod
intothem.”
“We’llgetthere,”Millersaid,smilingattheangrymob.“We’llgetthere.”
The face he expected floated to the front. Shirtless. The big man, blood covering his hands and
splatteredonhischeek.Theseedcrystaloftheriot.
“That one?” Gelbfish asked, and Miller knew that a tiny infrared dot was painting Shirtless’
foreheadevenashegloweredatMillerandtheuniformsbehindhim.
“No,”Millersaid.“That’llonlysettherestofthemoff.”
“Sowhatdowedo?”Brownsaid.
Itwasahellofaquestion.
“Sir,”Gelbfishsaid.“Thebigfucker ’sgotanOPAtattooonhisleftshoulder.”
“Well,”Millersaid,“ifyoudohavetoshoothim,startthere.”
Hesteppedforward,tyinghisterminalintothelocalsystem,overridingthealert.Whenhespoke,
hisvoiceboomedfromtheoverheadspeakers.
“ThisisDetectiveMiller.Unlessyouallwanttobelockedupasaccessoriestomurder,Isuggest
youdispersenow.”Mutingthemicrophoneinhisterminal,hesaidtoShirtless,“Notyou,bigfella.
Moveamuscleandweshootyou.”
Someoneinthecrowdthrewawrench,thesilvermetalarcinglowthroughtheairtowardMiller ’s
head.Healmoststeppedoutoftheway,butthehandlecaughthimacrosstheear.Hisheadfilledwith
thedeepsoundofbells,andthewetofbloodtrackeddownhisneck.
“Holdfire,”Millershouted.“Holdyourfire.”
Thecrowdlaughed,asifhe’dbeentalkingtothem.Idiots.Shirtless,emboldened,strodeforward.
Thesteroidshaddistendedhisthighssobadlythathewaddled.Millerturnedthemiconhisterminal
backon.Ifthecrowdwaswatchingthemfaceeachotherdown,theyweren’tbreakingthings.Itwasn’t
spreading.Notyet.
“So. Friend. You only kick helpless people to death, or can anybody join in?” Miller asked, his
voiceconversationalbutechoingoutofthedockspeakerslikeapronouncementfromGod.
“Thefuckyoubarking,Earthdog?”Shirtlesssaid.
“Earth?”Millersaid,chuckling.“IlooklikeIgrewupinagravitywelltoyou?Iwasbornonthis
rock.”
“Innerskibbleyou,bitch,”Shirtlesssaid.“Youtheydog.”
“Youthink?”
“Fuckin’dui,”Shirtlesssaid.Fuckingtrue.Heflexedhispectorals.Millersuppressedtheurgeto
laugh.
“Sokillingthatpoorbastardwasforthegoodofthestation?”Millersaid.“ThegoodoftheBelt?
Don’tbeachump,kid.They’replayingyou.Theywantyoutoactlikeabunchofstupidriotboysso
theyhaveareasontoshutthisplacedown.”
“Schraubensiesieweibchen,”ShirtlesssaidinBelter-inflectedgutterGerman,leaningforward.
Okay,secondtimeI’vebeencalledabitch,Millerthought.
“Kneecaphim,”Millersaid.Shirtless’legsblewoutintwinspraysofcrimsonandhewentdown
howling.Millerwalkedpasthiswrithingbody,steppingtowardthemob.
“You’re taking your orders from this pendejo?” he said. “Listen to me, we all know what’s
coming. We know dance starting, now, like pow, right? They fucked tu agua, and we all know the
answer.Outanairlock,no?”
Hecouldseeitintheirfaces:thesuddenfearofthesnipers,thentheconfusion.Hepressedon,not
giving them time to think. He switched back to the lower-level lingo, the language of education,
authority.
“YouknowwhatMarswants?Theywantyou,doingthis.Theywantthispieceofshitheretomake
surethateveryonelooksatBeltersandthinkswe’reabunchofpsychopathswhotearuptheirown
station.Theywanttotellthemselveswe’rejustlikethem.Well,wearen’t.We’reBelters,andwetake
careofourown.”
Hepickedamanattheedgeofthemob.NotaspumpedasShirtless,butbig.HehadanOPAsplit
circleonhisarm.
“You,”Millersaid.“YouwanttofightfortheBelt?”
“Dui,”themansaid.
“Ibetyoudo.Hedidtoo,”Millersaid,jerkingathumbbackatShirtless.“Butnowhe’sacripple,
andhe’sgoingdownformurder.Sowe’vealreadylostone.Yousee?They’returningusagainsteach
other.Can’tletthemdothat.EveryoneofyouIhavetoarrestorcrippleorkill,that’sonelesswe
havewhenthedaycomes.Andit’scoming.Butit’snotnow.Youunderstand?”
TheOPAmanscowled.Themobdrewbackfromhim,makingspace.Millercouldfeelitlikea
currentagainsthim.Itwasshifting.
“Day’scoming,hombre,”theOPAmansaid.“Youknowyourside?”
Thetonewasathreat,buttherewasnopowerbehindit.Millertookaslowbreath.Itwasover.
“Alwaysthesideoftheangels,”hesaid.“Whydon’tyouallgobacktowork?Show’soverhere,
andwe’veallgotplentythatneedsdoing.”
Momentumbroken,themobfellapart.Firstoneandtwopeelingofffromtheedges,andthenthe
wholeknotuntyingitselfatonce.FiveminutesafterMillerhadarrived,theonlysignsthatanything
hadhappenedwereShirtlessmewlinginapoolofhisownblood,thewoundonMiller ’sear,andthe
bodyofthewomanfiftygoodcitizenshadstoodbyandwatchedbebeatentodeath.Shewasshortand
wearingtheflightsuitofaMartianfreightline.
Onlyonedead.Makesitagoodnight,Millerthoughtsourly.
Hewenttothefallenman.TheOPAtattoowassmearedred.Millerknelt.
“Friend,”hesaid.“Youareunderarrestforthemurderofthatladyoverthere,whoeverthehell
sheis.Youarenotrequiredtoparticipateinquestioningwithoutthepresenceofanattorneyorunion
representative, and if you so much as look at me wrong, I’ll space you. Do we understand each
other?”
Fromthelookintheman’seyes,Millerknewtheydid.
ChapterSeven:Holden
H oldencoulddrinkcoffeeathalfag.Actuallysitandholdamugunderhisnoseandletthearoma
drift up. Sip it slowly and not burn his tongue. Drinking coffee was one of the activities that didn’t
makethetransitiontomicrogravitywell,butathalfag,itwasfine.
SohesatandtriedveryhardtothinkaboutcoffeeandgravityinthesilenceoftheKnight’s tiny
galley.EventhenormallytalkativeAlexwasquiet.Amoshadsethisbighandgunonthetableandwas
staring at it with frightening concentration. Shed was asleep. Naomi was sitting across the room,
drinkingteaandkeepingoneeyeonthewallpanelnexttoher.She’droutedopstoit.
Aslongashekepthismindonhiscoffee,hedidn’thavetothinkaboutAdegivingonelastgasp
offearandthenturningintoaglowingvapor.
Alexruineditbyspeaking.
“Atsomepoint,weneedtodecidewherewe’regoin’,”hesaid.
Holden nodded, took a sip of his coffee, and closed his eyes. His muscles vibrated like plucked
strings,andhisperipheralvisionwasdappledwithpointsofimaginarylight.Thefirsttwingesofthe
post-juice crash were starting, and it was going to be a bad one. He wanted to enjoy these last few
momentsbeforethepainhit.
“He’sright,Jim,”Naomisaid.“Wecan’tjustflyinabigcircleathalfagforever.”
Holden didn’t open his eyes. The darkness behind his lids was bright and active and mildly
nauseating.
“We aren’t waiting forever,” he said. “We’re waiting fifty minutes for Saturn Station to call me
backandtellmewhattodowiththeirship.TheKnightisstillPandKproperty.We’restillemployees.
Youwantedmetocallforhelp,Icalledforhelp.Nowwearewaitingtoseewhatthatlookslike.”
“Shouldn’twestartflyingtowardSaturnStation,then,Boss?”Amosasked,directinghisquestion
atNaomi.
Alexsnorted.
“NotontheKnight’sengine.Evenifwehadthefuelforthattrip,whichwedon’t,Idon’twantto
sitinthiscanforthenextthreemonths,”hesaid.“Naw,ifwe’regoin’somewhere,it’sgottabethe
BeltorJupiter.We’reasclosetoexactlybetween’emasyoucanget.”
“IvotewecontinueontoCeres,”Naomisaid.“PandKhasofficesthere.Wedon’tknowanyonein
theJupitercomplex.”
Withoutopeninghiseyes,Holdenshookhishead.
“No,wewaitforthemtocallusback.”
Naomi made an exasperated sound. It was funny, he thought, how you could make someone’s
voiceoutfromthesmallestsounds.Acoughorasigh.Orthelittlegasprightbeforeshedied.
Holdensatupandopenedhiseyes.Heplacedhiscoffeemugonthetablecarefully,withhandsthat
werestartingtopalsy.
“Idon’twanttoflysunwardtoCeres,becausethat’sthedirectionthetorpedoshipwent,andyour
pointaboutchasingthemiswelltaken,Naomi.Idon’twanttoflyouttoJupiter,becauseweonlyhave
thefuelforonetrip,andonceweflythatdirectionforawhile,we’relockedin.Wearesittinghere
anddrinkingcoffeebecauseIneedtomakeadecision,andPandKgetsasayinthatdecision.Sowe
waitforthemtoanswer,andthenIdecide.”
Holdengotupslowly,carefully,andbeganmovingtowardthecrewladder.“I’mgoingtocrash
forafewminutes,lettheworstoftheshakeswearoff.IfPandKcalls,letmeknow.”
Holdenpoppedsedativetabs—thin,bitterpillswithanaftertastelikebreadmold—buthedidn’tsleep.
Overandover,McDowellplacedahandonhisarmandcalledhimJim.Beccalaughedandcursed
likeasailor.Cameronbraggedabouthisprowessontheice.
Adegasped.
Holden had flown the Ceres-to-Saturn circuit on the Canterbury nine times. Two round-trips a
year,foralmostfiveyears.Mostofthecrewhadbeentheretheentiretime.FlyingontheCantmight
bethebottomofthebarrel,butthatmeanttherewasnowhereelsetogo.Peoplestayed,madetheship
their home. After the near-constant duty transfers of the navy, he appreciated stability. Made it his
home too. McDowell said something he couldn’t quite make out. The Cant groaned like she was
underahardburn.
Adesmiledandwinkedathim.
Theworstlegcrampinhistoryhiteverymuscleinhisbodyatonce.Holdenbitdownhardonhis
rubbermouthguard,screaming.Thepainbroughtanoblivionthatwasalmostarelief.Hismindshut
off,drownedoutbytheneedsofhisbody.Fortunatelyornot,thedrugsstartedtokickin.Hismuscles
unknotted.Hisnervesstoppedscreaming,andconsciousnessreturnedlikeareluctantschoolboy.His
jawachedashepulledouttheguard.He’dworntoothmarksintherubber.
In the dim blue cabin light, he thought about the kind of man who followed an order to kill a
civilianship.
He’ddonesomethingsinthenavythathadkepthimawakenights.He’dfollowedsomeordershe
vehemently disagreed with. But to lock on to a civilian ship with fifty people aboard and press the
button that launched six nuclear weapons? He would have refused. If his commanding officer had
insisted,he’dhavedeclareditanillegalorderanddemandedthattheexecutiveofficertakecontrolof
theshipandarrestthecaptain.They’dhavehadtoshoothimtogethimawayfromtheweaponpost.
He’dknownthesortofpeoplewhowouldhavefollowedtheorder,though.Hetoldhimselfthat
they were sociopaths and animals, no better than pirates who’d board your ship, strip your engine,
andtakeyourair.Thattheyweren’thuman.
But even as he nursed his hatred, drug-hazed rage offering its nihilistic comforts, he couldn’t
believetheywereidiots.TheitchatthebackofhisheadwasstillWhy?Whatdoesanyonegainfrom
killinganicehauler?Whogetspaid?Someonealwaysgetspaid.
I’mgoingtofindyou.I’mgoingtofindyouandendyou.ButbeforeIdo,Iamgoingtomakeyou
explain.
Thesecondwaveofpharmaceuticalsexplodedinhisbloodstream.Hewashotandlimp,hisveins
filledwithsyrup.Justbeforethetabsfinallyknockedhimout,Adesmiledandwinked.
Andblewawaylikedust.
Thecommbeepedathim.Naomi’svoicesaid,“Jim,thePandKresponsefinallycamein.Wantmeto
senditdownthere?”
Holdenstruggledtomakesenseofthewords.Blinked.Somethingwaswrongwithhisbunk.With
theship.Slowly,heremembered.
“Jim?”
“No,”hesaid.“Iwanttowatchitupinopswithyou.HowlongwasIout?”
“Threehours,”shesaid.
“Jesus.Theytooktheirsweettimegettingbacktous,didn’tthey?”
Holdenrolledoutofhiscouchandwipedoffthecrustthatheldhiseyelashestogether.He’dbeen
weepinginhissleep.Hetoldhimselfitwasfromthejuicecrash.Thedeepacheinhischestwasonly
stressedcartilage.
Whatwereyoudoingforthreehoursbeforeyoucalledusback?hewondered.
Naomiwaitedforhimatthecommstation,aman’sfacefrozenmid-wordonthescreeninfrontof
her.Heseemedfamiliar.
“Thatisn’ttheoperationsmanager.”
“Nope. It’s the P and K legal counsel on Saturn Station. The one who gave that speech after the
crackdownonsupplypilfering?”Naomisaid.“‘Stealingfromusisstealingfromyou.’Thatone.”
“Lawyer,”Holdensaidwithagrimace.“Thisisgoingtobebadnews,then.”
Naomirestartedthemessage.Thelawyersprangintomotion.
“JamesHolden,thisisWallaceFitzcallingfromSaturnStation.We’vereceivedyourrequestfor
help, and your report of the incident. We’ve also received your broadcast accusing Mars of
destroyingtheCanterbury.Thiswas,tosaytheleast,illadvised.TheMartianrepresentativeonSaturn
Station was in my office not five minutes after your broadcast was received, and the MCR is quite
upsetbywhattheyviewasunfoundedaccusationsofpiracybytheirgovernment.
“To further investigate this matter, and to aid in discovering the true wrongdoers, if any, the
MCRNisdispatchingoneoftheirshipsfromtheJupitersystemtopickyouup.TheMCRNDonnager
is the name of this vessel. Your orders from P and K are as follows: You will fly at best possible
speed to the Jupiter system. You will cooperate fully with instructions given you by the MCRN
Donnager,orbyanyofficeroftheMartianCongressionalRepublicNavy.YouwillassisttheMCRN
in their investigation into the destruction of the Canterbury. You will refrain from any further
broadcastingexcepttousortheDonnager.
“IfyoufailtofollowtheseinstructionsfromthecompanyandfromthegovernmentofMars,your
contractwithPandKwillbeterminated,andyouwillbeconsideredinillegalpossessionofaPandK
shuttlecraft.Wewillthenprosecuteyoutothefullestextentofthelaw.
“WallaceFitzout.”
Holdenfrownedatthemonitor,thenshookhishead.
“IneversaidMarsdidit.”
“Yousortofdid,”Naomireplied.
“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t entirely factual and backed up by the data I transmitted, and I
engagedinnospeculationaboutthosefacts.”
“So,”Naomisaid.“Whatdowedo?”
“Nofuckingway,”Amossaid.“Nofuckingway.”
Thegalleywasasmallspace.Thefiveofthemfilledituncomfortably.Thegraylaminatewalls
showedwhorlsofbrightscrapeswheremoldhadgrownonceandbeencleanedoffwithmicrowaves
and steel wool. Shed sat with his back against the wall, Naomi across the table. Alex stood in the
doorway.Amoshadstartedpacingalongtheback—twofastpaces,thenaturn—beforethelawyerhad
finishedhisfirstsentence.
“I’mnothappyaboutiteither.Butthat’sthewordfromthehomeoffice,”Holdensaid,pointingat
thegalley’sdisplayscreen.“Didn’tmeantogetyouguysintrouble.”
“No problem, Holden. I still think you did the right thing,” Shed replied, running one hand
throughhislimpblondhair.“SowhatdoyouthinktheMartianswilldowithus?”
“I’m thinking pull our fucking toes off until Holden goes back on the radio and says it wasn’t
them,” Amos said. “What in the holy hell is this? They attacked us, and now we’re supposed to
cooperate?Theykilledthecaptain!”
“Amos,”Holdensaid.
“Sorry,Holden.Captain,”Amossaid.“ButJesuswept.We’regettingfuckedhereandnotthenice
way.We’renotgonnadothis,arewe?”
“Idon’twanttodisappearintosomeMartianprisonshipforever,”Holdensaid.“ThewayIseeit,
we have two options. Either we go along with this, which is basically throwing ourselves on their
mercy.Orwerun,trytomakeittotheBeltandhide.”
“I’m voting for the Belt,” Naomi said, her arms crossed. Amos raised a hand, seconding the
motion.Shedslowlyraisedhisown.
Alexshookhishead.
“IknowtheDonnager,”hesaid.“She’snotsomerockhopper.She’stheflagshipfortheMCRN’s
Jupiterfleet.Battleship.Quartermilliontonsofbadnews.Youeverserveonashipthatsize?”
“No.Iwasn’tonanythingbiggerthanadestroyer,”Holdenreplied.
“IservedontheBandon,withthehomefleet.Wecan’tgoanywherethatashiplikethatcan’tfind
us. She’s got four main engines, each one bigger than our whole ship. She’s designed for long
periodsathighgwitheverysailoronboardjuicedtothegills.Wecan’trun,sir,andevenifwedid,
hersensorpackagecouldtrackagolfballandhititwithatorpedofromhalfthesolarsystemaway.”
“Oh,fuckthat,sir,”Amossaid,standingup.“TheseMartianneedledicksblewuptheCant!Isay
run.Atleastmakeithardforthem.”
Naomi put one hand on Amos’ forearm, and the big mechanic paused, shook his head, and sat
down.Thegalleywassilent.HoldenwonderedifMcDowellhadeverhadtomakeacalllikethis,and
whattheoldmanwouldhavedone.
“Jim,thisisyourdecision,”shesaid,buthereyeswerehard.No,whatyouaregoingtodoisget
theremainingfourmembersofyourcrewtosafety.Andthat’sall.
Holdennoddedandtappedhisfingersagainsthislips.
“P and K doesn’t have our back on this one. We probably can’t get away, but I don’t want to
disappeareither,”Holdensaid.Andthen:“Ithinkwego,butwedon’tgoquietly.Whydon’twego
disobeythespiritofanorder?”
Naomifinishedworkingonthecommpanel,herhairnowfloatingaroundherlikeablackcloudin
thezerog.
“Okay,Jim,I’mdumpingeverywattintothecommarray.They’llbegettingthisloudandclearall
thewayouttoTitania,”shesaid.
Holdenreacheduptorunonehandthroughhissweat-plasteredhair.Inthenullgravity,thatjust
madeitstickstraightoutineverydirection.Hezippeduphisflightsuitandpressedtherecordbutton.
“ThisisJamesHolden,formerlyoftheCanterbury,nowontheshuttleKnight.Wearecooperating
withaninvestigationintowhodestroyedtheCanterburyand,aspartofthatcooperation,areagreeing
tobetakenaboardyourship,theMCRNDonnager.Wehopethatthiscooperationmeansthatwewill
not be held prisoner or harmed. Any such action would only serve to reinforce the idea that the
CanterburywasdestroyedbyaMartianvessel.JamesHoldenout.”
Holdenleanedback.“Naomi,sendthatoutbroadband.”
“That’sadirtytrick,Boss,”saidAlex.“Prettyhardtodisappearusnow.”
“Ibelieveintheidealofthetransparentsociety,Mr.Kamal,”saidHolden.Alexgrinned,pushed
off,andfloateddownthegangway.Naomitappedthecommpanel,makingasmall,satisfiedsoundin
thebackofherthroat.
“Naomi,”Holdensaid.Sheturned,herhairwavinglazily,liketheywerebothdrowning.“Ifthis
goesbadly,Ineedyou…Ineedyouto…”
“Throwyoutothewolves,”shesaid.“BlameeverythingonyouandgettheothersbacktoSaturn
Stationsafely.”
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.“Don’tplaythehero.”
Sheletthewordshangintheairuntilthelastoftheironyleechedoutofthem.
“Hadn’tcrossedmymind,sir,”shesaid.
“Knight,thisisCaptainTheresaYaooftheMCRNDonnager,”saidthesevere-lookingwomanonthe
commscreen.“Messagereceived.Pleaserefrainfromfurthergeneralbroadcasts.Mynavigatorwill
besendingcourseinformationshortly.Followthatcourseexactly.Yaoout.”
Alexlaughed.
“I think you pissed her off,” he said. “Got the course info. They’ll be picking us up in thirteen
days.Givehertimetoreallystewonit.”
“Thirteen days before I’m clapped in irons and have needles shoved under my fingernails,”
Holden sighed, leaning back in his couch. “Well, best begin our flight toward imprisonment and
torture.Youmaylockinthetransmittedcourse,Mr.Kamal.”
“Rogerthat,Cap—Huh,”saidAlex.
“Aproblem?”
“Well,theKnightjustdidherpre-burnsweepforcollisionobjects,”Alexsaid.“Andwehavesix
Beltobjectsonaninterceptcourse.”
“Beltobjects?”
“Fastcontactswithnotranspondersignal,”Alexreplied.“Ships,butflyin’dark.They’llcatchus
justabouttwodaysbeforetheDonnagerdoes.”
Holdenpulledupthedisplay.Sixsmallsignatures,yellow-orangeshiftingtowardred.Heavyburn.
“Well,”Holdensaidtothescreen.“Andwhothehellareyou?”
ChapterEight:Miller
A ggressionagainsttheBeltiswhatEarthandMarssurviveon.Ourweaknessistheirstrength,”the
maskedwomansaidfromMiller ’sterminalscreen.ThesplitcircleoftheOPAdrapedbehindher,like
somethingpaintedonasheet.“Don’tbeafraidofthem.Theironlypowerisyourfear.”
“Well,thatandahundredorsogunships,”Havelocksaid.
“From what I hear,” Miller said, “if you clap your hands and say you believe, they can’t shoot
you.”
“Havetotrythatsometime.”
“Wemustriseup!”thewomansaid,hervoicegrowingshrill.“Wehavetotakeourdestinybefore
itistakenfromus!RemembertheCanterbury!”
Miller shut the viewer down and leaned back in his chair. The station was at its change-of-shift
surge,voicesraisedoneovertheotherasthepreviousroundofcopsbroughttheincomingones up
tospeed.Thesmelloffreshcoffeecompetedwithcigarettesmoke.
“There’smaybeadozenlikeher,”Havelocksaid,noddingtowardthedeadterminalscreen.“She’s
myfavorite,though.There’retimesIswearshe’sactuallyfoamingatthemouth.”
“Howmanymorefiles?”Millerasked,andhispartnershrugged.
“Two, three hundred,” Havelock said, and took a drag on his cigarette. He’d started smoking
again.“Everyfewhours,there’sanewone.Theyaren’tcomingfromoneplace.Sometimesthey’re
broadcastontheradio.Sometimesthefilesshowuponpublicpartitions.Orlanfoundsomeguysata
portsidebarpassingoutthoselittleVRsquidsliketheywerepamphlets.”
“Shebustthem?”
“No,”Havelocksaidasifitwasnobigdeal.
AweekhadpassedsinceJamesHolden,self-appointedmartyr,hadproudlyannouncedthatheand
his crew were going to go talk to someone from the Martian navy instead of just slinging shit and
implications. The footage of the Canterbury’s death was everywhere, debates raging over every
frame.Thelogfilesthatdocumentedtheincidentwereperfectlylegitimate,ortheywereobviously
doctored. The torpedoes that had slaughtered the hauler were nukes or standard pirate fare that
breachedthedrivebymistake,oritwasallartificeliftedfromoldstockfootagetocoverupwhathad
reallykilledtheCant.
Theriotshadlastedforthreedaysonandoff,likeafirehotenoughtoreigniteeverytimetheair
pumped back in. The administrative offices reopened under heavy security, but they reopened. The
portsfellbehind,buttheywerecatchingup.TheshirtlessbastardwhoMillerhadorderedshotwasin
the Star Helix detainment infirmary, getting new knees, filling out protests against Miller, and
preparingforhismurdertrial.
Six hundred cubic meters of nitrogen had gone missing from a warehouse in sector fifteen. An
unlicensedwhorehadbeenbeatenupandlockedinastorageunit;assoonasshewasdonegiving
evidence about her attackers, she’d be arrested. They’d caught the kids who’d been breaking the
surveillancecamerasonlevelsixteen.Superficially,everythingwasbusinessasusual.
Onlysuperficially.
WhenMillerhadstartedworkinghomicide,oneofthethingsthathadstruckhimwasthesurreal
calmofthevictims’families.Peoplewhohadjustlostwives,husbands,children,andlovers.People
whoseliveshadjustbeenbrandedbyviolence.Moreoftenthannot,theywerecalmlyofferingdrinks
and answering questions, making the detectives feel welcome. A civilian coming in unaware might
have mistaken them for whole. It was only in the careful way they held themselves and the extra
quartersecondittooktheireyestofocusthatMillercouldseehowdeepthedamagewas.
CeresStationwasholdingitselfcarefully.Itseyesweretakingaquartersecondlongertofocus.
Middle-class people—storekeepers, maintenance workers, computer techs—were avoiding him on
the tube the way petty criminals did. Conversations died when Miller came near. In the station, the
sense of being under siege was growing. A month earlier, Miller and Havelock, Cobb and Richter,
and the rest had been the steadying hand of the law. Now they were employees of an Earth-based
securitycontractor.
Thedifferencewassubtle,butitwasdeep.Itmadehimwanttostandtaller,toshowwithhisbody
thathewasaBelter.Thathebelongedthere.Itmadehimwanttowinpeople’sgoodopinionback.Let
byabunchofguyspassingoutvirtualrealitypropagandawithawarning,maybe.
Itwasn’tasmartimpulse.
“What’vewegotontheboard?”Millerasked.
“Twoburglariesthatlooklikethatsamering,”Havelocksaid.“Thatdomesticdisputefromlast
week still needs the report closed up. There was a pretty good assault over by Nakanesh Import
Consortium, but Shaddid was talking to Dyson and Patel about that, so it’s probably spoken for
already.”
“Soyouwant…”
Havelocklookedupandouttocoverthefactthathewaslookingaway.Itwassomethinghe’dbeen
doingmoreoftensincethingshadgonetoshit.
“We’vereallygottogetthereportsdone,”Havelocksaid.“Notjustthedomestic.There’refouror
fivefoldersthatareonlystillopenbecausetheyneedtobecrossedanddotted.”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.
Since the riots, he’d watched everyone in a bar get served before Havelock. He’d seen how the
othercopsfromShaddiddownwentoutoftheirwaytoreassureMillerthathewasoneofthegood
guys,atacitapologyforsaddlinghimwithanEarther.Andhe’dseenHavelockseeittoo.
ItmadeMillerwanttoprotecttheman,toletHavelockspendhisdaysinthesafetyofpaperwork
andstationhousecoffee.Helpthemanpretendthathewasn’thatedforthegravityhe’dgrownupin.
Thatwasn’tasmartimpulseeither.
“Whataboutyourbullshitcase?”Havelockasked.
“What?”
Havelockheldupafolder.TheJulieMaocase.Thekidnapjob.Thesideshow.Millernoddedand
rubbedhiseyes.Someoneatthefrontofthestationhouseyelped.Someoneelselaughed.
“Yeah,no,”Millersaid.“Haven’ttouchedit.”
Havelock grinned and held it out to him. Miller accepted the file, flipped it open. The eighteenyear-oldgrinnedoutathimwithperfectteeth.
“Idon’twanttosaddleyouwithallthedeskdriving,”Millersaid.
“Hey,you’renottheonethatkeptmeoffthatone.ThatwasShaddid’scall.Andanyway…it’sjust
paperwork.Neverkilledanyone.Youfeelguiltyaboutit,youcanbuymeabeerafterwork.”
Millertappedthecaseagainstthecornerofhisdesk,thesmallimpactssettlingthecontentsagainst
thefolder ’sspine.
“Right,”hesaid.“I’llgodosomefollow-uponthebullshit.I’llbebackbylunch,writesomething
uptokeepthebosshappy.”
“I’llbehere,”Havelocksaid.Then,asMillerrose:“Hey.Look.Ididn’twanttosayanythinguntilI
wassure,butIalsodon’twantyoutohearitsomeplaceelse…”
“Putinforatransfer?”Millersaid.
“Yeah. Talked to some of those Protogen contractors that passed through. They say their
Ganymedeofficeislookingforanewleadinvestigator.AndIthought…”Havelockshrugged.
“It’sagoodmove,”Millersaid.
“Justwanttogosomeplacewithasky,evenifyoulookatitthroughdomes,”Havelocksaid,and
allthebluffmasculinityofpoliceworkcouldn’tkeepthewistfulnessoutofhisvoice.
“It’sagoodmove,”Millersaidagain.
Juliette Andromeda Mao’s hole was in the ninth level of a fourteen-tiered tunnel near the port. The
greatinvertedVwasalmosthalfakilometerwideatthetop,andnomorethanastandardtubewidth
at the bottom, the retrofit of one of a dozen reaction mass chambers from the years before the
asteroid had been given its false gravity. Now thousands of cheap holes burrowed into the walls,
hundredsoneachlevel,headingstraightbacklikeshotgunshacks.Kidsplayedontheterracedstreets,
shriekingandlaughingatnothing.Someoneatthebottomwasflyingakiteintheconstantgentlespin
breeze,thebrightMylardiamondswervingandbuckinginthemicroturbulence.Millercheckedhis
terminalagainstthenumberspaintedonthewall.5151-I.Homesweethometothepoorlittlerichgirl.
Hekeyedhisoverride,andthedirtygreendoorpoppeditssealsandlethimpass.
The hole canted up into the body of the station. Three small rooms: general living space at the
front,thenabedroomhardlylargerthanthecotitcontained,thenastallwithshower,toilet,andhalf
sinkallwithinelbowdistance.Itwasastandarddesign.He’dseenitathousandtimes.
Millerstoodforaminute,notlookingatanythinginparticular,listeningtothereassuringhissof
air cycling through ductwork. He reserved judgment, waiting as the back of his head built an
impressionoftheplaceand,throughit,ofthegirlwho’dlivedthere.
Spartan was the wrong word. The place was simple, yes. The only decorations were a small
framedwatercolorofaslightlyabstractedwoman’sfaceoverthetableinthefrontroomandacluster
ofplaying-card-sizedplaquesoverthecotinthebedroom.Heleanedclosetoreadthesmallscript.A
formalawardgrantingJulieMao—notJuliette—purplebeltstatusbytheCeresCenterforJiuJitsu.
Another stepping her up to brown belt. They were two years apart. Tough school, then. He put his
fingers on the empty space on the wall where one for black could go. There was none of the
affectation—no stylized throwing stars or imitation swords. Just a small acknowledgment that Julie
Maohaddonewhatshehaddone.Hegaveherpointsforthat.
The drawers had two changes of clothes, one of heavy canvas and denim and one of blue linen
with a silk scarf. One for work, one for play. It was less than Miller owned, and he was hardly a
clotheshorse.
WithhersocksandunderwearwasawidearmbandwiththesplitcircleoftheOPA.Notasurprise,
foragirlwho’dturnedherbackonwealthandprivilegetoliveinadumplikethis.Therefrigerator
hadtwotakeawayboxesfilledwithspoiledfoodandabottleoflocalbeer.
Millerhesitated,thentookthebeer.Hesatatthetableandpulledupthehole’sbuilt-interminal.
TruetoShaddid’sword,Julie’spartitionopenedtoMiller ’spassword.
The custom background was a racing pinnace. The interface was customized in small, legible
iconography. Communication, entertainment, work, personal. Elegant. That was the word. Not
Spartan,butelegant.
Hepagedquicklythroughherprofessionalfiles,lettinghismindtakeinanoverview,justashe
hadwiththewholelivingspace.Therewouldbetimeforrigor,andafirstimpressionwasusually
moreusefulthananencyclopedia.Shehadtrainingvideosonseveraldifferentlighttransportcraft.
Somepoliticalarchives,butnothingthatraisedaflag.Ascannedvolumeofpoetrybysomeofthe
firstsettlersintheBelt.
Heshiftedtoherpersonalcorrespondence.ItwasallkeptasneatandcontrolledasaBelter ’s.All
incoming messages were filtered to subfolders. Work, Personal, Broadcast, Shopping. He popped
open Broadcast. Two or three hundred political newsfeeds, discussion group digests, bulletins and
announcements. A few had been viewed here and there, but nothing with any sort of religious
observation. Julie was the kind of woman who would sacrifice for a cause, but not the kind who’d
takejoyinreadingthepropaganda.Millerfiledthataway.
Shoppingwasalongtrackingofsimplemerchantmessages.Somereceipts,someannouncements,
somerequestsforgoodsandservices.AcancellationforaBelt-basedsinglescirclecaughthiseye.
Millerre-sortedforrelatedcorrespondence.Juliehadsignedupforthe“lowg,lowpressure”dating
serviceinFebruaryofthepreviousyearandcanceledinJunewithouthavingusedit.
ThePersonalfolderwasmorediverse.Ataroughguessthereweresixtyorseventysubfolders
broken down by name. Some were people—Sascha Lloyd-Navarro, Ehren Michaels. Others were
privatenotations—SparringCircle,OPA.
BullshitGuiltTrips.
“Well,thiscouldbeinteresting,”hesaidtotheemptyhole.
Fiftymessagesdatingbackfiveyears,allmarkedasoriginatingattheMao-KwikowskiMercantile
stationsintheBeltandonLuna.Unlikethepoliticaltracts,allbutonehadbeenopened.
Millertookapullfromthebeerandconsideredthemostrecenttwomessages.Themostrecent,
stillunread,wasfromJPM.Jules-PierreMao,ataguess.Theoneimmediatelybeforeitshowedthree
draftedreplies,noneofthemsent.ItwasfromAriadne.Themother.
Therewasalwaysanelementofvoyeurisminbeingadetective.Itwaslegalforhimtobehere,
pokingthroughtheprivatelifeofawomanhe’dnevermet.Itwaspartofhislegitimateinvestigation
to know that she was lonely, that the only toiletries in her bathroom were her own. That she was
proud.Noonewouldhaveanycomplaintstomake,oratleastanythatcarriedrepercussionsforhis
job, if he read every private message on her partition. Drinking her beer was the most ethically
suspectthinghe’ddonesincehe’dcomein.
Andstillhehesitatedforafewsecondsbeforeopeningthesecond-to-lastmessage.
Thescreenshifted.Onbetterequipment,itwouldhavebeenindistinguishablefrominkonpaper,
but Julie’s cheap system shuddered at the thinnest lines and leaked a soft glow at the left edge. The
handwritingwasdelicateandlegible,eitherdonewithacalligraphicsoftwaregoodenoughtovary
lettershapeandlinewidth,orelsehandwritten.
Sweetheart:
Ihopeeverything’sgoingwellforyou.Iwishyouwouldwritetomeonyourownsometimes.I
feellikeIhavetoputinarequestintriplicatejusttohearhowmyowndaughterisdoing.Iknow
thisadventureofyoursisallaboutfreedomandself-reliance,butsurelythere’sstillroominthere
tobeconsiderate.
Iwantedtogetintouchwithyouespeciallybecauseyourfatherisgoingthroughoneofhis
consolidationphasesagain,andwe’rethinkingofsellingtheRazorback.Iknowitwasimportant
toyouonce,butIsupposewe’veallgivenuponyourracingagain.It’sjustrackingupstorage
feesnow,andthere’snocalltobesentimental.
ItwassignedwiththeflowinginitialsAM.
Millerconsideredthewords.Somehowhe’dexpectedtheparentalextortionsoftheveryrichtobe
moresubtle.Ifyoudon’tdoaswesay,we’llgetridofyourtoys.Ifyoudon’twrite.Ifyoudon’tcome
home.Ifyoudon’tloveus.
Milleropenedthefirstincompletedraft.
Mother,ifthat’swhatyoucallyourself:
Thankyousomuchfordroppingyetanotherturdontomyday.Ican’tbelievehowselfishand
pettyandcrudeyouare.Ican’tbelieveyousleepatnightorthatyoueverthoughtIcould
Millerskimmedtherest.Thetoneseemedconsistent.Theseconddraftreplywasdatedtwodays
later.Heskippedtoit.
Mom:
I’msorrywe’vebeensoestrangedtheselastfewyears.Iknowit’sbeenhardforyouandfor
Daddy.IhopeyoucanseethatthedecisionsI’vemadewerenevermeanttohurteitherofyou.
AbouttheRazorback,Iwishyou’dreconsider.She’smyfirstboat,andI
Itstoppedthere.Millerleanedback.
“Steadyon,kid,”hesaidtotheimaginaryJulie,thenopenedthelastdraft.
Ariadne:
Dowhatyouhaveto.
Julie
Millerlaughedandraisedhisbottletothescreenintoast.They’dknownhowtohitherwhereit
hurt,andJuliehadtakentheblow.Ifheevercaughtherandshippedherback,itwasgoingtobeabad
dayforbothofthem.Allofthem.
Hefinishedthebeer,droppedthebottleintotherecyclingchute,andopenedthelastmessage.He
morethanhalfdreadedlearningthefinalfateoftheRazorback,butitwashisjobtoknowasmuchas
hecould.
Julie:
Thisisnotajoke.Thisisnotoneofyourmother’sdramafits.Ihavesolidinformationthatthe
Beltisabouttobeaveryunsafeplace.Whateverdifferenceswehavewecanworkoutlater.
FORYOUROWNSAFETYCOMEHOMENOW.
Miller frowned. The air recycler hummed. Outside, the local kids whistled high and loud. He
tappedthescreen,closingthelastBullshitGuiltTripmessage,thenopeneditagain.
IthadbeensentfromLuna,twoweeksbeforeJamesHoldenandtheCanterburyraisedthespecter
ofwarbetweenMarsandtheBelt.
Thissideshowwasgettinginteresting.
ChapterNine:Holden
T heshipsarestillnotresponding,”Naomisaid,punchingakeysequenceonthecommpanel.
“I didn’t think they would. But I want to show the Donnager that we’re worried about being
followed.It’sallcoveringourassesatthispoint,”Holdensaid.
Naomi’sspinepoppedasshestretched.Holdenpulledaproteinbaroutoftheboxinhislapand
threwitather.
“Eat.”
ShepeeledthewrappingoffwhileAmosclambereduptheladderandthrewhimselfintothecouch
next to her. His coverall was so filthy it shined. Just as with the others, three days on the cramped
shuttlehadn’thelpedhispersonalhygiene.Holdenreachedupandscratchedhisowngreasyhairwith
distaste.TheKnightwastoosmallforshowers,andthezero-gsinksweretoosmalltostickyourhead
in.Amoshadsolvedthehair-washingproblembyshavingallofhisoff.Nowhejusthadaringof
stubble around his bald spot. Somehow, Naomi’s hair stayed shiny and mostly oil free. Holden
wonderedhowshedidthat.
“Tossmesomechow,XO,”Amossaid.
“Captain,”Naomicorrected.
Holdenthrewaproteinbarathimtoo.Amossnatcheditfromtheair,thenconsideredthelong,
thinpackagewithdistaste.
“Goddamn, Boss, I’d give my left nut for food that didn’t look like a dildo,” Amos said, then
tappedhisfoodagainstNaomi’sinmocktoast.
“Tellmeaboutourwater,”Holdensaid.
“Well, I’ve been crawling around between hulls all day. I’ve tightened everything that can be
tightened,andslappedepoxyonanythingthatcan’t,sowearen’tdrippinganywhere.”
“It’llstillberightdowntothewire,Jim,”Naomisaid.“TheKnight’srecyclingsystemsarecrap.
Shewasneverintendedtoprocessfivepeople’sworthofwastebackintopotablesfortwoweeks.”
“Down to the wire, I can handle. We’ll just learn to live with each other ’s stink. I was worried
about‘nowherenearenough.’”
“Speakingofwhich,I’mgonnaheadtomyrackandsprayonsomemoredeodorant,”Amossaid.
“Afteralldaycrawlingintheship’sguts,mystink’sevenkeepingmeawaketonight.”
Amosswallowedthelastofhisfoodandsmackedhislipswithmockrelish,thenclimbedoutof
hiscouchandheadeddownthecrewladder.Holdentookabiteofhisownbar.Ittastedlikegreased
cardboard.
“What’sShedupto?”heasked.“He’sbeenprettyquiet.”
Naomi,frowning,putherhalf-eatenbardownonthecommpanel.
“I wanted to talk to you about that. He’s not doing well, Jim. Out of all of us, he’s having the
hardesttimewith…what’shappened.YouandAlexwerebothnavymen.Theytrainyoutodealwith
losingshipmates.Amoshasbeenflyingsolongthisisactuallythethirdshipthat’sgonedownunder
him,ifyoucanbelievethat.”
“Andyouaremadeentirelyofcastironandtitanium,”Holdensaid,onlypretendingtojoke.
“Not entirely. Eighty, ninety percent. Tops,” Naomi said with a half smile. “Seriously, though. I
thinkyoushouldtalktohim.”
“Andsaywhat?I’mnopsychiatrist.Thenavyversionofthisspeechinvolvesdutyandhonorable
sacrificeandavengingfallencomrades.Doesn’tworkaswellwhenyourfriendshavebeenmurdered
fornoapparentreasonandthere’sessentiallynochanceyoucandoanythingaboutit.”
“Ididn’tsayyouhadtofixhim.Isaidyouneededtotalktohim.”
Holdengotupfromhiscouchwithasalute.
“Yes,sir,”hesaid.Attheladderhepaused.“Again,thankyou,Naomi.I’dreally—”
“Iknow.Gobethecaptain,”shesaid,turningbacktoherpanelandcallinguptheshipopsscreen.
“I’llkeepwavingattheneighbors.”
HoldenfoundShedintheKnight’stinysickbay.Reallymoreasickcloset.Otherthanareinforced
cot, the cabinets of supplies, and a half dozen pieces of wall-mounted equipment, there was just
enoughroomforonestoolstucktotheflooronmagneticfeet.Shedwassittingonit.
“Hey,buddy,mindifIcomein?”Holdenasked.DidIactuallysay‘Hey,buddy’?
Shedshruggedandpulledupaninventoryscreenonthewallpanel,openingvariousdrawersand
staringatthecontents.Pretendinghe’dbeeninthemiddleofsomething.
“Look,Shed.ThisthingwiththeCanterburyhasreallyhiteveryonehard,andyou’ve—”Holden
said.Shedturned,holdingupawhitesqueezetube.
“Threepercentaceticacidsolution.Didn’trealizewehadthisouthere.TheCant’s run out, and
I’vegotthreepeoplewithGWwhocouldreallyuseit.Why’dtheyputitontheKnight, I wonder,”
Shedsaid.
“GW?”wasallHoldencouldthinktoreply.
“Genitalwarts.Aceticacidsolutionisthetreatmentforanyvisiblewarts.Burns’emoff.Hurtslike
hell,butitdoesthejob.Noreasontokeepitontheshuttle.Medicalinventoryisalwayssomessed
up.”
Holdenopenedhismouthtospeak,foundnothingtosay,andcloseditagain.
“We’vegotaceticacidcream,”Shedsaid,hisvoiceincreasinglyshrill,“butnoelemcetforpain.
Whichdoyouthinkyou’dneedmoreonarescueshuttle?Ifwe’dfoundanyoneonthatwreckwitha
badcaseofGW,we’dhavebeenset.Abrokenbone?You’reoutofluck.Justsuckitup.”
“Look,Shed,”Holdensaid,tryingtobreakin.
“Oh, and look at this. No coagulant booster. What the hell? Hey, no chance anyone on a rescue
missioncould,youknow,startbleeding.Catchacaseofredbumpsonyourcrank,sure,butbleeding?
Noway!Imean,we’vegotfourcasesofsyphilisontheCantrightnow.Oneoftheoldestdiseasesin
thebook,andwestillcan’tgetridofit.Itellthoseguys,‘ThehookersonSaturnStationarebanging
every ice bucker on the circuit, so put the glove on,’ but do they listen? No. So here we are with
syphilisandnotenoughciprofloxacin.”
Holdenfelthisjawslideforward.Hegrippedthesideofthehatchandleanedintotheroom.
“Everyone on the Cant is dead,” Holden said, making each word clear and strong and brutal.
“Everyoneisdead.Nooneneedstheantibiotics.Nooneneedswartcream.”
Shed stopped talking, and all the air went out of him like he’d been gut punched. He closed the
drawersinthesupplycabinetandturnedofftheinventoryscreenwithsmallprecisemovements.
“Iknow,”hesaidinaquietvoice.“I’mnotstupid.Ijustneedsometime.”
“We all do. But we’re stuck in this tiny can together. I’ll be honest, I came down here because
Naomi is worried about you, but now that I’m here, you’re freaking me the hell out. That’s okay,
becauseI’mthecaptainnowandit’smyjob.ButIcan’thaveyoufreakingAlexorAmosout.We’re
ten days from being grabbed by a Martian battleship, and that’s scary enough without the doctor
fallingapart.”
“I’mnotadoctor,I’mjustatech,”Shedsaid,hisvoiceverysmall.
“You’reourdoctor,okay?Tothefourofusherewithyouonthisship,you’reourdoctor.IfAlex
startshavingpost-traumaticstressepisodesandneedsmedstokeepittogether,he’llcometoyou.If
you’redownherejabberingaboutwarts,he’llturnaroundandgobackuptothecockpitandjustdoa
reallybadjobofflying.Youwanttocry?Doitwithallofus.We’llsittogetherinthegalleyandget
drunkandcrylikebabies,butwe’lldoittogetherwhereit’ssafe.Nomorehidingdownhere.”
Shednodded.
“Canwedothat?”hesaid.
“Dowhat?”Holdenasked.
“Getdrunkandcrylikebabies?”
“Hell yes. That is officially on the schedule for tonight. Report to the galley at twenty hundred
hours,Mr.Garvey.Bringacup.”
ShedstartedtoreplywhenthegeneralcommclickedonandNaomisaid,“Jim,comebackupto
ops.”
HoldengrippedShed’sshoulderforamoment,thenleft.
Inops,NaomihadthecommscreenupagainandwasspeakingtoAlexinlowtones.Thepilotwas
shakinghisheadandfrowning.Amapglowedonherscreen.
“What’sup?”Holdenasked.
“We’regettingatightbeam,Jim.Itlockedonandstartedtransmittingjustacoupleminutesago,”
Naomireplied.
“FromtheDonnager?”TheMartianbattleshipwastheonlythinghecouldthinkofthatmightbe
insidelasercommunicationsrange.
“No.FromtheBelt,”Naomisaid.“AndnotfromCeres,orEros,orPallaseither.Noneofthebig
stations.”
Shepointedatasmalldotonherdisplay.
“It’scomingfromhere.”
“That’semptyspace,”Holdensaid.
“Nope.Alexchecked.It’sthesiteofabigconstructionprojectTychoisworkingon.Notalotof
detailonit,butradarreturnsareprettystrong.”
“Something out there has a comm array that’ll put a dot the size of your anus on us from over
threeAUaway,”Alexsaid.
“Okay,wow,that’simpressive.Whatisouranus-sizeddotsaying?”Holdenasked.
“You’llneverbelievethis,”Naomisaid,andturnedontheplayback.
Adark-skinnedmanwiththeheavyfacialbonesofanEartherappearedonthescreen.Hishairwas
graying,andhisneckwasropywitholdmuscle.Hesmiledandsaid,“Hello,JamesHolden.Myname
isFredJohnson.”
Holdenhitthepausebutton.
“Thisguylooksfamiliar.Searchtheship’sdatabaseforthatname,”hesaid.
Naomididn’tmove;shejuststaredathimwithapuzzledlookonherface.
“What?”hesaid.
“That’sFrederickJohnson,”shesaid.
“Okay.”
“ColonelFrederickLuciusJohnson.”
Thepausemighthavebeenasecond;itmighthavebeenanhour.
“Jesus,”wasallHoldencouldthinktosay.
ThemanonthescreenhadoncebeenamongthemostdecoratedofficersintheUNmilitary,and
endeduponeofitsmostembarrassingfailures.ToBelters,hewastheEartherSheriffofNottingham
who’dturnedintoRobinHood.ToEarth,hewastheherowho’dfallenfromgrace.
FredJohnsonstartedhisrisetofamewithaseriesofhigh-profilecapturesofBeltpiratesduring
oneoftheperiodsoftensionbetweenEarthandMarsthatseemedtorampupeveryfewdecadesand
thenfadeawayagain.Wheneverthesystem’stwosuperpowersrattledtheirsabersateachother,crime
intheBeltrose.ColonelJohnson—CaptainJohnsonatthetime—andhissmallwingofthreemissile
frigates destroyed a dozen pirate ships and two major bases in a two-year span. By the time the
Coalitionhadstoppedbickering,piracywasactuallydownintheBelt,andFredJohnsonwasthename
oneveryone’slips.HewaspromotedandgivencommandovertheCoalitionmarinedivisiontasked
withpolicingtheBelt,wherehecontinuedtoservewithdistinction.
UntilAndersonStation.
A tiny shipping depot almost on the opposite side of the Belt from the major port Ceres, most
people,includingmostBelters,wouldnothavebeenabletofindAndersonStationonamap.Itsonly
importancewasasaminordistributionstationforwaterandairinoneofthesparseststretchesofthe
Belt.FewerthanamillionBeltersgottheirairfromAnderson.
Gustav Marconi, a career Coalition bureaucrat on the station, decided to implement a 3-percent
handlingsurchargeonshipmentspassingthroughthestationinhopesofraisingthebottomline.Less
than 5 percent of the Belters buying their air from Anderson were living bottle to mouth, so just
underfiftythousandBeltersmighthavetospendonedayofeachmonthnotbreathing.Onlyasmall
percentage of those fifty thousand lacked the leeway in their recycling systems to cover this minor
shortfall.Ofthose,onlyasmallportionfeltthatarmedrevoltwasthecorrectcourse.
Whichwaswhyofthemillionaffected,only170armedBelterscametothestation,tookover,and
threw Marconi out an airlock. They demanded a government guarantee that no further handling
surchargeswouldbeaddedtothepriceofairandwatercomingthroughthestation.
TheCoalitionsentColonelJohnson.
During the Massacre of Anderson Station, the Belters kept the station cameras rolling,
broadcasting to the solar system the entire time. Everyone watched as Coalition marines fought a
long, gruesome corridor-to-corridor battle against men with nothing to lose and no reason to
surrender. The Coalition won—it was a foregone conclusion—but it took three days of broadcast
slaughter. The iconic image of the video was not one of the fighting, but the last image the station
camerascaughtbeforetheywerecutoff:ColonelJohnsoninstationops,surroundedbythecorpses
oftheBelterswho’dmadetheirlaststandthere,surveyingthecarnagewithaflatstareandhandslimp
athissides.
TheUNtriedtokeepColonelJohnson’sresignationquiet,buthewastoomuchapublicfigure.
The video of the battle dominated the nets for weeks, only displaced when the former Colonel
Johnsonmadeapublicstatementapologizingforthemassacreandannouncingthattherelationship
betweentheBeltandtheinnerplanetswasuntenableandheadingtowardevergreatertragedy.
Thenhevanished.Hewasalmostforgotten,afootnoteinthehistoryofhumancarnage,untilthe
Pallascolonyrevoltfouryearslater.ThistimerefinerymetalworkerskickedtheCoalitiongovernor
off station. Instead of a tiny way station with 170 rebels, it was a major Belt rock with more than
150,000peopleonit.WhentheCoalitionorderedinthemarines,everyoneexpectedabloodbath.
ColonelJohnsoncameoutofnowhereandtalkedthemetalworkersdown;hetalkedtheCoalition
commandersintoholdingbackthemarinesuntilthestationcouldbehandedoverpeacefully.Hespent
more than a year negotiating with the Coalition governor to improve working conditions in the
refineries.Andsuddenly,theButcherofAndersonStationwasaBeltheroandanicon.
AniconwhowasbeamingprivatemessagestotheKnight.
Holdenhittheplaybutton,andthatFredJohnsonsaid,“Mr.Holden,Ithinkyou’rebeingplayed.
Let me say straight out that I am speaking to you as an official representative of the Outer Planets
Alliance.Idon’tknowwhatyou’veheard,butwearen’tallabunchofcowboysitchingforachance
toshootourwaytofreedom.I’vespentthelasttenyearsworkingtomakelifefortheBeltersbetter
withoutanyonegettingshot.IbelieveinthisideasodeeplythatIgaveupmyEarthcitizenshipwhenI
cameouthere.
“Itellyouthatsoyou’llknowhowinvestedIam.Imaybetheonepersoninthesolarsystemwho
wantswartheleast,andmyvoiceisloudinOPAcouncils.
“Youmayhaveheardsomeofthebroadcastsbeatingonthewardrumsandcallingforrevenge
against Mars for what happened to your ship. I’ve talked to every OPA cell leader I know, and no
one’sclaimingresponsibility.
“Someoneisworkingveryhardtostartawar.Ifit’sMars,thenwhenyougetonthatship,you’ll
neversayanotherwordinpublicthatisn’tfedtoyoubyMartianhandlers.Idon’twanttothinkitis
Mars. I can’t see how they would get anything out of a war. So my hope is that even after the
Donnagerpicksyouup,youcanstillbeaplayerinwhatfollows.
“Iamsendingyouakeyword.Nexttimeyoubroadcastpublicly,usethewordubiquitous within
thefirstsentenceofthebroadcasttosignalthatyou’renotbeingcoerced.Don’tuseit,andI’llassume
youare.Eitherway,IwantyoutoknowyouhavealliesintheBelt.
“Idon’tknowwhoorwhatyouwerebefore,butyourvoicemattersnow.Ifyouwanttousethat
voicetomakethingsbetter,IwilldoanythingIcantohelpyoudoit.Ifyougetfree,contactmeatthe
addressthatfollows.IthinkmaybeyouandIhavealottotalkabout.
“Johnsonout.”
ThecrewsatinthegalleydrinkingabottleofersatztequilaAmoshadscroungedfromsomewhere.
Shedwaspolitelysippingfromasmallcupofitandtryingtohidehisgrimaceeachtime.Alexand
Amos drank like sailors: a finger full in the bottom of the cup, tossed back all at once. Alex had a
habitofsaying“Hooboy!”aftereachshot.Amosjustusedadifferentprofanityeachtime.Hewasup
tohiseleventhshotandsofarhadnotrepeatedhimself.
Holden stared at Naomi. She swirled the tequila in her cup and stared back. He found himself
wonderingwhatsortofgeneticmashuphadproducedherfeatures.DefinitelysomeAfricanandSouth
American in there. Her last name hinted at Japanese ancestry, which was only barely visible, as a
slightepicanthicfold.She’dneverbeconventionallypretty,butfromtherightangleshewasactually
fairlystriking.
Shit,I’mdrunkerthanIthought.
Tocover,hesaid,“So…”
“So Colonel Johnson is calling you now. Quite the important man you’ve become, sir,” Naomi
replied.
Amosputdownhiscupwithexaggeratedcare.
“Beenmeaningtoaskaboutthat,sir.Anychancewemighttakeuphisofferofhelpandjusthead
backtotheBelt?”hesaid.“Don’tknowaboutyou,butwiththeMartianbattleshipinfront,andthehalf
dozenmysteryshipsbehind,it’sstartingtofeelprettyfuckin’crowdedouthere.”
Alex snorted. “Are you kidding? If we flipped now, we’d be just about stopped by the time the
Donnagercaughtuptous.She’sburnin’thefurnituretocatchusbeforetheBeltershipsdo.Ifwestart
headin’theirdirection,theDonniemighttakethatasasignwe’veswitchedteams,fragthewholelot
ofus.”
“I agree with Mr. Kamal,” Holden said. “We’ve picked our course and we’re going to see it
through. I won’t be losing Fred’s contact information anytime soon. Speaking of which, have you
deletedhismessageyet,Naomi?”
“Yes,sir.Scrubbeditfromtheship’smemorywithsteelwool.TheMartianswillneverknowhe
talkedtous.”
Holdennoddedandunzippedhisjumpsuitalittlefurther.Thegalleywasstartingtofeelveryhot
withfivedrunkpeopleinit.Naomiraisedaneyebrowathisdays-oldT-shirt.Embarrassed,hezipped
backup.
“Thoseshipsdon’tmakeanysensetome,Boss,”Alexsaid.“Ahalfdozenshipsflyin’kamikaze
missionswithnukesstrappedtotheirhullsmightmakeadentinabattlewagonliketheDonnie,butnot
muchelsewould.Sheopensupwithherpointdefensenetworkandrailguns,shecancreateano-fly
zone a thousand klicks across. They could be killin’ those six ships with torpedoes already, ’cept I
thinkthey’reasconfusedaboutwhotheyareasweare.”
“They’llknowtheycan’tcatchusbeforetheDonnagerpicksusup,”Holdensaid.“Andtheycan’t
takeherinafight.SoIdon’tknowwhatthey’reupto.”
Amospouredthelastofthetequilaintoeveryone’scupsandheldhisupinatoast.
“Iguesswe’llfuckingfindout.”
ChapterTen:Miller
Captain Shaddid tapped the tip of her middle finger against her thumb when she started getting
annoyed.Itwasasmallsound,softasacat’spaws,buteversinceMillerfirstnoticedherhabit,ithad
seemedlouder.Quietasitwas,itcouldfillheroffice.
“Miller,”shesaid,smilingasifshemeantit.“We’reallonedgethesedays.Thesehavebeenhard,
hardtimes.”
“Yes,sir,”Millersaid,loweringhisheadlikeafullbackdeterminedtomusclehiswaythroughall
defenders,“butIthinkthisisimportantenoughtodeservecloser—”
“It’safavorforashareholder,”Shaddidsaid.“Herfathergotjumpy.There’snoreasontothinkhe
meantMarsblastingtheCanterbury.Tariffsaregoingupagain.Therewasamineblowoutononeof
the Red Moon operations. Eros is having trouble with their yeast farm. We don’t go through a day
without something happening in the Belt that would make a daddy scared for his precious little
flower.”
“Yes,sir,butthetiming—”
Herfingersuppedtempo.Millerbithislips.Thecausewaslost.
“Don’t go chasing conspiracies,” Shaddid said. “We’ve got a full board of crimes we know are
real.Politics,war,system-widecabalsofinnerplanetbadguyssearchingforwaystoscrewusover?
Notourmandate.Justgetmeareportthatsaysyou’relooking,I’llsenditbackuptheline,andwe
cangetbacktoourjobs.”
“Yes,sir.”
“Anythingelse?”
“No,sir.”
Shaddid nodded and turned back to her terminal. Miller plucked his hat from the corner of her
desk and headed out. One of the station house air filters had gone bad over the weekend, and the
replacement gave the rooms a reassuring smell of new plastic and ozone. Miller sat at his desk,
fingerslacedbehindhishead,andstaredatthelightfixtureabovehim.Theknotthathadtieditselfin
hisguthadn’tloosenedup.Thatwastoobad.
“Notsogood,then?”Havelockasked.
“Couldhavegonebetter.”
“Shepullthejob?”
Millershookhishead.“No,it’sstillmine.Shejustwantsmetodoithalf-assed.”
“Couldbeworse.Atleastyougettofindoutwhathappened.Andifyoumaybespendalittletime
afterhoursdiggingintoitjustforpractice,youknow?”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Practice.”
Theirdeskswereunnaturallyclean,hisandHavelock’sboth.ThebarrierofpaperworkHavelock
hadcreatedbetweenhimselfandthestationhaderodedaway,andMillercouldtellfromhispartner ’s
eyes and the way his hands moved that the cop in Havelock wanted to get back into the tunnels. He
couldn’ttellifitwastoprovehimselfbeforehistransferwentthrough,orjusttobreakafewheads.
Maybethoseweretwowaysofsayingthesamething.
Justdon’tgetyourselfkilledbeforeyougetoutofhere,Millerthought.Aloud,hesaid,“Whathave
wegot?”
“Hardwareshop.Sectoreight,thirdlevelin,”Havelocksaid.“Extortioncomplaint.”
Millersatforamoment,consideringhisownreluctanceasifitbelongedtosomeoneelse.Itwas
like Shaddid had given a dog just one bite of fresh meat, then pointed it back toward kibble. The
temptation to blow off the hardware shop bloomed, and for a moment he almost gave in. Then he
sighed,swunghisfeetdowntothedecking,andstood.
“Allright,then,”hesaid.“Let’sgomakethestationsafeforcommerce.”
“Wordstoliveby,”Havelocksaid,checkinghisgun.He’dbeendoingthatalotmorerecently.
The shop was an entertainment franchise. Clean white fixtures offering up custom rigs for
interactiveenvironments:battlesimulations,explorationgames,sex.Awoman’svoiceululatedonthe
sound system, somewhere between an Islamic call to prayer and orgasm with a drumbeat. Half the
titleswereinHindiwithChineseandSpanishtranslations.TheotherhalfwereEnglishwithHindias
thesecondlanguage.Theclerkwashardlymorethanaboy.Sixteen,seventeenyearsoldwithaweedy
blackbeardheworelikeabadge.
“Can I help you?” the boy said, eying Havelock with disdain just short of contempt. Havelock
pulledhisID,makingsurethekidgotagoodlonglookathisgunwhenhedidit.
“We’d like to talk to”—Miller glanced at the complaint form on his terminal screen—“Asher
Kamamatsu.Hehere?”
The manager was a fat man, for a Belter. Taller than Havelock, the man carried fat around his
belly and thick muscles through the shoulders, arms, and neck. If Miller squinted, he could see the
seventeen-year-oldboyhehadbeenunderthelayersoftimeanddisappointment,anditlookedalot
liketheclerkoutfront.Theofficewasalmosttoosmallforthethreeofthemandstackedwithboxes
ofpornographicsoftware.
“Youcatchthem?”themanagersaid.
“No,”Millersaid.“Stilltryingtofigureoutwhotheyare.”
“Dammit,Ialreadytoldyou.There’spicturesofthemoffthestorecamera.Igaveyouhisfucking
name.”
Miller looked at his terminal. The suspect was named Mateo Judd, a dockworker with an
unspectacularcriminalrecord.
“Youthinkit’sjusthim,then,”Millersaid.“Allright.We’lljustgopickhimup,throwhiminthe
can. No reason for us to find out who he’s working for. Probably no one who’ll take it wrong,
anyway.Myexperiencewiththeseprotectionrackets,thepurseboysgetreplacedwheneveronegoes
down.Butsinceyou’resurethisguy’sthewholeproblem…”
Themanager ’ssourexpressiontoldMillerhe’dmadehispoint.Havelock,leaningagainstastack
ofboxesmarked
,smiled.
“Whydon’tyoutellmewhathewanted,”Millersaid.
“Ialreadytoldthelastcop,”themanagersaid.
“Tellme.”
“Hewassellingusaprivateinsuranceplan.Hundredamonth,sameasthelastguy.”
“Lastguy?”Havelocksaid.“Sothishappenedbefore?”
“Sure,”themanagersaid.“Everyonehastopaysome,youknow.Priceofdoingbusiness.”
Miller closed his terminal, frowning. “Philosophical. But if it’s the price of doing business,
what’reweherefor?”
“BecauseIthoughtyou…youpeoplehadthisshitundercontrol.Eversincewestoppedpayingthe
Loca,I’vebeenabletoturnadecentprofit.Nowit’sallstartingupagain.”
“Holdon,”Millersaid.“You’retellingmetheLocaGreigastoppedchargingprotection?”
“Sure.Notjusthere.HalfoftheguysIknowintheBoughjuststoppedshowingup.Wefiguredthe
cops had actually done something for once. Now we’ve got these new bastards, and it’s the same
damnthingalloveragain.”
AcrawlingfeelingmadeitswayupMiller ’sneck.HelookedupatHavelock,whoshookhishead.
He hadn’t heard of it either. The Golden Bough Society, Sohiro’s crew, the Loca Greiga. All the
organized crime on Ceres suffering the same ecological collapse, and now someone new moving
into the evacuated niche. Might be opportunism. Might be something else. He almost didn’t want to
askthenextquestions.Havelockwasgoingtothinkhewasparanoid.
“Howlonghasitbeensincetheoldguyscalledonyouforprotection?”Millerasked.
“Idon’tknow.Longtime.”
“BeforeorafterMarskilledthatwaterhauler?”
Themanagerfoldedhisthickarms;hiseyesnarrowed.
“Before,”hesaid.“Maybeamonthortwo.S’thatgottodowithanything?”
“Justtryingtogetthetimescaleright,”Millersaid.“Thenewguy.Mateo.Hetellyouwhowas
backinghisnewinsuranceplan?”
“That’syourjob,figuringit.Right?”
Themanager ’sexpressionhadcloseddownsohardMillerimaginedhecouldheartheclick.Yes,
AsherKamamatsuknewwhowasshakinghimdown.Hehadballsenoughtosqueakaboutitbutnotto
pointthefinger.
Interesting.
“Well,thanksforthat,”Millersaid,standingup.“We’llletyouknowwhatwefind.”
“Gladyou’reonthecase,”themanagersaid,matchingsarcasmforsarcasm.
Intheexteriortunnel,Millerstopped.Theneighborhoodwasatthefrictionpointbetweensleazy
andrespectable.Whitemarksshowedwheregraffitihadbeenpaintedover.Menonbicyclesswerved
and weaved, foam wheels humming on the polished stone. Miller walked slowly, his eyes on the
ceilinghighabovethemuntilhefoundthesecuritycamera.Hepulleduphisterminal,navigatedtothe
logsthatmatchedthecameracode,andcross-referencedthetimecodefromthestore’sstillframes.
For a moment, he thumbed the controls, speeding people back and forth. And there was Mateo,
comingoutoftheshop.Asmuggrindeformedtheman’sface.Millerfrozetheimageandenhanced
it.Havelock,watchingoverhisshoulder,whistledlow.
ThesplitcircleoftheOPAwasperfectlyclearonthethug’sarmband—thesamekindofarmband
he’dfoundinJulieMao’shole.
What kind of company have you been keeping, kid? Miller thought. You’re better than this. You
havetoknowyou’rebetterthanthis.
“Hey, partner,” he said aloud. “Think you can write up the report on that interview? I’ve got
somethingI’dliketodo.Mightnotbetoosmarttohaveyouthere.Nooffense.”
Havelock’seyebrowscrawledtowardhishairline.
“You’regoingtoquestiontheOPA?”
“Shakesometrees,isall,”Millersaid.
MillerwouldhavethoughtthatjustbeingasecuritycontractorinaknownOPA-convivialbarwould
beenoughtogethimnoticed.Intheevent,halfthefacesherecognizedinthedimlightofJohnRock
Gentlemen’sClubwerenormalcitizens.MorethanoneofthosewereStarHelix,justlikehim,when
they were on duty. The music was pure Belter, soft chimes accompanied by zither and guitar with
lyricsinhalfadozenlanguages.Hewasonhisfourthbeer,twohourspasttheendofhisshift,andon
theedgeofgivinguphisplanasalosingschemewhenatall,thinmansatdownatthebarnexttohim.
Acne-pockedcheeksgaveasenseofdamagetoafacethatotherwiseseemedonthevergeoflaughter.
It wasn’t the first OPA armband he’d seen that night, but it was worn with an air of defiance and
authority.Millernodded.
“Iheardyou’vebeenaskingabouttheOPA,”themansaid.“Interestedinjoiningup?”
Millersmiledandliftedhisglass,anintentionallynoncommittalgesture.
“YouwhoI’dtalktoifIdid?”heasked,histonelight.
“Mightbeabletohelp.”
“Maybeyoucouldtellmeaboutacoupleotherthings,then,”hesaid,takingouthisterminaland
puttingitonthefakebamboobarwithanaudibleclick.MateoJudd’spictureglowedonthescreen.
TheOPAmanfrowned,turningthescreentoseeitbetter.
“I’marealist,”Millersaid.“WhenChuckySnailswasrunningprotection,Iwasn’tabovetalking
tohismen.WhentheHandtookoverandthentheGoldenBoughSocietyafterthem.Myjobisn’tto
stoppeoplefrombendingtherules,it’stokeepCeresstable.YouunderstandwhatI’msaying?”
“I can’t say I do,” the pock-marked man said. His accent made him sound more educated than
Millerhadexpected.“Whoisthisman?”
“Hisname’sMateoJudd.He’sbeenstartingaprotectionbusinessinsectoreight.Saysit’sbacked
bytheOPA.”
“Peoplesaythings,Detective.ItisDetective,isn’tit?Butyouwerediscussingrealism.”
“IftheOPA’smakingamoveontheCeresblackeconomy,it’sgoingtobebetterallaroundifwe
cantalktoeachother.Communicate.”
The man chuckled and pushed the terminal back. The bartender paced by, a question in his eyes
thatwasn’taskingiftheyneededanything.Itwasn’tmeantforMiller.
“IhadheardthattherewasacertainlevelofcorruptioninStarHelix,”themansaid.“IadmitI’m
impressedbyyourstraightforwardmanner.I’llclarify.TheOPAisn’tacriminalorganization.”
“Really?Mymistake.Ifiguredfromthewayitkilledalotofpeople…”
“You’rebaitingme.Wedefendourselvesagainstpeoplewhoareperpetratingeconomicterrorism
againsttheBelt.Earthers.Martians.WeareinthebusinessofprotectingBelters,”themansaid.“Even
you,Detective.”
“Economicterrorism?”Millersaid.“Thatseemsalittleoverheated.”
“Youthinkso?Theinnerplanetslookonusastheirlaborforce.Theytaxus.Theydirectwhatwe
do.Theyenforcetheirlawsandignoreoursinthenameofstability.Inthelastyear,they’vedoubled
thetariffstoTitania.FivethousandpeopleonaniceballorbitingNeptune,monthsfromanywhere.
The sun’s just a bright star to them. Do you think they’re in a position to get redress? They’ve
blockedanyBelterfreightersfromtakingEuropacontracts.Theychargeustwiceasmuchtodockat
Ganymede.ThesciencestationonPhoebe?Wearen’tevenallowedtoorbitit.Thereisn’taBelterin
theplace.Whatevertheydothere,wewon’tfindoutuntiltheysellthetechnologybacktous,tenyears
fromnow.”
Millersippedhisbeerandnoddedtowardhisterminal.
“Sothisoneisn’tyours?”
“No.Heisn’t.”
Millernoddedandputtheterminalbackinhispocket.Oddly,hebelievedtheman.Hedidn’thold
himselflikeathug.Thebravadowasn’tthere.Thesenseoftryingtoimpresstheworld.No,thisman
wascertainandamusedand,underneathitall,profoundlytired.Millerhadknownsoldierslikethat,
butnotcriminals.
“Oneotherthing,”Millersaid.“I’mlookingforsomeone.”
“Anotherinvestigation?”
“Notexactly,no.JulietteAndromedaMao.GoesbyJulie.”
“ShouldIknowthename?”
“She’sOPA,”Millersaidwithashrug.
“DoyouknoweveryoneinStarHelix?”themansaid,andwhenMillerdidn’tanswer,headded,
“Weareconsiderablylargerthanyourcorporation.”
“Fairpoint,”Millersaid.“Butifyoucouldkeepanearout,I’dappreciateit.”
“Idon’tknowthatyou’reinapositiontoexpectfavors.”
“Noharmasking.”
Thepock-facedmanchuckled,putahandonMiller ’sshoulder.
“Don’tcomebackhere,Detective,”hesaid,andwalkedawayintothecrowd.
Miller took another drink of his beer, frowning. An uncomfortable feeling of having made the
wrong step fidgeted in the back of his mind. He’d been sure that the OPA was making a move on
Ceres,capitalizingonthedeathofthewaterhaulerandtheBelt’suptickinfearandhatredoftheinner
planets.ButhowdidthatfitwithJulieMao’sfatherandhissuspiciouslywell-timedanxiety?Orthe
disappearanceofCeresStation’ssupplyofusualsuspectsinthefirstplace?Thinkingaboutitwaslike
watchingavideothatwasjustoutoffocus.Thesenseofitwasalmostthere,butonlyalmost.
“Toomanydots,”Millersaid.“Notenoughlines.”
“Excuseme?”thebartendersaid.
“Nothing,”Millersaid,pushingthehalf-emptybottleacrossthebar.“Thanks.”
In his hole, Miller turned on some music. The lyrical chants that Candace had liked, back when
they were young and, if not hopeful, at least more joyful in their fatalism. He set the lights to half
power,hopingthatifherelaxed,ifforjustafewminutesheletgoofthegnawingsensethathehad
missedsomecriticaldetail,themissingpiecemightarriveonitsown.
He’dhalfexpectedCandacetoappearinhismind,sighingandlookingcrosslyathimthewayshe
had in life. Instead, he found himself talking with Julie Mao. In the half sleep of alcohol and
exhaustion,heimaginedhersittingatHavelock’sdesk.Shewasthewrongage,youngerthanthereal
woman would be. She was the age of the smiling kid in her picture. The girl who had raced in the
Razorback and won. He had the sense of asking her questions, and her answers had the power of
revelation. Everything made sense. Not only the change in the Golden Bough Society and her own
abductioncase,butHavelock’stransfer,thedeadicehauler,Miller ’sownlifeandwork.Hedreamed
ofJulieMaolaughing,andhewokeuplate,withaheadache.
Havelockwaswaitingathisdesk.Hisbroad,shortEartherfaceseemedstrangelyalien,butMiller
triedtoshakeitoff.
“Youlooklikecrap,”Havelocksaid.“Busynight?”
“Justgettingoldanddrinkingcheapbeer,”Millersaid.
Oneofthevicesquadshoutedsomethingangryaboutherfilesbeinglockedagain,andacomputer
tech scuttled across the station house like a nervous cockroach. Havelock leaned closer, his
expressiongrave.
“Seriously,Miller,”Havelocksaid.“We’restillpartners,and…honesttoGod,Ithinkyoumaybe
theonlyfriendI’vegotonthisrock.Youcantrustme.Ifthere’sanythingyouwanttotellme,I’m
good.”
“That’sgreat,”Millersaid.“ButIdon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.Lastnightwasabust.”
“NoOPA?”
“Sure,OPA.Anymore,youswingadeadcatinthisstation,you’llhitthreeOPAguys.Justnogood
information.”
Havelock leaned back, lips pressed thin and bloodless. Miller ’s shrug asked a question, and the
Earther nodded toward the board. A new homicide topped the list. At three in the morning, while
Miller had been having inchoate dream conversations, someone had opened Mateo Judd’s hole and
firedashotguncartridgefullofballisticgelintohislefteye.
“Well,”Millersaid,“calledthatonewrong.”
“Whichone?”Havelocksaid.
“OPA’snotmovinginonthecriminals,”Millersaid.“They’removinginonthecops.”
ChapterEleven:Holden
T heDonnagerwasugly.
HoldenhadseenpicturesandvideosoftheoldoceangoingnaviesofEarth,andevenintheageof
steel,therehadalwaysbeensomethingbeautifulaboutthem.Longandsleek,theyhadtheappearance
ofsomethingleaningintothewind,acreaturebarelyheldontheleash.TheDonnager had none of
that. Like all long-flight spacecraft, it was built in the “office tower” configuration: each deck one
floor of the building, ladders or elevators running down the axis. Constant thrust took the place of
gravity.
ButtheDonnageractuallylookedlikeanofficebuildingonitsside.Squareandblocky,withsmall
bulbousprojectionsinseeminglyrandomplaces.Atnearlyfivehundredmeterslong,itwasthesize
ofa130-storybuilding.Alexhadsaiditwas250,000tonsdryweight,anditlookedheavier.Holden
reflected,notforthefirsttime,onhowsomuchofthehumansenseofaestheticshadbeenformedin
a time when sleek objects cut through the air. The Donnager would never move through anything
thickerthaninterstellargas,socurvesandangleswereawasteofspace.Theresultwasugly.
Itwasalsointimidating.AsHoldenwatchedfromhisseatnexttoAlexinthecockpitoftheKnight,
themassivebattleshipmatchedcoursewiththem,loomingcloseandthenseemingtostopabovethem.
Adockingbayopened,breakinguptheDonnager’sflatblackbellywithasquareofdimredlight.The
Knightbeepedinsistently,remindinghimofthetargetinglaserspaintingtheirhull.Holdenlookedfor
thepointdefensecannonsaimedathim.Hecouldn’tfindthem.
WhenAlexspoke,Holdenjumped.
“Rogerthat,Donnager,”thepilotsaid.“We’vegotsteeringlock.I’mkillingthrust.”
The last shreds of weight vanished. Both ships were still moving at hundreds of kilometers a
minute,buttheirmatchedcoursesfeltlikestillness.
“Gotdockingpermission,Cap.Takeherin?”
“Itseemslatetomakearunforit,Mr.Kamal,”Holdensaid.HeimaginedAlexmakingamistake
that the Donnager interpreted as threatening, and the point defense cannons throwing a couple
hundredthousandTeflon-coatedchunksofsteelthroughthem.
“Goslowly,Alex,”hesaid.
“Theysayoneofthosecankillaplanet,”Naomisaidoverthecomm.Shewasattheopsstationa
deckbelow.
“Anyone can kill a planet from orbit,” Holden replied. “You don’t even need bombs. Just push
anvilsouttheairlock.Thatthingouttherecouldkill…Shit.Anything.”
Tinytouchesshiftedthemasthemaneuveringrocketsfired.HoldenknewthatAlexwasguiding
themin,buthecouldn’tshakethefeelingthattheDonnagerwasswallowingthem.
Dockingtooknearlyanhour.OncetheKnightwasinsidethebay,amassivemanipulatorarmgrabbed
her and put it down in an empty section of the deck. Clamps grabbed the ship, the Knight’s hull
reverberatingwithametallicbangthatremindedHoldenofabrigcell’smaglocks.
The Martians ran a docking tube from one wall and mated up to the Knight’s airlock. Holden
gatheredthecrewattheinnerdoor.
“Noguns,noknives,noanythingthatmightlooklikeaweapon,”hesaid.“They’llprobablybe
okaywithhandterminals,butkeepthemturnedoffjustincase.Iftheyaskforit,handitoverwithout
complaint.Oursurvivalheremayrestonthemthinkingwe’reverycompliant.”
“Yeah,”Amossaid.“FuckerskilledMcDowell,butwehavetoactnice…”
Alexstartedtorespond,butHoldencuthimoff.
“Alex,youdidtwentyflyingwiththeMCRN.Anythingelseweshouldknow?”
“Samestuffyousaid,Boss,”Alexreplied.“Yessir,nosir,andsnaptowhengivenanorder.The
enlistedguyswillbeokay,buttheofficersgetthesenseofhumortrainedoutof’em.”
Holdenlookedathistinycrew,hopinghehadn’tkilledthemallbybringingthemhere.Hecycled
open the lock, and they drifted down the short docking tube in the zero g. When they reached the
airlockattheend—flatgraycompositesandimmaculatelyclean—everyonepusheddowntothefloor.
Theirmagneticbootsgrabbedon.Theairlockclosedandhissedatthemforseveralsecondsbefore
opening into a larger room with about a dozen people standing in it. Holden recognized Captain
TheresaYao.Therewereseveralothersinnavalofficers’dress,whowerepartofherstaff;oneman
in an enlisted uniform with a look of thinly veiled impatience; and six marines in heavy combat
armor,carryingassaultrifles.Therifleswerepointedathim,soHoldenputuphishands.
“We’renotarmed,”hesaid,smilingandtryingtolookharmless.
Theriflesdidn’twaver,butCaptainYaosteppedforward.
“WelcomeaboardtheDonnager,”shesaid.“Chief,checkthem.”
Theenlistedmanclumpedtowardthemandquicklyandprofessionallypattedthemalldown.He
gavethethumbs-uptooneofthemarines.Therifleswentdown,andHoldenworkedhardnottosigh
withrelief.
“Whatnow,Captain?”Holdenasked,keepinghisvoicelight.
Yao looked Holden over critically for several seconds before answering. Her hair was pulled
tightlyback,thefewstrandsofgraymakingstraightlines.Inperson,hecouldseethesofteningof
ageatherjawandthecornersofhereyes.Herstonyexpressionhadthesamequietarrogancethatall
thenavalcaptainshe’dknownshared.Hewonderedwhatshesaw,lookingathim.Heresistedtheurge
tostraightenhisgreasyhair.
“Chief Gunderson will take you down to your rooms and get you settled in,” she replied.
“Someonewillbealongshortlytodebriefyou.”
ChiefGundersonstartedtoleadthemfromtheroomwhenYaospokeagain,hervoicesuddenly
hard.
“Mr. Holden, if you know anything about the six ships that are following you, speak now,” she
said.“Wegavethematwo-hourdeadlinetochangecourseaboutanhourago.Sofartheyhaven’t.In
one hour I’m going to order a torpedo launch. If they’re friends of yours, you could save them a
greatdealofpain.”
Holdenshookhisheademphatically.
“AllIknowistheycameoutoftheBeltwhenyoustartedouttomeetus,Captain,”Holdensaid.
“Theyhaven’ttalkedtous.Ourbestguessisthey’reconcernedcitizensoftheBeltcomingtowatch
whathappens.”
Yaonodded.Ifshefoundthethoughtofwitnessesdisconcerting,itdidn’tshow.
“Takethembelow,Chief,”shesaid,thenturnedaway.
ChiefGundersongaveasoftwhistleandpointedatoneofthetwodoors.Holden’screwfollowed
himout,themarinesbringinguptherear.AstheymovedthroughtheDonnager,Holdentookhisfirst
reallyup-closelookataMartiancapitalship.He’dneverservedonabattleshipintheUNNavy,and
he’dsteppedfootonthemmaybethreetimesinsevenyears,alwaysindock,andusuallyforaparty.
EveryinchoftheDonnagerwasjustalittlesharperthananyUNvesselhe’dservedon.Mars really
doesbuildthembetterthanwedo.
“Goddamn,XO,theysuredokeeptheirshitsqueakyclean,”Amossaidbehindhim.
“Ain’tmuchtodoonalongflightformostofthecrew,Amos,”Alexsaid.“Sowhenyouaren’t
doin’somethin’else,youclean.”
“See,that’swhyIworkhaulers,”Amossaid.“Cleandecksorgetdrunkandscrew,andI’vegota
preference.”
Astheywalkedthroughamazeofcorridors,theshipstartedaslightvibration,andgravityslowly
reappeared.Theywereunderthrust.Holdenusedhisheelstotouchhisboots’slidecontrols,turning
themagnetsoff.
Theysawalmostnoone,andthefewtheydidseemovedfastandsaidlittle,barelysparingthema
glance.Withsixshipsclosingonthem,everyonewouldbeattheirdutystations.WhenCaptainYao
hadsaidshe’dfirehertorpedoesinanhour,therehadn’tbeenahintofthreatinhervoice.Itwasjust
aflatstatementoffact.Formostoftheyoungsailorsonthisship,itwouldprobablybethefirsttime
they’deverbeeninalivecombatsituation—ifitcametothat.Holdendidn’tbelieveitwould.
HewonderedwhattomakeofthefactthatYaowaspreparedtotakeoutahandfulofBeltshipsjust
becausetheywererunningquietandclose.Itdidn’tsuggestthatthey’dhesitatetokillawaterhauler,
liketheCant,iftheythoughttherewasreasonto.
Gunderson brought them to a stop in front of a hatch with OQ117 printed on it. He slid a card
throughthelockandgesturedeveryoneinside.
“BetterthanI’dexpected,”Shedsaid,soundingimpressed.
The compartment was large by ship standards. It had six high-g couches and a small table with
four chairs stuck to the deck with magnetic feet. An open door in one bulkhead showed a smaller
compartmentwithatoiletandsink.Gundersonandthemarinelieutenantfollowedthecrewinside.
“Thisisyourrackforthetimebeing,”thechiefsaid.“There’sacommpanelonthewall.Twoof
Lieutenant Kelly’s people will be stationed outside. Buzz them and they’ll send for anything you
need.”
“Howaboutsomechow?”Amossaid.
“We’llhavesomesentup.Youaretoremainhereuntilcalledfor,”Gundersonsaid.“Lieutenant
Kelly,youhaveanythingtoadd,sir?”
Themarinelieutenantlookedthemover.
“Themenoutsidearethereforyourprotection,buttheywillreactunpleasantlyifyoumakeany
trouble,”hesaid.“Youreadme?”
“Loud and clear, Lieutenant,” Holden said. “Don’t worry. My people will be the easiest
houseguestsyou’veeverhad.”
KellynoddedatHoldenwithwhatseemedlikegenuinegratitude.Hewasaprofessionaldoingan
unpleasant job. Holden sympathized. Also, he’d known enough marines to know how unpleasant it
couldgetiftheyfeltchallenged.
Gundersonsaid,“CanyoutakeMr.Holdenheretohisappointmentonyourwayout,ElTee?I’d
liketogetthesefolkssquaredaway.”
KellynoddedandtookHolden’selbow.
“Comewithme,sir,”hesaid.
“WhereamIgoing,Lieutenant?”
“LieutenantLopezaskedtoseeyouassoonasyoulanded.I’mtakingyoutohim.”
ShedlookednervouslyfromthemarinetoHoldenandback.Naominodded.They’dallseeeach
otheragain,Holdentoldhimself.Heeventhoughtitwaslikelytobetrue.
KellyledHoldenatabriskpacethroughtheship.Hisriflewasnolongeratthereadybuthanging
fromhisshoulderloosely.Eitherhe’ddecidedHoldenwasn’tgoingtocausetrouble,orthathecould
takehimdowneasilyifhedid.
“CanIaskwhoLieutenantLopezis?”
“He’stheguywhoaskedtoseeyou,”Kellysaid.
Kelly stopped at a plain gray door, rapped once, then took Holden inside a small compartment
withatableandtwouncomfortable-lookingchairs.Adark-hairedmanwassettinguparecorder.He
wavedonehandvaguelyinthedirectionofachair.Holdensat.Thechairwasevenlesscomfortable
thanitlooked.
“Youcango,Mr.Kelly,”themanHoldenassumedwasLopezsaid.Kellyleftandclosedthedoor.
When Lopez had finished, he sat down across the table from Holden and reached out one hand.
Holdenshookit.
“I’m Lieutenant Lopez. Kelly probably told you that. I work for naval intelligence, which he
almostcertainlydidn’ttellyou.Myjobisn’tsecret,buttheytrainjarheadstobetight-lipped.”
Lopezreachedintohispocket,tookoutasmallpacketofwhitelozenges,andpoppedoneintohis
mouth. He didn’t offer one to Holden. Lopez’s pupils contracted to tiny points as he sucked the
lozenge.Focusdrugs.He’dbewatchingeveryticofHolden’sfaceduringquestioning.Toughtolie
to.
“FirstLieutenantJamesR.Holden,ofMontana,”hesaid.Itwasn’taquestion.
“Yes,sir,”Holdensaidanyway.
“SevenyearsintheUNN,lastpostingonthedestroyerZhangFei.”
“That’sme.”
“Yourfilesaysyouwerebustedoutforassaultingasuperiorofficer,”Lopezsaid.“That’spretty
cliché,Holden.Youpunchedtheoldman?Seriously?”
“No.Imissed.Brokemyhandonabulkhead.”
“How’dthathappen?”
“HewasquickerthanIexpected,”Holdenreplied.
“Why’dyoutry?”
“I was projecting my self-loathing onto him. It’s just a stroke of luck that I actually wound up
hurtingtherightperson,”Holdensaid.
“Sounds like you’ve thought about it some since then,” Lopez said, his pinprick pupils never
movingfromHolden’sface.“Therapy?”
“LotsoftimetothinkontheCanterbury,”Holdenreplied.
Lopez ignored the obvious opening and said, “What did you come up with, during all that
thinking?”
“The Coalition has been stepping on the necks of the people out here for over a hundred years
now.Ididn’tlikebeingtheboot.”
“AnOPAsympathizer,then?”Lopezsaid,hisexpressionnotchangingatall.
“No.Ididn’tswitchsides.Istoppedplaying.Ididn’trenouncemycitizenship.IlikeMontana.I’m
outherebecauseIlikeflying,andonlyaBelterrusttrapliketheCanterburywillhireme.”
Lopezsmiledforthefirsttime.“You’reanexceedinglyhonestman,Mr.Holden.”
“Yes.”
“WhydidyouclaimthataMartianmilitaryvesseldestroyedyourship?”
“I didn’t. I explained all that in the broadcast. It had technology only available to inner planet
fleets,andIfoundapieceofMCRNhardwareinthedevicethattrickedusintostopping.”
“We’llwanttoseethat.”
“You’rewelcometoit.”
“Yourfilesaysyouweretheonlychildofafamilyco-op,”Lopezsaid,actingasthoughthey’d
neverstoppedtalkingaboutHolden’spast.
“Yes,fivefathers,threemothers.”
“So many parents for only one child,” Lopez said, slowly unwrapping another lozenge. The
Martianshadlotsofspacefortraditionalfamilies.
“The tax break for eight adults only having one child allowed them to own twenty-two acres of
decentfarmland.ThereareoverthirtybillionpeopleonEarth.Twenty-twoacresisanationalpark,”
Holdensaid.“Also,theDNAmixislegit.Theyaren’tparentsinnameonly.”
“Howdidtheydecidewhocarriedyou?”
“MotherElisehadthewidesthips.”
Lopezpoppedthesecondlozengeintohismouthandsuckedonitafewmoments.Beforehecould
speakagain,thedeckshook.Thevideorecorderjiggledonitsarm.
“Torpedolaunches?”Holdensaid.“GuessthoseBeltshipsdidn’tchangecourse.”
“Anythoughtsaboutthat,Mr.Holden?”
“JustthatyouseemprettywillingtokillBeltships.”
“You’veputusinapositionwherewecan’taffordtoseemweak.Afteryouraccusations,thereare
alotofpeoplewhodon’tthinkmuchofus.”
Holdenshrugged.IfthemanwaswatchingforguiltorremorsefromHolden,hewasoutofluck.
TheBeltshipshadknownwhattheyweregoingtoward.Theyhadn’tturnedaway.Butstill,something
botheredhim.
“Theymighthateyourlivingguts,”Holdensaid.“Butit’shardtofindenoughsuicidalpeopleto
crewsixships.Maybetheythinktheycanoutruntorpedoes.”
Lopezdidn’tmove,hiswholebodypreternaturallystillwiththefocusdrugspouringthroughhim.
“We—” Lopez began, and the general quarters Klaxon sounded. It was deafening in the small
metalcompartment.
“Holyshit,didtheyshootback?”Holdenasked.
Lopezshookhimself,likeamanwakingupfromadaydream.Hegotupandhitthecommbutton
bythedoor.Amarinecamethroughsecondslater.
“TakeMr.Holdenbacktohisquarters,”Lopezsaid,thenlefttheroomatarun.
Themarinegesturedatthecorridorwiththebarrelofhisrifle.Hisexpressionwashard.
It’sallfunandgamestillsomeoneshootsback,Holdenthought.
Naomipattedtheemptycouchnexttoherandsmiled.
“Didtheyputsliversunderyourfingernails?”sheasked.
“No, actually, he was surprisingly human for a naval intelligence wonk,” Holden replied. “Of
course,hewasjustgettingwarmedup.Haveyouguysheardanythingabouttheotherships?”
Alexsaid,“Nope.Butthatalarmmeansthey’retakin’themseriouslyallofasudden.”
“It’s insane,” Shed said quietly. “Flying around in these metal bubbles, and then trying to poke
holesineachother.Youeverseenwhatlong-termdecompressionandcoldexposuredoes?Breaksall
the capillaries in your eyes and skin. Tissue damage to the lungs can cause massive pneumonia
followedbyemphysema-likescarring.Imean,ifyoudon’tjustdie.”
“Well,that’sawfulfuckingcheerful,Doc.Thanksforthat,”Amossaid.
Theshipsuddenlyvibratedinasyncopatedbutultra-high-speedrhythm.AlexlookedatHolden,
hiseyeswide.
“That’s the point defense network openin’ up. That means incoming torpedoes,” he said. “Better
strapintight,kids.Theshipmightstartdoin’someviolentmaneuvering.”
EveryonebutHoldenwasalreadybeltedintothecouches.Hefastenedhisrestraintstoo.
“This sucks. All the real action is happenin’ thousands of klicks from here, and we got no
instrumentstolookat,”Alexsaid.“Wewon’tknowifsomethin’slippedthroughtheflackscreentillit
ripsthehullopen.”
“Boy,everybodyisjustafuckingpileoffunrightnow,”Amossaidloudly.
Shed’seyeswerewide,hisfacetoopale.Holdenshookhishead.
“Notgoingtohappen,”hesaid.“Thisthingisunkillable.Whoeverthoseshipsare,theycanputon
agoodshow,butthat’sit.”
“Allrespect,Captain,”Naomisaid.“Butwhoeverthoseshipsare,theyshouldbedeadalready,and
theyaren’t.”
The distant noises of faraway combat kept up. The occasional rumble of a torpedo firing. The
near-constantvibrationofthehigh-speedpointdefenseguns.Holdendidn’trealizehe’dfallenasleep
untilhewasjerkedawakebyanearsplittingroar.AmosandAlexwereyelling.Shedwasscreaming.
“Whathappened?”Holdenyelledoverthenoise.
“We’rehit,Cap!”Alexsaid.“Thatwasatorpedohit!”
The gravity suddenly dropped away. The Donnager had stopped its engines. Or they’d been
destroyed.
Amoswasstillyelling,“Shitshitshit,”overeverything.ButatleastShedhadstoppedscreaming.
Hewasstaringwideeyedoutofhiscouch,hisfacewhite.Holdenunbuckledhisstrapsandpushedoff
towardthecommpanel.
“Jim!”Naomicalledout.“Whatareyoudoing?”
“Weneedtofindoutwhat’sgoingon,”Holdensaidoverhisshoulder.
Whenhereachedthebulkheadbythehatch,hepunchedthecommpanelcallbutton.Therewasno
reply.Hehititagain,thenstartedpoundingonthehatch.Noonecame.
“Whereareourdamnmarines?”hesaid.
Thelightsdimmed,camebackup.Thenagain,andagain,inaslowcadence.
“Gaussturretsfiring.Shit.It’sCQB,”Alexsaidinawe.
InthehistoryoftheCoalition,nocapitalshiphadevergottenintoaclose-quartersbattle.Buthere
they were, firing the ship’s big cannons, which meant that the range was sufficiently short that a
nonguidedweaponwasviable.Hundredsorevendozensofkilometers,notthousands.Somehowthe
BeltshipshadsurvivedDonnager’storpedobarrage.
“Anyoneelsethinkthisisdesperatefuckingqueer?”Amosasked,atouchofpanicinhisvoice.
TheDonnagerbegantoringlikeagongstruckoverandoveragainbyamassivehammer.Return
fire.
ThegaussroundthatkilledSheddidn’tevenmakeanoise.Likeamagictrick,twoperfectlyround
holes appeared on either side of the room in a line that intersected Shed’s couch. One moment, the
medicwasthere;thenext,hisheadwasgonefromtheAdam’sappleup.Arterialbloodpumpedoutin
a red cloud, pulled into two thin lines, and whirled to the holes in the walls of the room as the air
rushedout.
ChapterTwelve:Miller
Fortwelveyears,Millerhadworkedsecurity.Violenceanddeathwerefamiliarcompanionstohim.
Men,women.Animals.Kids.Oncehe’dheldawoman’shandwhileshebledtodeath.He’dkilledtwo
people,couldstillseethemdieifheclosedhiseyesandthoughtaboutit.Ifanyonehadaskedhim,
he’dhavesaidtherewasn’tmuchleftthatwouldshakehim.
Buthe’dneverwatchedawarstartbefore.
The Distinguished Hyacinth Lounge was in the shift-change rush. Men and women in security
uniforms—mostly from Star Helix, but a few smaller companies too—were either drinking their
after-workliquorandwindingdownormakingtripstothebreakfastbuffetforcoffee,texturedfungi
in sugar sauce, sausage with meat maybe one part in a thousand. Miller chewed the sausage and
watchedthedisplaymonitoronthewall.AStarHelixexternalrelationsheadlookedsincerelyout,his
demeanorradiatingcalmandcertaintyasheexplainedhoweverythingwasgoingtohell.
“Preliminary scans suggest that the explosion was the result of a failed attempt to connect a
nuclear device to the docking station. Officials from the Martian government have referred to the
incidentonlyasan‘allegedterroristaction’andrefusedcommentpendingfurtherinvestigation.”
“Anotherone,”Havelocksaidfrombehindhim.“Youknow,eventually,oneofthoseassholesis
goingtogetitright.”
Millerturnedinhisseat,thennoddedtothechairbesidehim.Havelocksat.
“That’llbeaninterestingday,”Millersaid.“Iwasabouttocallyou.”
“Yeah,sorry,”hispartnersaid.“Iwasupkindoflate.”
“Anywordonthetransfer?”
“No,”Havelocksaid.“Figuremypaperwork’shungonadesksomeplaceinOlympus.Whatabout
you?Anywordonyourspecial-projectgirl?”
“Notyet,”Millersaid.“Look,thereasonIwantedtomeetupbeforewewentin…Ineedtotakea
coupledays,trytorundownsomeleadsonJulie.Withallthisothershitgoingon,Shaddiddoesn’t
wantmedoingmuchmorethanphoningthisonein.”
“Butyou’reignoringthat,”Havelocksaid.Itwasn’taquestion.
“I’vegotafeelingaboutthisone.”
“SohowcanIhelp?”
“Ineedyoutocoverforme.”
“HowamIgoingtodothat?”Havelockasked.“It’snotlikeIcantellthemyou’resick.They’ve
gotaccesstoyourmedicalrecordssameaseveryoneelse’s.”
“Tell’emI’vebeengettingdrunkalot,”Millersaid.“ThatCandacecameby.She’smyex-wife.”
Havelockchewedhissausage,browfurrowed.TheEarthershookhisheadslowly—notarefusal,
butthepreludetoaquestion.Millerwaited.
“You’re telling me you’d rather have the boss think you’re missing work because you’re on a
dysfunctional,heartbrokenbenderthanthatyou’redoingtheworksheassignedyou?Idon’tgetit.”
Miller licked his lips and leaned forward, elbows on the smooth off-white table. Someone had
scratchedadesignintotheplastic.Asplitcircle.Andthiswasacopbar.
“Idon’tknowwhatI’mlookingat,”Millersaid.“There’sabunchofthingsthatbelongtogether
somehow,andI’mnotsureyetwhatitis.UntilIknowmore,Ineedtostaylow.Aguyhasaflingwith
hisex,hitsthebottleforafewdays?That’snotgoingtolightupanyone’spanels.”
Havelockshookhisheadagain,thistimeinmilddisbelief.Ifhe’dbeenaBelter,he’dhavemade
thegesturewithhishands,soyoucouldseeitwhenhehadanenvironmentsuiton.Anotherofthe
hundredsmallwayssomeonewhohadn’tgrownupontheBeltbetrayedhimself.Thewallmonitor
cuttotheimageofablondwomaninasevereuniform.Theexternalrelationsheadwastalkingabout
theMartiannavy’stacticalresponseandwhethertheOPAwasbehindtheincreasedvandalism.That
waswhathecalledfumblinganoverloadedfusionreactorwhilesettingupaship-killingboobytrap:
vandalism.
“Thatshitjustdoesn’tfollow,”Havelocksaid,andforamomentMillerdidn’tknowifhemeant
theBelterguerrillaactions,theMartianresponse,orthefavorhe’dasked.“Seriously.Where’sEarth?
Allthisshit’sgoingon,andwedon’thearadamnthingfromthem.”
“Whywouldwe?”Millerasked.“It’sMarsandtheBeltgoingatit.”
“When was the last time Earth let anything major happen without them in the middle of it?”
Havelocksaid,thensighed.“Okay.You’retoodrunktocomein.Yourlovelife’samess.I’mtryingto
coverforyou.”
“Justforacoupledays.”
“Makesureyougetbackbeforesomeonedecidesit’stheperfectchanceforarandomshootingto
takeouttheEarthercop.”
“I’lldothat,”Millersaid,risingfromthetable.“Youwatchyourback.”
“Don’tneedtotellmetwice,”Havelocksaid.
TheCeresCenterforJiuJitsuwasdownneartheport,wherethespingravitywasstrongest.Thehole
wasaconvertedstoragespacefrombeforethebigspin.Acylinderflattenedwhereflooringhadbeen
set in about a third of the way from the bottom. Racks bearing various lengths of staffs, bamboo
swords,anddullplasticpracticekniveshungfromthevaultedceiling.Thepolishedstoneechoedwith
thegruntingofmenworkingalineofresistancemachinesandthesoftthudofawomanattheback
punishingaheavybag.Threestudentsstoodonthecentralmat,speakinginlowvoices.
Picturesfilledthefrontwalloneithersideofthedoor.Soldiersinuniform.Securityagentsfor
half a dozen Belter corporations. Not many inner planet types, but a few. Plaques commemorating
placementsincompetitions.Apageofsmalltypeoutliningthehistoryofthestudio.
Oneofthestudentsshoutedandcollapsed,carryingoneoftheotherstothematwithher.Theone
still standing applauded and helped them back up. Miller searched through the wall of pictures,
hopingtofindJulie.
“CanIhelpyou?”
ThemanwashalfaheadshorterthanMillerandeasilytwiceasbroad.Itshouldhavemadehim
looklikeanEarther,buteverythingelseabouthimsaidBelt.Heworepalesweatsthatmadehisskin
seemevendarker.Hissmilewascuriousandassereneasawell-fedpredator.Millernodded.
“DetectiveMiller,”hesaid.“I’mwithstationsecurity.There’soneofyourstudentsIwantedtoget
somebackgroundon.”
“Thisisanofficialinvestigation?”themanasked.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“I’mafraiditis.”
“Thenyou’llhaveawarrant.”
Millersmiled.Themansmiledback.
“Wedon’tgiveoutanyinformationonourstudentswithoutawarrant,”hesaid.“Studiopolicy.”
“Irespectthat,”Millersaid.“No,Ireallydo.It’sjustthat…partsofthisparticularinvestigation
aremaybealittlemoreofficialthanothers.Thegirl’snotintrouble.Shedidn’tdoanything.Butshe
hasfamilyonLunawhowantherfound.”
“A kidnap job,” the man said, folding his arms. The serene face had gone cool without any
apparentmovement.
“Onlytheofficialpart,”Millersaid.“Icangetawarrant,andwecandothewholethingthrough
channels.ButthenIhavetotellmyboss.Themoresheknows,thelessroomIhavetomove.”
The man didn’t react. His stillness was unnerving. Miller struggled not to fidget. The woman
workingtheheavybagatthefarendofthestudiowentthroughaflurryofstrikes,shoutingoutwith
eachone.
“Who?”themanasked.
“JulieMao,”Millersaid.HecouldhavesaidhewaslookingfortheBuddha’smotherforallthe
reactionhegot.“Ithinkshe’sintrouble.”
“Whydoyoucareifsheis?”
“Idon’tknowtheanswertothatone,”Millersaid.“Ijustdo.Ifyoudon’twanttohelpme,thenyou
don’t.”
“Andyou’llgogetyourwarrant.Dothisthroughchannels.”
Millertookoffhishat,rubbedalong,thinhandacrosshishead,andputthehatbackinplace.
“Probablynot,”hesaid.
“LetmeseeyourID,”themansaid.Millerpulleduphisterminalandletthemanconfirmwhohe
was.Themanhandeditbackandpointedtoasmalldoorbehindtheheavybags.Millerdidashewas
told.
Theofficewascramped.Asmalllaminatedeskwithasoftspherebehinditinlieuofachair.Two
stoolsthatlookedlikethey’dcomeoutofabar.Afilingcabinetwithasmallfabricatorthatstankof
ozoneandoilthatwasprobablywheretheplaquesandcertificatesweremade.
“Whydoesthefamilywanther?”themanasked,loweringhimselfontothesphere.Itactedlikea
chairbutrequiredconstantbalance.Aplacetorestwithoutactuallyresting.
“They think she’s in harm’s way. At least, that’s what they’re saying, and I don’t have reason to
disbelievethemyet.”
“Whatkindofharm?”
“Don’tknow,”Millersaid.“Iknowshewasonstation.IknowsheshippedoutforTycho,andafter
that,I’vegotnothing.”
“Herfamilywantherbackontheirstation?”
Themanknewwhoherfamilywas.Millerfiledtheinformationawaywithoutmissingabeat.
“Idon’tthinkso,”Millersaid.“ThelastmessageshegotfromthemroutedthroughLuna.”
“Downthewell.”Thewayhesaiditmadeitsoundlikeadisease.
“I’mlookingforanyonewhoknowswhoshewasshippingwith.Ifshe’sonarun,whereshewas
goingandwhenshewasplanningtogetthere.Ifshe’sinrangeofatightbeam.”
“Idon’tknowanyofthat,”themansaid.
“YouknowanyoneIshouldask?”
Therewasapause.
“Maybe.I’llfindwhatIcanforyou.”
“Anythingelseyoucantellmeabouther?”
“Shestartedatthestudiofiveyearsago.Shewas…angrywhenshefirstcame.Undisciplined.”
“Shegotbetter,”Millersaid.“Brownbelt,right?”
Theman’seyebrowsrose.
“I’macop,”Millersaid.“Ifindthingsout.”
“She improved,” her teacher said. “She’d been attacked. Just after she came to the Belt. She was
seeingthatitdidn’thappentwice.”
“Attacked,”Millersaid,parsingtheman’stoneofvoice.“Raped?”
“Ididn’task.Shetrainedhard,evenwhenshewasoffstation.Youcantellwhenpeopleletitslide.
Theycomebackweaker.Sheneverdid.”
“Toughgirl,”Millersaid.“Goodforher.Didshehavefriends?Peopleshesparredwith?”
“Afew.NoloversthatIknowof,sincethat’sthenextquestion.”
“That’sstrange.Girllikethat.”
“Likewhat,Detective?”
“Prettygirl,”Millersaid.“Competent.Smart.Dedicated.Whowouldn’twanttobewithsomeone
likethat?”
“Perhapsshehadn’tmettherightperson.”
Somethinginthewayhesaidithintedatamusement.Millershrugged,uncomfortableinhisskin.
“Whatkindofworkdidshedo?”heasked.
“Light freighter. I don’t know of any particular cargo. I had the impression that she shipped
wherevertherewasaneed.”
“Notaregularroute,then?”
“Thatwasmyimpression.”
“Whose ships did she work? One particular freighter, or whatever came to hand? A particular
company?”
“I’llfindwhatIcanforyou,”themansaid.
“CourierfortheOPA?”
“I’llfindout,”themansaid,“whatIcan.”
ThenewsthatafternoonwasallaboutPhoebe.Thesciencestationthere—theonethatBeltersweren’t
allowedeventodockat—hadbeenhit.Theofficialreportstatedthathalftheinhabitantsofthebase
were dead, the other half missing. No one had claimed responsibility yet, but the common wisdom
wasthatsomeBeltergroup—maybetheOPA,maybesomeoneelse—hadfinallymanagedanactof
“vandalism”withabodycount.Millersatinhishole,watchingthebroadcastfeedanddrinking.
Itwasallgoingtohell.ThepiratecastsfromtheOPAcallingforwar.Theburgeoningguerrilla
actions.Allofit.ThetimewascomingthatMarswasn’tgoingtoignorethemanymore.Andwhen
Marstookaction,itwouldn’tmatterifEarthfollowedsuit.ItwouldbethefirstrealwarintheBelt.
Thecatastrophewascoming,andneithersideseemedtounderstandhowvulnerabletheywere.And
there was nothing—not one single goddamned thing—that he could do to stop it. He couldn’t even
slowitdown.
JulieMaogrinnedathimfromthestillframe,herpinnacebehindher.Attacked,themanhadsaid.
Therewasnothingaboutitinherrecord.Mighthavebeenamugging.Mighthavebeensomething
worse.Millerhadknownalotofvictims,andheputthemintothreecategories.Firsttherewerethe
oneswhopretendednothinghadhappened,orthatwhateveritwasdidn’treallymatter.Thatwaswell
over half the people he talked to. Then there were the professionals, people who took their
victimizationaspermissiontoactoutanywaytheysawfit.Thatatemostoftherest.
Maybe5percent,maybeless,weretheoneswhosuckeditup,learnedthelesson,andmovedon.
TheJulies.Thegoodones.
Hisdoorchimedthreehoursafterhisofficialshiftwasover.Millerstoodup,lesssteadyonhis
feetthanhe’dexpected.Hecountedthebottlesonthetable.Thereweremorethanhe’dthought.He
hesitatedforamoment,tornbetweenansweringthedoorandthrowingthebottlesintotherecycler.
Thedoorchimedagain.Hewenttoopenit.Ifitwassomeonefromthestation,theyexpectedhimto
bedrunk,anyway.Noreasontodisappoint.
Thefacewasfamiliar.Acne-pocked,controlled.TheOPAarmbandfromthebar.Theonewho’d
hadMateoJuddkilled.
Thecop.
“Evening,”Millersaid.
“DetectiveMiller,”thepockedmansaid.“Ithinkwe’vegottenoffonthewrongfoot.Iwashoping
wecouldtryagain.”
“Right.”
“MayIcomein?”
“Itrynottotakestrangemenhome,”Millersaid.“Idon’tevenknowyourname.”
“AndersonDawes,”thepockedmansaid.“I’mtheCeresliaisonfortheOuterPlanetsAlliance.I
thinkwecanhelpeachother.MayIcomein?”
Millerstoodback,andthepockedman—Dawes—steppedinside.Dawestookintheholeforthe
spaceoftwoslowbreaths,thensatasifthebottlesandthestinkofoldbeerwerenothingtocomment
on.Silentlycursinghimselfandwillingasobrietyhedidn’tfeel,Millersatacrossfromhim.
“I need a favor from you,” Dawes said. “I’m willing to pay for it. Not money, of course.
Information.”
“Whatdoyouwant?”Millerasked.
“StoplookingforJulietteMao.”
“Nosale.”
“I’mtryingtokeepthepeace,Detective,”Dawessaid.“Youshouldhearmeout.”
Miller leaned forward, elbows on the table. Mr. Serene Jiu Jitsu Instructor was working for the
OPA?ThetimingofDawes’visitseemedtobesayingso.Millerfiledthatpossibilityawaybutsaid
nothing.
“Maoworkedforus,”Dawessaid.“Butyou’dguessedthat.”
“Moreorless.Youknowwheresheis?”
“Wedon’t.Wearelookingforher.Andweneedtobetheonestofindher.Notyou.”
Millershookhishead.Therewasaresponse,therightthingtosay.Itwasrattlinginthebackofhis
head,andifhejustdidn’tfeelquitesofuzzy…
“You’reoneofthem,Detective.Youmayhavelivedyourwholelifeouthere,butyoursalaryis
paidbyaninnerplanetcorporation.No,wait.Idon’tblameyou.Iunderstandhowitis.Theywere
hiring and you needed the work. But… we’re walking on a bubble right now. The Canterbury. The
fringeelementsintheBeltcallingforwar.”
“PhoebeStation.”
“Yes,they’llblameusforthattoo.AddaLunacorporation’sprodigaldaughter…”
“Youthinksomething’shappenedtoher.”
“She was on the Scopuli,” Dawes said, and when Miller didn’t immediately respond, he added,
“ThefreighterthatMarsusedasbaitwhentheykilledtheCanterbury.”
Millerthoughtaboutthatforalongmoment,thenwhistledlow.
“Wedon’tknowwhathappened,”Dawessaid.“Untilwedo,Ican’thaveyoustirringupthewater.
It’smuddyenoughnow.”
“Andwhatinformationareyouoffering?”Millerasked.“That’sthetrade,right?”
“I’lltellyouwhatwefind.Afterwefindher,”Dawessaid.Millerchuckled,andtheOPAmanwent
on.“It’sagenerousoffer,consideringwhoyouare.EmployeeofMars.PartnerofanEarther.Some
peoplewouldthinkthatwasenoughtomakeyoutheenemytoo.”
“Butnotyou,”Millersaid.
“Ithinkwe’vegotthesamebasicgoals,youandI.Stability.Safety.Strangetimesmakeforstrange
alliances.”
“Twoquestions.”
Dawesspreadhisarms,welcomingthem.
“Whotooktheriotgear?”Millerasked.
“Riotgear?”
“BeforetheCanterburydied,someonetookourriotgear.Maybetheywantedtoarmsoldiersfor
crowdcontrol.Maybetheydidn’twantourcrowdscontrolled.Whotookit?Why?”
“Itwasn’tus,”Dawessaid.
“That’snotananswer.Trythisone.WhathappenedtotheGoldenBoughSociety?”
Daweslookedblank.
“LocaGreiga?”Millerasked.“Sohiro?”
Dawesopenedhismouth,closedit.Millerdroppedhisbeerbottleintotherecycler.
“Nothingpersonal,friend,”hesaid,“butyourinvestigativetechniquesaren’timpressingme.What
makesyouthinkyoucanfindher?”
“It’snotafairtest,”Dawessaid.“Givemeafewdays,I’llgetanswersforyou.”
“Talktomethen.I’lltrynottostartanall-outwarwhileyoudo,butI’mnotlettinggoofJulie.
Youcangonow.”
Dawesrose.Helookedsour.
“You’remakingamistake,”hesaid.
“Won’tbemyfirst.”
After the man left, Miller sat at his table. He’d been stupid. Worse, he’d been self-indulgent.
Drinkinghimselfintoastuporinsteadofdoingthework.InsteadoffindingJulie.Butheknewmore
now.TheScopuli.TheCanterbury.Morelinesbetweenthedots.
Hecleanedawayhisbottles,tookashower,andpulleduphisterminal,searchingwhattherewas
aboutJulie’sship.Afteranhour,anewthoughtoccurredtohim,asmallfearthatgrewthemorehe
lookedatit.Nearmidnight,heputacallthroughtoHavelock’shole.
Hispartnertooktwofullminutestoanswer.Whenhedid,hisimagewaswild-hairedandblearyeyed.
“Miller?”
“Havelock.Youhaveanyvacationtimesavedup?”
“Alittle.”
“Sickleave?”
“Sure,”Havelocksaid.
“Takeit,”Millersaid.“Takeitnow.Getoffstation.Someplacesafeifyoucanfindit.Someplace
they’renotgoingtostartkillingEarthersforshitsandgigglesifthingsgopear-shaped.”
“Idon’tunderstand.Whatareyoutalkingabout?”
“IhadalittlevisitwithanOPAagenttonight.Hewastryingtotalkmeintodroppingmykidnap
job.Ithink…Ithinkhe’snervous.Ithinkhe’sscared.”
Havelockwassilentforamomentwhilethewordsfilteredintohissleep-drunkmind.
“Jesus,”hesaid.“WhatscarestheOPA?”
ChapterThirteen:Holden
H olden froze, watching the blood pump from Shed’s neck, then whip away like smoke into an
exhaust fan. The sounds of combat began to fade as the air was sucked out of the room. His ears
throbbedandthenhurtlikesomeonehadputicepicksinthem.Ashefoughtwithhiscouchrestraints,
he glanced over at Alex. The pilot was yelling something, but it didn’t carry through the thin air.
Naomi and Amos had gotten out of their couches already, kicked off, and were flying across the
roomtothetwoholes.Amoshadaplasticdinnertrayinonehand.Naomi,awhitethree-ringbinder.
Holden stared at them for the half second it took to understand what they were doing. The world
narrowed,hisperipheralvisionallstarsanddarkness.
Bythetimehe’dgottenfree,AmosandNaomihadalreadycoveredtheholeswiththeirmakeshift
patches.Theroomwasfilledwithahigh-pitchedwhistleastheairtriedtoforceitswayout through
theimperfectseals.Holden’ssightbegantoreturnastheairpressurestartedtorise.Hewaspanting
hard,gaspingforbreath.Someoneslowlyturnedtheroom’svolumeknobbackupandNaomi’syells
forhelpbecameaudible.
“Jim,opentheemergencylocker!”shescreamed.
Shewaspointingatasmallred-and-yellowpanelonthebulkheadnearhiscrashcouch.Yearsof
shipboardtrainingmadeapaththroughtheanoxiaanddepressurization,andheyankedthetabonthe
locker ’ssealandpulledthedooropen.Insidewereawhitefirstaidkitmarkedwiththeancientredcross symbol, half a dozen oxygen masks, and a sealed bag of hardened plastic disks attached to a
gluegun.Theemergency-sealkit.Hesnatchedit.
“Justthegun,”Naomiyelledathim.Hewasn’tsureifhervoicesoundeddistantbecauseofthethin
airorbecausethepressuredrophadblownhiseardrums.
Holdenyankedthegunfreefromthebagofpatchesandthrewitather.Sheranabeadofinstant
sealinggluearoundtheedgeofherthree-ringbinder.ShetossedtheguntoAmos,whocaughtitwith
aneffortlessbackhandmotionandputasealaroundhisdinnertray.Thewhistlingstopped,replaced
by the hiss of the atmosphere system as it labored to bring the pressure back up to normal. Fifteen
seconds.
Everyone looked at Shed. Without the vacuum, his blood was pouring out into a floating red
spherejustabovehisneck,likeahideouscartoonreplacementforhishead.
“JesusChrist,Boss,”Amossaid,lookingawayfromShedtoNaomi.Hesnappedhisteethclosed
withanaudibleclickandshookhishead.“What…”
“Gaussround,”Alexsaid.“Thoseshipshaverailguns.”
“Beltshipswithrailguns?”Amossaid.“Didtheygetafuckingnavyandnoonetoldme?”
“Jim,thehallwayoutsideandthecabinontheothersidearebothinvacuum,”Naomisaid.“The
ship’scompromised.”
Holdenstartedtorespond,thencaughtagoodlookatthebinderNaomihadgluedoverthebreach.
The white cover was stamped with black letters that read MCRN EMERGENCY PROCEDURES. He had to
suppressalaughthatwouldalmostcertainlygomaniconhim.
“Jim,”Naomisaid,hervoiceworried.
“I’mokay,Naomi,”Holdenreplied,thentookadeepbreath.“Howlongdothosepatcheshold?”
Naomishruggedwithherhands,thenstartedpullingherhairbehindherheadandtyingitupwith
aredelasticband.
“Longerthantheairwilllast.Ifeverythingaroundusisinvacuum,thatmeansthecabin’srunning
onemergencybottles.Norecycling.Idon’tknowhowmucheachroomhas,butitwon’tbemorethan
acouplehours.”
“Kindamakesyouwishwe’dwornourfuckingsuits,don’tit?”Amosasked.
“Wouldn’thavemattered,”Alexsaid.“We’dcomeoverhereinourenvirosuits,they’djusthave
taken’emaway.”
“Couldhavetried,”Amossaid.
“Well,ifyou’dliketogobackintimeanddoitover,bemyguest,partner.”
Naomisharplysaid,“Hey,”butthennothingmore.
NoonewastalkingaboutShed.Theywereworkinghardnottolookatthebody.Holdencleared
histhroattogeteveryone’sattention,thenfloatedtoShed’scouch,drawingtheireyeswithhim.He
pausedamoment,lettingeveryonegetagoodlookatthedecapitatedbody,thenpulledablanketfrom
the storage drawer beneath the couch and strapped it down over Shed’s body with the couch’s
restraints.
“Shed’s been killed. We’re in deep peril. Arguing won’t extend our lives one second,” Holden
said,lookingateachmemberofhiscrewinturn.“Whatwill?”
Noonespoke.HoldenturnedtoNaomifirst.
“Naomi,whatwillkeepusalivelongerthatwecandorightnow?”heasked.
“I’ll see if I can find the emergency air. The room’s built for six, and there’re only… there are
fourofus.Imightbeabletoturntheflowdownandstretchitlonger.”
“Good.Thankyou.Alex?”
“If there’s anyone other than us, they’ll be lookin’ for survivors. I’ll start poundin’ on the
bulkhead.Theywon’thearitinthevacuum,butifthere’recabinswithair,thesound’lltraveldown
themetal.”
“Goodplan.Irefusetobelievewe’retheonlyonesleftonthisship,”Holdensaid,thenturnedto
Amos.“Amos?”
“Lemmecheckonthatcommpanel.Mightbeabletogetthebridgeordamagecontrolor…shit,
something,”Amosreplied.
“Thanks.I’dlovetoletsomeoneknowwe’restillhere,”Holdensaid.
People moved off to work while Holden floated in the air next to Shed. Naomi began yanking
accesspanelsoffthebulkheads.Alex,handspressedagainstacouchforleverage,layonthedeckand
begantokickthebulkheadwithhisboots.Theroomvibratedslightlywitheachboomingkick.Amos
pulledamulti-tooloutofhispocketandbegantakingthecommpanelapart.
When Holden was sure everyone was busy, he put one hand on Shed’s shoulder, just below the
blanket’sspreadingredstain.
“I’msorry,”hewhisperedtothebody.Hiseyesburnedandhepressedthemintothebackofhis
thumbs.
The comm unit was hanging out of the bulkhead on wires when it buzzed once, loudly. Amos
yelped and pushed off hard enough to fly across the room. Holden caught him, wrenching his
shoulder by trying to arrest the momentum of 120 kilos of Earther mechanic. The comm buzzed
again. Holden let Amos go and floated to it. A yellow LED glowed next to the unit’s white button.
Holdenpressedthebutton.ThecommcrackledtolifewithLieutenantKelly’svoice.
“Moveawayfromthehatch,we’recomingin,”hesaid.
“Grab something!” Holden yelled to the crew, then grabbed a couch restraint and wrapped it
aroundhishandandforearm.
Whenthehatchopened,Holdenexpectedalltheairtorushout.Instead,therewasaloudcrackand
thepressuredroppedslightlyforasecond.Outsideinthecorridor,thicksheetsofplastic had been
sealedtothewalls,creatinganadhocairlock.Thewallsofthenewchamberbowedoutdangerously
withtheairpressure,buttheyheld.Insidethenewlycreatedlock,LieutenantKellyandthreeofhis
marinesworeheavyvacuum-ratedarmorandcarriedenoughweaponrytofightseveralminorwars.
Themarinesmovedquicklyintotheroom,weaponsready,andthensealedthehatchbehindthem.
OneofthemtossedalargebagatHolden.
“Five vac suits. Get them on,” Kelly said. His eyes moved to the bloody blanket covering Shed,
thentothetwoimprovisedpatches.“Casualty?”
“Ourmedic,ShedGarvey,”Holdenreplied.
“Yeah. What the fuck?” Amos said loudly. “Who’s out there shooting the shit out of your fancy
boat?”
NaomiandAlexsaidnothingbutstartedpullingthesuitsfromthebagandhandingthemout.
“Idon’tknow,”Kellysaid.“Butwe’releavingrightnow.I’vebeenorderedtogetyouoffthisship
inanescapecraft.We’vegotlessthantenminutestomakeittothehangarbay,takepossessionofa
ship,andgetoutofthiscombatarea.Dressfast.”
Holdenputonhissuit,theimplicationsoftheirevacuationracingthroughhismind.
“Lieutenant,istheshipcomingapart?”heasked.
“Notyet.Butwe’rebeingboarded.”
“Thenwhyareweleaving?”
“We’relosing.”
Kellydidn’ttaphisfootwhilewaitingforthemtosealintotheirsuits;Holdenguessedthiswas
only because the marines had their magnetic boots turned on. As soon as everyone had given the
thumbs-up,Kellydidaquickradiocheckoneachsuit,thenheadedbackintothecorridor.Witheight
peopleinit,fouroftheminpoweredarmor,themini-airlockwastight.Kellypulledaheavyknife
from a sheath on his chest and slashed the plastic barrier open in one quick movement. The hatch
behindthemslammedshut,andtheairinthecorridorvanishedinasoundlessrippleofplasticflaps.
Kellychargedintothecorridorwiththecrewscramblingtokeepup.
“We are moving with all speed to the keel elevator banks,” Kelly said through the radio link.
“They’relockeddownbecauseoftheboardingalarm,butIcangetthedoorsopenononeandwe’ll
floatdowntheshafttothehangarbay.Everythingisonthedouble.Ifyouseeboarders,donotstop.
Keepmovingatalltimes.We’llhandlethehostiles.Rogerthat?”
“Roger,Lieutenant,”Holdengaspedout.“Whyboardyou?”
“Thecommandinformationcenter,”Alexsaid.“It’stheholygrail.Codes,deployments,computer
cores,theworks.Takin’aflagship’sCICisastrategist’swetdream.”
“Cutthechatter,”Kellysaid.Holdenignoredhim.
“Thatmeansthey’llblowthecoreratherthanletthathappen,right?”
“Yep,”Alexreplied.“Standardopsforboarders.Marinesholdthebridge,CIC,andengineering.If
any of the three is breached, the other two flip the switch. The ship turns into a star for a few
seconds.”
“Standardops,”Kellygrowled.“Thosearemyfriends.”
“Sorry,ElTee,”Alexreplied.“IservedontheBandon.Don’tmeantomakelight.”
Theyturnedacornerandtheelevatorbankcameintoview.Alleightelevatorswereclosedand
sealed.Theheavypressuredoorshadslammedshutwhentheshipwasholed.
“Gomez,runthebypass,”Kellysaid.“Mole,Dookie,watchthosecorridors.”
Twoofthemarinesspreadout,watchingthehallwaysthroughtheirgunsights.Thethirdmovedto
oneoftheelevatordoorsandstarteddoingsomethingcomplicatedtothecontrols.Holdenmotioned
hiscrewtothewall,outofthefiringlines.Thedeckvibratedslightlyfromtimetotimebeneathhis
feet.Theenemyshipswouldn’tstillbefiring,notwiththeirboardersinside.Itmustbesmall-arms
fireandlightexplosives.Butastheystoodthereintheperfectquietofvacuum,everythingthatwas
happeningtookonadistantandsurrealfeeling.Holdenrecognizedthathismindwasn’tworkingthe
way it should be. Trauma reaction. The destruction of the Canterbury, the deaths of Ade and
McDowell.AndnowsomeonehadkilledShedinhisbunk.Itwastoomuch;hecouldn’tprocessit.He
feltthescenearoundhimgrowmoreandmoredistant.
HoldenlookedbehindhimatNaomi,Alex,andAmos.Hiscrew.Theystaredback,facesashenand
ghostly in the green light of their suit displays. Gomez pumped his fist in triumph as the outer
pressuredoorslidopen,revealingtheelevatordoors.Kellygesturedtohismen.
TheonecalledMoleturnedaroundandstartedtowalktotheelevatorwhenhisfacedisintegrated
in a spray of pebble-shaped bits of armored glass and blood. His armored torso and the corridor
bulkhead beside him bloomed in a hundred small detonations and puffs of smoke. His body jerked
andswayed,attachedtothefloorbymagneticboots.
Holden’s sense of unreality washed away in adrenaline. The fire spraying across the wall and
Mole’s body was high-explosive rounds from a rapid-fire weapon. The comm channel filled with
yellingfromthemarinesandHolden’sowncrew.ToHolden’sleft,Gomezyankedtheelevatordoors
openusingtheaugmentedstrengthofhispoweredarmor,exposingtheemptyshaftbehindthem.
“Inside!”Kellyshouted.“Everybodyinside!”
Holden held back, pushing Naomi in, and then Alex. The last marine—the one Kelly had called
Dookie—firedhisrifleonfullautoatsometargetaroundthecornerfromHolden.Whentheweapon
randry,themarinedroppedtoonekneeandejectedtheclipinthesamemotion.Almostfasterthan
Holdencouldfollow,hepulledanewmagazinefromhisharnessandslappeditintohisweapon.He
wasfiringagainlessthantwosecondsafterhe’drunout.
Naomi yelled at Holden to get into the elevator shaft, and then a viselike hand grabbed his
shoulder,yankedhimoffhismagneticgriponthefloor,andhurledhimthroughtheopenelevator
doors.
“GetkilledwhenI’mnotbabysitting,”LieutenantKellybarked.
Theyshovedoffthewallsoftheelevatorshaftandflewdownthelongtunneltowardtheaftofthe
ship.Holdenkeptlookingbackattheopendoor,recedingintothedistancebehindthem.
“Dookieisn’tfollowingus,”hesaid.
“He’scoveringourexit,”Kellyreplied.
“Sowebettergetaway,”Gomezadded.“Makeitmeansomething.”
Kelly,attheheadofthegroup,grabbedatarungonthewalloftheshaftandcametoajerking
stop.Everyoneelsefollowedsuit.
“Here’s our exit. Gomez, go check it out,” Kelly said. “Holden, here’s the plan. We’ll be taking
oneofthecorvettesfromthehangarbay.”
ThatmadesensetoHolden.Thecorvetteclasswasalightfrigate.Afleetescortvessel,itwasthe
smallestnavalshipequippedwithanEpsteindrive.Itwouldbefastenoughtotravelanywhereinthe
system and outrun most threats. Its secondary role was as a torpedo bomber, so it would also have
teeth.HoldennoddedinsidehishelmetatKelly,thengesturedforhimtocontinue.Kellywaiteduntil
Gomezhadfinishedopeningtheelevatordoorsandgoneintothehangarbay.
“Okay, I’ve got the key card and activation code to get us inside and the ship fired up. I’ll be
headingstraightforit,soallofyoustickrightonmyass.Makesureyourbootmagsareoff.We’re
goingtopushoffthewallandflytoit,soaimstraightoryoumissyourride.Everyonewithme?”
Affirmativerepliesallaround.
“Outstanding.Gomez,what’sitlooklikeoutthere?”
“Trouble, El Tee. Half a dozen boarders looking over the ships in the hangar. Powered armor,
zero-g maneuvering packs, and heavy weapons. Loaded for bear,” Gomez whispered back. People
alwayswhisperedwhentheywerehiding.Wrappedinaspacesuitandsurroundedbyvacuum,Gomez
could have been lighting fireworks inside his armor and no one would have heard it, but he
whispered.
“Werunfortheshipandshootourwaythrough,”Kellysaid.“Gomez,I’mbringingthecivviesin
ten seconds. You’re covering fire. Shoot and displace. Try and make them think you’re a small
platoon.”
“Youcallin’mesmall,sir?”Gomezsaid.“Sixdeadassholescomingup.”
Holden,Amos,Alex,andNaomifollowedKellyoutoftheelevatorshaftandintothehangarbay
andstoppedbehindastackofmilitary-greencrates.Holdenpeekedoverthem,spottingtheboarders
immediately.TheywereintwogroupsofthreeneartheKnight,onegroupwalkingontopofitand
theotheronthedeckbelowit.Theirarmorwasflatblack.Holdenhadn’tseenthedesignbefore.
KellypointedatthemandlookedatHolden.Holdennoddedback.Kellypointedacrossthehangar
atasquatblackfrigateabouttwenty-fivemetersaway,halfwaybetweenthemandtheKnight.Heheld
uphislefthandandbegancountingdownfromfiveonhisfingers.Attwo,theroomstrobedlikea
disco:Gomezopeningfirefromapositiontenmetersfromtheirown.Thefirstbarragehittwoofthe
boardersontopoftheKnightandhurledthemspinningoff.Aheartbeatlater,asecondburstwasfired
fivemetersfromwhereHoldenhadseenthefirst.Hewouldhaveswornitwastwodifferentmen.
Kellyfoldedupthelastfingeronhishand,plantedhisfeetonthewall,andpushedofftowardtheir
corvette. Holden waited for Alex, Amos, and Naomi, then shoved off last. By the time he was in
motion, Gomez was firing from a new location. One of the boarders on the deck pointed a large
weapon toward the muzzle flash from Gomez’s gun. Gomez and the crate he’d been taking cover
behinddisappearedinfireandshrapnel.
TheywerehalfwaytotheshipandHoldenwasstartingtothinktheymightmakeitwhenalineof
smokecrossedtheroomandintersectedwithKelly,andthelieutenantdisappearedinaflashoflight.
ChapterFourteen:Miller
T heXinglongdiedstupid.Afterward,everyoneknewshewasoneofthousandsofsmall-timerockhopping prospector ships. The Belt was lousy with them: five- or six-family operations that had
scrapedtogetherenoughforadownpaymentandsetupoperations.Whenithappened,they’dbeen
three payments behind, and their bank—Consolidated Holdings and Investments—had put a lien on
theship.Which,commonwisdomhadit,waswhytheyhaddisabledhertransponder.Justhonestfolks
witharustbuckettocalltheirowntryingtokeepflying.
IfyouweregoingtomakeaposteroftheBelter ’sdream,itwouldhavebeentheXinglong.
TheScipioAfricanus,apatroldestroyer,wasduetoheadbackdowntowardMarsattheendofits
two-year tour of the Belt. They both headed for a captured cometary body a few hundred thousand
kilometersfromChirontotopofftheirwater.
Whentheprospectingshipfirstcameinrange,theScipiosawafast-movingshiprunningdarkand
headedmoreorlessintheirdirection.TheofficialMartianpressreleasesallsaidthattheScipiohad
triedrepeatedlytohailher.TheOPApiratecastsallsaiditwascrapandthatnolisteningstationinthe
Belt had heard anything like that. Everyone agreed that the Scipio had opened its point defense
cannonsandturnedtheprospectingshipintoglowingslag.
Thereactionhadbeenaspredictableaselementaryphysics.TheMartiansweredivertinganother
couple dozen ships to help “maintain order.” The OPA’s shriller talking heads called for open war,
and fewer and fewer of the independent sites and casts were disagreeing with them. The great,
implacableclockworkofwartickedonestepclosertoopenfighting.
AndsomeoneonCereshadputaMartian-borncitizennamedEnriqueDosSantosthrougheightor
ninehoursoftortureandnailedtheremainstoawallnearsectoreleven’swaterreclamationworks.
Theyidentifiedhimbytheterminalthathadbeenleftontheflooralongwiththeman’sweddingring
andathinfaux-leatherwalletwithhiscreditaccessdataandthirtythousandEuropa-scriptnewyen.
The dead Martian had been affixed to the wall with a single-charge prospector ’s spike. Five hours
afterward,theairrecyclerswerestilllaboringtogettheacidsmellout.Theforensicsteamhadtaken
theirsamples.Theywereaboutreadytocutthepoorbastarddown.
It always surprised Miller how peaceful dead people looked. However godawful the
circumstances,theslackcalmthatcameattheendlookedlikesleep.Itmadehimwonderifwhenhis
turncame,he’dactuallyfeelthatlastrelaxation.
“Surveillancecameras?”hesaid.
“Beenoutforthreedays,”hisnewpartnersaid.“Kidsbusted’em.”
OctaviaMusswasoriginallyfromcrimesagainstpersons,backbeforeStarHelixsplitviolence
up into smaller specialties. From there, she’d been on the rape squad. Then a couple of months of
crimesagainstchildren.Ifthewomanstillhadasoul,ithadbeenpressedthinenoughtoseethrough.
Hereyesneverregisteredanythingmorethanmildsurprise.
“Weknowwhichkids?”
“Somepunksfromupstairs,”shesaid.“Booked,fined,releasedintothewild.”
“Weshouldround’embackup,”Millersaid.“It’dbeinterestingtoknowwhethersomeonepaid
themtotakeouttheseparticularcameras.”
“I’dbetagainstit.”
“Thenwhoeverdidthishadtoknowthatthesecameraswerebusted.”
“Someoneinmaintenance?”
“Oracop.”
Muss smacked her lips and shrugged. She’d come from three generations in the Belt. She had
familyonshipsliketheonetheScipiohadkilled.Theskinandboneandgristlehanginginfrontof
them were no surprise to her. You dropped a hammer under thrust, and it fell to the deck. Your
governmentslaughteredsixfamiliesofethnicChineseprospectors,someonepinnedyoutotheliving
rockofCereswithathree-foottitaniumalloyspike.Samesame.
“There’sgoingtobeconsequences,”Millersaid,meaningThisisn’tacorpse,it’sabillboard.It’s
acalltowar.
“Thereain’t,”Musssaid.Thewarishereanyway,bannerorno.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“You’reright.Thereain’t.”
“Youwanttodonextofkin?I’llgotakealookatoutlyingvideo.Theydidn’tburnhisfingersoff
hereinthecorridor,sotheyhadtohaulhiminfromsomewhere.”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“I’vegotasympathyformletterIcanfireoff.Wife?”
“Don’tknow,”shesaid.“Haven’tlooked.”
Backatthestationhouse,Millersataloneathisdesk.Mussalreadyhadherowndesk,twocubicles
overandcustomizedthewayshelikedit.Havelock’sdeskwasemptyandcleanedtwiceover,asifthe
custodialserviceshadwantedthesmellofEarthofftheirgoodBelterchair.Millerpulledupthedead
man’sfile,foundthenextofkin.Jun-YeeDosSantos,workingonGanymede.Marriedsixyears.No
kids.Well,therewassomethingtobegladof,atleast.Ifyouweregoingtodie,atleastyoushouldn’t
leaveamark.
Henavigatedtotheformletter,droppedinthenewwidow’snameandcontactaddress.DearMrs.
Dos Santos, I am very sorry to have to tell you blah blah blah. Your [he spun through the menu]
husbandwasavaluedandrespectedmemberoftheCerescommunity,andIassureyouthateverything
possiblewillbedonetoseethather[Millertoggledthat]hiskillerorkillerswillbebroughttoanswer
forthis.Yours…
It was inhuman. It was impersonal and cold and as empty as vacuum. The hunk of flesh on that
corridor wall had been a real man with passions and fears, just like anyone else. Miller wanted to
wonderwhatitsaidabouthimthathecouldignorethatfactsoeasily,butthetruthwasheknew.He
sentthemessageandtriednottodwellonthepainitwasabouttocause.
Theboardwasthick.Theincidentcountwastwicewhatitshouldhavebeen.Thisiswhatitlooks
like,hethought.Noriots.Nohole-by-holemilitaryactionormarinesinthecorridors.Justalotof
unsolvedhomicides.
Thenhecorrectedhimself:Thisiswhatitlookslikesofar.
Itdidn’tmakehisnexttaskanyeasier.
Shaddidwasinheroffice.
“WhatcanIdoforyou?”sheasked.
“Ineedtomakesomerequisitionsforinterrogationtranscripts,”hesaid.“Butit’salittleirregular.
Iwasthinkingitmightbebetterifitcamethroughyou.”
Shaddidsatbackinherchair.
“I’lllookatit,”shesaid.“Whatarewetryingtoget?”
Millernodded,asifbysignalingyeshimself,hecouldgethertosaythesame.
“JimHolden.TheEartherfromtheCanterbury.Marsshouldbepickinghispeopleuparoundnow,
andIneedtopetitionforthedebriefingtranscripts.”
“YouhaveacasethatgoesbacktotheCanterbury?”
“Yeah,”hesaid.“SeemslikeIdo.”
“Tellme,”shesaid.“Tellmenow.”
“It’sthesidejob.JulieMao.I’vebeenlookingintoit…”
“Isawyourreport.”
“So you know she’s associated with the OPA. From what I’ve found, it looks like she was on a
freighterthatwasdoingcourierrunsforthem.”
“Youhaveproofofthat?”
“IhaveanOPAguythatsaidasmuch.”
“Ontherecord?”
“No,”Millersaid.“Itwasinformal.”
“AndittiedintotheMartiannavykillingtheCanterburyhow?”
“ShewasontheScopuli,”Millersaid.“ItwasusedasbaittostoptheCanterbury.Thethingis,you
lookatthebroadcastsHoldenmakes,hetalksaboutfindingitwithaMarsNavybeaconandnocrew.”
“Andyouthinkthere’ssomethingintherethat’llhelpyou?”
“Won’tknowuntilIseeit,”Millersaid.“ButifJuliewasn’tonthatfreighter,thensomeonehadto
takeheroff.”
Shaddid’ssmiledidn’treachhereyes.
“AndyouwouldliketoasktheMartiannavytopleasehandoverwhatevertheygotfromHolden.”
“Ifhesawsomethingonthatboat,somethingthat’llgiveusanideawhathappenedtoJulieandthe
other—”
“Youaren’tthinkingthisthrough,”Shaddidsaid.“TheMarsNavykilledtheCanterbury.Theydid
ittoprovokeareactionfromtheBeltsothey’dhaveanexcusetorollinandtakeusover.Theonly
reasonthey’re‘debriefing’thesurvivorsissothatnoonecouldgettothepoorbastardsfirst.Holden
and his crew are either dead or getting their minds cored out by Martian interrogation specialists
rightnow.”
“Wecan’tbesure…”
“AndevenifIcouldgetafullrecordofwhattheysaidaseachtoenailgotrippedoff,itwoulddo
youexactlynogood,Miller.TheMartiannavyisn’tgoingtoaskabouttheScopuli.Theyknowgood
andwellwhathappenedtothecrew.TheyplantedtheScopuli.”
“IsthatStarHelix’sofficialstand?”Millerasked.Thewordswerebarelyoutofhismouthbefore
hesawthey’dbeenamistake.Shaddid’sfacecloseddownlikealightgoingout.Nowthathe’dsaidit,
hesawtheimpliedthreathe’djustmade.
“I’mjustpointingoutthesourcereliabilityissue,”Shaddidsaid.“Youdon’tgotothesuspectand
askwheretheythinkyoushouldlooknext.AndtheJulietteMaoretrievalisn’tyourfirstpriority.”
“I’mnotsayingitis,”Millersaid,chagrinedtohearthedefensivenessinhisvoice.
“We have a board out there that’s full and getting fuller. Our first priorities are safety and
continuityofservices.Ifwhatyou’redoingisn’tdirectlyrelatedtothat,therearebetterthingsforyou
tobedoing.”
“Thiswar—”
“Isn’tourjob,”Shaddidsaid.“OurjobisCeres.GetmeafinalreportonJulietteMao.I’llsendit
throughchannels.We’vedonewhatwecould.”
“Idon’tthink—”
“Ido,”Shaddidsaid.“We’vedonewhatwecould.Nowstopbeingapussy,getyourassoutthere,
andcatchbadguys.Detective.”
“Yes,Captain,”Millersaid.
MusswassittingatMiller ’sdeskwhenhegotbacktoit,acupinherhandthatwaseitherstrong
teaorweakcoffee.Shenoddedtowardhisdesktopmonitor.Onit,threeBelters—twomenandone
woman—werecomingoutofawarehousedoor,anorangeplasticshippingcontainercarriedbetween
them.Millerraisedhiseyebrows.
“Employed by an independent gas-hauling company. Nitrogen, oxygen. Basic atmospherics.
Nothing exotic. Looks like they had the poor bastard in one of the company warehouses. I’ve sent
forensicsovertoseeifwecangetanybloodsplattersforconfirmation.”
“Goodwork,”Millersaid.
Mussshrugged.Adequatework,sheseemedtosay.
“Wherearetheperps?”Millerasked.
“Shippedoutyesterday,”shesaid.“FlightplanlogsthemasheadedforIo.”
“Io?”
“Earth-MarsCoalitioncentral,”Musssaid.“Wanttoputanymoneyonwhethertheyactuallyshow
upthere?”
“Sure,”Millersaid.“I’lllayyoufiftythattheydon’t.”
Mussactuallylaughed.
“I’veputthemonthealertsystem,”shesaid.“Anyplacetheyland,thelocalswillhaveaheads-up
andatrackingnumberfortheDosSantosthing.”
“Socaseclosed,”Millersaid.
“Chalkanotheroneupforthegoodguys,”Mussagreed.
The rest of the day was hectic. Three assaults, two of them overtly political and one domestic.
Muss and Miller cleared all three from the board before the end of shift. There would be more by
tomorrow.
Afterheclockedout,Millerstoppedatafoodcartnearoneofthetubestationsforabowlofvat
rice and textured protein that approximated teriyaki chicken. All around him on the tube, normal
citizensofCeresreadtheirnewsfeedsandlistenedtomusic.Ayoungcouplehalfacarupfromhim
leaned close to each other, murmuring and giggling. They might have been sixteen. Seventeen. He
sawtheboy’swristsnakeupunderthegirl’sshirt.Shedidn’tprotest.Anoldwomandirectlyacross
fromMillerslept,herheadlollingagainstthewallofthecar,hersnoresalmostdelicate.
Thesepeoplewerewhatitwasallabout,Millertoldhimself.Normalpeoplelivingsmalllivesina
bubbleofrocksurroundedbyhardvacuum.Iftheyletthestationturnintoariotzone,letorderfail,
alltheseliveswouldgetturnedintokibblelikeakitteninameatgrinder.Makingsureitdidn’thappen
wasforpeoplelikehim,Muss,evenShaddid.
So,asmallvoicesaidinthebackofhismind,whyisn’tityourjobtostopMarsfromdroppinga
nukeandcrackingCereslikeanegg?What’sthebiggerthreattothatguystandingoverthere,afew
unlicensedwhoresoraBeltatwarwithMars?
WhatwastheharmthatcouldcomefromknowingwhathappenedtotheScopuli?
Butofcourseheknewtheanswertothat.Hecouldn’tjudgehowdangerousthetruthwasuntilhe
knewit—whichwasitselfafinereasontokeepgoing.
TheOPAman,AndersonDawes,wassittingonaclothfoldingchairoutsideMiller ’shole,reading
abook.Itwasarealbook—onionskinpagesboundinwhatmighthavebeenactualleather.Millerhad
seenpicturesofthembefore;theideaofthatmuchweightforasinglemegabyteofdatastruckhimas
decadent.
“Detective.”
“Mr.Dawes.”
“Iwashopingwecouldtalk.”
Millerwasglad,astheywentinsidetogether,thathe’dcleanedupalittle.Allthebeerbottleshad
gonetorecycler.Thetablesandcabinetsweredusted.Thecushionsonthechairshadallbeenmended
orreplaced.AsDawestookhisseat,Millerrealizedhe’ddonethehouseworkinanticipationofthis
meeting.Hehadn’trealizedituntilnow.
Dawesputhisbookonthetable,duginhisjacketpocket,andslidathinblackfilmdriveacrossthe
table.Millerpickeditup.
“WhatamIgoingtoseeonthis?”heasked.
“Nothingyoucan’tconfirmintherecords,”Dawesanswered.
“Anythingfabricated?”
“Yes,” Dawes said. His grin did nothing to improve his appearance. “But not by us. You asked
aboutthepoliceriotgear.ItwassignedforbyaSergeantPaulineTrikoloskifortransfertospecial
servicesunittwenty-three.”
“Specialservicestwenty-three?”
“Yes,”Dawessaid.“Itdoesn’texist.NordoesTrikoloski.Theequipmentwasallboxedup,signed
for,anddeliveredtoadock.ThefreighterintheberthatthetimewasregisteredtotheCorporaçõdo
GatoPreto.”
“BlackCat?”
“Youknowthem?”
“Import-export, same as everyone else,” Miller said with a shrug. “We investigated them as a
possiblefrontfortheLocaGreiga.Nevertiedthemdown,though.”
“Youwereright.”
“Youproveit?”
“Notmyjob,”Dawessaid.“Butthismightinterestyou.Automateddockinglogsfortheshipwhen
shelefthereandwhenshearrivedonGanymede.She’sthreetonslighter,notevencountingreaction
massconsumption.Andthetransittimeislongerthantheorbitalmechanicsprojections.”
“Someonemether,”Millersaid.“Transferredthegeartoanothership.”
“There’syouranswer,”Dawessaid.“Bothofthem.Theriotgearwastakenoffthestationbylocal
organized crime. There aren’t records to support it, but I think it’s safe to assume that they also
shippedoutthepersonneltousethatgear.”
“Whereto?”
Dawes lifted his hands. Miller nodded. They were off station. Case closed. Another one for the
goodguys.
Damn.
“I’vekeptmypartofourbargain,”Dawessaid.“Youaskedforinformation.I’vegottenit.Now,
areyougoingtokeepyourend?”
“DroptheMaoinvestigation,”Millersaid.Itwasn’taquestion,andDawesdidn’tactisifitwere.
Millerleanedbackinhischair.
Juliette Andromeda Mao. Inner system heiress turned OPA courier. Pinnace racer. Brown belt,
aimingforblack.
“Sure,whatthehell,”hesaid.“It’snotlikeIwouldhaveshippedherbackhomeifI’dfoundher.”
“No?”
MillershiftedhishandsinagesturethatmeantOfcoursenot.
“She’sagoodkid,”Millersaid.“HowwouldyoufeelifyouwereallgrownupandMommycould
stillpullyoubackhomebyyourear?Itwasabullshitjobfromthestart.”
Dawessmiledagain.Thistimeitactuallydidhelpalittle.
“I’mgladtohearyousaythat,Detective.AndIwon’tforgettherestofouragreement.Whenwe
findher,Iwilltellyou.You’vegotmywordonit.”
“Iappreciatethat,”Millersaid.
There was a moment of silence. Miller couldn’t decide if it was companionable or awkward.
Maybetherewasroomforboth.Dawesrose,putouthishand.Millershookit.Dawesleft.Twocops
workingfordifferentsides.Maybetheyhadsomethingincommon.
Didn’tmeanMillerwasuncomfortablelyingtotheman.
He opened his terminal’s encryption program, routed it to his communication suite, and started
talkingintothecamera.
“Wehaven’tmet,sir,butIhopeyou’llfindafewminutestohelpmeout.I’mDetectiveMillerwith
Star Helix Security. I’m on the Ceres security contract, and I’ve been tasked with finding your
daughter.I’vegotacouplequestions.”
ChapterFifteen:Holden
H oldengrabbedforNaomi.Hestruggledtoorienthimselfasthetwoofthemspunacrossthebay
withnothingtopushoffofandnothingtoarresttheirflight.Theywereinthemiddleoftheroom
withnocover.
TheblasthadhurledKellyfivemetersthroughtheairandintothesideofapackingcrate,where
hewasfloatingnow,onemagneticbootconnectedtothesideofthecontainer,theotherstrugglingto
connectwiththedeck.Amoshadbeenblowndown,andlayflatonthefloor,hislowerlegstuckoutat
animpossibleangle.Alexcrouchedathisside.
Holden craned his neck, looking toward the attackers. There was the boarder with the grenade
launcherwhohadblastedKelly,lininguponthemforthekillingshot.We’redead, Holden thought.
Naomimadeanobscenegesture.
The man with the grenade launcher shuddered and dissolved in a spray of blood and small
detonations.
“Gettotheship!”Gomezscreamedfromtheradio.Hisvoicewasgratingandhigh,halfshrieking
painandhalfbattleecstasy.
HoldenpulledthetetherlineoffNaomi’ssuit.
“Whatareyou…?”shebegan.
“Trustme,”hesaid,thenputhisfeetintoherstomachandshovedoff,hard.Hehitthedeckwhile
shespuntowardtheceiling.Hekickedonhisbootmagsandthenyankedthetethertopullherdown
tohim.
Theroomstrobedwithsustainedmachinegunfire.Holdensaid,“Staylow,”andranasquicklyas
hismagneticbootswouldallowtowardAlexandAmos.Themechanicmovedhislimbsfeebly,sohe
wasstillalive.HoldenrealizedhestillhadtheendofNaomi’stetherinhishand,soheclippeditonto
alooponhissuit.Nomoregettingseparated.
Holden lifted Amos off the deck, then checked the inertia. The mechanic grunted and muttered
something obscene. Holden attached Amos’ tether to his suit too. He’d carry the whole crew if that
was what it took. Without saying a word, Alex clipped his tether to Holden and gave him a weary
thumbs-up.
“Thatwas…Imean,fuck,”Alexsaid.
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.
“Jim,”Naomisaid.“Look!”
Holdenfollowedhergaze.Kellywasstaggeringtowardthem.Hisarmorwasvisiblycrushedon
the left side of his torso, and hydraulic fluid leaked from his suit into a trail of droplets floating
behindhim,buthewasmoving—towardthefrigate.
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“Let’sgo.”
Thefiveofthemmovedasagrouptotheship,theairaroundthemfilledwithpiecesofpacking
cratesblownapartbytheongoingbattle.AwaspstungHolden’sarm,andhissuit’shead-updisplay
informedhimthatithadsealedaminorbreach.Hefeltsomethingwarmtrickledownhisbicep.
Gomezshoutedlikeamadmanovertheradioashedashedaroundtheouteredgeofthebay,firing
wildly.Thereturnfirewasconstant.Holdensawthemarinehitagainandagain,smallexplosionsand
ablative clouds coming off his suit until Holden could hardly believe that there could be anything
insideitstillliving.ButGomezkepttheenemy’sattention,andHoldenandthecrewwereabletolimp
uptothehalfcoverofthecorvette’sairlock.
Kellypulledasmallmetalcardfromapocketonhisarmor.Aswipeofthecardopenedtheouter
door,andHoldenpulledAmos’floatingbodyinside.Naomi,Alex,andthewoundedmarinecamein
after,staringateachotherinshockeddisbeliefastheairlockcycledandtheinnerdoorsopened.
“Ican’tbelievewe…”Alexsaid;thenhisvoicetrailedoff.
“Talk about it later,” Kelly barked. “Alex Kamal, you served on MCRN ships. Can you fly this
thing?”
“Sure,ElTee,”Alexreplied,thenvisiblystraightened.“Whyme?”
“Ourotherpilot’soutsidegettingkilled.Takethis,”Kellysaid,handinghimthemetalcard.“The
restofyou,getstrappedin.We’velostalotoftime.”
Upclose,thedamagetoKelly’sarmorwasevenmoreapparent.Hehadtohavesevereinjuriesto
hischest.Andnotalltheliquidcomingoutofthesuitwashydraulicfluid.Therewasdefinitelyblood
aswell.
“Letmehelpyou,”Holdensaid,reachingforhim.
“Don’ttouchme,”Kellysaid,withanangerthattookHoldenbysurprise.“Yougetstrappedin,
andyoushutthefuckup.Now.”
Holdendidn’targue.HeunhookedthetethersfromhissuitandhelpedNaomimaneuverAmosto
thecrashcouchesandstraphimin.Kellystayedonthedeckabove,buthisvoicecameovertheship’s
comm.
“Mr.Kamal,arewereadytofly?”hesaid.
“Rogerthat,ElTee.Thereactorwasalreadyhotwhenwegothere.”
“TheTachiwasthereadystandby.That’swhywe’retakingher.Nowgo.Assoonasweclearthe
hangar,fullthrottle.”
“Roger,”Alexsaid.
GravityreturnedintinyburstsatrandomdirectionsasAlexliftedtheshipoffthedeckandspunit
toward the hangar door. Holden finished putting on his straps and checked to see that Naomi and
Amosweresquaredaway.Themechanicwasmoaningandholdingontotheedgeofthecouchwitha
deathgrip.
“Youstillwithus,Amos?”Holdensaid.
“Fan-fucking-tastic,Cap.”
“Ohshit,IcanseeGomez,”Alexsaidoverthecomm.“He’sdown.Aw,yougoddammedbastards!
They’reshootin’himwhilehe’sdown!Sonofabitch!”
Theshipstoppedmoving,andAlexsaidinaquietvoice,“Suckonthis,asshole.”
Theshipvibratedforhalfasecond,thenpausedbeforecontinuingtowardthelock.
“Pointdefensecannons?”Holdenasked.
“Summaryroadsidejustice,”Alexgruntedback.
Holden was imagining what several hundred rounds of Teflon-coated tungsten steel going five
thousand meters per second would do to human bodies when Alex threw down the throttle and a
roomfulofelephantsswandivedontohischest.
Holdenwokeinzerog.Hiseyesocketsandtesticlesached,sothey’dbeenathighthrustforawhile.
Thewallterminalnexttohimsaidithadbeenalmosthalfanhour.Naomiwasmovinginhercouch,
butAmoswasunconscious,andbloodwascomingoutofaholeinhissuitatanalarmingrate.
“Naomi,checkAmos,”Holdencroaked,histhroatachingwiththeeffort.“Alex,report.”
“TheDonniewentupbehindus,Cap.Guessthemarinesdidn’thold.She’sgone,”Alexsaidina
subduedvoice.
“Thesixattackingships?”
“Ihaven’tseenanysignofthemsincetheexplosion.I’dguessthey’retoast.”
Holden nodded to himself. Summary roadside justice, indeed. Boarding a ship was one of the
riskiestmaneuversinnavalcombat.Itwasbasicallyaracebetweentheboardersrushingtotheengine
roomandthecollectivewillofthosewhohadtheirfingersontheself-destructbutton.Afterevenone
lookatCaptainYao,Holdencouldhavetoldthemwho’dlosethatrace.
Still.Someonehadthoughtitwasworththerisk.
HoldenpulledhisstrapsoffandfloatedovertoAmos.Naomihadopenedanemergencykitand
wascuttingthemechanic’ssuitoffwithapairofheavyscissors.Theholehadbeenpunchedoutbya
jaggedendofAmos’brokentibiawhenthesuithadpushedagainstitattwelveg.
When she’d finished cutting the suit away, Naomi blanched at the mass of blood and gore that
Amos’lowerleghadturnedinto.
“Whatdowedo?”Holdenasked.
Naomijuststaredathim,thenbarkedoutaharshlaugh.
“Ihavenoidea,”shesaid.
“Butyou—”Holdenstarted.Shetalkedrightoverhim.
“Ifheweremadeofmetal,I’djusthammerhimstraightandthenweldeverythingintoplace,”she
said.
“I—”
“Butheisn’tmadeoutofshipparts,”shecontinued,hervoicerisingintoayell,“sowhyareyou
askingmewhattodo?”
Holdenhelduphishandsinaplacatinggesture.
“Okay,gotit.Let’sjuststopthebleedingfornow,allright?”
“IfAlexgetskilled,areyougoingtoaskmetoflytheshiptoo?”
Holdenstartedtoanswerandthenstopped.Shewasright.Wheneverhedidn’tknowwhattodo,he
handedofftoNaomi.He’dbeendoingitforyears.Shewassmart,capable,usuallyunflappable.She’d
become a crutch, and she’d been through all the same trauma he had. If he didn’t start paying
attention,he’dbreakher,andheneedednottodothat.
“You’reright.I’lltakecareofAmos,”hesaid.“YougoupandcheckonKelly.I’llbethereina
fewminutes.”
Naomistaredathimuntilherbreathingslowed,thensaid,“Okay,”andheadedtothecrewladder.
HoldensprayedAmos’legwithcoagulantboosterandwrappeditingauzefromthefirstaidkit.
Thenhecalleduptheship’sdatabaseonthewallterminalanddidasearchoncompoundfractures.He
wasreadingitwithgrowingdismaywhenNaomicalled.
“Kelly’sdead,”shesaid,hervoiceflat.
Holden’sstomachdropped,andhegavehimselfthreebreathstogetthepanicoutofhisvoice.
“Okay.I’llneedyourhelpsettingthisbone.Comeonbackdown.Alex?Givemehalfagofthrust
whileweworkonAmos.”
“Anyparticulardirection,Cap?”Alexasked.
“Idon’tcare,justgivemehalfagandstayofftheradiotillIsayso.”
Naomidroppedbackdowntheladderwellasthegravitystartedtocomeup.
“ItlookslikeeveryribontheleftsideofKelly’sbodywasbroken,”shesaid.“Thrustgprobably
puncturedallhisorgans.”
“Hehadtoknowthatwasgoingtohappen,”Holdensaid.
“Yeah.”
Itwaseasytomakefunofthemarineswhentheyweren’tlistening.InHolden’snavydays,making
funofjarheadswasasnaturalascussing.ButfourmarineshaddiedgettinghimofftheDonnager,
andthreeofthemhadmadeaconsciousdecisiontodoso.Holdenpromisedhimselfthathe’dnever
makefunofthemagain.
“Weneedtopullthebonestraightbeforewesetit.Holdhimstill,andI’llpullonhisfoot.Letme
knowwhenthebonehasretractedandlinedupagain.”
Naomistartedtoprotest.
“Iknowyou’renotadoctor.Justbestguess,”Holdensaid.
ItwasoneofthemosthorriblethingsHoldenhadeverdone.Amoswokeupscreamingduringthe
procedure.Hehadtopullthelegouttwice,becausethefirsttimethebonesdidn’tlineup,andwhen
heletgo,thejaggedendofthetibiapoppedbackouttheholeinasprayofblood.Fortunately,Amos
passedoutafterthatandtheywereabletomakethesecondattemptwithoutthescreaming.Itseemed
towork.Holdensprayedthewounddownwithantisepticsandcoagulants.Hestapledtheholeclosed
andslappedagrowth-stimulatingbandageoverit,thenfinishedupwithaquick-formair-castandan
antibioticpatchonthemechanic’sthigh.
Afterwardhecollapsedontothedeckandgaveintotheshakes.Naomiclimbedintohercouchand
sobbed.ItwasthefirsttimeHoldenhadeverseenhercry.
Holden,Alex,andNaomifloatedinaloosetrianglearoundthecrashcouchwhereLieutenantKelly’s
body lay. Below, Amos was in a heavily sedated sleep. The Tachi drifted through space toward no
particulardestination.Forthefirsttimeinalongtime,noonefollowed.
Holdenknewtheothertwowerewaitingforhim.Waitingtohearhowhewasgoingtosavethem.
Theylookedathimexpectantly.Hetriedtoappearcalmandthoughtful.Inside,hepanicked.Hehad
noideawheretogo.Noideawhattodo.Eversincethey’dfoundtheScopuli,everywherethatshould
have been safe had turned into a death trap. The Canterbury, the Donnager. Holden was terrified of
goinganywhere,forfearthatitwouldbeblownupmomentslater.
Dosomething,amentorofadecadeearliersaidtohisyoungofficers.Itdoesn’thavetoberight,it
justhastobesomething.
“SomeoneisgoingtoinvestigatewhathappenedtotheDonnager,”Holdensaid.“Martianshipsare
speedingtothatspotaswespeak.They’llalreadyknowtheTachigotaway,becauseourtransponder
isblabbingoursurvivaltothesolarsystematlarge.”
“Noitain’t,”Alexsaid.
“Explainthat,Mr.Kamal.”
“This is a torpedo bomber. You think they want a nice transponder signal to lock on to when
they’remakin’runsonanenemycapitalship?Naw,there’sahandyswitchupinthecockpitthatsays
‘transponderoff.’Iflippeditbeforeweflewout.We’rejustanothermovingobjectoutofamillion
likeus.”
Holdenwassilentfortwolongbreaths.
“Alex,thatmaybethesinglegreatestthinganyonehaseverdone,inthehistoryoftheuniverse,”
hesaid.
“But we can’t land, Jim,” Naomi said. “One, no port is going to let a ship with no transponder
signal anywhere near them, and two, as soon as they make us out visually, the fact that we’re a
Martianwarshipwillbehardtohide.”
“Yep,that’sthedownside,”Alexagreed.
“FredJohnson,”Holdensaid,“gaveusthenetworkaddresstogetintouchwithhim.I’mthinking
thattheOPAmightbetheonegroupthatwouldletuslandourstolenMartianwarshipsomewhere.”
“Itain’tstolen,”Alexsaid.“It’slegitimatesalvagenow.”
“Yeah, you make that argument to the MCRN if they catch us, but let’s try and make sure they
don’t.”
“So,wejustwaitheretillColonelJohnsongetsbacktous?”Alexasked.
“No, I wait. You two prep Lieutenant Kelly for burial. Alex, you were MCRN. You know the
traditions.Doitwithfullhonorsandrecorditinthelog.Hediedtogetusoffthatship,andwe’re
going to accord him every respect. As soon as we land anywhere, we’ll bounce the full record to
MCRNcommandsotheycandoitofficially.”
Alexnodded.“We’lldoitright,sir.”
FredJohnsonrepliedtohismessagesofastthatHoldenwonderedifhe’dbeensittingathisterminal
waiting for it. Johnson’s message consisted only of coordinates and the word tightbeam. Holden
aimed the laser array at the specified location—it was the same one Fred had beamed his first
messagefrom—thenturnedonhismicandsaid,“Fred?”
Thecoordinatesgivenweremorethanelevenlight-minutesaway.Holdenpreparedtowaittwentytwominutesforhisanswer.Justtohavesomethingtodo,hefedthelocationuptothecockpitandtold
Alextoflyinthatdirectionatonegassoonasthey’dfinishedwithLieutenantKelly.
Twenty minutes later the thrust came up and Naomi climbed the ladder. She’d stripped off her
vacuumsuitandwaswearingaredMartianjumpsuitthatwashalfafoottooshortforherandthree
timestoobigaround.Herhairandfacelookedclean.
“Thisshiphasaheadwithashower.Canwekeepit?”shesaid.
“How’ditgo?”
“Wetookcareofhim.There’sadecent-sizedcargobaydownbyengineering.Weputhimthere
until we can find some way to send him home. I turned off the environment in there, so he’ll stay
preserved.”
Sheheldoutherhandanddroppedasmallblackcubeintohislap.
“Thatwasinapocketunderhisarmor,”shesaid.
Holdenhelduptheobject.Itlookedlikesomesortofdata-storagedevice.
“Canyoufindoutwhat’sonit?”heasked.
“Sure.Givemesometime.”
“AndAmos?”
“Bloodpressure’ssteady,”Naomisaid.“That’sgottobeagoodthing.”
Thecommconsolebeepedatthem,andHoldenstartedtheplayback.
“Jim,newsoftheDonnagerhasjuststartedhittingthenet.IadmitIamextremelysurprisedtobe
hearingfromyou,”saidFred’svoice.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”
Holdenpausedamomentwhilehementallypreparedhisresponse.Fred’ssuspicionwaspalpable,
buthe’dsentHoldenakeywordtouseforexactlythatreason.
“Fred.Whileourenemieshavebecomeubiquitous,ourlistoffriendshasgrownkindofshort.In
fact,you’reprettymuchit.Iaminastolen—”
Alexclearedhisthroat.
“AsalvagedMCRNgunboat,”Holdenwenton.“Ineedawaytohidethatfact.Ineedsomewhereto
gowheretheywon’tjustshootmedownforshowingup.Helpmedothat.”
Itwashalfanhourbeforethereplycame.
“I’ve attached a datafile on a subchannel,” Fred said. “It’s got your new transponder code and
directionsonhowtoinstallit.Thecodewillcheckoutinalltheregistries.It’slegitimate.It’salsogot
coordinatesthatwillgetyoutoasafeharbor.I’llmeetyouthere.Wehavealottotalkabout.”
“Newtranspondercode?”Naomisaid.“HowdoestheOPAgetnewtranspondercodes?”
“HacktheEarth-MarsCoalition’ssecurityprotocolsorgetamoleintheregistryoffice,”Holden
said.“Eitherway,Ithinkwe’replayinginthebigleaguenow.”
ChapterSixteen:Miller
Miller watched the feed from Mars along with the rest of the station. The podium was draped in
black,whichwasabadsign.ThesinglestarandthirtystripesoftheMartianCongressionalRepublic
hunginthebackgroundnotonce,buteighttimes.Thatwasworse.
“Thiscannothappenwithoutcarefulplanning,”theMartianpresidentsaid.“Theinformationthey
soughttostealwouldhavecompromisedMartianfleetsecurityinaprofoundandfundamentalway.
They failed, but at the price of two thousand and eighty-six Martian lives. This aggression is
somethingtheBelthasbeenpreparingforyearsattheleast.”
TheBelt,Millernoticed.NottheOPA—theBelt.
“Intheweeksincefirstnewsofthatattack,wehaveseenthirtyincursionsintothesecurityradius
ofMartianshipsandbases,includingPallasStation.Ifthoserefineriesweretobelost,theeconomy
ofMarscouldsufferirreversibledamage.Inthefaceofanarmed,organizedguerrillaforce,wehave
nochoicebuttoenforceamilitarycordononthestations,bases,andshipsoftheBelt.Congresshas
delivered new orders to all naval elements not presently involved in active Coalition duty, and it is
our hope that our brothers and sisters of Earth will approve joint Coalition maneuvers with the
greatestpossiblespeed.
“ThenewmandateoftheMartiannavyistosecurethesafetyofallhonestcitizens,todismantle
theinfrastructuresofevilpresentlyhidingintheBelt,andbringtojusticethoseresponsibleforthese
attacks.Iampleasedtosaythatourinitialactionshaveresultedinthedestructionofeighteenillegal
warshipsand—”
Millerturnedoffthefeed.Thatwasit,then.Thesecretwarwasoutofthecloset.PapaMaohad
beenrighttowantJulieout,butitwastoolate.Hisdarlingdaughterwasgoingtohavetotakeher
chances,justlikeeveryoneelse.
Attheveryleast,itwasgoingtomeancurfewsandpersonneltrackingallthroughCeresStation.
Officially, the station was neutral. The OPA didn’t own it or anything else. And Star Helix was an
Earth corporation, not under contractual or treaty obligation to Mars. At best, Mars and the OPA
wouldkeeptheirfightoutsidethestation.Atworst,therewouldmoreriotsonCeres.Moredeath.
No,thatwasn’ttrue.Atworst,MarsortheOPAwouldmakeastatementbythrowingarockora
handfulofnuclearwarheadsatthestation.Orbyblowingafusiondriveonadockedship.Ifthings
gotoutofhand,itwouldmeansixorsevenmilliondeadpeopleandtheendofeverythingMillerhad
everknown.
Oddthatitshouldfeelalmostlikerelief.
For weeks, Miller had known. Everyone had known. But it hadn’t actually happened, so every
conversation, every joke, every chance interaction and semi-anonymous nod and polite moment of
lightbanteronthetubehadseemedlikeanevasion.Hecouldn’tfixthecancerofwar,couldn’teven
slowdownthespread,butatleasthecouldadmititwashappening.Hestretched,atehislastbite of
fungalcurds,drankthedregsofsomethingnotentirelyunlikecoffee,andheadedouttokeeppeacein
wartime.
Mussgreetedhimwithavaguenodwhenhegottothestationhouse.Theboardwasfilledwith
cases—crimes to be investigated, documented, and dismissed. Twice as many entries as the day
before.
“Badnight,”Millersaid.
“Couldbeworse,”Musssaid.
“Yeah?”
“StarHelixcouldbeaMarscorporation.AslongasEarthstaysneutral,wedon’thavetoactually
betheGestapo.”
“Andhowlongyoufigurethat’lllast?”
“Whattimeisit?”sheasked.“Tellyouwhat,though.Whenitdoescomedown,Ineedtomakea
stop up toward the core. There was this one guy back when I was rape squad we could never quite
nail.”
“Whywait?”Millerasked.“Wecouldgoup,putabulletinhim,bebackbylunch.”
“Yeah, but you know how it is,” she said. “Trying to stay professional. Anyway, if we did that,
we’dhavetoinvestigateit,andthere’snoroomontheboard.”
Millersatathisdesk.Itwasjustshoptalk.Thekindofover-the-topdeadpanyoudidwhenyour
daywasfilledwithunderagewhoresandtainteddrugs.Andstill,therewasatensioninthestation.It
wasinthewaypeoplelaughed,thewaytheyheldthemselves.Thereweremoreholstersvisiblethan
usual,asifbyshowingtheirweaponstheymightbemadesafe.
“Youthinkit’stheOPA?”Mussasked.Hervoicewaslowernow.
“ThatkilledtheDonnager,youmean?Whoelsecould?Pluswhich,they’retakingcreditforit.”
“Some of them are. From what I heard, there’s more than one OPA these days. The old-school
guysdon’tknowagoddamnthingaboutanyofthis.Allshittingtheirpantsandtryingtotrackdown
thepiratecaststhatareclaimingcredit.”
“Sotheycandowhat?”Millerasked.“YoucanshutdowneveryloudmouthcasterintheBelt,it
won’tchangeathing.”
“Ifthere’saschismintheOPA,though…”Musslookedattheboard.
IftherewasaschismwithintheOPA,theboardastheysawitnowwasnothing.Millerhadlived
throughtwomajorgangwars.FirstwhentheLocaGreigadisplacedanddestroyedtheAryanFlyers,
andthenwhentheGoldenBoughsplit.TheOPAwasbigger,andmeaner,andmoreprofessionalthan
anyofthem.ThatwouldbecivilwarintheBelt.
“Mightnothappen,”Millersaid.
Shaddid stepped out of her office, her gaze sweeping the station house. Conversations dimmed.
ShaddidcaughtMiller ’seye.Shemadeasharpgesture.Getintheoffice.
“Busted,”Musssaid.
Intheoffice,AndersonDawessatateaseononeofthechairs.Millerfelthisbodytwitchasthat
informationfellintoplace.MarsandtheBeltinopen,armedconflict.TheOPA’sfaceonCeressitting
withthecaptainofthesecurityforce.
Sothat’showitis,hethought.
“You’reworkingtheMaojob,”Shaddidsaidasshetookherseat.Millerhadn’tbeenofferedthe
optionofsitting,soheclaspedhishandsbehindhim.
“Youassignedittome,”hesaid.
“AndItoldyouitwasn’tapriority,”shesaid.
“Idisagreed,”Millersaid.
Dawessmiled.Itwasasurprisinglywarmexpression,especiallycomparedtoShaddid’s.
“DetectiveMiller,”Dawessaid.“Youdon’tunderstandwhat’shappeninghere.Wearesittingona
pressurevessel,andyoukeepswingingapickaxatit.Youneedtostopthat.”
“You’reofftheMaocase,”Shaddidsaid.“Doyouunderstandthat?Iamofficiallyremovingyou
fromthatinvestigationasofrightnow.Anyfurtherinvestigationyoudo,Iwillhaveyoudisciplined
for working outside your caseload and misappropriating Star Helix resources. You will return any
materialonthecasetome.Youwillwipeanydatayouhaveinyourpersonalpartition.Andyou’lldo
itbeforetheendofshift.”
Miller ’sbrainspun,buthekepthisfaceimpassive.ShewastakingJulieaway.Hewasn’tgoingto
lether.Thatwasagiven.Butitwasn’tthefirstissue.
“Ihavesomeinquiriesinprocess…”hebegan.
“No,youdon’t,”Shaddidsaid.“Yourlittlelettertotheparentswasabreachofpolicy.Anycontact
withtheshareholdersshouldhavecomethroughme.”
“You’retellingmeitdidn’tgoout,”Millersaid.MeaningYou’vebeenmonitoringme.
“Itdidnot,”Shaddidsaid.Yes,Ihave.Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?
Andtherewasn’tanythinghecoulddo.
“AndthetranscriptsoftheJamesHoldeninterrogation?”Millersaid.“Didthosegetoutbefore…
”
Before the Donnanger was destroyed, taking with it the only living witnesses to the Scopuli and
plungingthesystemintowar?Millerknewthequestionsoundedlikeawhine.Shaddid’sjawtensed.
Hewouldn’thavebeensurprisedtohearteethcracking.Dawesbrokethesilence.
“Ithinkwecanmakethisalittleeasier,”hesaid.“Detective,ifI’mhearingyouright,youthink
we’reburyingtheissue.Wearen’t.Butit’snotinanyone’sintereststhatStarHelixbetheonetofind
theanswersyou’relookingfor.Thinkaboutit.YoumaybeaBelter,butyou’reworkingforanEarth
corporation.Rightnow,Earthistheonlymajorpowerwithoutanoarinthewater.Theonlyonewho
canpossiblynegotiatewithallsides.”
“Andsowhywouldn’ttheywanttoknowthetruth?”Millersaid.
“Thatisn’ttheproblem,”Dawessaid.“TheproblemisthatStarHelixandEarthcan’tappeartobe
involved one way or the other. Their hands need to stay clean. And this issue leads outside your
contract. Juliette Mao isn’t on Ceres, and maybe there was a time you could have jumped a ship to
whereveryoufoundheranddonetheabduction.Extradition.Extraction.Whateveryouwanttocallit.
Butthattimehaspassed.StarHelixisCeres,partofGanymede,andafewdozenwarehouseasteroids.
Ifyouleavethat,you’regoingintoenemyterritory.”
“ButtheOPAisn’t,”Millersaid.
“Wehavetheresourcestodothisright,”Dawessaidwithanod.“Maoisoneofours.TheScopuli
wasoneofours.”
“AndtheScopuliwasthebaitthatkilledtheCanterbury,”Millersaid.“AndtheCanterburywasthe
baitthatkilledtheDonnager.Sowhyexactlywouldanyonebebetteroffhavingyoubetheonlyones
lookingintosomethingyoumighthavedone?”
“You think we nuked the Canterbury,” Dawes said. “The OPA, with its state-of-the-art Martian
warships?”
“ItgottheDonnangeroutwhereitcouldbeattacked.Aslongasitwaswiththefleet,itcouldn’t
havebeenboarded.”
Daweslookedsour.
“Conspiracytheories,Mr.Miller,”hesaid.“IfwehadcloakedMartianwarships,wewouldn’tbe
losing.”
“YouhadenoughtokilltheDonnangerwithjustsixships.”
“No.Wedidn’t.OurversionofblowinguptheDonnagerisawholebunchoftrampprospectors
loadedwithnukesgoingonasuicidemission.Wehavemany,manyresources.Whathappenedtothe
Donnagerwasn’tpartofthem.”
Thesilencewasbrokenonlybythehumoftheairrecycler.Millercrossedhisarms.
“But…Idon’tunderstand,”hesaid.“IftheOPAdidn’tstartthis,whodid?”
“ThatiswhatJulietteMaoandthecrewoftheScopulicantellus,”Shaddidsaid.“Thosearethe
stakes,Miller.WhoandwhyandpleaseChristsomeideaofhowtostopit.”
“Andyoudon’twanttofindthem?”Millersaid.
“Idon’twantyouto,”Dawessaid.“Notwhensomeoneelsecandoitbetter.”
Millershookhishead.Itwasgoingtoofar,andheknewit.Ontheotherhand,sometimesgoing
toofarcouldtellyousomethingtoo.
“I’mnotsold,”hesaid.
“Youdon’thavetobesold,”Shaddidsaid.“Thisisn’tanegotiation.Wearen’tbringingyouinto
askyouforagoddamnfavor.Iamyourboss.Iamtellingyou.Doyouknowthosewords?Telling.
You.”
“WehaveHolden,”Dawessaid.
“What?”MillersaidatthesametimeShaddidsaid,“You’renotsupposedtotalkaboutthat.”
DawesraisedanarmtowardShaddidintheBelt’sphysicalidiomoftellingsomeonetobequiet.
ToMiller ’ssurprise,shedidastheOPAmansaid.
“WehaveHolden.Heandhiscrewdidn’tdie,andtheyareorareabouttobeinOPAcustody.Do
youunderstandwhatI’msaying,Detective?Doyouseemypoint?IcandothisinvestigationbecauseI
havetheresourcestodoit.Youcan’tevenfindoutwhathappenedtoyourownriotgear.”
Itwasaslap.Millerlookedathisshoes.He’dbrokenhiswordtoDawesaboutdroppingthecase,
andthemanhadn’tbroughtitupuntilnow.HehadtogivetheOPAoperativepointsforthat.Addedto
that, if Dawes really did have James Holden, there was no chance of Miller ’s getting access to the
interrogation.
WhenShaddidspoke,hervoicewassurprisinglygentle.
“There were three murders yesterday. Eight warehouses got broken into, probably by the same
bunchofpeople.We’vegotsixpeopleinhospitalwardsaroundthestationwiththeirnervesfalling
apartfromabadbatchofbathtubpseudoheroin.Thewholestation’sjumpy,”shesaid.“There’salot
ofgoodyoucandooutthere,Miller.Gocatchsomebadguys.”
“Sure,Captain,”Millersaid.“Youbet.”
Mussleanedagainsthisdesk,waitingforhim.Herarmswerecrossed,hereyesasboredlooking
athimastheyhadbeenlookingatthecorpseofDosSantospinnedtothecorridorwall.
“Newasshole?”sheasked.
“Yeah.”
“It’ll grow closed. Give it time. I got us one of the murders. Mid-level accountant for NaobiShearsgothisheadblownoffoutsideabar.Itlookedfun.”
Millerpulleduphishandterminalandtookinthebasics.Hisheartwasn’tinit.
“Hey,Muss,”hesaid.“Igotaquestion.”
“Fireaway.”
“You’vegotacaseyoudon’twantsolved.Whatdoyoudo?”
Hisnewpartnerfrowned,tiltedherhead,andshrugged.
“Ihandittoafish,”shesaid.“Therewasaguybackincrimesagainstchildren.Ifweknewthe
perpwasoneofourinformants,we’dalwaysgiveittohim.Noneofourguysevergotintrouble.”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.
“For that matter, I need someone to take the shitty partner, I do the same thing,” Muss went on.
“You know. Someone no one else wants to work with? Got bad breath or a shitty personality or
whatever,butheneedsapartner.SoIpicktheguywhomaybeheusedtobegood,butthenhegota
divorce.Startedhittingthebottle.Guystillthinkshe’sahotshot.Actslikeit.Onlyhisnumbersaren’t
betterthananyoneelse’s.Givehimtheshitcases.Theshitpartner.”
Millerclosedhiseyes.Hisstomachfeltuneasy.
“Whatdidyoudo?”heasked.
“Togetassignedtoyou?”Musssaid.“OneoftheseniorsmadethemovesonmeandIshothim
down.”
“Soyougotstuck.”
“Prettymuch.Comeon,Miller.Youaren’tstupid,”Musssaid.“Youhadtoknow.”
He’dhadtoknowthathewasthestationhousejoke.Theguywhousedtobegood.Theonewho’d
lostit.
No,actuallyhehadn’tknownthat.Heopenedhiseyes.Mussdidn’tlookhappyorsad,pleasedat
hispainorparticularlydistressedbyit.Itwasjustworktoher.Thedead,thewounded,theinjured.
Shedidn’tcare.Notcaringwashowshegotthroughtheday.
“Maybeyoushouldn’thaveturnedhimdown,”Millersaid.
“Ah,you’renotthatbad,”Musssaid.“Andhehadbackhair.Ihatebackhair.”
“Gladtohearit,”Millersaid.“Let’sgomakesomejustice.”
“You’redrunk,”theassholesaid.
“’Macop,”Millersaid,stabbingtheairwithhisfinger.“Don’tfuckwithme.”
“Iknowyou’reacop.You’vebeencomingtomybarforthreeyears.It’sme.Hasini.Andyou’re
drunk,myfriend.Seriously,dangerouslydrunk.”
Miller looked around him. He was indeed at the Blue Frog. He didn’t remember having come
here,andyetherehewas.AndtheassholewasHasiniafterall.
“I…”Millerbegan,thenlosthistrainofthought.
“Comeon,”Hasinisaid,loopinganarmaroundhim.“It’snotthatfar.I’llgetyouhome.”
“Whattimeisit?”Millerasked.
“Late.”
The word had a depth to it. Late. It was late. All the chances to make things right had somehow
passedhim.Thesystemwasatwar,andnoonewasevensurewhy.Millerhimselfwasturningfifty
years old the next June. It was late. Late to start again. Late to realize how many years he’d spent
runningdownthewrongroad.Hasinisteeredhimtowardanelectriccartthebarkeptforoccasions
likethisone.Thesmellofhotgreasecameoutofthekitchen.
“Holdon,”Millersaid.
“Yougoingtopuke?”Hasiniasked.
Millerconsideredforamoment.No,itwastoolatetopuke.Hestumbledforward.Hasinilaidhim
back in the cart and engaged the motors, and with a whine they steered out into the corridor. The
lightshighabovethemweredimmed.Thecartvibratedastheypassedintersectionafterintersection.
Ormaybeitdidn’t.Maybethatwasjusthisbody.
“IthoughtIwasgood,”hesaid.“Youknow,allthistime,IthoughtIwasatleastgood.”
“Youdofine,”Hasinisaid.“You’vejustgotashittyjob.”
“ThatIwasgoodat.”
“Youdofine,”Hasinirepeated,asifsayingitwouldmakeittrue.
Millerlayonthebedofthecart.Theformedplasticarchofthewheelwelldugintohisside.It
ached,butmovingwastoomucheffort.Thinkingwastoomucheffort.He’dmadeitthroughhisday,
Mussathisside.He’dturnedinthedataandmaterialsonJulie.Hehadnothingworthgoingbackto
hisholefor,andnoplaceelsetobe.
Thelightsshiftedintoandoutofhisfieldofview.Hewonderedifthatwaswhatitwouldbeliketo
lookatstars.He’dneverlookedupatasky.Thethoughtinspiredacertainvertigo.Asenseofterror
oftheinfinitethatwasalmostpleasant.
“Thereanyonewhocantakecareofyou?”HasinisaidwhentheyreachedMiller ’shole.
“I’llbefine.Ijust…Ihadabadday.”
“Julie,”Hasinisaid,nodding.
“HowdoyouknowaboutJulie?”Millerasked.
“You’vebeentalkingaboutherallnight,”Hasinisaid.“She’sagirlyoufellfor,right?”
Frowning,Millerkeptahandonthecart.Julie.He’dbeentalkingaboutJulie.Thatwaswhatthis
was about. Not his job. Not his reputation. They’d taken away Julie. The special case. The one that
mattered.
“You’reinlovewithher,”Hasinisaid.
“Yeah,sortof,”Millersaid,somethinglikerevelationforcingitswaythroughthealcohol.“Ithink
Iam.”
“Toobadforyou,”Hasinisaid.
ChapterSeventeen:Holden
T he Tachi’s galley had a full kitchen and a table with room for twelve. It also had a full-size
coffeepotthatcouldbrewfortycupsofcoffeeinlessthanfiveminuteswhethertheshipwasinzerog
orunderafive-gburn.Holdensaidasilentprayerofthanksforbloatedmilitarybudgetsandpressed
thebrewbutton.Hehadtorestrainhimselffromstrokingthestainlesssteelcoverwhileitmadegentle
percolatingnoises.
Thearomaofcoffeebegantofilltheair,competingwiththebaking-breadsmellofwhateverAlex
hadputintheoven.Amoswasthumpingaroundthetableinhisnewcast,layingoutplasticplatesand
actual honest-to-god metal silverware. In a bowl Naomi was mixing something that had the garlic
scentofgoodhummus.Watchingthecrewworkatthesedomestictasks,Holdenhadasenseofpeace
andsafetydeepenoughtoleavehimlight-headed.
They’dbeenontherunforweeksnow,pursuedtheentiretimebyonemysteriousshiporanother.
For the first time since the Canterbury was destroyed, no one knew where they were. No one was
demandinganythingofthem.Asfarasthesolarsystemwasconcerned,theywereafewcasualtiesout
ofthousandsontheDonnager.AbriefvisionofShed’sheaddisappearinglikeagrislymagictrick
remindedhimthatatleastoneofhiscrewwasacasualty.Andstill,itfeltsogoodtoonceagainbe
masterofhisowndestinythatevenregretcouldn’tentirelyrobhimofit.
A timer rang, and Alex pulled out a tray covered with thin, flat bread. He began cutting it into
slices,ontowhichNaomislatheredapastethatdidinfactlooklikehummus.Amosputthemonthe
platesaroundthetable.Holdendrewfreshcoffeeintomugsthathadtheship’snameontheside.He
passed them around. There was an awkward moment when everyone stared at the neatly set table
withoutmoving,asifafraidtodestroytheperfectionofthescene.
Amossolvedthisbysaying,“I’mhungryasafuckingbear,”andthensittingdownwithathump.
“Somebodypassmethatpepper,wouldja?”
Forseveralminutes,noonespoke;theyonlyate.Holdentookasmallbiteoftheflatbreadand
hummus, the strong flavors making him dizzy after weeks of tasteless protein bars. Then he was
stuffing it into his mouth so fast it made his salivary glands flare with exquisite agony. He looked
aroundthetable,embarrassed,buteveryoneelsewaseatingjustasfast,sohegaveuponpropriety
andconcentratedonfood.Whenhe’dfinishedoffthelastscrapsfromhisplate,heleanedbackwitha
sigh,hopingtomakethecontentmentlastaslongaspossible.Alexsippedcoffeewithhiseyesclosed.
Amos ate the last bits of the hummus right out of the serving bowl with his spoon. Naomi gave
Holden a sleepy look through half-lidded eyes that was suddenly sexy as hell. Holden quashed that
thoughtandraisedhismug.
“ToKelly’smarines.Heroestothelast,maytheyrestinpeace,”hesaid.
“Tothemarines,”everyoneatthetableechoed,thenclinkedmugsanddrank.
Alexraisedhismugandsaid,“ToShed.”
“Yeah,toShed,andtotheassholeswhokilledhimroastinginhell,”Amossaidinaquietvoice.
“RightbesidethefuckerwhokilledtheCant.”
Themoodatthetablegotsomber.Holdenfeltthepeacefulmomentslippingawayasquietlyasit
hadcome.
“So,”hesaid.“Tellmeaboutournewship.Alex?”
“She’sabeaut,Cap.IranherattwelvegformostofhalfanhourwhenwelefttheDonnie,andshe
purredlikeakittenthewholetime.Thepilot’schairiscomfytoo.”
Holdennodded.
“Amos?Getachancetolookatherengineroomyet?”heasked.
“Yep. Clean as a whistle. This is going to be a boring gig for a grease monkey like me,” the
mechanicreplied.
“Boringwouldbenice,”Holdensaid.“Naomi?Whatdoyouthink?”
Shesmiled.“Iloveit.It’sgotthenicestshowersI’veeverseenonashipthissize.Plus,there’sa
trulyamazingmedicalbaywithacomputerizedexpertsystemthatknowshowtofixbrokenmarines.
WeshouldhavefounditratherthanfixAmosonourown.”
Amosthumpedhiscastwithoneknuckle.
“Youguysdidagoodjob,Boss.”
Holdenlookedaroundathiscleancrewandranahandthroughhisownhair,notpullingitaway
coveredingreaseforthefirsttimeinweeks.
“Yeah,ashowerandnothavingtofixbrokenlegssoundsgood.Anythingelse?”
Naomi tilted her head back, her eyes moving as though she was running through a mental
checklist.
“We’vegotafulltankofwater,theinjectorshaveenoughfuelpelletstorunthereactorforabout
thirtyyears,andthegalleyisfullystocked.You’llhavetotiemeupifyouplantogiveherbacktothe
navy.Iloveher.”
“Sheisacunninglittleboat,”Holdensaidwithasmile.“Haveachancetolookattheweapons?”
“Twotubesandtwentylong-rangetorpedoeswithhigh-yieldplasmawarheads,”Naomisaid.“Or
at least that’s what the manifest says. They load those from the outside, so I can’t physically verify
withoutclimbingaroundonthehull.”
“The weapons panel is sayin’ the same thing, Cap,” Alex said. “And full loads in all the point
defensecannons.Youknow,except…”
ExcepttheburstyoufiredintothemenwhokilledGomez.
“Oh,and,Captain,whenweputKellyinthecargohold,Ifoundabigcratewiththelettersmapon
theside.Accordingtothemanifest,itstandsfor‘MobileAssaultPackage.’Apparentlynavy-speakfor
abigboxofguns,”Naomisaid.
“Yeah,”Alexsaid.“It’sfullkitforeightmarines.”
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“Sowiththefleet-qualityEpstein,we’vegotlegs.Andifyouguysareright
about the weapons load out, we’ve also got teeth. The next question is what do we do with it? I’m
inclinedtotakeColonelJohnson’sofferofrefuge.Anythoughts?”
“I’mallforthat,Captain,”Amossaid.“IalwaysdidthinktheBeltersweregettingtheshortendof
thestick.I’llgobearevolutionaryforawhile,Iguess.”
“Earthman’sburden,Amos?”Naomiaskedwithagrin.
“Whatthefuckdoesthatevenmean?”
“Nothing, just teasing,” she said. “I know you like our side because you just want to steal our
women.”
Amosgrinnedback,suddenlyinonthejoke.
“Well,youladiesdohavethelegsthatgoallthewayup,”hesaid.
“Okay,enough,”Holdensaid,raisinghishand.“So,twovotesforFred.Anyoneelse?”
Naomiraisedherhand.
“IvoteforFred,”shesaid.
“Alex?Whatdoyouthink?”Holdenasked.
TheMartianpilotleanedbackinhischairandscratchedhishead.
“Igotnowhereinparticulartobe,soI’llstickwithyouguys,Iguess,”hesaid.“ButIhopethis
don’tturnintoanotherroundofbein’toldwhattodo.”
“Itwon’t,”Holdenreplied.“Ihaveashipwithgunsonitnow,andthenexttimesomeoneorders
metodosomething,I’musingthem.”
Afterdinner,Holdentookalong,slowtourofhisnewship.Heopenedeverydoor,lookedinevery
closet, turned on every panel, and read every readout. He stood in engineering next to the fusion
reactor and closed his eyes, getting used to the almost subliminal vibration she made. If something
ever went wrong with it, he wanted to feel it in his bones before any warning ever sounded. He
stopped and touched all the tools in the well-stocked machine shop, and he climbed up to the
personneldeckandwanderedthroughthecrewcabinsuntilhefoundoneheliked,andmessedupthe
bedtoshowitwastaken.Hefoundabunchofjumpsuitsinwhatlookedlikehissize,thenmovedthem
to the closet in his new room. He took a second shower and let the hot water massage knots in his
back that were three weeks old. As he wandered back to his cabin, he trailed his fingers along the
wall, feeling the soft give of the fire-retardant foam and anti-spalling webbing over the top of the
armoredsteelbulkheads.Whenhearrivedathiscabin,AlexandAmoswerebothgettingsettledinto
theirs.
“WhichcabindidNaomitake?”heasked.
Amosshrugged.“She’sstillupinops,fiddlingwithsomething.”
Holdendecidedtoputoffsleepforawhileandrodethekeelladder-lift—wehavealift!—up to
theoperationsdeck.Naomiwassittingonthefloor,anopenbulkheadpanelinfrontofherandwhat
lookedlikeahundredsmallpartsandwireslaidoutaroundherinprecisepatterns.Shewasstaringat
somethinginsidetheopencompartment.
“Hey,Naomi,youshouldreallygetsomesleep.Whatareyouworkingon?”
Shegesturedvaguelyatthecompartment.
“Transponder,”shesaid.
Holdenmovedoverandsatdownonthefloornexttoher.
“Tellmehowtohelp.”
Shehandedhimherhandterminal;Fred’sinstructionsforchangingthetranspondersignalwere
openonthescreen.
“It’sreadytogo.I’vegottheconsolehookeduptothetransponder ’sdataportjustlikehesays.
I’vegotthecomputerprogramsetuptoruntheoverridehedescribes.Thenewtranspondercodeand
shipregistrydataarereadytobeentered.Iputinthenewname.DidFredpickit?”
“No,thatwasme.”
“Oh.Allright,then.But…”Hervoicetrailedoff,andshewavedatthetransponderagain.
“What’stheproblem?”Holdenasked.
“Jim,theymakethesethingsnottobefiddledwith.Thecivilianversionofthisdevicefusesitself
intoasolidlumpofsiliconifitthinksit’sbeingtamperedwith.Whoknowswhatthemilitaryversion
ofthefail-safeis?Dropthemagneticbottleinthereactor?Turnusintoasupernova?”
Naomiturnedtolookathim.
“I’vegotitallsetupandreadytogo,butnowIdon’tthinkweshouldthrowtheswitch,”shesaid.
“Wedon’tknowtheconsequencesoffailure.”
Holden got up off the floor and moved over to the computer console. A program Naomi had
namedTrans01waswaitingtoberun.Hehesitatedforonesecond,thenpressedthebuttontoexecute.
Theshipfailedtovaporize.
“IguessFredwantsusalive,then,”hesaid.
Naomislumpeddownwithanoisy,extendedexhale.
“See,thisiswhyIcan’teverbeincommand,”shesaid.
“Don’tlikemakingtoughcallswithincompleteinformation?”
“More I’m not suicidally irresponsible,” she replied, and began slowly reassembling the
transponderhousing.
Holden punched the comm system on the wall. “Well, crew, welcome aboard the gas freighter
Rocinante.”
“Whatdoesthatnameevenmean?”Naomisaidafterheletgoofthecommbutton.
“Itmeansweneedtogofindsomewindmills,”Holdensaidoverhisshoulderasheheadedtothe
lift.
TychoManufacturingandEngineeringConcernwasoneofthefirstmajorcorporationstomoveinto
the Belt. In the early days of expansion, Tycho engineers and a fleet of ships had captured a small
cometandparkeditinstableorbitasawaterresupplypointdecadesbeforeshipsliketheCanterbury
beganbringingiceinfromthenearlylimitlessfieldsinSaturn’srings.Ithadbeenthemostcomplex,
difficultfeatofmass-scaleengineeringhumanityhadeveraccomplisheduntilthenextthingtheydid.
As an encore, Tycho had built the massive reaction drives into the rock of Ceres and Eros and
spentmorethanadecadeteachingtheasteroidstospin.Theyhadbeenslatedtocreateanetworkof
high-atmosphere floating cities above Venus before the development rights fell into a labyrinth of
lawsuitsnowenteringitseighthdecade.TherewassomediscussionofspaceelevatorsforMarsand
Earth,butnothingsolidhadcomeofityet.Ifyouhadanimpossibleengineeringjobthatneededtobe
doneintheBelt,andyoucouldaffordit,youhiredTycho.
Tycho Station, the Belt headquarters of the company, was a massive ring station built around a
spherehalfakilometeracross,withmorethansixty-fivemillioncubicmetersofmanufacturingand
storage space inside. The two counter-rotating habitation rings that circled the sphere had enough
space for fifteen thousand workers and their families. The top of the manufacturing sphere was
festooned with half a dozen massive construction waldoes that looked like they could rip a heavy
freighterinhalf.Thebottomofthespherehadabulbousprojectionfiftymetersacross,whichhoused
a capital-ship-class fusion reactor and drive system, making Tycho Station the largest mobile
constructionplatforminthesolarsystem.Eachcompartmentwithinthemassiveringswasbuiltona
swivelsystemthatallowedthechamberstoreorienttothrustgravitywhentheringsstoppedspinning
andthestationflewtoitsnextworklocation.
Holdenknewallthis,andhisfirstsightofthestationstilltookhisbreathaway.Itwasn’tjustthe
size of it. It was the idea that four generations of the smartest people in the solar system had been
living and working here as they helped drag humanity into the outer planets almost through sheer
forceofwill.
Amossaid,“Itlookslikeabigbug.”
Holdenstartedtoprotest,butitdidresemblesomekindofgiantspider:fatbulbousbodyandallits
legssproutingfromthetopofitshead.
Alexsaid,“Forgetthestation,lookatthatmonster.”
Thevesselitwasconstructingdwarfedthestation.LadarreturnstoldHoldentheshipwasjustover
twokilometerslongandhalfakilometerwide.Roundandstubby,itlookedlikeacigarettebuttmade
of steel. Framework girders exposed internal compartments and machinery at various stages of
construction, but the engines looked complete, and the hull had been assembled over the bow. The
nameNauvoowaspaintedinmassivewhitelettersacrossit.
“So the Mormons are going to ride that thing all the way to Tau Ceti, huh?” Amos asked,
followingitupwithalongwhistle.“Ballsybastards.Noguaranteethere’sevenaplanetworthadamn
ontheotherendofthathundred-yeartrip.”
“Theyseemprettysure,”Holdenreplied.“Andyoudon’tmakethemoneytobuildashiplikethat
bybeingstupid.I,forone,wishthemnothingbutluck.”
“They’llgetthestars,”Naomisaid.“Howcanyounotenvythemthat?”
“Their great-grandkids’ll get maybe a star if they don’t all starve to death orbiting a rock they
can’tuse,”Amossaid.“Let’snotgetgrandiosehere.”
HepointedattheimpressivelylargecommarrayjuttingfromtheNauvoo’sflank.
“Wanttobetthat’swhatthrewouranus-sizedtightbeammessage?”Amossaid.
Alex nodded. “If you want to send private messages home from a couple light-years away, you
needseriousbeamcoherence.Theyprobablyhadthevolumeturneddowntoavoidcuttin’aholein
us.”
Holdengotupfromthecopilot’scouchandpushedpastAmos.
“Alex,seeifthey’llletusland.”
Landingwassurprisinglyeasy.Thestationcontroldirectedthemtoadockingportonthesideofthe
sphereandstayedontheline,guidingthemin,untilAlexhadmarriedthedockingtubetotheairlock
door. The tower control never pointed out that they had a lot of armaments for a transport and no
tanksforcarryingcompressedgas.Shegotthemdocked,thenwishedthemapleasantday.
Holdenputonhisatmospheresuitandmadeaquicktriptothecargobay,thenmettheothersjust
insidetheRocinante’sinnerairlockdoorwithalargeduffel.
“Putyoursuitson,that’snowstandardopsforthiscrewanytimewegosomeplacenew.Andtake
oneofthese,”hesaid,pullinghandgunsandcartridgemagazinesfromthebag.“Hideitinapocketor
yourbagifyoulike,butIwillbewearingmineopenly.”
Naomifrownedathim.
“Seemsabit…confrontational,doesn’tit?”
“I’mtiredofbeingkickedaround,”Holdensaid.“TheRoci’sagoodstarttowardindependence,
andI’mtakingalittlepieceofherwithme.Callitagoodluckcharm.”
“Fuckin’A,”saidAmos,andstrappedoneofthegunstohisthigh.
Alexstuffedhisintothepocketofhisflightsuit.Naomiwrinkledhernoseandwavedoffthelast
gun. Holden put it back into his duffel, led the crew into the Rocinante’s airlock, and cycled it. An
older, dark-skinned man with a heavy build waited for them on the other side. As they came in, he
smiled.
“WelcometoTychoStation,”saidtheButcherofAndersonStation.“CallmeFred.”
ChapterEighteen:Miller
T hedeathoftheDonnagerhitCereslikeahammerstrikingagong.Newsfeedscloggedthemselves
with high-power telescopic footage of the battle, most if not all of it faked. The Belt chatter swam
withspeculationaboutasecretOPAfleet.ThesixshipsthathadtakendowntheMartianflagshipwere
hailedasheroesandmartyrs.SloganslikeWediditonceandwecandoitagainandDropsomerocks
croppedupeveninapparentlyinnocuoussettings.
The Canterbury had stripped away the complacency of the Belt, but the Donnager had done
something worse. It had taken away the fear. The Belters had gotten a sudden, decisive, and
unexpectedwin.Anythingseemedpossible,andthehopeseducedthem.
ItwouldhavescaredMillermoreifhe’dbeensober.
Miller ’salarmhadbeengoingoffforthepasttenminutes.Thegratingbuzztookonsubtonesand
overtoneswhenhelistenedtoitlongenough.Aconstantrisingtone,flutteringpercussionthrobbing
underit,evensoftmusichidingunderneaththeblare.Illusions.Auralhallucinations.Thevoiceofthe
whirlwind.
Thepreviousnight’sbottleoffungalfauxbourbonsatonthebedsidetablewhereacarafeofwater
usually waited. It still had a couple fingers at the bottom. Miller considered the soft brown of the
liquid,thoughtabouthowitwouldfeelonhistongue.
The beautiful thing about losing your illusions, he thought, was that you got to stop pretending.
Alltheyearshe’dtoldhimselfthathewasrespected,thathewasgoodathisjob,thatallhissacrifices
hadbeenmadeforareasonfellawayandlefthimwiththeclear,unmuddiedknowledgethathewasa
functional alcoholic who had pared away everything good in his own life to make room for
anesthetic.Shaddidthoughthewasajoke.Mussthoughthewasthepriceshepaidnottosleepwith
someoneshedidn’tlike.TheonlyonewhomighthaveanyrespectforhimatallwasHavelock,an
Earther. It was peaceful, in its way. He could stop making the effort to keep up appearances. If he
stayedinbedlisteningtothealarmdrone,hewasjustlivinguptoexpectations.Noshameinthat.
Andstilltherewasworktobedone.Hereachedoverandturnedoffthealarm.Justbeforeitcut
off,heheardavoiceinit,softbutinsistent.Awoman’svoice.Hedidn’tknowwhatshe’dbeensaying.
Butsinceshewasjustinhishead,she’dgetanotherchancelater.
Heleveredhimselfoutofbed,suckeddownsomepainkillersandrehydrationgoo,stalkedtothe
shower,andburnedadayandahalf’srationofhotwaterjuststandingthere,watchinghislegsget
pink. He dressed in his last set of clean clothes. Breakfast was a bar of pressed yeast and grape
sweetener.Hedroppedthebourbonfromthebedsidetableintotherecyclerwithoutfinishingit,justto
provetohimselfthathestillcould.
Musswaswaitingatthedesk.Shelookedupwhenhesat.
“Stillwaitingforthelabsontherapeuponeighteen,”shesaid.“Theypromisedthembylunch.”
“We’llsee,”Millersaid.
“I’vegotapossiblewitness.Girlwhowaswiththevicearlierintheevening.Herdepositionsaid
sheleftbeforeanythinghappened,butthesecuritycamerasaren’tbackingherup.”
“Wantmeinthequestioning?”Millerasked.
“Notyet.ButifIneedsometheater,I’llpullyouin.”
“Fairenough.”
Millerdidn’twatchherwalkaway.Afteralongmomentstaringatnothing,hepulleduphisdisk
partition,reviewedwhatstillneededdoing,andstartedcleaningtheplaceup.
As he worked, his mind replayed for the millionth time the slow, humiliating interview with
ShaddidandDawes.WehaveHolden,Dawessaid.Youcan’tevenfindwhathappenedtoyourownriot
gear.Millerpokedatthewordslikeatongueatthegapofamissingtooth.Itrangtrue.Again.
Still,itmighthavebeenbullshit.Itmighthavebeenastoryconcoctedjusttomakehimfeelsmall.
Therewasn’tanyproof,afterall,thatHoldenandhiscrewhadsurvived.Whatproofcouldtherebe?
TheDonnanger was gone, and all its logs along with it. There would have to have been a ship that
madeitout.EitherarescuevesseloroneoftheMartianescortships.Therewasnowayashipcould
have gotten out and not been the singular darling of every newsfeed and pirate cast since. You
couldn’tkeepsomethinglikethatquiet.
Orsureyoucould.Itjustwouldn’tbeeasy.Hesquintedattheemptyairofthestationhouse.Now.
Howwouldyoucoverupasurvivingship?
Miller pulled up a cheap navigation plotter he’d bought five years before—transit times had
figuredinasmugglingcase—andplottedthedateandpositionoftheDonnager’s demise. Anything
runningundernon-Epsteinthrustwouldstillhavebeenoutthere,andMartianwarshipswouldhave
eitherpickedituporblasteditintobackgroundradiationbynow.SoifDaweswasn’tjusthanding
him bullshit, that meant an Epstein drive. He ran a couple quick calculations. With a good drive,
someonecouldhavemadeCeresinjustlessthanamonth.Callitthreeweekstobesafe.
Helookedatthedataforalmosttenminutes,butthenextstepdidn’tcometohim,sohestepped
away,gotsomecoffee,andpulleduptheinterviewheandMusshaddonewithaBelterground-crew
grunt.Theman’sfacewaslongandcadaverousandsubtlycruel.Therecorderhadn’thadagoodfix
onhim,sothepicturekeptbouncingaround.Mussaskedthemanwhathe’dseen,andMillerleaned
forwardtoreadthetranscribedanswers,checkingforincorrectlyrecognizedwords.Thirtyseconds
later,thegruntsaidclipwhoreandthetranscriptreadclipper.Millercorrectedit,butthebackofhis
mindkeptchurning.
ProbablyeightorninehundredshipscameintoCeresinagivenday.Callitathousandtobesafe.
Giveitacoupledaysoneithersideofthethree-weekmark,thatwasonlyfourthousandentries.Pain
intheass,sure,butnotimpossible.Ganymedewouldbetheotherrealbitch.Withitsagriculture,there
would be hundreds of transports a day there. Still, it wouldn’t double the workload. Eros. Tycho.
Pallas.HowmanyshipsdockedonPallaseveryday?
He’d missed almost two minutes of the recording. He started again, forcing himself to pay
attentionthistime,andhalfanhourlater,hegaveup.
ThetenbusiestportswithtwodaystoeithersideofanestimatedarrivalofanEpstein-driveship
that originated when and where the Donnager died totaled twenty-eight thousand docking records,
more or less. But he could cut that down to seventeen thousand if he excluded stations and ports
explicitlyrunbyMartianmilitaryandresearchstationswithallornearlyallinnerplanetsinhabitants.
Sohowlongwouldittakehimtocheckalltheportingrecordsbyhand,pretendingforaminutethat
hewasstupidenoughtodoit?Callit118days—ifhedidn’teatorsleep.Justworkingten-hourdays,
doingnothingelse,hecouldalmostgetthroughitinlessthanayear.Alittleless.
Except no. Because there were ways to narrow it. He was only looking for Epstein drive ships.
Most of the traffic at any of the ports would be local. Torch drive ships flown by prospectors and
short-hopcouriers.Theeconomicsofspaceflightmaderelativelyfewandrelativelylargeshipsthe
rightanswerforlongflights.Sotakeitdownby,conservatively,three-quarters,andhewasbackin
theclose-to-four-thousandrangeagain.Stillhundredsofhoursofwork,butifhecouldthinkofsome
otherfilterthatwouldjustfeedhimthelikelysuspects…Forinstance,iftheshipcouldn’thavefileda
flightplanbeforetheDonnagergotkilled.
Therequestinterfacefortheportlogswasancient,uncomfortable,andsubtlydifferentfromEros
to Ganymede to Pallas and on and on. Miller tacked the information requests on to seven different
cases,includingamonth-oldcoldcaseonwhichhewasonlyaconsultant.Portlogswerepublicand
open,sohedidn’tparticularlyneedhisdetectivestatustohidehisactions.WithanyluckShaddid’s
monitoringofhimwouldn’textendtolow-level,public-recordpokingaround.Andevenifitdid,he
mightgettherepliesbeforeshecaughton.
Neverknewifyouhadanyluckleftunlessyoupushedit.Besides,therewasn’talottolose.
Whentheconnectionfromthelabopenedonhisterminal,healmostjumped.Thetechnicianwasa
gray-hairedwomanwithanunnaturallyyoungface.
“Miller?Musswithyou?”
“Nope,”Millersaid.“She’sgotaninterrogation.”
Hewasprettysurethatwaswhatshe’dsaid.Thetechshrugged.
“Well,hersystem’snotanswering.Iwantedtotellyouwegotamatchofftherapeyousentus.It
wasn’ttheboyfriend.Herbossdidit.”
Millernodded.“Youputinforthewarrant?”heasked.
“Yep,”shesaid.“It’salreadyinthefile.”
Miller pulled it up: STAR HELIX ON BEHALF OF CERES STATION AUTHORIZES AND MANDATES THE
DETENTIONOFIMMANUELCORVUSDOWDPENDINGADJUDICATIONOFSECURITYINCIDENTCCS-4949231.The
judge’sdigitalsignaturewaslistedingreen.Hefeltaslowsmileonhislips.
“Thanks,”hesaid.
On the way out of the station, one of the vice squads asked him where he was headed. He said
lunch.
TheArranhaAccountancyGrouphadtheirofficesinthenicepartofthegovernmentalquarterin
sector seven. It wasn’t Miller ’s usual stomping grounds, but the warrant was good on the whole
station.Millerwenttothesecretaryatthefrontdesk—agood-lookingBelterwithastarburstpattern
embroideredonhisvest—andexplainedthatheneededtospeakwithImmanuelCorvusDowd.The
secretary’s deep-brown skin took on an ashy tone. Miller stood back, not blocking the exit, but
keepingclose.
Twentyminuteslater,anoldermaninagoodsuitcamethroughthefrontdoor,stoppedinfrontof
Miller,andlookedhimupanddown.
“DetectiveMiller?”themansaid.
“You’dbeDowd’slawyer,”Millersaidcheerfully.
“Iam,andIwouldliketo—”
“Really,”Millersaid.“Weshoulddothisnow.”
Theofficewascleanandsparewithlightbluewallsthatlitthemselvesfromwithin.Dowdsatat
the table. He was young enough that he still looked arrogant, but old enough to be scared. Miller
noddedtohim.
“You’reImmanuelCorvusDowd?”hesaid.
“Before you continue, Detective,” the lawyer said, “my client is involved with very high-level
negotiations.Hisclientbaseincludessomeofthemostimportantpeopleinthewareffort.Beforeyou
makeanyaccusations,youshouldbeawarethatIcanandwillhaveeverythingyou’vedonereviewed,
andifthereisonemistake,youwillbeheldresponsible.”
“Mr.Dowd,”Millersaid.“WhatIamabouttodotoyouisliterallytheonlybrightspotinmyday.
Ifyoucouldseeyourwaycleartoresistingarrest,I’dreallyappreciateit.”
“Harry?”Dowdsaid,lookingtohislawyer.Hisvoicecrackedalittle.
Thelawyershookhishead.
Backatthepolicecart,Millertookalongmoment.Dowd,handcuffedintheback,whereeveryone
walkingbycouldseehim,wassilent.Millerpulleduphishandterminal,notedthetimeofarrest,the
objectionsofthelawyer,andafewotherminorcomments.Ayoungwomaninprofessionaldressof
cream-coloredlinenhesitatedatthedooroftheaccountancy.Millerdidn’trecognizeher;shewasno
one involved with the rape case, or at least not the one he was working. Her face had the
expressionless calm of a fighter. He turned, craning his neck to look at Dowd, humiliated and not
lookingback.ThewomanshiftedhergazetoMiller.Shenoddedonce.Thankyou.
Henoddedback.Justdoingmyjob.
Shewentthroughthedoor.
Twohourslater,MillerfinishedthelastofthepaperworkandsentDowdofftothecells.
Threeandahalfhourslater,thefirstofhisdockinglogrequestscamein.
Fivehourslater,thegovernmentofCerescollapsed.
Despite being full, the station house was silent. Detectives and junior investigators, patrolmen and
deskworkers,thehighandthelow,theyallgatheredbeforeShaddid.Shestoodatherpodium,her
hairpulledbacktight.SheworeherStarHelixuniform,buttheinsigniahadbeenremoved.Hervoice
wasshaky.
“You’ve all heard this by now, but starting now, it’s official. The United Nations, responding to
requests from Mars, is withdrawing from its oversight and… protection of Ceres Station. This is a
peacefultransition.Thisisnotacoup.I’mgoingtosaythatagain.Thisisn’tacoup.Earthispulling
outofhere,wearen’tpushing.”
“That’sbullshit,sir,”someoneshouted.Shaddidraisedherhand.
“There’s a lot of loose talk,” Shaddid said. “I don’t want to hear any of it from you. The
governor ’sgoingtomaketheformalannouncementatthestartofthenextshift,andwe’llgetmore
details then. Until we hear otherwise, the Star Helix contract is still in place. A provisional
governmentisbeingformedwithmembersdrawnfromlocalbusinessandunionrepresentation.We
are still the law on Ceres, and I expect you to behave appropriately. You will all be here for your
shifts. You will be here on time. You will act professionally and within the scope of standard
practice.”
MillerlookedoveratMuss.Hispartner ’shairwasstillunkemptfromthepillow.Itwaspushing
midnightforthemboth.
“Anyquestions?”Shaddidsaidinavoicethatimpliedthereoughtnotbe.
Who’sgoingtopayStarHelix?Millerthought.Whatlawsareweenforcing?WhatdoesEarthknow
thatmakeswalkingawayfromthebiggestportintheBeltthesmartmove?
Who’sgoingtonegotiateyourpeacetreatynow?
Muss,seeingMiller ’sgaze,smiled.
“Guesswe’rehosed,”Millersaid.
“Hadtohappen,”Mussagreed.“Ibettergo.Gotastoptomake.”
“Upatthecore?”
Mussdidn’tanswer,becauseshedidn’thaveto.Ceresdidn’thavelaws.Ithadpolice.Millerheaded
back to his hole. The station hummed, the stone beneath him vibrating from the countless docking
clampsandreactorcores,tubesandrecyclersandpneumatics.Thestonewasalive,andhe’dforgotten
thesmallsignsthatprovedit.Sixmillionpeoplelivedhere,breathedthisair.FewerthaninamiddlesizedcityonEarth.Hewonderediftheywereexpendable.
Haditreallygonesofarthattheinnerplanetswouldbewillingtoloseamajorstation?Itseemed
likeithadifEarthwasabandoningCeres.TheOPAwouldstepin,whetheritwantedtoornot.The
powervacuumwastoogreat.ThenMarswouldcallitanOPAcoup.Then…Thenwhat?Boarditand
putitundermartiallaw?Thatwasthegoodanswer.Nukeitintodust?Hecouldn’tquitebringhimself
to believe that either. There was just too much money involved. Docking fees alone would fuel a
small national economy. And Shaddid and Dawes—much as he hated it—were right. Ceres under
Earthcontracthadbeenthebesthopeforanegotiatedpeace.
WastheresomeoneonEarthwhodidn’twantthatpeace?Someoneorsomethingpowerfulenough
tomovetheglacialbureaucracyoftheUnitedNationstotakeaction?
“WhatamIlookingat,Julie?”hesaidtotheemptyair.“Whatdidyouseeouttherethat’sworth
MarsandtheBeltkillingeachother?”
Thestationhummedtoitself,aquiet,constantsoundtoosoftforhimtohearthevoiceswithinit.
Mussdidn’tcometoworkinthemorning,buttherewasamessageonhissystemtellinghimshe’dbe
inlate.“Cleanup”washeronlyexplanation.
Tolookatit,nothingaboutthestationhousehadchanged.Thesamepeoplecomingtothesame
placetodothesamething.No,thatwasn’ttrue.Theenergywashigh.Peopleweresmiling,laughing,
clowning around. It was a manic high, panic pressed through a cheesecloth mask of normalcy. It
wasn’tgoingtolast.
TheywereallthatseparatedCeresfromanarchy.Theywerethelaw,andthedifferencebetween
thesurvivalofsixmillionpeopleandsomemadbastardforcingopenalltheairlocksorpoisoning
therecyclersrestedonmaybethirtythousandpeople.Peoplelikehim.Maybeheshouldhaverallied,
risentotheoccasionliketherestofthem.Thetruthwasthethoughtmadehimtired.
Shaddidmarchedbyandtappedhimontheshoulder.Hesighed,rosefromhischair,andfollowed
her.Daweswasinherofficeagain,lookingshakenandsleepdeprived.Millernoddedtohim.Shaddid
crossedherarms,hereyessofterandlessaccusingthanhe’dbecomeusedto.
“Thisisgoingtobetough,”shesaid.“We’refacingsomethingharderthananythingwe’vehadto
dobefore.IneedateamIcantrustwithmylife.Extraordinarycircumstances.Youunderstandthat?”
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Igotit.I’llstopdrinking,getmyselftogether.”
“Miller.You’renotabadpersonatheart.Therewasatimeyouwereaprettygoodcop.ButIdon’t
trustyou,andwedon’thavetimetostartover,”Shaddidsaid,hervoiceasneartogentleashehad
everheardit.“You’refired.”
ChapterNineteen:Holden
Fredstoodalone,handoutstretched,awarmandopensmileonhisbroadface.Therewerenoguards
withassaultriflesbehindhim.HoldenshookFred’shandandthenstartedlaughing.Fredsmiledand
lookedconfusedbutletHoldenkeepagriponhishand,waitingforHoldentoexplainwhatwasso
funny.
“I’msorry,butyouhavenoideahowpleasantthisis,”Holdensaid.“Thisisliterallythefirsttime
inoveramonththatI’vegottenoffashipwithoutitblowingupbehindme.”
Fredlaughedwithhimnow,anhonestlaughthatseemedtooriginatesomewhereinhisbelly.
After a moment the man said, “You’re quite safe here. We are the most protected station in the
outerplanets.”
“Becauseyou’reOPA?”Holdenasked.
Fredshookhishead.
“No.WemakecampaigncontributionstoEarthandMarspoliticiansinamountsthatwouldmakea
Hiltonblush,”hesaid.“Ifanyoneblowsusup,halftheUNassemblyandalloftheMartianCongress
willbehowlingforblood.It’stheproblemwithpolitics.Yourenemiesareoftenyourallies.Andvice
versa.”
Fredgesturedtoadoorwaybehindhimandmotionedforeveryonetofollow.Theridewasshort,
but halfway through, gravity reappeared, shifting in a disorienting swoop. Holden stumbled. Fred
lookedchagrined.
“I’msorry.Ishouldhavewarnedyouaboutthat.Thecentralhub’snullg.Movingintothering’s
rotationalgravitycanbeawkwardthefirsttime.”
“I’mfine,”Holdensaid.Naomi’sbriefsmilemightonlyhavebeenhisimagination.
Amomentlatertheelevatordooropenedontoawidecarpetedcorridorwithwallsofpalegreen.It
hadthereassuringsmellofairscrubbersandfreshcarpetglue.Holdenwouldn’thavebeensurprised
tofindtheywerepiping‘newspacestation’scentintotheair.Thedoorsthatledoffthecorridorwere
madeoffauxwooddistinguishablefromtherealthingonlybecausenobodyhadthatmuchmoney.Of
allhiscrew,Holdenwasalmostcertainlytheonlyonewhohadgrownupinahousewithrealwooden
furnitureandfixtures.AmoshadgrownupinBaltimore.Theyhadn’tseenatreethereinmorethana
century.
Holden pulled off his helmet and turned around to tell his crew to do the same, but theirs were
alreadyoff.Amoslookedupanddownthecorridorandwhistled.
“Nicedigs,Fred,”hesaid.
“Followme,I’llgetyousettledin,”Fredreplied,leadingthemdownthecorridor.Ashewalked,
hespoke.“TychoStationhasundergoneanumberofrefurbishmentsoverthelasthundredyears,as
youmightguess,butthebasicshaven’tchangedmuch.Itwasabrilliantdesigntobeginwith;Malthus
Tychowasanengineeringgenius.Hisgrandson,Bredon,runsthecompanynow.Heisn’tonstationat
themoment.DownthewellatLunanegotiatingthenextbigdeal.”
Holdensaid,“Seemslikeyouhavealotonyourplatealready,withthatmonsterparkedoutside.
And,youknow,awargoingon.”
Agroupofpeopleinjumpsuitsofvariouscolorswalkedpast,talkinganimatedly.Thecorridor
wassowidethatnoonehadtogiveway.Fredgesturedatthemastheywentby.
“Firstshift’sjustending,sothisisrushhour,”hesaid.“It’sactuallytimetostartdrummingupnew
work.TheNauvooisalmostdone.They’llbeloadingcolonistsonherinsixmonths.Alwayshaveto
have the next project lined up. The Tycho spends eleven million UN dollars every day she’s in
operation,whetherwemakemoneythatdayornot.It’sabignuttocover.Andthewar…well,we’re
hopingthat’stemporary.”
“Andnowyou’retakinginrefugees.Thatwon’thelp,”Holdensaid.
Fredjustlaughedandsaid,“Fourmorepeoplewon’tputusinthepoorhouseanytimesoon.”
Holdenstopped,forcingtheotherstopullupshortbehindhim.ItwasseveralstepsbeforeFred
noticed,thenturnedaroundwithaconfusedlook.
“You’re dodging,” Holden said. “Other than a couple billion dollars’ worth of stolen Martian
warship,wehaven’tgotanythingofvalue.Everyonethinkswe’redead.Anyaccessofouraccounts
ruinsthat,andIjustdon’tliveinauniversewhereDaddyWarbucksswoopsinandmakeseverything
okayoutofthegoodnessofhisheart.Soeithertelluswhyyou’retakingtheriskofputtingusup,or
wegogetbackonourshipandtryourhandatpiracy.”
“ScourgeoftheMartianmerchantfleet,they’llcallus,”Amosgrowledfromsomewherebehind
him.Hesoundedpleased.
Fredhelduphishands.Therewasahardnessinhiseyes,butalsoanamusedrespect.
“Nothing underhanded, you have my word,” he said. “You’re armed, and station security will
allowyoutocarrygunswheneveryoulike.ThataloneshouldreassureyouthatI’mnotplanningfoul
play.Butletmegetyousettledinbeforewedomuchmoretalking,okay?”
Holdendidn’tmove.Anothergroupofreturningworkerswasgoingbyinthecorridor,andthey
watchedthescenecuriouslyastheypassed.Someonefromtheknotofpeoplecalledout,“Everything
okay,Fred?”
Frednoddedandwavedthembyimpatiently.“Let’sgetoutofthecorridoratleast.”
“Wearen’tunpackinguntilwegetsomeanswers,”Holdenreplied.
“Fine.We’realmostthere,”Fredsaid,andthenledthemoffagainatasomewhatfasterpace.He
stopped at a small inset in the corridor wall with two doors in it. Opening one with the swipe of a
card, he led the four of them into a large residential suite with a roomy living space and lots of
seating.
“Bathroomisthatdoorbackthereontheleft.Thebedroomistheoneontheright.There’sevena
smallkitchenspaceoverhere,”Fredsaid,pointingtoeachthingashespoke.
Holdensatdowninalargebrownfaux-leatherreclinerandleaneditback.Aremotecontrolwas
inapocketofthearmrest.Heassumeditcontrolledtheimpressivelylargescreenthattookupmost
ofonewall.NaomiandAmossatonacouchthatmatchedhischair,andAlexdrapedhimselfovera
loveseatinanicecontrastingcreamcolor.
“Comfortable?”Fredasked,pullingachairawayfromthesix-seatdiningareaandsittingdown
acrossfromHolden.
“It’sallright,”Holdensaiddefensively.“Myshiphasareallynicecoffeemaker.”
“Isupposebribeswon’twork.Youareallcomfortable,though?Wehavetwosuitessetasidefor
you, both this basic layout, though the other suite has two rooms. I wasn’t sure of the, ah, sleeping
arrangements…”Fredtrailedoffuncomfortably.
“Don’tworry,Boss,youcanbunkwithme,”AmossaidwithawinkatNaomi.
Naomijustsmiledfaintly.
“Okay,Fred,we’reoffthestreet,”shesaid.“Nowanswerthecaptain’squestions.”
Fred nodded, then stood up and cleared his throat. He seemed to review something. When he
spoke,theconversationalfacadewasgone.Hisvoicecarriedagrimauthority.
“WarbetweentheBeltandMarsissuicide.EvenifeveryrockhopperintheBeltwerearmed,we
stillcouldn’tcompetewiththeMartiannavy.Wemightkillafewwithtricksandsuicideruns.Mars
mightfeelforcedtonukeoneofourstationstoproveapoint.Butwecanstrapchemicalrocketsonto
acouplehundredrocksthesizeofbunkbedsandrainArmageddondownonMartiandomecities.”
Fredpaused,asiflookingforwords,thensatbackdownonhischair.
“All of the war drums ignore that. It’s the elephant in the room. Anyone who doesn’t live on a
spaceship is structurally vulnerable. Tycho, Eros, Pallas, Ceres. Stations can’t evade incoming
missiles. And with all of the enemy’s citizens living at the bottom of huge gravity wells, we don’t
evenhavetoaimparticularlywell.Einsteinwasright.Wewillbefightingthenextwarwithrocks.But
theBelthasrocksthatwillturnthesurfaceofMarsintoamoltensea.
“Right now everyone is still playing nice, and only shooting at ships. Very gentlemanly. But
soonerorlater,onesideortheotherwillbepressedtodosomethingdesperate.”
Holdenleanedforward,theslicksurfaceofhisenvironmentsuitmakinganembarrassingsqueak
ontheleathertexturedchair.Noonelaughed.
“Iagree.Whatdoesthathavetodowithus?”heasked.
“Toomuchbloodhasalreadybeenshed,”Fredsaid.
Shed.
Holdenwincedatthebleak,unintentionalpunbutsaidnothing.
“TheCanterbury,”Fredcontinued.“TheDonnager.Peoplearen’tjustgoingtoforgetaboutthose
ships,andthosethousandsofinnocentpeople.”
“Seemslikeyoujustcrossedofftheonlytwooptions,Chief,”Alexsaid.“Nowar,nopeace.”
“There’s a third alternative. Civilized society has another way of dealing with things like this,”
Fredsaid.“Acriminaltrial.”
Amos’snortshooktheair.Holdenhadtofightnottosmilehimself.
“Areyoufuckingserious?”Amosasked.“AndhowdoyouputagoddamnMartianstealthshipon
trial?Dowegoquestionallthestealthshipsabouttheirwhereabouts,double-checktheiralibis?”
Fredheldupahand.
“Stop thinking of the Canterbury’s destruction as an act of war,” he said. “It was a crime. Right
now, people are overreacting, but once the situation sinks in, heads will cool. People on both sides
will see where this road goes and look for another way out. There is a window where the saner
elementscaninvestigateevents,negotiatejurisdiction,andassignblametosomepartyorpartiesthat
bothsidescanagreeto.Atrial.It’stheonlyoutcomethatdoesn’tinvolvemillionsofdeathsandthe
collapseofhumaninfrastucture.”
Holdenshrugged,agesturebarelyvisibleinhisheavyenvironmentsuit.
“Soitgoestoatrial.Youstillaren’tansweringmyquestion.”
FredpointedatHolden,thenateachofthecrewinturn.
“You’retheaceinthehole.Youfourpeoplearetheonlyeyewitnessestothedestructionofboth
ships.Whenthetrialcomes,Ineedyouandyourdepositions.Ihaveinfluencealreadythroughour
politicalcontacts,butyoucanbuymeaseatatthetable.Itwillbeawholenewsetoftreatiesbetween
theBeltandtheinnerplanets.WecandoinmonthswhatI’ddreamedofdoingindecades.”
“Andyouwanttouseourvalueaswitnessestoforceyourwayintotheprocesssoyoucanmake
thosetreatieslookthewayyouwantthemto,”Holdensaid.
“Yes.AndI’mwillingtogiveyouprotection,shelter,andrunofmystationforaslongasittakes
togetthere.”
Holdentookalong,deepbreath,gotup,andstartedunzippinghissuit.
“Yeah,okay.That’sjustself-servingenoughIbelieveit,”hesaid.“Let’sgetsettledin.”
Naomiwassingingkaraoke.JustthinkingaboutitmadeHolden’sheadspin.Naomi.Karaoke.Even
consideringeverythingthathadhappenedtothemoverthepastmonth,Naomiuponstagewithamic
inonehandandsomesortoffuchsiamartiniintheother,screamingoutanangryBelt-punkanthem
bytheMoldyFilters,wasthestrangestthinghe’deverseen.Shefinishedtoscatteredapplauseanda
fewcatcalls,thenstaggeredoffthestageandcollapsedacrossfromhiminthebooth.
Sheheldupherdrink,sloshingagoodhalfofitontothetable,thenthrewtheotherhalfbackallat
once.
“Whadjathink?”Naomiasked,wavingatthebartenderforanother.
“Itwasterrible,”Holdenreplied.
“No,really.”
“ItwastrulyoneofthemostawfulrenditionsofoneofthemostawfulsongsI’veeverheard.”
Naomi shook her head, blowing an exasperated raspberry at him. Her dark hair fell across her
faceand,whenthebartenderbroughtherasecondbrightlycoloredmartini,foiledallherattemptsat
drinking.Shefinallygrabbedherhairandhelditaboveherheadinaclumpwhileshedrank.
“Youdon’tgetit,”shesaid.“It’ssupposedtobeawful.That’sthepoint.”
“ThenitwasthebestversionofthatsongI’veeverheard,”Holdensaid.
“Damnstraight.”Naomilookedaroundthebar.“Where’reAmosandAlex?”
“AmosfoundwhatI’mprettysurewasthemostexpensivehookerI’veeverseen.Alexisinthe
back playing darts. He made some claims about the superiority of Martian darts players. I assume
they’regoingtokillhimandthrowhimoutanairlock.”
Asecondsingerwasonstage,crooningoutsomesortofVietnamesepowerballad.Naomiwatched
thesingerforawhile,sippingherdrink,thensaid,“Maybeweshouldgosavehim.”
“Whichone?”
“Alex.WhywouldAmosneedsaving?”
“BecauseI’mprettysurehetoldtheexpensivehookerhewasonFred’sexpenseaccount.”
“Let’s mount a rescue mission; we can save them both,” Naomi said, then drank the rest of her
cocktail.“Ineedmorerescuefuel,though.”
Shestartedwavingatthebartenderagain,butHoldenreachedoutandgrabbedherhandandheldit
onthetable.
“Maybeweshouldtakeabreatherinstead,”hesaid.
Aflushofangerasintenseasitwasbrieflitherface.Shepulledbackherhand.
“Youtakeabreather.I’vejusthadtwoshipsandabunchoffriendsshotoutfromunderneathme,
and spent three weeks of dead time flying to get here. So, no. I’m getting another drink, and then
doinganotherset.Thecrowdlovesme,”Naomisaid.
“Whataboutourrescuemission?”
“Lostcause.Amoswillbemurderedbyspacehookers,butatleasthe’lldiethewayhelived.”
Naomipushedherwayupfromthetable,grabbedhermartinioffthebar,andheadedtowardthe
karaokestage.Holdenwatchedhergo,thenfinishedoffthescotchhe’dbeennursingforthepasttwo
hoursandgotup.
Foramomentthere,he’dhadavisionofthetwoofthemstaggeringbacktotheroomtogether,
thenfallingintobed.He’dhavehatedhimselfinthemorningfortakingadvantage,buthe’dstillhave
doneit.Naomiwaslookingathimfromthestage,andherealizedhe’dbeenstaring.Hegavealittle
wave, then headed out the door with only ghosts—Ade, Captain McDowell, Gomez and Kelly and
Shed—tokeephimcompany.
The suite was comfortable and huge and depressing. He’d lain on the bed less than five minutes
before he was up and out the door again. He walked the corridor for half an hour, finding the big
intersectionsthatledtootherpartsofthering.Hefoundanelectronicsstoreandateahouseandwhat
oncloserinspectionturnedouttobeaveryexpensivebrothel.Hedeclinedthevideomenuofservices
thedeskclerkofferedandwanderedoutagain,wonderingifAmoswassomewhereinside.
Hewashalfwaydownacorridorhehadn’tseenbeforewhenasmallknotofteenagegirlspassed
him.Theirfaceslookednoolderthanfourteen,buttheywerealreadyastallashewas.Theygotquiet
ashewalkedby,thenburstoutlaughingwhenhewasbehindthem,andhurriedaway.Tychowasa
city,andhesuddenlyfeltverymuchlikeaforeigner,unsureofwheretogoorwhattodo.
Itwasnosurprisetohimwhenhelookedupfromhiswanderingsanddiscoveredhe’dcometothe
elevatortothedockingarea.Hepunchedthebuttonandclimbedinside,rememberingtoturnonhis
boot mags just in time to avoid being flung off his feet when the gravity twisted sideways and
vanished.
Even though he’d only had possession of the ship for three weeks, climbing back onto the
Rocinantefeltlikegoinghome.Usinggentletouchesonthekeelladder,hemadehiswayuptothe
cockpit.Hepulledhimselfintothecopilot’scouch,strappedin,andclosedhiseyes.
Theshipwassilent.Withthereactoroff-line,andnooneaboard,nothingwasmovingatall.The
flexibledockingtubethatconnectedtheRocitothestationtransmittedverylittlevibrationtotheship.
Holdencouldclosehiseyesanddriftinthestrapsanddisconnectfromeverythingaroundhim.
It would have been peaceful except that every time he’d closed his eyes for the past month, the
fadingghostlightsbehindhiseyelidshadbeenAdewinkingandblowingawaylikedust.Thevoiceat
thebackofhisheadwasMcDowell’sashetriedtosavehisshiprightuptotheverylastsecond.He
wonderedifhe’dhavethemfortherestofhislife,comingouttohaunthimeverytimehefounda
momentofquiet.
Herememberedtheold-timersfromhisnavydays.Grizzledliferswhocouldsoundlysleepwhile
twometersawaytheirshipmatesplayedaraucousgameofpokerorwatchedthevidswiththevolume
allthewayup.Backthenhe’dassumeditwasjustlearnedbehavior,thebodyadaptingsoitcouldget
enoughrestinanenvironmentthatneverreallyhaddowntime.Nowhewonderedifthosevetsfound
theconstantnoisepreferable.Awaytokeeptheirlostshipmatesaway.Theyprobablywenthomeafter
theirtwentyandneversleptagain.Heopenedhiseyesandwatchedasmallgreentelltaleblinkonthe
pilot’sconsole.
It was the only light in the room, and it illuminated nothing. But its slow fade in and out was
somehowcomforting.Aquietheartbeatfortheship.
He told himself that Fred was right; a trial was the right thing to hope for. But he wanted that
stealthshipinAlex’sgunsights.Hewantedthatunknowncrewtolivethroughtheterrifyingmoment
when all the countermeasures have failed, the torpedoes are seconds from impact, and absolutely
nothingcanstopthem.
Hewantedthemtohavethatsamelastgaspoffearhe’dheardthroughAde’smic.
Foratime,hedisplacedtheghostsinhisheadwithviolentvengeancefantasies.Whentheystopped
working, he floated down to the personnel deck, strapped into his cot, and tried to sleep. The
Rocinantesanghimalullabyofairrecyclersandsilence.
ChapterTwenty:Miller
Miller sat at an open café, the tunnel wide above him. Grass grew tall and pale in the public
commons, and the ceiling glowed full-spectrum white. Ceres Station had come unmoored. Orbital
mechanicsandinertiakeptitphysicallywhereithadalwaysbeen,butthestoriesaboutithadchanged.
The point defenses were the same. The tensile strength of the port blast doors was the same. The
ephemeralshieldofpoliticalstatuswasallthey’dlost,anditwaseverything.
Millerleanedforwardandsippedhiscoffee.
There were children playing on the commons. He thought of them as children, though he
remembered thinking of himself as an adult at that age. Fifteen, sixteen years old. They wore OPA
armbands.Theboysspokeinloud,angryvoicesabouttyrannyandfreedom.Thegirlswatchedthe
boysstrut.Theancient,animalstory,thesamewhetheritwasonaspinningrocksurroundedbyhard
vacuum or the stamp-sized chimpanzee preserves on Earth. Even in the Belt, youth brought
invulnerability, immortality, the unshakable conviction that for you, things would be different. The
lawsofphysicswouldcutyouabreak,themissileswouldneverhit,theairwouldneverhissoutinto
nothing.Maybeforotherpeople—thepatched-togetherfightingshipsoftheOPA,thewaterhaulers,
theMartiangunships,theScopuli,theCanterbury,theDonnager,thehundredothershipsthathaddied
insmallactionssincethesystemhadturneditselfintoabattlefield—butnotyou.Andwhenyouthwas
lucky enough to survive its optimism, all Miller had left was a little fear, a little envy, and the
overwhelming sense of life’s fragility. But he had three month’s worth of company script in his
accountandalotoffreetime,andthecoffeewasn’tbad.
“You need anything, sir?” the waiter asked. He didn’t look any older than the kids on the grass.
Millershookhishead.
Five days had passed since Star Helix pulled its contract. The governor of Ceres was gone,
smuggled out on a transport before the news had gone wide. The Outer Planets Alliance had
announcedtheinclusionofCeresamongofficialOPA-heldrealestate,andnoonehadsaidotherwise.
Millerhadspentthefirstdayofhisunemploymentdrunk,buthisbenderhadanoddlyproformafeel.
He’ddescendedintothebottlebecauseitwasfamiliar,becauseitwaswhatyoudidwhenyou’dlost
thecareerthatdefinedyou.
Thesecondday,he’dgottenthroughthehangover.Thethird,he’dgottenbored.Allthroughthe
station,securityforcesweremakingthekindofdisplayhe’dexpected,preemptivepeacekeeping.The
fewpoliticalralliesandprotestsendedfastandhard,andthecitizensofCeresdidn’tmuchcare.Their
eyeswereontheirmonitors,onthewar.Afewlocalswithbustedheadsgettingthrownintoprison
withoutchargeswerebeneathnotice.AndMillerwaspersonallyresponsiblefornoneofit.
The fourth day, he’d checked his terminal and discovered that 80 percent of his docking log
requestshadcomethroughbeforeShaddidhadshuthisaccessdown.Overathousandentries,anyone
ofwhichcouldbetheonlyremainingleadtoJulieMao.Sofar,noMartiannukeswereontheirway
tocrackCeres.Nodemandsofsurrender.Noboardingforces.Itcouldallchangeinamoment,but
until it did, Miller was drinking coffee and auditing ship records, about one every fifteen minutes.
MillerfiguredthatifHoldenwasthelastshipinthelog,he’dfindhiminaboutsixweeks.
The Adrianopole, a third-gen prospector, had docked at Pallas within the arrival window. Miller
checked the open registration, frustrated again at how little information was there compared to the
security databases. Owned by Strego Anthony Abramowitz. Eight citations for substandard
maintenance,bannedfromErosandCeresasadangertotheport.Anidiotandanaccidentwaitingto
happen,buttheflightplanseemedlegitimate,andthehistoryoftheshipwasdeepenoughnottosmell
new-minted.Millerdeletedtheentry.
TheBadassMotherfucker,afreighthaulerdoingatrianglebetweenLuna,Ganymede,andtheBelt.
OwnedbyMYOFBCorporationoutofLuna.AquerytothepublicbasesatGanymedeshowedithad
left the port there at the listed time and just hadn’t bothered to file a flight plan. Miller tapped the
screenwithafingernail.Notexactlyhowhe’dflyundertheradar.Anyonewithauthoritywouldroust
thatshipjustforthejoyofdoingit.Hedeletedtheentry.
His terminal chimed. An incoming message. Miller flipped over to it. One of the girls on the
commonsshriekedandtheotherslaughed.Asparrowflewpast,itswingshummingintheconstant
recycler-drivenbreeze.
Havelocklookedbetterthanwhenhe’dbeenonCeres.Happier.Thedarkcirclesweregonefrom
hiseyes,andtheshapeofhisfacehadsubtlysoftened,asiftheneedtoprovehimselfintheBelthad
changedhisbonesandnowhewasfallingbackintohisnaturalform.
“Miller!” the recording said. “I heard about Earth cutting Ceres just before I got your message.
Bad luck. I’m sorry to hear Shaddid fired you. Between the two of us, she’s a pompous idiot. The
rumorI’veheardisEarthisdoingeverythingitcantostayoutofthewar,includinggivingupany
stationthatit’sexpectingtobeapointofcontention.Youknowhowitis.You’vegotapitbullonone
sideofyouandarottweilerontheother,firstthingyoudoisdropyoursteak.”
Millerchuckled.
“I’vesignedonwithProtogensecurity,big-companyprivatearmybullshit.Butthepayisworth
puttingupwiththeirdelusionsofgrandeur.Thecontract’ssupposedtobeonGanymede,butwiththe
crapgoingonrightnow,whoknowshowit’llreallyplayout?TurnsoutProtogen’sgotatraining
baseintheBelt.I’dneverheardaboutit,butit’ssupposedtobequitethegymnasium.Iknowthey’re
hiringon,andI’dbehappytoputinawordforyou.Justletmeknow,andI’llgetyoutogetherwith
theinductionrecruiter,getyouoffthatdamnedrock.”
Havelocksmiled.
“Takecareofyourself,partner,”theEarthersaid.“Keepintouch.”
Protogen.Pinkwater.AlAbbiq.Smallcorporatesecurityforcesthatthebigtransorbitalcompanies
usedasprivatearmiesandmercenaryforcestorentoutasneeded.AnnanSechadthePallassecurity
contract,andhadforyears,butitwasMars-based.TheOPAwasprobablyhiring,butprobablynot
him.
Ithadbeenyearssincehe’dtriedtofindwork.He’dassumedthatparticularstrugglewasbehind
him,thathewasgoingtodieworkingtheCeresStationsecuritycontract.Nowthateventshadthrown
himout,everythinghadanoddfloatingfeeling.Likethegapbetweengettinghitandfeelingthepain.
He needed to find another job. He needed to do more than send a couple messages out to his old
partners.Therewereemploymentfirms.TherewerebarsonCeresthatwouldhireanex-copfora
bouncer.Thereweregraymarketsthatwouldtakeanyonecapableofgivingthemaveneeroflegality.
Thelastthingthatmadesensewastositaround,oglinggirlsintheparkandchasingdownleads
onacasethathehadn’tbeenmeanttofollowuponinthefirstplace.
TheDagonhadcomeintoCeresjustalittleaheadofthearrivalwindow.OwnedbytheGlapion
Collective,whowere,hewasprettysure,anOPAfront.Thatmadeitagoodfit.Excepttheflightplan
hadbeenputinjustafewhoursaftertheDonnagerblew,andtheexitrecordfromIolookedsolid.
Millershifteditintoafilehewaskeepingforshipsthatearnedasecondlook.
The Rocinante, owned by Silencieux Courant Holdings out of Luna, was a gas hauler that had
landedatTychojusthoursbeforetheendofthearrivalwindow.SilencieuxCourantwasamediumsizedcorporateentitywithnoobvioustiestotheOPA,andtheflightplanfromPallaswasplausible.
Millerputhisfingertipoverthedeletekey,thenpaused.Hesatback.
WhywasagashaulergoingbetweenPallasandTycho?Bothstationsweregasconsumers.Flying
fromconsumertoconsumerwithouthittingasupplyinthemiddlewasagoodwaytonotcoveryour
docking fees. He put in a request for the flight plan that had taken the Rocinante to Pallas from
whereverithadbeenbefore,thensatbacktowait.IftherecordswerecachedintheCeresservers,the
requestshouldn’ttakemorethanaminuteortwo.Thenotificationbarestimatedanhourandahalf,
sothatmeanttherequestwasgettingforwardedtothedockingsystemsatPallas.Ithadn’tbeeninthe
localbackup.
Millerstrokedhischin;fivedaysofstubblehadalmostreachedthebeginningofabeard.Hefelta
smilestarting.HedidadefinitionsearchonRocinante.Literallymeaning“nolongeraworkhorse,”
itsfirstentrywasasthenameofDonQuixote’shorse.
“Thatyou,Holden?”Millersaidtothescreen.“Yououttiltingatwindmills?”
“Sir?”thewaitersaid,butMillerwavedhimaway.
Therewerehundredsofentriesstilltobelookedatanddozensatleastinhissecond-lookfolder.
Millerignoredthem,staringattheentryfromTychoasifbysheerforceofwillhecouldmakemore
information appear on the screen. Then, slowly, he pulled up the message from Havelock, hit the
respondkey,andlookedintothetinyblackpinprickoftheterminal’scamera.
“Hey,partner,”hesaid.“Thanksfortheoffer.Imaytakeyouuponit,butI’vegotsomekinksI
needtoworkoutbeforeIjump.Youknowhowitis.Ifyoucandomeafavor,though…Ineedto
keeptrackofaship,andI’veonlygotthepublicdatabasestoworkfrom,pluswhichCeresmaybeat
war with Mars by now. Who knows, you know? Anyway, if you can put a level one watch on any
flightplansforher,dropmeanoteifanythingcomesup…I’dbuyyouadrinksometime.”
Hepaused.Therehadtobesomethingmoretosay.
“Takecareofyourself,partner.”
He reviewed the message. On-screen, he looked tired, the smile a little fake, the voice a little
higherthanitsoundedinhishead.Butitsaidwhatitneededtosay.Hesentit.
Thiswaswhathe’dbeenreducedto.Accessgone,servicegunconfiscated—thoughhestillhada
coupleofdropsinhishole—moneyrunningout.Hehadtoplaytheangles,callinfavorsforthings
thatshouldhavebeenroutine,outthinkthesystemforanyscrap.He’dbeenacop,andthey’dturned
himintoamouse.Still,hethought,sittingbackinthechair.Prettygoodworkforamouse.
The sound of detonation came from spinward, then voices raised in anger. The kids on the
commonsstoppedtheirgamesoftouch-metouch-youandstared.Millerstoodup.Therewassmoke,
but he couldn’t see flames. The breeze picked up as the station air cleaners raised the flow to suck
awayparticulatessothesensorsdidn’tthinktherewasariskoffanningafire.Threegunshotsrang
outinfastsuccession,andthevoicescametogetherinaroughchant.Millercouldn’tmakewordsout
ofit,buttherhythmtoldhimallheneededtoknow.Notadisaster,notafire,notabreach.Justariot.
Thekidswerewalkingtowardthecommotion.Millercaughtonebytheelbow.Shecouldn’thave
beenmorethansixteen,hereyesnearblack,herfaceaperfectheartshape.
“Don’tgooverthere,”hesaid.“Getyourfriendstogetherandwalktheotherway.”
Thegirllookedathim,hishandonherarm,thedistantcommotion.
“Youcan’thelp,”hesaid.
Shepulledherarmfree.
“Gottatry,yeah?”shesaid.“Podríaintentar,youknow.”Youcouldtoo.
“Justdid,”Millersaidasheputhisterminalinitscaseandwalkedaway.Behindhim,thesounds
oftheriotgrew.Buthefiguredthepolicecouldtakecareofit.
Overthenextfourteenhours,thesystemnetreportedfiveriotsonthestation,someminorstructural
damage.Someonehe’dneverheardofannouncedatri-phasecurfew;peopleoutoftheirholesmore
thantwohoursbeforeoraftertheirworkshiftswouldbesubjecttoarrest.Whoeverwasrunningthe
show now thought they could lock down six million people and create stability and peace. He
wonderedwhatShaddidthoughtaboutthat.
OutsideCeres,thingsweregettingworse.ThedeepastronomylabsonTritonhadbeenoccupied
by a band of prospectors sympathetic to the OPA. They’d turned the array in-system and had been
broadcasting the location of every Martian ship in the system along with high-definition images of
thesurfaceofMars,downtothetoplesssunbathersinthedomeparks.Thestorywasthatavolleyof
nukeswasonitswaytothestation,andthearraywouldbebrightdustwithinaweek.Earth’simitation
ofasnailwaspickingupthepaceasEarth-andLuna-basedcompaniespulledbackdownthegravity
well. Not all of them, not even half, but enough to send the Terran message: Count us out. Mars
appealedforsolidarity;theBeltappealedforjusticeor,moreoften,toldthebirthplaceofhumanityto
gofuckitself.
Itwasn’toutofcontrolyet,butitwasrampingup.Anotherfewincidentsanditwouldn’tmatter
howithadstarted.Itwouldn’tmatterwhatthestakeswere.MarsknewtheBeltcouldn’twin,andthe
Beltknewithadnothingtolose.Itwasarecipefordeathonascalehumanityhadneverseen.
And, like Ceres, there wasn’t much Miller could do about that either. But he could find James
Holden, find out what had happened to the Scopuli, follow the leads back to Julie Mao. He was a
detective.Itwaswhathedid.
Ashepackeduphishole,throwingoutthecollecteddetritusthatgrewoverdecadeslikeacrust,
hetalkedtoher.Hetriedtoexplainwhyhe’dgivenupeverythingtofindher.Afterhisdiscoveryof
theRocinante,hecouldhardlyavoidthewordquixotic.
HisimaginaryJulielaughedorwastouched.Shethoughthewasasad,patheticlittleman,since
justtrackingherdownwasthenearesttoapurposeinlifehecouldfind.Shedressedhimdownas
beingatoolofherparents.Sheweptandputherarmsaroundhim.Shesatwithhiminsomealmost
unimaginableobservationloungeandwatchedthestars.
He fit everything he had into a shoulder bag. Two changes of clothes, his papers, his hand
terminal.ApictureofCandacefrombackinbetterdays.AllthehardcopyofJulie’scasehe’dmade
beforeShaddidwipedhispartition,includingthreepicturesofJulie.Hethoughtthateverythinghe’d
livedthroughshouldhaveaddeduptomore,andthenchangedhismind.Itwasprobablyaboutright.
Hespentonelastdayignoringthecurfew,makinghisroundsofthestation,sayinggoodbyetothe
fewpeoplehefelthemightmissormightmisshim.Tohissurprise,Muss,whohefoundatatense
anduncomfortablepolicebar,actuallytearedupandhuggedhimuntilhisribsachedfromit.
HebookedpassageonatransporttoTycho.Hisbunkranhimaquarterofhisremainingfunds.It
occurred to him, not for the first time, that he had to find Julie pretty damn quick or find a job to
support him through the investigation. But it hadn’t happened yet, and the universe wasn’t stable
enoughanymoretomakelong-rangeplanningmorethanasourjoke.
Asiftoprovethepoint,histerminalchimedashewasinthelinetoboardthetransport.
“Hey, partner,” Havelock said. “That favor you needed? I got a bite. Your package just put in a
flightplanforEros.I’msendingthepublic-accessdataattached.I’dgetyouthegoodstuff,butthese
Protogenguysaretight.Imentionedyoutotherecruiterandsheseemedinterested.Soletmeknow,
right?Talktoyousoon.”
Eros.
Great.
Millernoddedatthewomanbehindhim,steppedoutofline,andwalkedtothekiosk.Bythetimea
screenwasopen,theywerecallingfinalboardingfortheTychotransport.Millerturnedinhisticket,
gotanominalrefund,andspentathirdofwhathestillhadinhisaccountforatickettoEros.Still,it
couldhavebeenworse.Hecouldhavebeenonthewaybeforehegotword.Hehadtostartthinking
aboutitasgoodluck,notbad.
Thepassageconfirmationcamethroughwithachimelikeagentlystrucktriangle.
“IhopeI’mrightaboutthis,”hesaidtoJulie.“IfHolden’snotthere,I’mgonnafeelprettystupid.”
Inhismind,shesmiledruefully.
Lifeisrisk,shesaid.
ChapterTwenty-One:Holden
Ships were small. Space was always at a premium, and even on a monster like the Donnager, the
corridors and compartments were cramped and uncomfortable. On the Rocinante, the only rooms
where Holden could spread out his arms without touching two walls were the galley and the cargo
bay. No one who flew for a living was claustrophobic, but even the most hardened Belt prospector
could recognize the rising tension of being ship-bound. It was the ancient stress response of the
trappedanimal,thesubconsciousknowledgethattherewasliterallynowheretogothatyoucouldn’t
seefromwhereyouwerealreadystanding.Gettingofftheshipatportwasasuddenandsometimes
giddyingreleaseoftension.
Itoftentooktheformofadrinkinggame.
Likeallprofessionalsailors,Holdenhadsometimesendedlongflightsbydrinkinghimselfintoa
stupor.Morethanoncehe’dwanderedintoabrothelandleftonlywhentheythrewhimoutwithan
emptiedaccount,asoregroin,andaprostateasdryastheSaharadesert.SowhenAmosstaggered
intohisroomafterthreedaysonstation,Holdenknewexactlywhatthebigmechanicfeltlike.
Holden and Alex were sharing the couch and watching a newsfeed. Two talking heads were
discussing the Belter actions with words like criminal, terrorist, and sabotage. The Martians were
“peacekeepers.” It was a Martian news channel. Amos snorted and collapsed on the couch. Holden
mutedthescreen.
“Havingagoodshoreleave,sailor?”Holdenaskedwithagrin.
“I’llneverdrinkagain,”Amosgroaned.
“Naomi’s comin’ over with some chow she got at that sushi place,” Alex said. “Nice raw fish
wrappedinfakeseaweed.”
Amosgroanedagain.
“That’snotnice,Alex,”Holdensaid.“Lettheman’sliverdieinpeace.”
Thedoortothesuiteslidopenagain,andNaomicameincarryingatallstackofwhiteboxes.
“Food’shere,”shesaid.
Alexopenedalltheboxesandstartedhandingaroundsmalldisposableplates.
“Every time it’s your turn to get food, you get salmon rolls. It shows a lack of imagination,”
Holdensaidashebeganputtingfoodonhisplate.
“Ilikesalmon,”Naomireplied.
Theroomgotquietaspeopleate;theonlysoundsweretheclackofplasticchopsticksandthewet
squish of things being dipped in wasabi and soy. When the food was gone, Holden wiped his eyes,
maderunnybytheheatinhissinuses,andleanedhischairallthewayback.Amosusedoneofhis
chopstickstoscratchunderthecastonhisleg.
“Youguysdidaprettygoodjobsettingthis,”hesaid.“It’sthethingonmybodythathurtstheleast
rightnow.”
Naomi grabbed the remote off Holden’s armrest and turned the volume back on. She began
spoolingthroughthedifferentfeeds.Alexclosedhiseyesandsliddownontheloveseat,lacinghis
fingersacrosshisbellyandsighingcontentedly.Holdenfeltasuddenandirrationalannoyanceathis
crewforbeingsocomfortable.
“EveryonehadenoughofsuckingonFred’steatyet?”hesaid.“IknowIhave.”
“Whatthefuckareyoutalkingabout?”Amossaid,shakinghishead.“I’mjustgettingstarted.”
“Imean,”Holdensaid,“howlongarewegoingtohangaroundonTycho,drinkingandwhoring
andeatingsushionFred’sexpenseaccount?”
“AslongasIcan?”Alexsaid.
“Youhaveabetterplan,then,”Naomisaid.
“I don’t have a plan, but I want to get back in the game. We were full of righteous anger and
dreams of vengeance when we got here, and a couple of blowjobs and hangovers later, it’s like
nothingeverhappened.”
“Uh,vengeancekindarequiressomeonetoavengeupon,Cap,”Alexsaid.“Caseyouain’tnoticed,
we’relackin’inthatdepartment.”
“Thatshipisstilloutthere,somewhere.Thepeoplewhoorderedittoshootare,too,”Holdensaid.
“So,”Alexrepliedslowly,“wetakeoffandstartflyin’inaspiraluntilwerunintoit?”
Naomilaughedandthrewasoypacketathim.
“I don’t know what we do,” Holden said, “but sitting here while the people who killed our ship
keepdoingwhateveritisthey’redoingismakingmenuts.”
“We’vebeenherethreedays,”Naomisaid.“Wedeservesomecomfortablebedsanddecentfood
andachancetoblowoffsteam.Don’ttrytomakeusfeelbadfortakingit.”
“Besides,Fredsaidwe’llgetthosebastardsatthetrial,”Amossaid.
“Ifthere’satrial,”Holdenreplied.“If.Itwon’thappenformonths,ormaybeevenyears.Andeven
then,Fred’slookingatthosetreaties.Amnestymightbeanotherbargainingchip,right?”
“Youwerequickenoughtoagreetohisterms,Jim,”Naomisaid.“Changedyourmind?”
“IfFredwantsdepositionsinexchangeforlettinguspatchupandrest,thepricewascheap.That
doesn’tmeanIthinkatrialwillfixeverything,orthatIwanttobesidelineduntilithappens.”
Hegesturedatthefaux-leathercouchandhugewallscreenaroundthem.
“Besides, this can be a prison. It’s a nice one, but as long as Fred controls the purse strings, he
ownsus.Makenomistake.”
Naomi’sbrowcrinkled;hereyesgrewserious.
“What’stheoption,sir?”sheasked.“Leave?”
Holdenfoldedhisarms,hismindturningovereverythinghe’dsaidasifhewashearingitforthe
firsttime.Sayingthingsoutloudactuallymadethemclearer.
“I’mthinkingwelookforwork,”hesaid.“We’vegotagoodship.Moreimportantly,wehavea
sneakyship.It’sfast.Wecanrunwithoutatransponderifweneedto.Lotsofpeoplewillneedthings
movedfromplacetoplacewithawaron.GivesussomethingtodowhilewewaitforFred’strial,
andawaytoputmoneyinourpocketssowecangetoffthedole.And,asweflyfromplacetoplace,
wecankeepourearsandeyesopen.Neverknowwhatwe’llfind.Andseriously,howlongcanyou
threestandtobestationrats?”
Therewasamoment’ssilence.
“Icouldstationratforanother…week?”Amossaid.
“Itain’tabadidea,Cap,”Alexsaidwithanod.
“It’syourdecision,Captain,”Naomisaid.“I’llstickwithyou,andIliketheideaofgettingmyown
moneyagain.ButIhopeyou’renotinahurry.Icouldreallyuseafewmoredaysoff.”
Holdenclappedhishandsandjumpedtohisfeet.
“Nope,”hesaid.“Havingaplanmakesallthedifference.Downtime’seasiertoenjoywhenIknow
it’llend.”
AlexandAmosgotuptogetherandheadedforthedoor.Alexhadwonafewdollarsplayingdarts,
andnowheandAmoswereintheprocessofturningitintoevenmoremoneyatthecardtables.
“Don’twaitup,Boss,”AmossaidtoNaomi.“I’mfeelingluckytoday.”
Theyleft,andHoldenwenttothesmallkitchennooktomakecoffee.Naomifollowedhimin.
“Oneotherthing,”shesaid.
Holdentoreopenthesealedcoffeepacket,thestrongodorfillingtheroom.
“Shoot,”hesaid.
“FredistakingcareofallthearrangementsforKelly’sbody.He’llholdithereinstateuntilwego
publicwithoursurvival.Thenhe’llshipitbacktoMars.”
Holden filled the coffeemaker with water from the tap and started the machine. It made soft
gurglingsounds.
“Good.LieutenantKellydeservesalltherespectanddignitywecangivehim.”
“It got me thinking about that data cube he had. I haven’t been able to hack it. It’s some kind of
militaryüber-encryptionthatmakesmyheadhurt.So…”
“Justsayit,”Holdensaidwithafrown.
“IwanttogiveittoFred.Iknowit’sarisk.Wehavenoideawhat’sonit,andforallhischarmand
hospitality,Fred’sstillOPA.Buthewasalsohigh-rankingUNmilitary.Andhe’sgotaseriousbrain
trusthereonthestation.Hemightbeabletoopenitup.”
Holdenthoughtforamoment,thennodded.
“Okay,letmesitwiththat.IwanttoknowwhatYaowastryingtogetofftheship,but—”
“Yeah.”
Theysharedacompanionablesilenceasthecoffeebrewed.Whenitwasfinished,Holdenpoured
twomugsandhandedonetoNaomi.
“Captain,”shesaid,thenpaused.“Jim.I’vebeenapain-in-the-assXOsofar.I’vebeenstressedout
andscaredshitlessabouteightypercentofthetime.”
“Youdoanamazingjobofhidingthatfact,”Holdenreplied.
Naominoddedthecomplimentaway.
“Anyway,I’vebeenpushyaboutsomethingsthatIprobablyshouldn’thavebeen.”
“Notabigdeal.”
“Okay,letmefinish,”shesaid.“IwantyoutoknowIthinkyou’vedoneagreatjobofkeepingus
alive.Youkeepusfocusedontheproblemswecansolveinsteadoffeelingsorryforourselves.You
keepeveryoneinorbitaroundyou.Noteveryonecandothat,Icouldn’tdoit,andwe’veneededthat
stability.”
Holden felt a glow of pride. He hadn’t expected it, and he didn’t trust it, but it felt good all the
same.
“Thankyou,”Holdensaid.
“I can’t speak for Amos and Alex, but I plan to stick it out. You’re not just the captain because
McDowellisdead.You’reourcaptain,asfarasI’mconcerned.Justsoyouknow.”
Shelookeddown,blushingasifshe’djustconfessedsomething.Maybeshehad.
“I’lltrynottoblowit,”hesaid.
“I’dappreciatethat,sir.”
Fred Johnson’s office was like its occupant: big, intimidating, and overflowing with things that
needed to be done. The room was easily two and a half square meteres, making it larger than any
singlecompartmentontheRocinante.Hisdeskwasmadeofactualwood,lookedatleastahundred
yearsold,andsmelledoflemonoil.HoldensatinachairthatwasjustalittlelowerthanFred’s,and
lookedatthemoundsoffilefoldersandpaperscoveringeveryflatsurface.
Fredhadsentforhimandthenspentthefirsttenminutesafterhe’darrivedspeakingonthephone.
Whatever he was talking about, it sounded technical. Holden assumed it was related to the giant
generationshipoutside.Itdidn’tbotherhimtobeignoredforafewminutes,sincethewallbehind
Fredwasentirelycoveredbyableedinglyhigh-definitionscreenpretendingtobeawindow.Itwas
showingaspectacularviewoftheNauvoomovingpastasthestationspun.Fredspoiledthesceneby
puttingthephonedown.
“Sorryaboutthat,”hesaid.“Theatmosphereprocessingsystemhasbeenanightmarefromday
one. When you’re going a hundred plus years on only the air you can bring with you, the loss
tolerancesare…stricterthanusual.Sometimesit’sdifficulttoimpresstheimportanceoffinedetails
onthecontractors.”
“Iwasenjoyingtheview,”Holdensaid,gesturingatthescreen.
“I’mstartingtowonderifwe’llbeabletogetitdoneonschedule.”
“Why?”
Fredsighedandleanedhischairbackwithasqueak.
“It’sthewarbetweenMarsandtheBelt.”
“Materialshortages,then?”
“Not just that. Pirate casts claiming to speak for the OPA are working into a frenzy. Belt
prospectorswithhomemadetorpedolaunchersarefiringonMartianwarships.Theygetwipedoutin
response,buteverynowandthenoneofthosetorpedoeshitsandkillsafewMartians.”
“WhichmeansMarsstartsshootingfirst.”
Frednoddedandthengotupandstartedpacingtheroom.
“Andthenevenhonestcitizensonlegitimatebusinessstartgettingworriedaboutgoingoutofthe
house,”hesaid.“We’vehadoveradozenlateshipmentssofarthismonth,andI’mworrieditwill
stopbeingdelaysandstartbeingcancellations.”
“Youknow,I’vebeenthinkingaboutthesamething,”Holdensaid.
Fredactedasthoughhehadn’theard.
“I’vebeenonthatbridge,”Fredsaid.“Unidentifiedshipcomingonyou,andadecisiontomake?
Noonewantstopressthebutton.I’vewatchedashipgetbiggerandbiggeronthescopewhile my
fingerwasonthetrigger.Irememberbeggingthemtostop.”
Holdensaidnothing.He’dseenittoo.Therewasnothingtosay.Fredletsilencehangintheairfor
amoment,thenshookhisheadandstraightenedup.
“Ineedtoaskyouafavor,”Fredsaid.
“Youcanalwaysask,Fred.You’vepaidforthatmuch,”Holdenreplied.
“Ineedtoborrowyourship.”
“TheRoci?”Holdensaid.“Why?”
“Ineedtohavesomethingpickedupanddeliveredhere,andIneedashipthatcanstayquietand
runpastMartianpicketshipsifitneedsto.”
“TheRocinanteisdefinitelytherightship,then,butthatdidn’tanswermyquestion.Why?”
Fred turned his back to Holden and looked at the view screen. The nose of the Nauvoo was just
vanishingfromsight.Theviewturnedtotheflat,star-speckledblackofforever.
“IneedtopicksomeoneuponEros,”hesaid.“Someoneimportant.I’vegotpeoplewhocandoit,
buttheonlyshipswe’vegotarelightfreightersandacoupleofsmallshuttles.Nothingthatcanmake
thetripquicklyenoughorhaveahopeofrunningawayiftroublestarts.”
“Does this person have a name? I mean, you keep saying you don’t want to fight, but the other
uniquethingaboutmyshipisthatit’stheonlyoneherewithguns.I’msuretheOPAhasawholelist
ofthingsthey’dlikeblownup.”
“Youdon’ttrustme.”
“Nope.”
Fred turned back around and gripped the back of his chair. His knuckles were white. Holden
wonderedifhe’dgonetoofar.
“Look,”Holdensaid,“youtalkagoodgameaboutpeaceandtrialsandallthat.Youdisavowthe
pirate casts. You have a nice station filled with nice people. I have every reason to believe you are
whatyousayyouare.Butwe’vebeenherethreedays,andthefirsttimeyoutellmeaboutyourplans,
youasktoborrowmyshipforasecretmission.Sorry.IfI’mpartofthis,Igetfullaccess;nosecrets.
EvenifIknewforafact,whichIdon’t,thatyouhadnothingbutgoodintentions,Istillwouldn’tgo
alongwiththecloak-and-daggerbullshit.”
Fredstaredathimforafewseconds,thencamearoundhischairandsatdown.Holdenfoundhe
wastappinghisfingersonhisthighnervouslyandforcedhimselftostop.Fred’seyesflickeddownat
Holden’shandandthenbackup.Hecontinuedtostare.
Holdenclearedhisthroat.
“Look,you’rethebigdoghere.EvenifIdidn’tknowwhoyouusedtobe,you’dscaretheshitout
ofme,sodon’tfeeltheneedtoproveit.ButnomatterhowscaredIam,I’mnotbackingdownon
this.”
Fred’shoped-forlaughterdidn’tcome.Holdentriedtoswallowwithoutgulping.
“Ibeteverycaptainyoueverflewunderthoughtyouwereagiganticpainintheass,”Fredsaid
finally.
“Ibelievemyrecordreflectsthat,”Holdensaid,tryingtohidehisrelief.
“IneedtoflytoErosandfindamannamedLionelPolanski,andthenbringhimbacktoTycho.”
“That’sonlyaweekoutifwepush,”Holdensaid,doingthemathinhishead.
“ThefactthatLioneldoesn’tactuallyexistcomplicatesthemission.”
“Yeah,okay.NowI’mconfused,”Holdenagreed.
“Youwantedin?”Fredsaid,thewordstakingonaquietferocity.“Nowyou’rein.LionelPolanski
existsonlyonpaper,andownsthingsthatMr.Tychodoesn’twanttoown.Includingacouriership
calledtheScopuli.”
Holdenleanedforwardinhischair,hisfaceintense.
“Younowhavemyundividedattention,”hesaid.
“ThenonexistentowneroftheScopulicheckedintoaflophouseononeoftheshitlevelsofEros.
Weonlyjustgotthemessage.Wehavetoworkontheassumptionthatwhoevergottheroomknows
ouroperationsintimately,needshelp,andcan’taskforitopenly.”
“Wecanleaveinanhour,”Holdensaidbreathlessly.
FredhelduphishandsinagesturethatwassurprisinglyBelterforanEarthman.
“When,”Fredasked,“didthisturnintoyouleaving?”
“Iwon’tloanmyship,butI’lldefinitelyrentitout.MycrewandIweretalkingaboutgettingjobs,
actually.Hireus.Deductwhatever ’sfairforservicesyou’vealreadyrendered.”
“No,”Fredsaid.“Ineedyou.”
“Youdon’t,”Holdenreplied.“Youneedourdepositions.Andwe’renotgoingtositherewaitinga
yearortwoforsanitytoreign.We’llalldovideodepositions,signwhateveraffidavitsyouwantusto
astotheirauthenticity,butwe’releavingtofindworkonewayortheother.Youmightaswellmake
useofit.”
“No,”Fredsaid.“You’retoovaluabletotakeriskswithyourlives.”
“WhatifIthrowinthedatacubethecaptainoftheDonnagerwastryingtoliberate?”
Thesilencewasback,butithadadifferentfeeltoit.
“Look,”Holdensaid,pressingon.“YouneedashipliketheRoci.I’vegotone.Youneedacrew
forher.I’vegotthattoo.Andyou’reashungrytoknowwhat’sonthatcubeasIam.”
“Idon’tliketherisk.”
“Yourotheroptionistothrowusinthebrigandcommandeertheship.There’ssomerisksinthat
too.”
Fredlaughed.Holdenfelthimselfrelax.
“You’ll still have the same problem that brought you here,” Fred said. “Your ship looks like a
gunship,nomatterwhatitstransponderissaying.”
HoldenjumpedupandgrabbedapieceofpaperfromFred’sdesk.Hestartedwritingonitwitha
pensnatchedfromadecorativepenset.
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthat.You’vegotfullmanufacturingfacilitieshere.Andwe’resupposed
to be a light gas freighter. So,” he said as he sketched a rough outline of the ship, “we weld on a
bunch of empty compressed-gas storage tanks in two bands around the hull. Use them to hide the
tubes. Repaint the whole thing. Weld on a few projections to break up the hull profile and hide us
fromship-recognitionsoftware.It’lllooklikeshitandscrewuptheaerodynamics,butwewon’tbe
near atmo anytime soon. It’ll look exactly like what it is: something a bunch of Belters slapped
togetherinahurry.”
HehandedthepapertoFred.Fredbeganlaughinginearnest,eitherattheterribledrawingoratthe
absurdityofthewholething.
“Youcouldgiveapirateahellofasurprise,”hesaid.“IfIdothis,youandyourcrewwillrecord
mydepositionsandhireonasanindependentcontractorforerrandsliketheErosrunandappearon
mybehalfwhenthepeacenegotiationsstart.”
“Yes.”
“I want the right to outbid anyone else who tries to hire you. No contracts without my
counteroffer.”
Holdenheldouthishand,andFredshookit.
“Nicedoingbusinesswithyou,Fred.”
AsHoldenlefttheoffice,Fredwasalreadyonthecommwithhismachine-shoppeople.Holden
pulledouthisportableterminalandcalledupNaomi.
“Yeah,”shesaid.
“Packupthekids,we’regoingtoEros.”
ChapterTwenty-Two:Miller
T hepeople-movertoEroswassmall,cheap,andovercrowded.Theairrecyclershadtheplastic-andresinsmelloflong-lifeindustrialmodelsthatMillerassociatedwithwarehousesandfueldepots.The
lights were cheap LEDs tinted a false pink that was supposed to flatter the complexion but instead
made everyone look like undercooked beef. There were no cabins, only row after row of formed
laminate seating and two long walls with five-stacks of bunks that the passengers could hot-swap.
Millerhadneverbeenonacheapjacktransportbefore,butheknewhowtheyworked.Iftherewasa
fight,theship’screwwouldpumpriotgasintothecabin,knockeveryoneout,andputanyonewho’d
beeninthescuffleunderrestraint.Itwasadraconiansystem,butitdidtendtokeeppassengerspolite.
The bar was always open and the drinks were cheap. Not long ago Miller would have found that
enticing.
Instead, he sat on one of the long seats, his hand terminal open. Julie’s case file—what he had
reconstructed of it—glowed before him. The picture of her, proud and smiling, in front of the
Razorback, the dates and records, her jiu jitsu training. It seemed like very little, considering how
largethewomanhadgrowninhislife.
A small newsfeed crawled down the terminal’s left side. The war between Mars and the Belt
escalated,incidentafterincident,butthesecessionofCeresStationwasthetopnews.Earthwastaken
totaskbyMartiancommentatorsforfailingtostandunitedwithitsfellowinnerplanet,oratleastfor
not handing over the Ceres security contract to Mars. The scattershot reaction of the Belt ran the
gamutfrompleasureatseeingEarth’sinfluencefallbackdownthegravitywell,tostridentnear-panic
atthelossofCeres’neutrality,toconspiracytheoriesthatEarthwasfomentingthewarforitsown
ends.
Millerreservedjudgment.
“Ialwaysthinkofpews.”
Millerlookedover.ThemansittingnexttohimwasaboutMiller ’sage;thefringeofgrayhair,
thesoftbelly.Theman’ssmiletoldMillertheguywasamissionary,outinthevacuumsavingsouls.
OrmaybeitwasthenametagandBible.
“Theseats,Imean,”themissionarysaid.“Theyalwaysmakemethinkofgoingtochurch,theway
they’realllinedup,rowafterrow.Onlyinsteadofapulpit,wehavebunkbeds.”
“OurLadyofSleepingThroughIt,”Millersaid,knowinghewasgettingdrawnintoconversation
butunabletostophimself.Themissionarylaughed.
“Somethinglikethat,”hesaid.“Doyouattendchurch?”
“Haven’t in years,” Miller said. “I was a Methodist when I was anything. What flavor are you
selling?”
ThemissionaryliftedhishandsinagestureofharmlessnessthatwentbacktotheAfricanplains
ofthePleistocene.Ihavenoweapon;Iseeknofight.
“I’m just going back to Eros from a conference on Luna,” he said. “My proselytizing days are
longbehindme.”
“Ididn’tthinkthoseeverended,”Millersaid.
“Theydon’t.Notofficially.Butafterafewdecades,youcometoaplacewhereyourealizethat
there’s really no difference between trying and not trying. I still travel. I still talk to people.
Sometimes we talk about Jesus Christ. Sometimes we talk about cooking. If someone is ready to
accept Christ, it doesn’t take much effort on my part to help them. If they aren’t, no amount of
hectoringthemdoesanygood.Sowhytry?”
“Dopeopletalkaboutthewar?”Millerasked.
“Often,”themissionarysaid.
“Anyonemakesenseofit?”
“No. I don’t believe war ever does. It’s a madness that’s in our nature. Sometimes it recurs;
sometimesitsubsides.”
“Soundslikeadisease.”
“Theherpessimplexofthespecies?”themissionarysaidwithalaugh.“Isupposethereareworse
waystothinkofit.I’mafraidthataslongaswe’rehuman,itwillbewithus.”
Millerlookedoveratthewide,moon-roundface.
“Aslongaswe’rehuman?”hesaid.
“Someofusbelievethatweshallalleventuallybecomeangels,”themissionarysaid.
“NottheMethodists.”
“Eventhem,eventually,”themansaid,“buttheyprobablywon’tgofirst.Andwhatbringsyouto
OurLadyofSleepingThroughIt?”
Millersighed,sittingbackagainsttheunyieldingchair.Tworowsdown,ayoungwomanshouted
attwoboystostopjumpingontheseatsandwasignored.Amanbehindthemcoughed.Millertooka
longbreathandletitoutslowly.
“IwasacoponCeres,”hesaid.
“Ah.Thechangeofcontract.”
“That,”Millersaid.
“TakingupworkonEros,then?”
“Morelookingupanoldfriend,”Millersaid.Then,tohisownsurprise,hewenton.“Iwasborn
onCeres.Livedtheremywholelife.Thisisthe…fifth?Yeah,fifthtimeI’vebeenoffstation.”
“Doyouplantogoback?”
“No,”Millersaid.Hesoundedmorecertainthathe’dknown.“No,Ithinkthatpartofmylifeis
prettymuchover.”
“Thatmustbepainful,”themissionarysaid.
Miller paused, letting the comment settle. The man was right; it should have been painful.
Everything he’d ever had was gone. His job, his community. He wasn’t even a cop anymore, his
checked-in-luggagehandgunnotwithstanding.HewouldnevereatatthelittleEastIndiancartatthe
edgeofsectornineagain.Thereceptionistatthestationwouldnevernodhergreetingtohimashe
headedinforhisdeskagain.Nomorenightsatthebarwiththeothercops,nomoreoff-colorstories
aboutbustsgoneweird,nomorekidsflyingkitesinthehightunnels.Heprobedhimselflikeadoctor
searchingforinflammation.Didithurthere?Didhefeelthelossthere?
Hedidn’t.Therewasonlyasenseofreliefsoprofounditapproachedgiddiness.
“I’msorry,”themissionarysaid,confused.“DidIsaysomethingfunny?”
Erossupportedapopulationofoneandahalfmillion,alittlemorethanCereshadinvisitorsatany
giventime.Roughlytheshapeofapotato,ithadbeenmuchmoredifficulttospinup,anditssurface
velocity was considerably higher than Ceres’ for the same internal g. The old shipyards protruded
fromtheasteroid,greatspiderwebsofsteelandcarbonmeshstuddedwithwarninglightsandsensor
arraystowaveoffanyshipsthatmightcomeintootight.TheinternalcavernsofEroshadbeenthe
birthplace of the Belt. From raw ore to smelting furnace to annealing platform and then into the
spinesofwaterhaulersandgasharvestersandprospectingships.Eroshadbeenaportofcallinthe
first generation of humanity’s expansion. From there, the sun itself was only a bright star among
billions.
The economics of the Belt had moved on. Ceres Station had spun up with newer docks, more
industrialbacking,morepeople.ThecommerceofshippingmovedtoCeres,whileErosremaineda
centerofshipmanufactureandrepair.Theresultswereaspredictableasphysics.OnCeres,alonger
timeindockmeantlostmoney,andtheberthfeestructurereflectedthat.OnEros,ashipmightwait
forweeksormonthswithoutimpedingtheflowoftraffic.Ifacrewwantedaplacetorelax,tostretch,
togetawayfromoneanotherforawhile,Eroswastheportofcall.Andwiththelowerdockingfees,
ErosStationfoundotherwaystosoakmoneyfromitsvisitors:Casinos.Brothels.Shootinggalleries.
ViceinallitscommercialformsfoundahomeinEros,itslocaleconomybloominglikeafungusfed
bythedesiresofBelters.
A happy accident of orbital mechanics put Miller there half a day ahead of the Rocinante. He
walkedthroughthecheapcasinos,theopioidbarsandsexclubs,theshowfightareaswheremenor
womenpretendedtobeatoneanothersenselessforthepleasureofthecrowds.MillerimaginedJulie
walkingwithhim,herslysmilematchinghisownashereadthegreatanimateddisplays. RANDOLPH
MAK,HOLDEROFTHEBELTFREEFIGHTCHAMPIONSHIPFORSIXYEARS,AGAINSTMARTIANKIVRINCARMICHAEL
INAFIGHTTOTHEDEATH!
Surelynotfixed,Juliesaiddrilyinhismind.
Wonderwhichone’sgoingtowin,hethought,andimaginedherlaughing.
He’d stopped at a noodle cart, two new yens’ worth of egg noodles in black sauce steaming in
theircone,whenahandclappedonhisshoulder.
“DetectiveMiller,”afamiliarvoicesaid.“Ithinkyou’reoutsideyourjurisdiction.”
“Why, Inspector Sematimba,” Miller said. “As I live and breathe. You give a girl the shakes,
sneakinguplikethat.”
Sematimbalaughed.Hewasatallman,evenamongBelters,withthedarkestskinMillerhadever
seen. Years before, Sematimba and Miller had coordinated on a particularly ugly case. A smuggler
with a cargo of designer euphorics had broken with his supplier. Three people on Ceres had been
caughtinthecrossfire,andthesmugglerhadshippedoutforEros.Thetraditionalcompetitiveness
andinsularityofthestations’respectivesecurityforceshadalmostlettheperpslipaway.OnlyMiller
andSematimbahadbeenwillingtocoordinateoutsidethecorporatechannels.
“Whatbringsyou,”Sematimbasaid,leaningagainstathinsteelrailingandgesturingatthetunnel,
“tothenaveloftheBelt,thegloryandpowerthatisEros?”
“Followinguponalead,”Millersaid.
“There’snothinggoodhere,”Sematimbasaid.“EversinceProtogenpulledout,thingshavebeen
goingfrombadtoworse.”
Millersuckedupanoodle.
“Who’sthenewcontract?”heasked.
“CPM,”Sematimbasaid.
“Neverheardofthem.”
“Carne Por la Machina,” Sematimba said, and pulled a face: exaggerated bluff masculinity. He
thumpedhisbreastandgrowled,thenlettheimitationgoandshookhishead.“Newcorporationout
ofLuna.MostlyBeltersontheground.Makethemselvesouttobeallhardcore,butthey’remostly
amateurs. All bluster, no balls. Protogen was inner planets, and that was a problem, but they were
seriousashell.Theybrokeheads,buttheykeptthepeace.Thesenewassholes?Mostcorruptbunchof
thugsI’veeverworkedfor.Idon’tthinktheboardofgovernorsisgoingtorenewwhenthecontract’s
up.Ididn’tsaythat,butit’strue.”
“I’vegotanoldpartnersignedupwithProtogen,”Millersaid.
“They’renotbad,”Sematimbasaid.“AlmostwishI’dpickedtheminthedivorce,youknow?”
“Whydidn’tyou?”Millerasked.
“Youknowhowitis.I’mfromhere.”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.
“So.Youdidn’tknowwhowasrunningtheplayhouse?Youaren’therelookingforwork.”
“Nope,”Millersaid.“I’monsabbatical.Doingsometravelformyselfthesedays.”
“You’vegotmoneyforthat?”
“Notreally.ButIdon’tmindgoingonthecheap.Forawhile,youknow.Youheardanythingabout
aJulietteMao?GoesbyJulie?”
Sematimbashookhishead.
“Mao-Kwikowski Mercantile,” Miller said. “Came up the well and went native. OPA. It was an
abductioncase.”
“Was?”
Millerleanedback.HisimaginedJulieraisedhereyebrows.
“It’schangedalittlesinceIgotit,”Millersaid.“Maybeconnectedtosomething.Kindofbig.”
“How big are we talking about?” Sematimba said. All trace of jocularity had vanished from his
expression.Hewasallcopnow.AnyonebutMillerwouldhavefoundtheman’sempty,almostangry
faceintimidating.
“Thewar,”Millersaid.Sematimbafoldedhisarms.
“Badjoke,”hesaid.
“Notjoking.”
“I consider us friends, old man,” Sematimba said. “But I don’t want any trouble around here.
Thingsareunsettledasitstands.”
“I’lltrytostaylow-profile.”
Sematimbanodded.Downthetunnel,analarmblared.Onlysecurity,nottheearsplittingditoneof
anenvironmentalalert.Sematimbalookeddownthetunnelasifsquintingwouldlethimseethrough
thepressofpeople,bicycles,andfoodcarts.
“I’dbettergolook,”hesaidwithanairofresignation.“Probablysomeofmyfellowofficersof
thepeacebreakingwindowsforthefunofit.”
“Greattobepartofateamlikethat,”Millersaid.
“Howwouldyouknow?”Sematimbasaidwithasmile.“Ifyouneedsomething…”
“Likewise,”Millersaid,andwatchedthecopwadeintotheseaofchaosandhumanity.Hewasa
largeman,butsomethingaboutthepassingcrowd’suniversaldeafnesstothealarm’sblaremadehim
seemsmaller.Astoneintheocean,thephrasewent.Onestaramongmillions.
Millercheckedthetime,thenpulledupthepublicdockingrecords.TheRocinanteshowedason
schedule.Thedockingberthwaslisted.Millersuckeddownthelastofhisnoodles,tossedthefoam
cone with the thin smear of black sauce into a public recycler, found the nearest men’s room, and
whenhewasdonethere,trottedtowardthecasinolevel.
The architecture of Eros had changed since its birth. Where once it had been like Ceres—
webworkedtunnelsleadingalongthepathofwidestconnection—Eroshadlearnedfromtheflowof
money:Allpathsledtothecasinolevel.Ifyouwantedtogoanywhere,youpassedthroughthewide
whalebellyoflightsanddisplays.Poker,blackjack,roulette,tallfishtanksfilledwithprizetrouttobe
caught and gutted, mechanical slots, electronic slots, cricket races, craps, rigged tests of skill.
Flashing lights, dancing neon clowns, and video screen advertisements blasted the eyes. Loud
artificiallaughterandmerrywhistlesandbellsassuredyouthatyouwerehavingthetimeofyourlife.
Allwhilethesmellofthousandsofpeoplepackedintotoosmallaspacecompetedwiththescentof
heavilyspicedvat-grownmeatbeinghawkedfromcartsrollingdownthecorridor.Greedandcasino
designhadturnedErosintoanarchitecturalcattlerun.
WhichwasexactlywhatMillerneeded.
Thetubestationthatarrivedfromtheporthadsixwidedoors,whichemptiedtothecasinofloor.
Miller accepted a drink from a tired-looking woman in a G-string and bared breasts and found a
screentostandatthataffordedhimaviewofallsixdoors.ThecrewoftheRocinantehadnochoice
buttocomethroughoneofthose.Hecheckedhishandterminal.Thedockinglogsshowedtheship
hadarrivedtenminutesearlier.Millerpretendedtosiphisdrinkandsettledintowait.
ChapterTwenty-Three:Holden
T hecasinolevelofEroswasanall-outassaultonthesenses.Holdenhatedit.
“Ilovethisplace,”Amossaid,grinning.
Holdenpushedhiswaythroughaknotofdrunkmiddle-agedgamblers,whowerelaughingand
yelling,toasmallopenspaceneararowofpay-by-the-minutewallterminals.
“Amos,”hesaid,“we’llbegoingtoalesstouristylevel,sowatchourbacks.Theflophousewe’re
lookingforisinaroughneighborhood.”
Amosnodded.“Gotcha,Cap.”
WhileNaomi,Alex,andAmosblockedhimfromview,Holdenreachedbehindhisbacktoadjust
the pistol that pulled uncomfortably on his waistband. The cops on Eros were pretty uptight about
peoplewalkingaroundwithguns,buttherewasnowayhewasgoingto“LionelPolanski”unarmed.
AmosandAlexwerebothcarryingtoo,thoughAmoskepthisintherightpocketofhisjacketandhis
handneverleftit.OnlyNaomiflatlyrefusedtocarryagun.
Holden led the group toward the nearest escalators, with Amos, casting the occasional glance
behind,intherear.ThecasinosofErosstretchedforthreeseeminglyendlesslevels,andeventhough
theymovedasquicklyaspossible,ittookhalfanhourtogetawayfromthenoiseandcrowds.The
firstlevelabovewasaresidentialneighborhoodanddisorientinglyquietandneatafterthecasino’s
chaosandnoise.Holdensatdownontheedgeofaplanterwithanicearrayoffernsinitandcaught
hisbreath.
“I’mwithyou,Captain.Fiveminutesinthatplacegivesmeaheadache,”Naomisaid,andsatdown
nexttohim.
“Youkiddingme?”Amossaid.“Iwishwehadmoretime.AlexandItookalmostagrandoffthose
fishattheTychocardtables.We’dprobablywalkoutofherefuckingmillionaires.”
“Youknowit,”Alexsaid,andpunchedthebigmechanicontheshoulder.
“Well, if this Polanski thing turns out to be nothing, you have my permission to go make us a
milliondollarsatthecardtables.I’llwaitforyouontheship,”Holdensaid.
Thetubesystemendedatthefirstcasinolevelanddidn’tstartagainuntiltheleveltheywereon.
Youcouldchoosenottospendyourmoneyatthetables,buttheymadesureyouwerepunishedfor
doingso.OncethecrewhadclimbedintoacarandstartedtheridetoLionel’shotel,Amossatdown
nexttoHolden.
“Somebody’s following us, Cap,” he said conversationally. “Wasn’t sure till he climbed on a
couplecarsdown.Behindusallthroughthecasinostoo.”
Holdensighedandputhisfaceinhishands.
“Okay,what’shelooklike?”hesaid.
“Belter.Fifties,ormaybefortieswithalotmileage.Whiteshirtanddarkpants.Goofyhat.”
“Cop?”
“Ohyeah.ButnoholsterIcansee,”Amossaid.
“All right. Keep an eye on him, but no need to get too worried. Nothing we’re doing here is
illegal,”Holdensaid.
“Youmean,otherthanarrivinginourstolenMartianwarship,sir?”Naomiasked.
“Youmeanourperfectlylegitimategasfreighterthatallthepaperworkandregistrydatasaysis
perfectlylegitimate?”Holdenrepliedwithathinsmile.“Yeah,well,ifthey’dseenthroughthat,they
wouldhavestoppedusatthedock,notfollowedusaround.”
Anadvertisingscreenonthewalldisplayedastunningviewofmulticoloredcloudsripplingwith
flashesoflightning,andencouragedHoldentotakeatriptotheamazingdomeresortsonTitan.He’d
neverbeentoTitan.Suddenlyhewantedtogothereverymuch.Afewweeksofsleepinglate,eating
infinerestaurants,andlyingonahammock,watchingTitan’scolorfulatmospherestormabovehim
sounded like heaven. Hell, as long as he was fantasizing, he threw in Naomi walking over to his
hammockwithacoupleoffruity-lookingdrinksinherhands.
Sheruineditbytalking.
“Thisisourstop,”shesaid.
“Amos,watchourfriend,seeifhegetsoffthetrainwithus,”Holdensaidashegotupandheaded
tothedoor.
After they got off and walked a dozen steps down the corridor, Amos whispered, “Yep,” at his
back.Shit.Well,definitelyatail,buttherewasn’treallyanyreasonnottogoaheadandcheckupon
Lionel.Fredhadn’taskedthemtodoanythingwithwhoeverwaspretendingtobetheScopuli’sowner.
Theycouldn’tverywellbearrestedforknockingonadoor.Holdenwhistledaloudandjauntytune
ashewalked,tolethiscrewandwhoeverwasfollowingthemknowhewasn’tworriedaboutathing.
Hestoppedwhenhesawtheflophouse.
Itwasdarkanddingyandexactlythesortofplacewherepeoplegotmuggedorworse.Broken
lights created dark corners, and there wasn’t a tourist in sight. He turned to give Alex and Amos
meaningfullooks,andAmosshiftedhishandinhispocket.Alexreachedunderhiscoat.
Thelobbywasmostlyemptyspace,withapairofcouchesatoneendnexttoatablecoveredwith
magazines.Asleepy-lookingolderwomansatreadingone.Elevatorswererecessedintothewallat
the far end, next to a door marked STAIRS. In the middle was the check-in desk, where, in lieu of a
humanclerk,atouchscreenterminalletguestspayfortheirrooms.
Holden stopped next to the desk and turned around to look at the woman sitting on the couch.
Grayinghair,butgoodfeaturesandanathleticbuild.Inaflophouselikethis,thatprobablymeanta
prostitutereachingtheendofhershelflife.Shepointedlyignoredhisstare.
“Isourtailstillwithus?”Holdenaskedinaquietvoice.
“Stoppedoutsidesomewhere.Probablyjustwatchingthedoornow,”Amosreplied.
Holden nodded and hit the inquiry button on the check-in screen. A simple menu would let him
sendamessagetoLionelPolanski’sroom,butHoldenexitedthesystem.TheyknewLionelwasstill
checkedin,andFredhadgiventhemtheroomnumber.Ifitwassomeoneplayinggames,noreasonto
givehimaheads-upbeforeHoldenknockedonthedoor.
“Okay,he’sstillhere,solet’s—”Holdensaid,andthenstoppedwhenhesawthewomanfromthe
couchstandingrightbehindAlex.Hehadn’theardorseenherapproach.
“Youneedtocomewithme,”shesaidinahardvoice.“Walktothestairwellslowly,stayatleast
threemetersaheadofmetheentiretime.Doitnow.”
“Areyouacop?”Holdenasked,notmoving.
“I’mthepersonwiththegun,”shesaid,asmallweaponappearinglikemagicinherrighthand.
ShepointeditatAlex’shead.“SodowhatIsay.”
Herweaponwassmallandplasticandhadsomekindofbatterypack.Amospulledhisheavyslug
throweroutandaimeditatherface.
“Mine’sbigger,”hesaid.
“Amos,don’t—”wasallNaomihadtimetosaybeforethestairwell door burst open and half a
dozenmenandwomenarmedwithcompactautomaticweaponscameintotheroom,yellingatthem
todroptheirguns.
Holdenstartedtoputhishandsupwhenoneofthemopenedfire,theweaponcoughingoutrounds
so fast it sounded like someone ripping construction paper; it was impossible to hear the separate
shots.Amosthrewhimselftothefloor.Alineofbulletholesstitchedacrossthechestofthewoman
withthetaser,andshefellbackwardwithasoft,finalsound.
Holden grabbed Naomi by one hand and dragged her behind the check-in desk. Someone in the
other group was yelling, “Cease fire! Cease fire!” but Amos was already shooting back from his
position,proneonthefloor.AyelpofpainandacursetoldHoldenhe’dprobablyhitsomeone.Amos
rolledsidewaystothedesk,justintimetoavoidahailofslugsthattoreupthefloorandwalland
madethedeskshudder.
Holdenreachedforhisgun,butthefrontsightcaughtinhiswaistband.Heyankeditout,tearing
hisunderwear,thencrawledonhiskneestotheedgeofthedeskandlookedout.Alexwaslyingon
thefloorontheothersideofoneofthecouches,gundrawnandfacewhite.AsHoldenlooked,aburst
ofgunfirehitthecouch,blowingstuffingintotheairandmakingalineofholesinthebackofthe
couch not more than twenty centimeters above Alex’s head. The pilot reached his pistol around the
cornerofthecouchandblindlyfiredoffhalfadozenshots,yellingatthesametime.
“Fuckingassholes!”Amosyelled,thenrolledoutandfiredacouplemoreshotsandrolledback
beforethereturnfirestarted.
“Wherearethey?”Holdenyelledathim.
“Twoaredown,therestinthestairwell!”Amosyelledbackoverthesoundofreturnfire.
Out of nowhere a burst of rounds bounced off the floor past Holden’s knee. “Shit, someone’s
flankingus!”Amoscriedout,thenmovedfartherbehindthedeskandawayfromtheshots.
Holdencrawledtotheothersideofthedeskandpeekedout.Someonewasmovinglowandfast
towardthehotelentrance.Holdenleanedoutandtookacoupleshotsathim,butthreegunsopenedup
fromthestairwelldoorwayandforcedhimbackbehindthedesk.
“Alex,someone’smovingtotheentrance!”Holdenscreamedatthetopofhislungs,hopingthe
pilotmightbeabletogetoffashotbeforetheywereallchoppedtopiecesbycrossfire.
A pistol barked three times by the entrance. Holden risked a look. Their tail with the goofy hat
crouchedbythedoor,aguninhishand,themachinegun–totingflankerlyingstillathisfeet.Instead
oflookingatthem,thetailwaspointinghisguntowardthestairwell.
“Nooneshoottheguywiththehat!”Holdenyelled,thenmovedbacktotheedgeofthedesk.
Amosputhisbacktothedeskandpoppedthemagazinefromhisgun.Ashefumbledaroundinhis
pocketforanother,hesaid,“Guyisprobablyacop.”
“Extraespeciallydonotshootanycops,”Holdensaid,thenfiredafewshotsatthestairwelldoor.
Naomi, who’d spent the entire gunfight so far on the floor with her arms over her head, said,
“Theymightallbecops.”
Holdensqueezedoffafewmoreshotsandshookhishead.
“Copsdon’tcarrysmall,easilyconcealablemachinegunsandambushpeoplefromstairwells.We
callthosedeathsquads,”hesaid,thoughmostofhiswordsweredrownedoutbyabarrageofgunfire
fromthestairwell.Afterwardcameafewsecondsofsilence.
Holdenleanedbackoutintimetoseethedoorswingshut.
“I think they’re bugging out,” he said, keeping his gun trained on the door anyway. “Must have
another exit somewhere. Amos, keep your eye on that door. If it opens, start shooting.” He patted
Naomiontheshoulder.“Staydown.”
Holdenrosefrombehindthenowruinedcheck-inkiosk.Thedeskfacadehadsplinteredandthe
underlyingstoneshowedthrough.Holdenheldhisgunbarrel-up,hishandsopen.Themaninthehat
stood,consideringthecorpseathisfeet,thenlookedupasHoldencamenear.
“Thanks.MynameisJimHolden.Youare?”
Themandidn’tspeakforasecond.Whenhedid,hisvoicewascalm.Almostweary.“Copswillbe
heresoon.Ineedtomakeacallorwe’reallgoingtojail.”
“Aren’tyouthecops?”Holdenasked.
The other man laughed; it was a bitter, short sound, but with some real humor behind it.
ApparentlyHoldenhadsaidsomethingfunny.
“Nope.Name’sMiller.”
ChapterTwenty-Four:Miller
Millerlookedatthedeadman—themanhe’djustkilled—andtriedtofeelsomething.Therewasthe
trailingadrenalinerushstillrampinguphisheartbeat.Therewasasenseofsurprisethatcamefrom
walkingintoanunexpectedfirefight.Pastthat,though,hismindhadalreadyfallenintothelonghabit
of analysis. One plant in the main room so Holden and his crew wouldn’t see anything too
threatening.Abunchoftrigger-happyyahoosinthestairwelltobackherup.Thathadgonewell.
Itwasaslapdasheffort.Theambushhadbeensetbypeoplewhoeitherdidn’tknowwhattheywere
doingordidn’thavethetimeorresourcestodoitright.Ifithadn’tbeenimprovised,Holdenandhis
threebuddieswouldhavebeentakenorkilled.Andhimalongwiththem.
ThefoursurvivorsoftheCanterburystoodintheremainsofthefirefightlikerookiesattheirfirst
bust.Millerfelthismindshiftbackhalfastepashewatchedeverythingwithoutwatchinganythingin
particular. Holden was smaller than he’d expected from the video feeds. It shouldn’t have been
surprising;hewasanEarther.Themanhadthekindoffacethatwasbadathidingthings.
“Thanks.MynameisJimHolden.Youare?”
Millerthoughtofsixdifferentanswersandturnedthemallaside.Oneoftheothers—abigman,
solid,withabarescalp—waspacingouttheroom,hiseyesunfocusedthesamewayMiller ’swere.Of
Holden’sfour,thatwastheonlyguywho’dseenseriousgunplaybefore.
“Thecopswillbeheresoon,”Millersaid.“Ineedtomakeacallorwe’reallgoingtojail.”
Theotherman—thinner,taller,EastIndianbythelookofhim—hadbeenhidingbehindacouch.
Hewassittingonhishaunchesnow,hiseyeswideandpanicky.Holdenhadsomeofthesamelook,
buthewasdoingabetterjobofkeepingcontrol.Theburdens,Millerthought,ofleadership.
“Aren’tyouthecops?”
Millerlaughed.
“Nope,”hesaid.“Name’sMiller.”
“Okay,”thewomansaid.“Thosepeoplejusttriedtokillus.Whydidtheydothat?”
Holden took a half step toward her voice even before he turned to look at her. Her face was
flushed,fulllipspressedthinandpale.Herfeaturesshowedafar-flungracialmixthatwasunusual
eveninthemeltingpotoftheBelt.Herhandsweren’tshaking.Thebigonehadthemostexperience,
butMillerputthewomandownashavingthebestinstincts.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Inoticed.”
HepulledouthishandterminalandopenedalinktoSematimba.Thecopacceptedafewseconds
later.
“Semi,” Miller said. “I’m really sorry about this, but you know how I was going stay lowprofile?”
“Yes?”thelocalcopsaid,drawingthewordouttothreesyllables.
“Didn’tworkout.Iwasheadingtoameetingwithafriend…”
“Ameetingwithafriend,”Sematimbaechoed.Millercouldimaginetheman’scrossedarmseven
thoughttheydidn’tshowintheframe.
“And I happened to see a bunch of tourists in the wrong place at the wrong time. It got out of
hand.”
“Whereareyou?”Sematimbaasked.Millergavehimthestationlevelandaddress.Therewasa
longpausewhileSematimbaconsultedwithsomeinternalcommunicationsoftwarethatwouldhave
beenpartofMiller ’stoolsetonce.Theman’ssighwaspercussive.“Idon’tseeanything.Werethere
shotsfired?”
Miller looked at the chaos and ruin around them. About a thousand different alerts should have
goneoutwiththefirstweaponfired.Securityshouldhavebeenswarmingtowardthem.
“Afew,”hesaid.
“Strange,”Sematimbasaid.“Stayput.I’llbethere.”
“Willdo,”Millersaid,anddroppedtheconnection.
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“Whowasthat?”
“Therealcops,”Millersaid.“They’llbeheresoon.It’llbefine.”
I think it’ll be fine. It occurred to him that he was treating the situation like he was still on the
inside, a part of the machine. That wasn’t true anymore, and pretending it was might have
consequences.
“He was following us,” the woman said to Holden. And then, to Miller, she said, “You were
followingus.”
“Iwas,”Millersaid.Hedidn’tthinkhesoundedrueful,butthebigguyshookhishead.
“Itwasthehat,”thebigonesaid.“Stoodoutsome.”
Millersweptoffhisporkpieandconsideredit.Ofcoursethebigonehadbeentheonetomake
him.Theotherthreewerecompetentamateurs,andMillerknewthatHoldenhaddonesometimein
theUNNavy.ButMillergaveitbetterthanevenmoneythatthebigone’sbackgroundcheckwouldbe
interestingreading.
“Why were you following us?” Holden asked. “I mean, I appreciate the part where you shot the
peoplewhowereshootingatus,butI’dstillliketoknowthatfirstpart.”
“Iwantedtotalktoyou,”Millersaid.“I’mlookingforsomeone.”
Therewasapause.Holdensmiled.
“Anyoneinparticular?”heasked.
“AcrewmemberoftheScopuli,”Millersaid.
“The Scopuli?” Holden said. He started to glance at the woman and stopped himself. There was
somethingthere.TheScopulimeantsomethingtohimbeyondwhatMillerhadseenonthenews.
“Therewasnobodyonherwhenwegotthere,”thewomansaid.
“Holyshit,”theshakyonebehindthecouchsaid.Itwasthefirstthinghe’dsaidsincethefirefight
ended,andherepeateditfiveorsixmoretimesinquicksuccession.
“Whataboutyou?”Millerasked.“DonnagerblewyoutoTycho,andnowhere.What’sthatabout?”
“Howdidyouknowthat?”Holdensaid.
“It’smyjob,”Millersaid.“Well,itusedtobe.”
Theanswerdidn’tappeartosatisfytheEarther.ThebigguyhadfalleninbehindHolden,hisfacea
friendlycipher:Notrouble,unlesstherewastrouble,andthenmaybeawholelotoftrouble.Miller
nodded,halftothebigguy,halftohimself.
“IhadacontactintheOPAwhotoldmeyoudidn’tdieontheDonnager,”Millersaid.
“Theyjusttoldyouthat?”thewomanasked,bankedoutrageinhervoice.
“Hewasmakingapointatthetime,”Millersaid.“Anyway,hesaidit,andItookitfromthere.And
inabouttenminutes,I’mgoingtomakesureErossecuritydoesn’tthrowallofyouinahole,andme
withyou.Soifthere’sanythingatallyouwanttotellme—likewhatyou’redoinghere,forinstance
—thiswouldbetherighttime.”
Thesilencewasbrokenonlybythesoundofrecyclerslaboringtoclearthesmokeandparticulate
dustofgunfire.Theshakyonestood.Somethingaboutthewayheheldhimselflookedmilitary.Exsomething,Millerassumed,butnotagroundpounder.Navy,maybe;Martianataguess.Hehadthe
vocaltwangsomeofthemaffected.
“Ah,fuckit,Cap’n,”thebigonesaid.“Heshottheflankguyforus.Hemaybeanasshole,buthe’s
okaybyme.”
“Thankyou,Amos,”Holdensaid.Millerfiledthat.ThebigonewasAmos.Holdenputhishands
behindhisback,returninghisguntohiswaistband.
“We’re here to look for someone too,” he said. “Probably someone from the Scopuli. We were
justdouble-checkingtheroomwheneveryonedecidedtostartshootingatus.”
“Here?” Miller said. Something like emotion trickled into his veins. Not hope, but dread.
“SomeoneofftheScopuliisinthisfloprightnow?”
“Wethinkso,”Holdensaid.
Millerlookedouttheflophouselobby’sfrontdoors.Asmall,curiouscrowdhadstartedtogather
inthetunnel.Crossedarms,nervousglances.Heknewhowtheyfelt.Sematimbaandhispolicewere
on the way. The gunmen who’d attacked Holden and his crew weren’t mounting another attack, but
thatdidn’tmeantheyweregone.Theremightbeanotherwave.Theycouldhavefallenbacktoabetter
positiontowaitforHoldentoadvance.
ButwhatifJuliewashererightnow?Howcouldhecomethisfarandstopinthelobby?Tohis
surprise,hestillhadhisgundrawn.Thatwasunprofessional.Heshouldhaveholsteredit.Theonly
otheronestilldrawnwastheMartian’s.Millershookhishead.Sloppy.Heneededtostopthat.
Still,hehadmorethanhalfamagazineleftinthepistol.
“Whatroom?”heasked.
Theflophousecorridorswerethinandcramped.Thewallshadtheimperviousglossofwarehouse
paint, and the carpet was carbon-silicate weave that would wear out more slowly than bare stone.
MillerandHoldenwentfirst,thenthewomanandtheMartian—NaomiandAlex,theirnameswere—
thenAmos,trailingandlookingbackoverhisshoulder.MillerwonderedifanyonebutheandAmos
understoodhowtheywerekeepingtheotherssafe.Holdenseemedtoknowandbeirritatedbyit;he
keptedgingahead.
Thedoorsoftheroomswereidenticalfiberglasslaminates,thinenoughtobechurnedoutbythe
thousand.Millerhadkickedinahundredliketheminhiscareer.Afewhereandthereweredecorated
bylongtimeresidents—withapaintingofimprobablyredflowers,awhiteboardwithastringwherea
penhadoncebeenattached,acheapreproductionofanobscenecartoonactingoutitspunchlineina
dimlyglowinginfiniteloop.
Tactically,itwasanightmare.Iftheambushingforcessteppedoutofdoorsinfrontofandbehind
them, all five could be slaughtered in seconds. But no slugs flew, and the only door that opened
disgorgedanemaciated,long-beardedmanwithimperfecteyesandaslackmouth.Millernoddedat
themanastheypassed,andhenoddedback,possiblymoresurprisedbysomeone’sacknowledging
hispresencethanbythedrawnpistols.Holdenstopped.
“Thisisit,”hemurmured.“Thisistheroom.”
Miller nodded. The others came up in a clump, Amos casually hanging back, his eyes on the
corridorretreatingbehindthem.Millerconsideredthedoor.Itwouldbeeasytokickin.Onestrong
blowjustabovethelatchmechanism.Thenhecouldgoinlowandtotheleft,Amoshighandtothe
right. He wished Havelock were there. Tactics were simpler for people who’d trained together. He
motionedAmostocomeupclose.
Holdenknockedonthedoor.
“Whatareyou…?”Millerwhisperedfiercely,butHoldenignoredhim.
“Hello?”Holdencalled.“Anyonethere?”
Millertensed.Nothinghappened.Novoice,nogunfire.Nothing.Holdenseemedperfectlyatease
withtheriskhe’djusttaken.FromtheexpressiononNaomi’sface,Millertookitthiswasn’tthefirst
timehe’ddonethingsthisway.
“Youwantthatopen?”Amossaid.
“Kindado,”MillersaidatthesamemomentHoldensaid,“Yeah,kickitdown.”
Amoslookedfromonetotheother,notmovinguntilHoldennoddedathim.ThenAmosshifted
pastthem,kickedthedooropeninoneblow,andstaggeredback,cussing.
“Youokay?”Millerasked.
Thebigmannoddedoncethroughapalegrimace.
“Yeah,bustedmylegawhileback.Castjustcameoff.Keepforgettingaboutthat,”hesaid.
Millerturnedbacktotheroom.Inside,itwasasblackasacave.Nolightscameon,noteventhe
dimglowofmonitorsandsensorydevices.Millersteppedin,pistoldrawn.Holdenwasclosebehind
him.Thefloormadethecrunchingsoundofgravelundertheirfeet,andtherewasanoddastringent
smellthatMillerassociatedwithbrokenscreens.Behinditwasanothersmell,muchlesspleasant.He
chosenottothinkaboutthatone.
“Hello?”Millersaid.“Anyonehere?”
“Turnonthelights,”Naomisaidfrombehindthem.MillerheardHoldenpattingthewallpanel,
butnolightcameup.
“They’renotworking,”Holdensaid.
Thedimspillfromthecorridorgavealmostnothing.Millerkepthisgunsteadyinhisrighthand,
readytoemptyittowardmuzzleflashifanyoneopenedfirefromthedarkness.Withhisleft,hetook
outhishandterminal,thumbedonthebacklight,andopenedablankwhitewritingtablet.Theroom
cameintomonochrome.Besidehim,Holdendidthesame.
A thin bed pressed against one wall, a narrow tray beside it. The bedding was knotted like the
remnantofabadnight’ssleep.Aclosetstoodopen,empty.Thehulkingformofanemptyvacuumsuit
layonthefloorlikeamannequinwithamisplacedhead.Anoldentertainmentconsolehungonthe
wall across from the cot, its screen shattered by half a dozen blows. The wall was dimpled where
blows intended to bread the LED sconces had missed. Another hand terminal added its glow, and
another.Hintsofcolorstartedtocomeintotheroom—thecheapgoldofthewalls,thegreenofthe
blankets and sheet. Under the cot, something glimmered. An older-model hand terminal. Miller
crouchedastheotherssteppedin.
“Shit,”Amossaid.
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“Nobodytouchesanything.Period.Nothing.”Itwasthemostsensiblething
Millerhadheardthemansay.
“Someoneputupabitchofafight,”Amosmuttered.
“No,”Millersaid.Ithadbeenvandalism,maybe.Ithadn’tbeenastruggle.Hepulledathin-film
evidencebagoutofhispocketandturneditinsideoutoverhishandlikeaglovebeforepickingup
theterminal,flippingtheplasticoverit,andsettingoffthesealingcharge.
“Isthat…blood?”Naomiasked,pointingtothecheapfoammattress.Wetstreakspooledonthe
sheetandpillow,notmorethanafingers’width,butdark.Toodarkevenforblood.
“No,”Millersaid,shovingtheterminalintohispocket.
Thefluidmarkedathinpathtowardthebathroom.Millerraisedahand,pushingtheothersbackas
he crept toward the half-open door. Inside the bathroom, the nasty background smell was much
stronger.Somethingdeep,organic,andintimate.Manureinahothouse,ortheaftermathofsex,ora
slaughterhouse.Allofthem.Thetoiletwasbrushedsteel,thesamemodeltheyusedinprisons.The
sinkmatched.TheLEDaboveitandtheoneintheceilinghadbothbeendestroyed.Inthelightofhis
terminal, like the glow of a single candle, black tendrils reached from the shower stall toward the
ruinedlights,bentandbranchinglikeskeletalleaves.
Intheshowerstall,JulietteAndromedaMaolaydead.
Her eyes were closed, and that was a mercy. She’d cut her hair differently since she’d taken the
pictures Miller had seen, and it changed the shape of her face, but she was unmistakable. She was
nude,andbarelyhuman.Coilsofcomplexgrowthspilledfromhermouth,ears,andvulva.Herribs
and spine had grown spurs like knives that stretched pale skin, ready to cut themselves free of her.
Tubesstretchedfromherbackandthroat,crawlingupthewallsbehindher.Adeepbrownslushhad
leakedfromher,fillingtheshowerpanalmostthreecentimetershigh.Hesatsilently,willingthething
beforehimnottobetrue,tryingtoforcehimselfawake.
Whatdidtheydotoyou?hethought.Oh,kid.Whatdidtheydo?
“Ohmygod,”Naomisaidbehindhim.
“Don’ttouchanything,”hesaid.“Getoutoftheroom.Intothehall.Doitnow.”
The light in the next room faded as the hand terminals retreated. The twisting shadows
momentarilygaveherbodytheillusionofmovement.Millerwaited,butnobreathliftedthebentrib
cage. No flicker touched her eyelids. There was nothing. He rose, carefully checking his cuffs and
shoes,andwalkedouttothecorridor.
They’dallseenit.Hecouldtellfromtheexpressions,they’dallseen.Andtheydidn’tknowany
betterthanhedidwhatitwas.Gently,hepulledthesplintereddoorclosedandwaitedforSematimba.
Itwasn’tlong.
Fivemeninpoliceriotarmorwithshotgunsmadetheirwaydownthehall.Millerwalkedforward
to meet them, his posture better than a badge. He could see them relax. Sematimba came up behind
them.
“Miller?”hesaid.“Thehellisthis?Ithoughtyousaidyouwerestayingput.”
“I didn’t leave,” he said. “Those are the civilians back there. The dead guys downstairs jumped
theminthelobby.”
“Why?”Sematimbademanded.
“Whoknows?”Millersaid.“Rollthemforsparechange.That’snottheproblem.”
Sematimba’seyebrowsrose.“I’vegotfourcorpsesdownthere,andthey’renottheproblem.”
Millernoddeddownthecorridor.
“Fifthone’suphere,”hesaid.“It’sthegirlIwaslookingfor.”
Sematimba’sexpressionsoftened.“I’msorry,”hesaid.
“Nah,” Miller said. He couldn’t accept sympathy. He couldn’t accept comfort. A gentle touch
wouldshatterhim,sohestayedhardinstead.“Butyou’regoingtowantthecoroneronthisone.”
“It’sbad,then?”
“You’vegotnoidea,”Millersaid.“Listen,Semi.I’minovermyheadhere.Seriously.Thoseboys
downtherewiththeguns?Iftheyweren’thookedinwithyoursecurityforce,therewouldhavebeen
alarms as soon as the first shot was fired. You know this was a setup. They were waiting for these
four.Andthesquatfellawiththedarkhair?That’sJamesHolden.He’snotevensupposedtobealive.”
“Holdenthatstartedthewar?”Sematimbasaid.
“That’stheone,”Millersaid.“Thisisdeep.Drowningdeep.Andyouknowwhattheysayabout
goinginafteradrowningman,right?”
Sematimbalookeddownthecorridor.Henodded.
“Letmehelpyou,”Sematimbasaid,butMillershookhishead.
“I’mtoofargone.Forgetme.Whathappenedwasyougotacall.Youfoundtheplace.Youdon’t
knowme,youdon’tknowthem,you’vegotnocluewhathappened.Oryoucomealonganddrown
withme.Yourpick.”
“Youdon’tleavethestationwithouttellingme?”
“Okay,”Millersaid.
“Icanlivewiththat,”Sematimbasaid.Then,amomentlater:“That’sreallyHolden?”
“Callthecoroner,”Millersaid.“Trustme.”
ChapterTwenty-Five:Holden
Miller gestured at Holden and headed for the elevator without waiting to see if he was following.
Thepresumptionirritatedhim,buthewentanyway.
“So,” Holden said, “we were just in a gunfight where we killed at least three people, and now
we’re just leaving? No getting questioned or giving a statement? How exactly does that happen?”
Holdenasked.
“Professionalcourtesy,”Millersaid,andHoldencouldn’ttellifhewasjoking.
Theelevatordooropenedwithamuffledding,andHoldenandtheothersfollowedMillerinside.
Naomiwasclosesttothepanel,soshereachedouttopressthelobbybutton,butherhandwasshaking
sobadlythatshehadtostopandclenchitintoafist.Afteradeepbreath,shereachedoutanowsteady
fingerandpressedthebutton.
“Thisisbullshit.Beinganex-copdoesn’tgiveyoualicensetogetingunfights,”Holdensaidto
Miller ’sback.
Millerdidn’tmove,butheseemedtoshrinkalittlebit.Hissighwasheavyandunforced.Hisskin
seemedgrayerthanbefore.
“Sematimba knows the score. Half the job is knowing when to look the other way. Besides, I
promisedwewouldn’tleavethestationwithoutlettinghimknow.”
“Fuckthat,”Amossaid.“Youdon’tmakepromisesforus,pal.”
Theelevatorcametoastopandopenedontothebloodysceneofthegunfight.Adozencopswere
in the room. Miller nodded at them and they nodded back. He led the crew out of the lobby to the
corridor,thenturnedaround.
“Wecanworkthatoutlater,”Millersaid.“Rightnow,let’sgetsomeplacewecantalk.”
Holdenagreedwithashrug.“Okay,butyou’repaying.”
Millerheadedoffdownthecorridortowardthetubestation.
Astheyfollowed,NaomiputahandonHolden’sarmandslowedhimdownabitsothatMiller
couldgetahead.Whenhewasfarenoughaway,shesaid,“Heknewher.”
“Whoknewwho?”
“He,”Naomisaid,noddingatMiller,“knewher.”Shejerkedherheadbacktowardthecrimescene
behindthem.
“Howdoyouknow?”Holdensaid.
“Hewasn’texpectingtofindherthere,butheknewwhoshewas.Seeingherlikethatwasashock.”
“Huh,Ididn’tgetthatatall.He’sseemedlikeMr.Coolallthroughthis.”
“No, they were friends or something. He’s having trouble dealing with it, so maybe don’t push
himtoohard,”shesaid.“Wemightneedhim.”
The hotel room Miller got was only slightly better than the one they’d found the body in. Alex
immediately headed for the bathroom and locked the door. The sound of water running in the sink
wasn’tquiteloudenoughtocoverthepilot’sretching.
Holdenploppeddownonthesmallbed’sdingycomforter,forcingMillertotaketheroom’sone
uncomfortable-looking chair. Naomi sat next to Holden on the bed, but Amos stayed on his feet,
prowlingaroundtheroomlikeanervousanimal.
“So,talk,”HoldensaidtoMiller.
“Let’swaitfortherestofthegangtofinishup,”Millerrepliedwithanodtowardthebathroom.
Alexcameoutafewmomentslater,hisfacestillwhite,butnowfreshlywashed.
“Areyouallright,Alex?”Naomiaskedinasoftvoice.
“Fivebyfive,XO,”Alexsaid,thensatdownonthefloorandputhisheadinhishands.
HoldenstaredatMillerandwaited.Theoldermansatandplayedwithhishatforaminute,then
tosseditontothecheapplasticdeskthatcantileveredoutfromthewall.
“YouknewJuliewasinthatroom.How?”Millersaid.
“We didn’t even know her name was Julie,” Holden replied. “We just knew that it was someone
fromtheScopuli.”
“Youshouldtellmehowyouknewthat,”Millersaid,afrighteningintensityinhiseyes.
Holden paused a moment. Miller had killed someone who had been trying to kill them, and that
certainlyhelpedmakethecasethathewasafriend,butHoldenwasn’tabouttoselloutFredandhis
grouponahunch.Hehesitated,thenwenthalfway.
“ThefictionalowneroftheScopulihadcheckedintothatflophouse,”hesaid.“Itmadesensethatit
wasamemberofthecrewraisingaflag.”
Millernodded.“Whotoldyou?”hesaid.
“I’mnotcomfortabletellingyouthat.Webelievedtheinformationwasaccurate,”Holdenreplied.
“The Scopuli was the bait that someone used to kill the Canterbury. We thought someone from the
Scopulimightknowwhyeveryonekeepstryingtokillus.”
Millersaid,“Shit,”andthenleanedbackinhischairandstaredattheceiling.
“You’ve been looking for Julie. You’d hoped we were looking for her too. That we knew
something,”Naomisaid,notmakingitaquestion.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.
ItwasHolden’sturntoaskwhy.
“ParentssentacontracttoCereslookingforhertobesenthome.Itwasmycase,”Millersaid.
“SoyouworkforCeressecurity?”
“Notanymore.”
“Sowhatareyoudoinghere?”Holdenasked.
“Herfamilywasconnectedtosomething,”Millerreplied.“Ijustnaturallyhateamystery.”
“Andhowdidyouknowitwasbiggerthanjustamissinggirl?”
Talking to Miller felt like digging through granite with a rubber chisel. Miller grinned
humorlessly.
“Theyfiredmeforlookingtoohard.”
Holden consciously decided not to be annoyed by Miller ’s non-answer. “So let’s talk about the
deathsquadinthehotel.”
“Yeah,seriously,whatthefuck?”Amossaid,finallypausinginhispacing.Alextookhisheadout
ofhishandsandlookedupwithinterestforthefirsttime.EvenNaomileanedforwardontheedgeof
thebed.
“Noidea,”Millerreplied.“Butsomeoneknewyouwerecoming.”
“Yeah,thanksforthebrilliantpolicework,”Amossaidwithasnort.“Nowaywewouldafigured
thatoutonourown.”
Holden ignored him. “But they didn’t know why, or they would have already gone up to Julie’s
roomandgottenwhatevertheywanted.”
“DoesthatmeanFred’sbeencompromised?”Naomisaid.
“Fred?”Millerasked.
“OrmaybesomeonefiguredoutthePolanskithingtoo,butdidn’thavearoomnumber,”Holden
said.
“Butwhycomeoutgunsblazinglikethat?”Amossaid.“Doesn’tmakeanysensetoshootus.”
“That was a mistake,” Miller said. “I saw it happen. Amos here drew his gun. Somebody
overreacted.Theywereyellingcease-firerightupuntilyoufolksstartedshootingback.”
Holdenbegantickingoffpointsonhisfingers.
“Sosomeonefindsoutwe’reheadedtoEros,andthatitisrelatedtotheScopuli.Theyevenknow
thehotel,butnottheroom.”
“Theydon’tknowit’sLionelPolanskieither,”Naomisaid.“Theycouldhavelookeditupatthe
desk,justlikewedid.”
“Right.Sotheywaitforustoshow,andhaveasquadofgunmenreadytotakeusin.Butthatgoes
toshitanditturnsintoagunfightinthelobby.Theyabsolutelydon’tseeyoucoming,Detective,so
theyaren’tomniscient.”
“Right,” Miller said. “The whole thing screams last minute. Grab you guys and find out what
you’relookingfor.Ifthey’dhadmoretime,theycouldhavejustsearchedthehotel.Mighthavetaken
twoorthreedays,butitcouldhavebeendone.Theydidn’t,sothatmeansgrabbingyouwaseasier.”
Holden nodded. “Yes,” he said. “But that means that they already had teams here. Those didn’t
seemlikelocalstome.”
Millerpaused,lookingdisconcerted.
“Nowyousayit,meeither,”heagreed.
“So whoever it is, they already have teams of gunmen on Eros, and they can redeploy them to
comeatamoment’snoticetopickusup,”Holdensaid.
“And enough pull with security that they could have a firefight and nobody came,” Miller said.
“Policedidn’tknowanythingwashappeninguntilIcalledthem.”
Holdencockedhisheadtooneside,thensaid,“Shit,wereallyneedtogetoutofhere.”
“Waitaminute,”Alexsaidloudly.“Justwaitagoddamnminutehere.Howcomenooneistalkin’
aboutthemutanthorrorshowinthatroom?WasItheonlyonethatsawthat?”
“Yeah,Jesus,whatwasthatallabout?”Amossaidquietly.
MillerreachedintohiscoatpocketandtookouttheevidencebagwithJulie’shandterminalinit.
“Anyofyouguysatechie?”heasked.“Maybewecouldfindout.”
“Icouldprobablyhackit,”Naomisaid.“Butthere’snowayI’mtouchingthatthinguntilweknow
what did that to her and that it isn’t catching. I’m not pushing my luck by handling anything she’s
touched.”
“You don’t have to touch it. Keep the bag sealed. Just use it right through the plastic. The touch
screenshouldstillwork.”
Naomipausedforasecond,thenreachedoutandtookthebag.
“Okay,givemeaminute,”shesaid,thensettoworkonit.
Millerleanedbackinhischairagain,lettingoutanotherheavysigh.
“So,”Holdensaid.“DidyouknowJuliebeforethis?Naomiseemstothinkfindingherdeadlike
thatreallyknockedyouforaloop.”
Miller shook his head slowly. “You get a case like that, you look into whoever it is. You know,
personalstuff.Readtheire-mail.Talktothepeopletheyknow.Yougetapicture.”
Millerstoppedtalkingandrubbedhiseyeswithhisthumbs.Holdendidn’tpushhim,buthestarted
talkingagainanyway.
“Juliewasagoodkid,”Millersaidasifhewereconfessingsomething.“Sheflewameanracing
ship.Ijust…Iwantedtogetherbackalive.”
“It’s got a password,” Naomi said, holding up the terminal. “I could hack the hardware, but I’d
havetoopenthecase.”
Millerreachedoutandsaid,“Letmegiveitatry.”
Naomi handed the terminal to him, and he tapped a few characters on the screen and handed it
back.
“Razorback,”Naomisaid.“What’sthat?”
“It’sasled,”Millerreplied.
“Ishetalkingtous?”Amossaid,pointinghischinatMiller.“’Causethere’snooneelsehere,but
IswearhalfthetimeIdon’tknowwhatthefuckhe’sonabout.”
“Sorry,”Millersaid.“I’vebeenworkingmoreorlesssolo.Makesforbadhabits.”
NaomishruggedandwentbacktoworkwithHoldenandMillernowlookingoverhershoulders.
“She’sgotalotofstuffonhere,”Naomisaid.“Wheretostart?”
Millerpointedatatextfilesimplylabelednotessittingontheterminal’sdesktop.
“Startthere,”hesaid.“She’safanaticaboutputtingthingsintherightfolders.Ifsheleftthatonthe
desktop,itmeansshewasn’tsurewhereitwent.”
Naomitappedonthedocumenttoopenitup.Itexpandedintoalooselyorganizedcollectionof
textthatreadlikesomeone’sdiary.
Firstoff,getyourshittogether.Panicdoesn’thelp.Itneverhelps.Deepbreaths,figurethis
out,maketherightmoves.fearisthemind-killer.Ha.Geek.
ShuttlePros:
Noreactor,justbatteries.V.lowradiation.
Suppliesforeight
Lotsofreactionmass
ShuttleCons:
NoEpstein,notorch
Comm not just disabled, but physically removed (feeling a little paranoid about leaks,
guys?)
Closest transit is Eros. Is that where we were going? Maybe go someplace else? On just
teakettle,thisisgonnabeaslowboat.Anothertransitaddssevenmoreweeks.Eros,then.
I’vegotthePhoebebug,nowayaroundit.Notsurehow,butthatbrownshitwaseverywhere.
It’sanaerobic,musthavetouchedsome.Doesn’tmatterhow,justworktheproblem.
IjustsleptforTHREEWEEKS.Didn’tevengetuptopee.Whatdoesthat?
I’msofucked.
Thingsyouneedtoremember:
*BA834024112
*Radiationkills.Noreactoronthisshuttle,butkeepthelightsoff.Keepthee-suiton.Video
asshatsaidthisthingeatsradiation.Don’tfeedit.
* Send up a flag. Get some help. You work for the smartest people in the system. They’ll
figuresomethingout.
*Stayawayfrompeople.Don’tspreadthebug.Notcoughingupthebrowngooyet.Noidea
whenthatstarts.
*Keepawayfrombadguys—asifyouknowwhotheyare.Fine.Sokeepawayfromeveryone.
Incognitoismyname.Hmm.Polanski?
Damn.Icanfeelit.I’mhotallthetime,andI’mstarving.Don’teat.Don’tfeedit.Feeda
cold,starveaflu?Otherwayaround?Erosisadayout,andthenhelpisontheway.Keep
fighting.
Safe on Eros. Sent up the flag. Hope the home office is watching. Head hurts. Something’s
happeningonmyback.Lumpovermykidneys.Darrenturnedintogoo.AmIgoingtobea
suitfullofjelly?
Sick now. Things coming out of my back and leaking that brown stuff everywhere. Have to
take the suit off. If you read this, don’t let anyone touch the Brown stuff. Burn me. I’m
burningup.
Naomiputtheterminaldown,butnoonespokeforamoment.Finally,Holdensaid,“Phoebebug.
Anyonehaveanidea?”
“TherewasasciencestationonPhoebe,”Millersaid.“Innerplanetsplace,noBeltersallowed.It
gothit.Lotsofdeadpeople,but…”
“Shetalksaboutbeingonashuttle,”Naomisaid.“TheScopulididn’thaveashuttle.”
“Therehadtobeanothership,”Alexsaid.“Maybeshegottheshuttleoffit.”
“Right,”Holdensaid.“Theygotonanothership,theygotinfectedwiththisPhoebebug,andthe
restofthecrew…Idon’tknow.Dies?”
“Shegetsout,notrealizingshe’sinfectedtillshe’sontheshuttle,”Naomicontinued.“Shecomes
here,shesendsuptheflagtoFred,andshediesinthathotelroomoftheinfection.”
“Not, however, turned to goo,” Holden said. “Just really badly… I don’t know. Those tubes and
bonespurs.Whatkindofdiseasedoesthat?”
Thequestionhungintheair.Againnoonespoke.Holdenknewtheywereallthinkingthesame
thing.Theyhadn’ttouchedanythingintheflophouseroom.Didthatmeantheyweresafefromit?Or
didtheyhavethePhoebebug,whateverthehellitwas?Butshe’dsaidanaerobic.Holdenwaspretty
surethatmeantyoucouldn’tgetitbybreathingitintheair.Prettysure…
“Wheredowegofromhere,Jim?”Naomiasked.
“How about Venus?” Holden said, his voice higher and tighter than he’d expected. “Nothing
interestinghappeningonVenus.”
“Seriously,”Naomisaid.
“Okay.Seriously,IthinkMillerthereletshiscopfriendknowthestory,andthenwegetthehell
offofthisrock.It’sgottobeabioweapon,right?SomeonestealsitoffaMartiansciencelab,seeds
thisshitinadome,amonthlatereveryhumanbeinginthecityisdead.”
Amosinterruptedwithagrunt.
“There’s some holes in that, Cap’n,” Amos said. “Like what the fuck does that have to do with
takingdowntheCantandtheDonnager?”
HoldenlookedNaomiintheeyeandsaid,“Wehaveaplacetolooknow,don’twe?”
“Yeah,wedo,”shesaid.“BA834024112.That’sarockdesignation.”
“Whatdoyouthinkisoutthere?”Alexasked.
“IfIwasabettingman,I’dsayit’swhatevershipshestolethatshuttlefrom,”Holdenreplied.
“Makessense,”Naomisaid.“EveryrockintheBeltismapped.Youwanttohidesomething,putit
inastableorbitnexttooneandyoucanalwaysfinditlater.”
MillerturnedtowardHolden,hisfaceevenmoredrawn.
“Ifyou’regoingthere,Iwantin,”hesaid.
“Why?”Holdenasked.“Nooffense,butyoufoundyourgirl.Yourjob’sover,right?”
Millerlookedathim,hislipsathinline.
“Differentcase,”Millersaid.“Nowit’saboutwhokilledher.”
ChapterTwenty-Six:Miller
Yourpolicefriendputalockdownorderonmyship,”Holdensaid.Hesoundedoutraged.
Around them, the hotel restaurant was busy. Last shift’s prostitutes mixed with the next shift’s
tourists and businessmen at the cheap pink-lit buffet. The pilot and the big guy—Alex and Amos—
were vying for the last bagel. Naomi sat at Holden’s side, her arms crossed, a cup of bad coffee
coolingbeforeher.
“Wedidkillsomepeople,”Millersaidgently.
“Ithoughtyougotusoutofthatwithyoursecretpolicehandshake,”Holdensaid.“Sowhy’smy
shipinlockdown?”
“YourememberwhenSematimbasaidweshouldn’tleavethestationwithouttellinghim?”Miller
said.
“Irememberyoumakingsomekindofdeal,”Holdensaid.“Idon’trememberagreeingtoit.”
“Look, he’s going to keep us here until he’s sure he won’t get fired for letting us go. Once he
knowshisassiscovered,thelockgoesdown.Solet’stalkaboutthepartwhereIrentaberthonyour
ship.”
JimHoldenandhisXOexchangedaglance,oneofthosetinyhumanburstcommunicationsthat
saidmorethanwordscouldhave.Millerdidn’tknoweitherofthemwellenoughtodecodeallofit,
butheguessedtheywereskeptical.
They had reason to be. Miller had checked his credit balance before he’d called them. He had
enough left for another night in the hotel or a good dinner, but not both. He was spending it on a
cheapbreakfastthatHoldenandhiscrewdidn’tneedandprobablywouldn’tenjoy,buyinggoodwill.
“Ineedtomakevery,verysureIunderstandwhatyou’resaying,”Holdensaidasthebigone—
Amos—returnedandsatathisothersideholdingthebagel.“AreyousayingthatunlessIletyouon
myship,yourfriendisgoingtokeepushere?Becausethat’sblackmail.”
“Extortion,”Amossaid.
“What?”Holdensaid.
“It’snotblackmail,”Naomisaid.“Thatwouldbeifhethreatenedtoexposeinformationwedidn’t
wantknown.Ifit’sjustathreat,that’sextortion.”
“Andit’snotwhatI’mtalkingabout,”Millersaid.“Freedomofthestationwhiletheinvestigation
rolls?That’snotrouble.Leavingjurisdiction’sanotherthing.Ican’tholdyouhereanymorethanI
cancutyouloose.I’mjustlookingforaridewhenyougo.”
“Why?”Holdensaid.
“Becauseyou’regoingtoJulie’sasteroid,”Millersaid.
“I’m willing to bet there’s no port there,” Holden said. “Did you plan on going anyplace after
that?”
“I’mkindoflowonsolidplans.Haven’thadoneyetthatactuallyhappened.”
“Ihearthat,”Amossaid.“We’vebeenfuckedeighteendifferentwayssincewegotintothis.”
Holden folded his hands on the table, one finger tapping a complicated rhythm on the woodtexturedconcretetop.Itwasn’tagoodsign.
“You seem like a… well, like an angry, bitter old man, actually. But I’ve been working water
haulersforthepastfiveyears.Thatjustmeansyou’dfitin.”
“But,”Millersaid,andletthewordhangthere.
“ButI’vebeenshotatalotrecently,andthemachinegunsyesterdayweretheleastlethalthingI’ve
hadtodealwith,”Holdensaid.“I’mnotlettinganyoneonmyshipthatIwouldn’ttrustwithmylife,
andIdon’tactuallyknowyou.”
“Icangetthemoney,”Millersaid,hisbellysinking.“Ifit’smoney,Icancoverit.”
“It’snotaboutnegotiatingaprice,”Holdensaid.
“Get the money?” Naomi said, her eyes narrowing. “ ‘Get the money,’ as in you don’t have it
now?”
“I’malittleshort,”Millersaid.“It’stemporary.”
“Youhaveanincome?”Naomisaid.
“Morelikeastrategy,”Millersaid.“There’ssomeindependentracketsdownonthedocks.There
alwaysareatanyport.Sidegames.Fights.Thingslikethat.Mostofthem,thefixisin.It’showyou
bribecopswithoutactuallybribingcops.”
“That’syourplan?”Holdensaid,incredulityinhisvoice.“Gocollectsomepolicebribes?”
Across the restaurant, a prostitute in a red nightgown yawned prodigiously; the john across the
tablefromherfrowned.
“No,”Millersaidreluctantly.“Iplaythesidebets.Acopgoesin,Imakeasidebetthathe’sgoing
towin.Iknowwhothecopsaremostly.Thehouse,theyknowbecausethey’rebribingthem.Theside
betsarewithfishlookingtofeeledgybecausethey’replayingunlicensed.”
Evenashesaidit,Millerknewhowweakitsounded.Alex,thepilot,cameandsatbesideMiller.
Hiscoffeesmelledbrightandacidic.
“What’sthedeal?”Alexasked.
“Thereisn’tone,”Holdensaid.“Therewasn’tonebeforeandtherestillisn’t.”
“It works better than you’d think,” Miller said gamely, and four hand terminals chimed at once.
HoldenandNaomiexchangedanother,lesscomplicitglanceandpulleduptheirterminals.Amosand
Alex already had theirs up. Miller caught the red-and-green border that meant either a priority
messageoranearlyChristmascard.Therewasamoment’ssilenceastheyallreadsomething;then
Amoswhistledlow.
“Stagethree?”Naomisaid.
“Can’tsayasIlikethesoundofthat,”Alexsaid.
“YoumindifIask?”Millersaid.
Holdenslidhisterminalacrossthetable.Themessagewasplaintext,encodedfromTycho.
CAUGHTMOLEINTYCHOCOMMSTATION.YOURPRESENCEANDDESTINATIONLEAKEDTOUNKNOWN
PERSONSONEROS.BECAREFUL.
“Littlelateonthat,”Millersaid.
“Keepreading,”Holdensaid.
MOLE’SENCRYPTIONCODEALLOWEDINTERCEPTOFSUBSIGNALBROADCASTFROMEROSFIVEHOURS
AGO.
INTERCEPTEDMESSAGEFOLLOWS:HOLDENESCAPEDBUTPAYLOADSAMPLERECOVERED.REPEAT:
SAMPLERECOVERED.PROCEEDINGTOSTAGETHREE.
“Anyideawhatthatmeans?”Holdenasked.
“Idon’t,”Millersaid,pushingtheterminalback.“Except…ifthepayloadsampleisJulie’sbody.”
“WhichIthinkwecanassumeitis,”Holdensaid.
Miller tapped his fingertips on the tabletop, unconsciously copying Holden’s rhythm, his mind
workingthroughthecombinations.
“This thing,” Miller said. “The bioweapon or whatever. They were shipping it here. So now it’s
here. Okay. There’s no reason to take out Eros. It’s not particularly important to the war when you
holdituptoCeresorGanymedeortheshipyardatCallisto.Andifyouwanteditdead,there’reeasier
ways.Blowabigfusionbombonthesurface,andcrackitlikeanegg.”
“It’snotamilitarybase,butitisashippinghub,”Naomisaid.“And,unlikeCeres,it’snotunder
OPAcontrol.”
“They’reshippingherout,then,”Holdensaid.“They’retakingtheirsampleouttoinfectwhatever
theiroriginaltargetwas,andoncethey’reoffthestation,there’snowaywe’regoingtostopit.”
Millershookhishead.Somethingaboutthechainoflogicfeltwrong.Hewasmissingsomething.
HisimaginaryJulieappearedacrosstheroom,buthereyesweredark,blackfilamentspouringdown
hercheeksliketears.
WhatamIlookingathere,Julie?hethought.I’mseeingsomethinghere,butIdon’tknowwhatit
is.
The vibration was a slight, small thing, less than a transport tube’s braking stutter. A few plates
rattled;thecoffeeinNaomi’scupdancedinaseriesofconcentriccircles.Everyoneinthehotelwent
silentwiththesuddenshareddreadofthousandsofpeoplemadeawareoftheirfragilityinthesame
moment.
“Oh-kay,”Amossaid.“Thefuckwasthat?”andtheemergencyKlaxonsstartedblaring.
“Orpossiblystagethreeissomethingelse,”Millersaidoverthenoise.
The public-address system was muddy by its nature. The same voice spoke from consoles and
speakersthatmighthavebeenascloseasameterfromeachotherorasfaroutasearshotwouldtake
them. It made every word reverberate, a false echo. Because of that, the voice of the emergency
broadcastsystemenunciatedverycarefully,eachwordbittenoffseparately.
“Attention, please. Eros Station is in emergency lockdown. Proceed immediately to the casino
levelforradiologicalsafetyconfinement.Cooperatewithallemergencypersonnel.Attention,please.
Erosstationisinemergencylockdown…”
Andoninaloopthatwouldcontinue,ifnoonecodedintheoverride,untileveryman,woman,
child,animal,andinsectonthestationhadbeenreducedtodustandhumidity.Itwasthenightmare
scenario,andMillerdidwhatalifetimeonpressurizedrockshadtrainedhimtodo.Hewasupfrom
thetable,inthecorridor,andheadingdowntowardthewiderpassages,alreadycloggedwithbodies.
Holdenandhiscrewwereonhisheels.
“Thatwasanexplosion,”Alexsaid.“Shipdriveattheleast.Maybeanuke.”
“Theyaregoingtokillthestation,”Holdensaid.Therewasakindofaweinhisvoice.“Inever
thoughtI’dmissthepartwheretheyjustblewuptheshipsIwason.Butnowit’sstations.”
“Theydidn’tcrackit,”Millersaid.
“You’resureofthat?”Naomiasked.
“Icanhearyoutalking,”Millersaid.“Thattellsmethere’sair.”
“Thereareairlocks,”Holdensaid.“Ifthestationgotholedandthelockscloseddown…”
AwomanpushedhardagainstMiller ’sshoulder,forcingherwayforward.Iftheyweren’tdamn
careful, there was going to be a stampede. This was too much fear and not enough space. It hadn’t
happenedyet,buttheimpatientmovementofthecrowd,vibratinglikemoleculesinwaterjustshyof
boiling,madeMillerveryuncomfortable.
“Thisisn’taship,”Millersaid.“It’sastation.Thisisrockwe’reon.Anythingbigenoughtogetto
the parts of the station with atmosphere would crack the place like an egg. A great big pressurized
egg.”
The crowd was stopped, the tunnel full. They were going to need crowd control, and they were
goingtoneeditfast.Forthefirsttimesincehe’dleftCeres,Millerwishedhehadabadge.Someone
pushedintoAmos’side,thenbackedawaythroughthepresswhenthebigguygrowled.
“Besides,”Millersaid,“it’saradhazard.Youdon’tneedairlosstokilleveryoneinthestation.
JustburnafewquadrillionspareneutronsthroughtheplaceatC,andtherewon’tbeanytroublewith
theoxygensupply.”
“Cheerfulfucker,”Amossaid.
“They build stations inside of rocks for a reason,” Naomi said. “Not so easy to force radiation
throughthismanymetersofrock.”
“I spent a month in a rad shelter once,” Alex said as they pushed through the thickening crowd.
“ShipIwasonhadmagneticcontainmentdrop.Automaticcutoffsfailed,andthereactorkeptrunnin’
foralmostasecond.Meltedtheengineroom.Killedfiveofthecrewonthenextdeckupbeforethey
knewwehadaproblem,andittookthemthreedaystocarvethebodiesfreeofthemelteddeckingfor
burial.Therestofuswoundupeighteentoashelterforthirty-sixdayswhileatugflewtogetus.”
“Soundsgreat,”Holdensaid.
“Endofit,sixof’emgotmarried,andtherestofusneverspoketoeachotheragain,”Alexsaid.
Ahead of them, someone shouted. It wasn’t in alarm or even anger, really. Frustration. Fear.
ExactlythethingsMillerdidn’twanttohear.
“Thatmaynotbeourbigproblem,”Millersaid,butbeforehecouldexplain,anewvoicecutin,
drowningouttheemergency-responseloop.
“Okay,everybody!We’reErossecurity,queno?Wegotanemergency,soyoudowhatwetellyou
andnobodygetshurt.”
Abouttime,Millerthought.
“So here’s the rule,” the new voice said. “Next asshole who pushes anyone, I’m going to shoot
them.Moveinanorderlyfashion.Firstpriority:orderly.Secondpriorityismove!Go,go,go!”
Atfirstnothinghappened.Theknotofhumanbodieswastiedtootightlyforeventhemostheavyhandedcrowdcontroltofreequickly,butaminutelater,Millersawsomeheadsfaraheadofhimin
thetunnelstarttoshift,thenmoveaway.Theairinthetunnelwasthickeningandthehotplasticsmell
ofoverloadedrecyclersreachedhimjustastheclotcamefree.Miller ’sbreathstartedcomingeasier.
“Do they have hard shelters?” a woman behind them asked her companion, and then was swept
awaybythecurrents.NaomipluckedMiller ’ssleeve.
“Dothey?”sheasked.
“Theyshould,yes,”Millersaid.“Enoughformaybeaquartermillion,andessentialpersonneland
medicalcrewswouldgetfirstcrackatthem.”
“Andeveryoneelse?”Amossaid.
“Iftheysurvivetheevent,”Holdensaid,“stationpersonnelwillsaveasmanypeopleastheycan.”
“Ah,”Amossaid.Then:“Well,fuckthat.We’regoingfortheRoci,right?”
“Oh,hellyes,”Holdensaid.
Aheadofthem,thefast-shufflingcrowdintheirtunnelwasmergingwithanotherflowofpeople
from a lower level. Five thick-necked men in riot gear were waving people on. Two of them were
pointing guns at the crowd. Miller was more than half tempted to go up and slap the little idiots.
Pointing guns at people was a lousy way to avoid panic. One of the security men was also far too
wide for his gear, the Velcro fasteners at his belly reaching out for each other like lovers at the
momentofseparation.
Miller looked down at the floor and slowed his steps, the back of his mind suddenly and
powerfully busy. One of the cops swung his gun out over the crowd. Another one—the fat guy—
laughedandsaidsomethinginKorean.
WhathadSematimbasaidaboutthenewsecurityforce?Allbluster,noballs.Anewcorporation
outofLuna.Beltersontheground.Corrupt.
The name. They’d had a name. CPM. Carne Por la Machina. Meat for the machine. One of the
gun-wieldingcopsloweredhisweapon,sweptoffhishelmet,andscratchedviolentlybehindoneear.
Hehadwildblackhair,atattooedneck,andascarthatwentfromoneeyeliddownalmosttothejoint
ofhisjaw.
Millerknewhim.Ayearandahalfago,he’darrestedhimforassaultandracketeering.Andthe
equipment—armor, batons, riot guns—also looked hauntingly familiar. Dawes had been wrong.
Millerhadbeenabletofindhisownmissingequipmentafterall.
Whatever this was, it had been going on a long time before the Canterbury had picked up a
distresscallfromtheScopuli.AlongtimebeforeJuliehadvanished.AndputtingabunchofCeres
StationthugsinchargeofEroscrowdcontrolusingstolenCeresStationequipmenthadbeenpartof
theplan.Thethirdphase.
Ah,hethought.Well.Thatcan’tbegood.
Millerslidtotheside,lettingasmanybodiesasheplausiblycouldfillthespacebetweenhimand
thegunmendressedaspolice.
“Getdowntothecasinolevel,”oneofthegunmenshoutedoverthecrowd.“We’llgetyouintothe
radiationsheltersfromthere,butyou’vegottogettothecasinolevel!”
Holden and his crew hadn’t noticed anything odd. They were talking among themselves,
strategizingabouthowtogettotheirshipandwhattodooncetheygotthere,speculatingaboutwho
mighthaveattackedthestationandwhereJulieMao’stwisted,infectedcorpsemightbeheaded.Miller
foughttheimpulsetointerruptthem.Heneededtostaycalm,tothinkthingsthrough.Theycouldn’t
attractattention.Heneededtherightmoment.
The corridor turned and widened. The press of bodies lightened a little bit. Miller waited for a
deadzoneinthecrowdcontrol,aspacewherenoneofthefakesecuritymencouldseethem.Hetook
Holdenbytheelbow.
“Don’tgo,”hesaid.
ChapterTwenty-Seven:Holden
W hatdoyoumean,don’tgo?”Holdenasked,yankinghiselbowoutofMiller ’sgrasp.“Somebody
justnukedthestation.Thishasescalatedbeyondourcapacitytorespond.Ifwecan’tgettotheRoci,
we’redoingwhatevertheytellustountilwecan.”
Millertookastepbackandputuphishands;hewasclearlydoinghisbesttolooknonthreatening,
whichjustpissedHoldenoffevenmore.Behindhim,theriotcopsweremotioningthepeoplemilling
in the corridors toward the casinos. The air echoed with the electronically amplified voices of the
police directing the crowds and the buzz of anxious citizens. Over it all, the public-address system
toldeveryonetoremaincalmandcooperatewithemergencypersonnel.
“Seethatbruiseroverthereinthepoliceriotgear?”Millersaid.“HisnameisGabbySmalls.He
supervisesachunkoftheGoldenBoughprotectionracketonCeres.Healsorunsalittledustonthe
side,andIsuspecthe’stossedmorethanafewpeopleoutairlocks.”
Holdenlookedattheguy.Wideshoulders,thickgut.NowthatMillerpointedhimout,therewas
somethingabouthimthatdidn’tseemrightforacop.
“Idon’tgetit,”Holdensaid.
“A couple months ago, when you started a bunch of riots by saying Mars blew up your water
hauler,wefoundout—”
“Ineversaid—”
“—foundoutthatmostofthepoliceriotgearonCereswasmissing.Afewmonthsbeforethat,a
bunchofourunderworldmusclewentmissing.Ijustfoundoutwherebothofthemare.”
Millerpointedattheriot-gear-equippedGabbySmalls.
“Iwouldn’tgowhereverhe’ssendingpeople,”hesaid.“Ireallywouldn’t.”
Athinstreamofpeoplebumpedpast.
“Thenwhere?”Naomiasked.
“Yeah, I mean, if the choice is radiation or mobsters, I gotta go with the mobsters,” Alex said,
noddingemphaticallyatNaomi.
Millerpulledouthishandterminalandhelditupsoeveryonecouldseethescreen.
“I’vegotnoradiationwarnings,”hesaid.“Whateverhappenedoutsideisn’tadangeronthislevel.
Notrightnow.Solet’sjustcalmdownandmakethesmartmove.”
HoldenturnedhisbackonMillerandmotionedtoNaomi.Hepulledherasideandsaidinaquiet
voice, “I still think we go back to the ship and get out of here. Take our chances getting past these
mobsters.”
“Ifthere’snoradiationdanger,thenIagree,”shesaidwithanod.
“Idisagree,”Millersaid,notevenpretendinghehadn’tbeeneavesdropping.“Todothatwehave
towalkthroughthreelevelsofcasinofilledwithriotgearandthugs.They’regoingtotellustogetin
oneofthosecasinosforourownprotection.Whenwedon’t,they’llbeatusunconsciousandthrowus
inanyway.Forourownprotection.”
Anothercrowdofpeoplepouredoutofabranchcorridor,headingforthereassuringpresenceof
thepoliceandthebrightcasinolights.Holdenfounditdifficultnottobesweptalongwiththecrowd.
AmanwithtwoenormoussuitcasesbumpedintoNaomi,almostknockingherdown.Holdengrabbed
herhand.
“What’sthealternative?”heaskedMiller.
Millerglancedupanddownthecorridor,seemingtomeasuretheflowofpeople.Henoddedata
yellow-and-black-stripedhatchdownasmallmaintenancecorridor.
“Thatone,”hesaid.“It’smarked HIGHVOLTAGE,sotheguyssweepingforstragglerswon’tbother
withit.It’snotthekindofplacecitizenshide.”
“Canyougetthatdooropenquickly?”Holdensaid,lookingatAmos.
“CanIbreakit?”
“Ifyouneedto.”
“Then sure,” Amos said, and began pushing his way through the crowd toward the maintenance
hatch.Atthedoor,hepulledouthismulti-toolandpoppedoffthecheapplastichousingforthecard
reader.Afterhetwistedacoupleofwirestogether,thehatchslidopenwithahydraulichiss.
“Ta-da,”Amossaid.“Thereaderwon’tworkanymore,soanyonewhowantsincomesin.”
“Let’sworryaboutthatifithappens,”Millerreplied,thenledthemintothedimlylitpassageway
beyond.
The service corridor was filled with electrical cable held together with plastic ties. It stretched
through the dim red light for thirty or forty feet before falling into gloom. The light came from
LEDsmountedonthemetalbracingthatsproutedfromthewalleveryfivefeetorsotoholdthecable
up.Naomihadtoducktoenter,herframeaboutfourcentimeterstootallfortheceiling.Sheputher
backtothewallandsliddownontoherhaunches.
“You’dthinkthey’dmakethemaintenancecorridorstallenoughforBelterstoworkin,”shesaid
irritably.
Holdentouchedthewallalmostreverently,tracingacorridoridentificationnumbercarvedright
intothestone.
“TheBelterswhobuiltthisplaceweren’ttall,”hesaid.“Thesearesomeofthemainpowerlines.
ThistunnelgoesbacktothefirstBeltcolony.Thepeoplewhocarveditgrewupingravity.”
Miller,whoalsohadtoduckhishead,satonthefloorwithagruntandpoppingknees.
“Historylessonlater,”hesaid.“Let’sfigureawayoffthisrock.”
Amos, studying the bundles of cable intently, said over his shoulder, “If you see a frayed spot,
don’ttouchit.Thisthickfuckerrighthereisacouplemillionvolts.That’dmeltyourshitdownreal
good.”
AlexsatdownnexttoNaomi,grimacingwhenhisbutthitthecoldstonefloor.
“Youknow,”hesaid,“iftheydecidetosealupthestation,theymightpumpalltheairouttathese
maintenancecorridors.”
“I get it,” Holden said loudly. “It’s a shitty and uncomfortable hiding spot. You have my
permissiontonowshutupaboutthat.”
HesquatteddownacrossthecorridorfromMillerandsaid,“Okay,Detective.Nowwhat?”
“Now,”Millersaid,“wewaitforthesweeptopassusby,andgetbehindit,trytogettothedocks.
Thefolksinthesheltersareeasytoavoid.Sheltersareupdeep.Trick’sgoingtobegettingthrough
thecasinolevels.”
“Can’twejustusethesemaintenancepassagestomovearound?”Alexasked.
Amosshookhishead.“Notwithoutamap,wewon’t.Yougetlostinhere,you’reintrouble,”he
said.
Ignoringthem,Holdensaid,“Okay,sowewaitforeveryonetomovetotheradiationsheltersand
thenweleave.”
Miller nodded at him, and then the two men sat staring at each other for a moment. The air
betweenthemseemedtothicken,thesilencetakingonameaningofitsown.Millershruggedlikehis
jacketitched.
“Why do you think a bunch of Ceres mobsters are moving everyone to radiation shelters when
there’snoactualradiationdanger?”Holdenfinallysaid.“AndwhyaretheEroscopslettingthem?”
“Goodquestions,”Millersaid.
“Iftheywereusingtheseyahoos,ithelpsexplainwhytheirattemptedkidnappingatthehotelwent
sopoorly.Theydon’tseemlikepros.”
“Nope,”Millersaid.“That’snottheirusualareaofexpertise.”
“Wouldyoutwobequiet?”Naomisaid.
Foralmostaminutetheywere.
“It’dbereallystupid,”Holdensaid,“togotakealookatwhat’sgoingon,wouldn’tit?”
“Yes.Whatever ’sgoingonatthoseshelters,youknowthat’swherealltheguardsandpatrolswill
be,”Millersaid.
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.
“Captain,”Naomisaid,awarninginhervoice.
“Still,”Holdensaid,talkingtoMiller,“youhateamystery.”
“I do at that,” Miller replied with a nod and a faint smile. “And you, my friend, are a damn
busybody.”
“It’sbeensaid.”
“Goddamnit,”Naomisaidquietly.
“Whatisit,Boss?”Amosasked.
“Thesetwojustbrokeourgetawayplan,”Naomireplied.ThenshesaidtoHolden,“Youguysare
goingtobeverybadforeachotherand,byextension,us.”
“No,”Holdenreplied.“Youaren’tcomingalong.YoustayherewithAmosandAlex.Giveus”—
helookedathisterminal—“threehourstogolookandcomeback.Ifwearen’there—”
“WeleaveyoutothegangstersandthethreeofusgetjobsonTychoandlivehappilyeverafter,”
Naomisaid.
“Yeah,”Holdensaidwithagrin.“Don’tbeahero.”
“Wouldn’tevenconsiderit,sir.”
Holden crouched in the shadows outside the maintenance hatch and watched as Ceres mobsters
dressedinpoliceriotgearledthecitizensofErosawayinsmallgroups.ThePAsystemcontinuedto
declare the possibility of radiological danger and exhorted the citizens and guests of Eros to
cooperate fully with emergency personnel. Holden had selected a group to follow and was getting
readytomovewhenMillerplacedahandonhisshoulder.
“Wait,”Millersaid.“Iwanttomakeacall.”
Hequicklydialedupanumberonhishandterminal,andafterafewmoments,aflatgrayNetwork
NotAvailablemessageappeared.
“Phoneisdown?”Holdenasked.
“That’sthefirstthingI’ddo,too,”Millerreplied.
“Isee,”Holdensaideventhoughhereallydidn’t.
“Well,Iguessit’sjustyouandme,”Millersaid,thentookthemagazineoutofhisgunandbegan
reloadingitwithcartridgeshepulledoutofhiscoatpocket.
Eventhoughhe’dhadenoughofgunfightstolasthimtherestofhislife,Holdentookouthisgun
andcheckedthemagazineaswell.He’dreplaceditaftertheshoot-outinthehotel,anditwasfull.He
rackeditandputitbackinthewaistbandofhispants.Miller,henoticed,kepthisout,holdingitclose
tohisthigh,wherehiscoatmostlycoveredit.
Itwasn’tdifficultfollowingthegroupsupthroughthestationtowardtheinnersectionswherethe
radiationshelterswere.Aslongastheykeptmovinginthesamedirectionasthecrowds,noonegave
themasecondlook.Holdenmadeamentalnoteofthemanycorridorintersectionswheremeninriot
gearstoodguard.Itwouldbemuchtoughercomingbackdown.
Whenthegrouptheywerefollowingeventuallystoppedoutsidealargemetaldoormarkedwith
theancientradiationsymbol,HoldenandMillerslippedofftothesideandhidbehindalargeplanter
filledwithfernsandacoupleofstuntedtrees.Holdenwatchedthefakeriotcopsordereveryoneinto
theshelterandthensealthedoorbehindthemwiththeswipeofacard.Allbutoneofthemleft,the
remainingonestandingguardoutsidethedoor.
Millerwhispered,“Let’saskhimtoletusin.”
“Followmylead,”Holdenreplied,thenstoodupandbeganwalkingtowardtheguard.
“Hey, shithead, you supposed to be in a shelter or in the casino, so get the fuck back to your
group,”theguardsaid,hishandonthebuttofhisgun.
Holdenhelduphishandsplacatingly,smiled,andkeptwalking.“Hey,Ilostmygroup.Gotmixed
upsomehow.I’mnotfromhere,youknow,”hesaid.
Theguardpointeddownthecorridorwiththestunbatoninhislefthand.
“Gothatwaytillyouhittherampsdown,”hesaid.
Millerseemedtoappearoutofnowhereinthedimlylitcorridor,hisgunalreadyoutandpointed
attheguard’shead.Hethumbedoffthesafetywithanaudibleclick.
“Howaboutwejustjointhegroupalreadyinside?”hesaid.“Openitup.”
TheguardlookedatMilleroutofthecornersofhiseyes,notturninghisheadatall.Hishands
wentup,andhedroppedthebaton.
“Youdon’twanttodothat,man,”thefakecopsaid.
“Ikindofthinkhedoes,”Holdensaid.“Youshoulddowhathesays.He’snotaveryniceperson.”
Millerpushedthebarrelofhisgunagainsttheguard’sheadandsaid,“Youknowwhatweusedto
call a ‘no-brainer ’ back at the station house? It’s when a shot to the head actually blows the entire
brainoutofsomeone’sskull.Itusuallyhappenswhenagunispressedtothevictim’sheadrightabout
here.Thegas’sgotnowheretogo.Popsthebrainrightoutthroughtheexitwound.”
“Theysaidnottoopentheseuponcethey’dbeensealed,man,”theguardsaid,speakingsofasthe
ranallthewordstogether.“Theywereprettyseriousaboutthat.”
“ThisisthelasttimeIask,”Millersaid.“NexttimeIjustusethecardItookoffyourbody.”
Holden turned the guard around to face the door and pulled the handgun out of the man’s belt
holster.HehopedallMiller ’sthreatswerejustthreats.Hesuspectedtheyweren’t.
“Justopenthedoor,andwe’llletyougo,Ipromise,”Holdensaidtotheguard.
Theguardnoddedandmoveduptothedoor,thenslidhiscardthroughitandpunchedinanumber
onthekeypad.Theheavyblastdoorslidopen.Beyondit,theroomwasevendarkerthanthecorridor
outside. A few emergency LEDs glowed a sullen red. In the faint illumination, Holden could see
dozens…hundredsofbodiesscatteredacrossthefloor,unmoving.
“Aretheydead?”Holdenasked.
“Idon’tknownothingabout—”theguardsaid,butMillercuthimoff.
“Yougoinfirst,”Millersaid,andpushedtheguardforward.
“Holdon,”Holdensaid.“Idon’tthinkit’sagoodideatojustchargeinhere.”
Threethingshappenedatonce.Theguardtookfourstepsforwardandthencollapsedonthefloor.
Millersneezedonce,loudly,andthenstartedtoswaydrunkenly.AndbothHolden’sandMiller ’shand
terminalsbegananangryelectricbuzzing.
Millerstaggeredbackandsaid,“Thedoor…”
Holdenhitthebuttonandthedoorslidshutagain.
“Gas,”Millersaid,thencoughed.“There’sgasinthere.”
Whiletheex-copleanedagainstthecorridorwallandcoughed,Holdentookouthisterminalto
shutoffthebuzzing.Butthealarmflashingonitsscreenwasn’tanair-contaminationalert.Itwasthe
venerablethreewedgeshapespointinginward.Radiation.Ashewatched,thesymbol,whichshould
havebeenwhite,shiftedthroughanangryorangecolortodarkred.
Millerwaslookingathistoo,hisexpressionunreadable.
“We’vebeendosed,”Holdensaid.
“I’ve never actually seen the detector activate,” Miller said, his voice rough and faint after his
coughingfit.“Whatdoesitmeanwhenthethingisred?”
“Itmeanswe’llbebleedingfromourrectumsinaboutsixhours,”Holdensaid.“Wehavetogetto
theship.It’llhavethemedsweneed.”
“What,”Millersaid,“thefuck…isgoingon?”
Holden grabbed Miller by the arm and led him back down the corridor toward the ramps.
Holden’sskinfeltwarmanditchy.Hedidn’tknowifitwasradiationburnorpsychosomatic.Withthe
amountofradiationhe’djusttaken,itwasagoodthinghehadspermtuckedawayinMontanaandon
Europa.
Thinkingthatmadehisballsitch.
“They nuke the station,” Holden said. “Hell, maybe they just pretend to nuke it. Then they drag
everyonedownhereandtossthemintoradiationsheltersthatareonlyradioactiveontheinside.Gas
themtokeepthemquiet.”
“Thereareeasierwaystokillpeople,”Millersaid,hisbreathingcominginraggedgaspsasthey
randownthecorridor.
“Soithastobemorethanthat,”Holdensaid.“Thebug,right?Theonethatkilledthatgirl.It…fed
onradiation.”
“Incubators,”Millersaid,noddinginagreement.
Theyarrivedatoneoftherampstothelowerlevels,butagroupofcitizensledbytwofakeriot
copswerecomingup.HoldengrabbedMillerandpulledhimtooneside,wheretheycouldhideinthe
shadowofaclosednoodleshop.
“Sotheyinfectedthem,right?”Holdensaidinawhisper,waitingforthegrouptopass.“Maybe
fakeradiationmedswiththebuginit.Maybethatbrowngoojustspreadaroundonthefloor.Then
whateverwasinthegirl,Julie—”
He stopped when Miller walked away from him straight at the group that had just come up the
ramp.
“Officer,”saidMillertooneofthefakecops.
Theybothstopped,andoneofthemsaid,“Yousupposedtobe—”
Millershothiminthethroat,rightbelowhishelmet’sfaceplate.Thenheswiveledsmoothlyand
shot the other guard in the inside of the thigh, just below the groin. When the man fell backward,
yellinginpain,Millerwalkedupandshothimagain,thistimeintheneck.
Acoupleofthecitizensstartedscreaming.Millerpointedhisgunatthemandtheygotquiet.
“Godownalevelortwoandfindsomeplacetohide,”hesaid.“Donotcooperatewiththesemen,
eventhoughthey’redressedlikepolice.Theydonothaveyourbestinterestsatheart.Go.”
Thecitizenshesitated,thenran.Millertookafewcartridgesoutofhispocketandbeganreplacing
thethreehe’dfired.Holdenstartedtospeak,butMillercuthimoff.
“Takethethroatshotifyoucan.Mostpeople,thefaceplateandchestarmordon’tquitecoverthat
gap.Iftheneckiscovered,thenshoottheinsideofthethigh.Verythinarmorthere.Mobilityissue.
Takesmostpeopledowninoneshot.”
Holdennodded,asthoughthatallmadesense.
“Okay,” Holden said. “Say, let’s get back to the ship before we bleed to death, right? No more
shootingpeopleifwecanhelpit.”Hisvoicesoundedcalmerthanhefelt.
Millerslappedthemagazinebackintohisgunandchamberedaround.
“I’m guessing there’s a lot more people need to be shot before this is over,” he said. “But sure.
Firstthingsfirst.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight:Miller
T hefirsttimeMillerkilledanyonewasinhisthirdyearworkingsecurity.He’dbeentwenty-two,just
married, talking about having kids. As the new guy on the contract, he’d gotten the shit jobs:
patrollinglevelssohightheCoriolismadehimseasick,takingdomesticdisturbancecallsinholesno
wider than a storage bin, standing guard on the drunk tank to keep predators from raping the
unconscious.Thenormalhazing.He’dknowntoexpectit.He’dthoughthecouldtakeit.
Thecallhadbeenfromanillegalrestaurantalmostatthemasscenter.Atlessthanatenthofag,
gravityhadbeenlittlemorethanasuggestion,andhisinnerearhadbeenconfusedandangeredbythe
changeinspin.Ifhethoughtaboutit,hecouldstillrememberthesoundofraisedvoices,toofastand
slurred for words. The smell of bathtub cheese. The thin haze of smoke from the cheap electric
griddle.
Ithadhappenedfast.Theperphadcomeoutoftheholewithaguninonehand,draggingawoman
by the hair with the other. Miller ’s partner, a ten-year veteran named Carson, had shouted out the
warning.Theperphadturned,swingingthegunoutatarm’slengthlikeastuntmaninavideo.
All through training, the instructors had said that you couldn’t know what you’d do until the
momentcame.Killinganotherhumanbeingwashard.Somepeoplecouldn’t.Theperp’sguncame
around;thegunmandroppedthewomanandshouted.Itturnedoutthat,forMilleratleast,itwasn’tall
thathard.
Afterward,he’dbeenthroughmandatorycounseling.He’dcried.He’dsufferedthenightmaresand
theshakesandallthethingsthatcopssufferedquietlyanddidn’ttalkabout.Buteventhen,itseemed
tobehappeningatadistance,likehe’dgottentoodrunkandwaswatchinghimselfthrowup.Itwas
justaphysicalreaction.Itwouldpass.
Theimportantthingwasheknewtheanswertothequestion.Yes,ifheneededto,hecouldtakea
life.
Itwasn’tuntilnow,walkingthroughthecorridorsofEros,thathe’dtakenjoyinit.Eventaking
downthepoorbastardinthatfirstfirefighthadfeltlikethesadnecessityofwork.Pleasureinkilling
hadn’tcomeuntilafterJulie,anditwasn’treallypleasureasmuchasabriefcessationofpain.
Heheldthegunlow.Holdenstarteddowntheramp,andMillerfollowed,lettingtheEarthertake
point.Holdenwalkedfasterthanhedidandwiththeuncommentedathleticismofsomeonewholived
inawidevarietyofgravities.Millerhadthefeelinghe’dmadeHoldennervous,andheregrettedthat
alittle.Hehadn’tintendedto,andhereallyneededtogetaboardHolden’sshipifhewasgoingtofind
Julie’ssecrets.
Or,forthatmatter,notdieofradiationsicknessinthenextfewhours.Thatseemedafinerpoint
thanitprobablywas.
“Okay,”Holdensaidatthebottomoftheramp.“Weneedtogetbackdown,andtherearealotof
guardsbetweenusandNaomithataregoingtobereallyconfusedbytwoguyswalkingthewrong
direction.”
“That’saproblem,”Milleragreed.
“Anythoughts?”
Millerfrownedandconsideredtheflooring.TheErosfloorsweredifferentthanCeres’.Laminate
withflecksofgold.
“Tubesaren’tgoingtoberunning,”hesaid.“Iftheyare,it’llbeinlockdownmode,whereitonly
stopsattheholdingpendowninthecasino.Sothat’sout.”
“Maintenancecorridoragain?”
“Ifwecanfindonethatgoesbetweenlevels,”Millersaid.“Mightbealittletricky,butitseemslike
a better bet than shooting our way past a couple dozen assholes in armor. How long have we got
beforeyourfriendtakesoff?”
Holdenlookedathishandterminal.Theradiationalarmwasstilldeepred.Millerwonderedhow
longthosetooktoreset.
“Alittlemorethantwohours,”Holdensaid.“Shouldn’tbeaproblem.”
“Let’sseewhatwecanfind,”Millersaid.
The corridors nearest the radiation shelters—the death traps, the incubators—had been emptied.
WidepassagesbuilttoaccommodatetheancientconstructionequipmentthathadcarvedErosintoa
human habitation were eerie with only Holden’s and Miller ’s footsteps and the hum of the air
recyclers.Millerhadn’tnoticedwhentheemergencyannouncementshadstopped,buttheabsenceof
themnowseemedominous.
If it had been Ceres, he would have known where to go, where everything led, how to move
gracefullyfromonestagetoanother.OnEros,allhehadwasaneducatedguess.Thatwasn’tsobad.
Buthecouldtellitwastakingtoolong,andworsethanthat—theyweren’ttalkingaboutit;neither
one spoke—they were walking more slowly than normal. It wasn’t up to the threshold of
consciousness,butMillerknewthatbothoftheirbodieswerestartingtofeeltheradiationdamage.It
wasn’tgoingtogetbetter.
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“Somewherearoundheretherehastobeamaintenanceshaft.”
“Couldalsotrythetubestation,”Millersaid.“Thecarsruninvacuum,buttheremightbesome
servicetunnelsrunningparallel.”
“Don’tyouthinkthey’dhaveshutthosedownaspartofthebigroundup?”
“Probably,”Millersaid.
“Hey!Youtwo!Whatthefuckyouthinkyou’redoinguphere?”
Miller looked back over his shoulder. Two men in riot gear were waving at them menacingly.
Holdensaidsomethingsharpunderhisbreath.Millernarrowedhiseyes.
Thethingwasthesemenwereamateurs.ThebeginningofanideamovedinthebackofMiller ’s
mindashewatchedthetwoapproach.Killingthemandtakingtheirgearwouldn’twork.Therewas
nothinglikescorchmarksandbloodtomakeitclearsomethinghadhappened.But…
“Miller,”Holdensaid,awarninginhisvoice.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Iknow.”
“I said what the fuck are you two doing here?” one of the security men said. “The station’s on
lockdown.Everyonegoesdowntothecasinoleveloruptotheradiationshelters.”
“Wewerejustlookingforawayto…ah…getdowntothecasinolevel,”Holdensaid,smilingand
beingnonthreatening.“We’renotfromaroundhere,and—”
The closer of the two guards jabbed the butt of his rifle neatly into Holden’s leg. The Earther
staggered, and Miller shot the guard just below the faceplate, then turned to the one still standing,
mouthagape.
“You’reMikeyKo,right?”Millersaid.
Theman’sfacewentevenpaler,buthenodded.Holdengroanedandstood.
“DetectiveMiller,”Millersaid.“BustedyouonCeresaboutfouryearsago.Yougotalittlehappy
inabar.Tappan’s,Ithink?Hitagirlwithapoolcue?”
“Oh,hey,”themansaidwithafrightenedsmile.“Yeah,Irememberyou.Howyoubeendoing?”
“Goodandbad,”Millersaid.“Youknowhowitis.GivetheEartheryourgun.”
KolookedfromMillertoHoldenandback,lickinghislipsandjudginghischances.Millershook
hishead.
“Seriously,”Millersaid.“Givehimthegun.”
“Sure,yeah.Noproblem.”
Thiswasthekindofmanwho’dkilledJulie,Millerthought.Stupid.Shortsighted.Amanbornwith
asenseforrawopportunitywherehissoulshouldhavebeen.Miller ’smentalJulieshookherheadin
disgustandsorrow,andMillerfoundhimselfwonderingifshemeantthethugnowhandinghisrifle
toHoldenorhimself.Maybeboth.
“What’sthedealhere,Mikey?”Millerasked.
“What do you mean?” the guard said, playing stupid, like they were in an interrogation cell.
Stallingfortime.Walkingthroughtheoldscriptofcopandcriminalasifitstillmadesense.Asif
everythinghadn’tchanged.Millerwassurprisedbyatightnessinhisthroat.Hedidn’tknowwhatit
wastherefor.
“Thejob,”hesaid.“What’sthejob?”
“Idon’tknow—”
“Hey,”Millersaidgently.“Ijustkilledyourbuddy.”
“Andthat’shisthirdtoday,”Holdensaid.“Isawhim.”
Millercouldseeitintheman’seyes:thecunning,theshift,themovefromonestrategytoanother.
Itwasoldandfamiliarandaspredictableaswatermovingdown.
“Hey,”Kosaid,“it’sjustajob.Theytoldusaboutayearagohowweweremakingabigmove,
right?Butnooneknowswhatitis.Soafewmonthsback,theystartmovingguysover.Trainingusup
likewewerecops,youknow?”
“Whowastrainingyou?”Millersaid.
“Thelastguys.Theoneswhowereworkingthecontractbeforeus,”Kosaid.
“Protogen?”
“Something like that, yeah,” he said. “Then they took off, and we took over. Just muscle, you
know.Somesmuggling.”
“Smugglingwhat?”
“Allkindsofshit,”Kosaid.Hewasstartingtofeelsafe,anditshowedinthewayheheldhimself
andthewayhespoke.“Surveillanceequipment,communicationarrays,serious-as-fuckserverswith
theirownlittlegelsoftwarewonksalreadybuiltin.Scientificequipmenttoo.Stuffforcheckingthe
waterandtheairandshit.Andtheseancientremote-accessrobotslikeyou’duseinavacuumdig.All
sortsofshit.”
“Wherewasitgoingto?”Holdenasked.
“Here,”Kosaid,gesturingtotheair,thestone,thestation.“It’sallhere.Theywerelikemonths
installingitall.Andthenforweeks,nothing.”
“Whatdoyoumean,nothing?”Millerasked.
“Nothingnothing.Allthisbuildupandthenwesataroundwithourthumbsupourbutts.”
Somethinghadgonewrong.ThePhoebebughadn’tmadeitsrendezvous,butthenJuliehadcome,
Millerthought,andthegamehadturnedbackon.Hesawheragainasifhewereinherapartment.The
long,spreadingtendrilsofwhateverthehellitwas,thebonespurspressingoutagainstherskin,the
blackfrothoffilamentpouringfromhereyes.
“The pay’s good, though,” Ko said philosophically. “And it was kind of nice taking some time
off.”
Millernoddedinagreement,leanedclose,tuckingthebarrelofhisgunthroughtheinterleavingof
armoratKo’sbelly,andshothim.
“Whatthefuck!”HoldensaidasMillerputhisgunintohisjacketpocket.
“Whatdidyouthinkwasgoingtohappen?”Millersaid,squattingdownbesidethegut-shotman.
“It’snotlikehewasgoingtoletusgo.”
“Yeah,okay,”Holdensaid.“But…”
“Help me get him up,” Miller said, hooking an arm behind Ko’s shoulder. Ko shrieked when
Millerliftedhim.
“What?”
“Gethisotherside,”Millersaid.“Manneedsmedicalattention,right?”
“Um.Yes,”Holdensaid.
“Sogethisotherside.”
Itwasn’tasfarbacktotheradiationsheltersasMillerhadexpected,whichhaditsgoodpointsand
its bad ones. On the upside, Ko was still alive and screaming. The chances were better that he’d be
lucid,whichwasn’twhatMillerhadintended.Butastheycamenearthefirstgroupofguards,Ko’s
babblingseemedscatteredenoughtowork.
“Hey!”Millershouted.“Somehelpoverhere!”
Attheheadoftheramp,fouroftheguardslookedatoneanotherandthenstartedmovingtoward
them,curiositywinningoutoverbasicoperatingprocedures.Holdenwasbreathinghard.Millerwas
too.Kowasn’tthatheavy.Itwasabadsign.
“Whatthehellisthis?”oneoftheguardssaid.
“There’s a bunch of people holed up back there,” Miller said. “Resistance. I thought you people
sweptthislevel.”
“Thatwasn’tourjob,”theguysaid.“We’rejustmakingsurethegroupsfromthecasinogettothe
shelters.”
“Well,someonescrewedup,”Millersnapped.“Youhavetransport?”
Theguardslookedateachotheragain.
“Wecancallforone,”aguyatthebacksaid.
“Nevermind,”Millersaid.“Youboysgofindtheshooters.”
“Waitaminute,”thefirstguysaid.“Exactlywhothehellareyou?”
“The installers from Protogen,” Holden said. “We’re replacing the sensors that failed. This guy
wassupposedtohelpus.”
“Ididn’thearaboutthat,”theleadersaid.
MillerdugafingerunderKo’sarmorandsqueezed.Koshriekedandtriedtowritheawayfrom
him.
“Talktoyourbossaboutitonyourowntime,”Millersaid.“Comeon.Let’sgetthisassholetoa
medic.”
“Holdon!”thefirstguardsaid,andMillersighed.Fourofthem.IfhedroppedKoandjumpedfor
cover…buttherewasn’tmuchcover.AndwhothehellknewwhatHoldenwoulddo?
“Wherearetheshooters?”theguardasked.Millerkepthimselffromsmiling.
“There’s a hole about a quarter klick anti-spinward,” Miller said. “The other one’s body’s still
there.Youcan’tmissit.”
Miller turned down the ramp. Behind him, the guards were talking among themselves, debating
whattodo,whotocall,whotosend.
“You’recompletelyinsane,”HoldensaidoverKo’ssemiconsciousweeping.
Maybehewasright.
When,Millerwondered,doessomeonestopbeinghuman?Therehadtobeamoment,somedecision
thatyoumade,andbeforeit,youwereoneperson,andafterit,someoneelse.Walkingdownthrough
the levels of Eros, Ko’s bleeding body slung between him and Holden, Miller reflected. He was
probably dying of radiation damage. He was lying his way past half a dozen men who were only
lettinghimbybecausetheywereusedtopeoplebeingscaredofthemandhewasn’t.Hehadkilled
threepeopleinthelasttwohours.FourifhecountedKo.Probablysafertosayfour,then.
The analytical part of his mind, the small, still voice he had cultivated for years, watched him
move and replayed all his decisions. Everything he’d done had made perfect sense at the time.
Shooting Ko. Shooting the other three. Leaving the safety of the crew’s hideout to investigate the
evacuation.Emotionally,ithadallbeenobviousatthetime.Itwasonlywhenheconsidereditfrom
outsidethatitseemeddangerous.Ifhe’dseenitinsomeoneelse—Muss,Havelock,Sematimba—he
wouldn’thavetakenmorethanaminutetorealizethey’dgoneofftherails.Sinceitwashim,hehad
takenlongertonotice.ButHoldenwasright.Somewherealongtheline,he’dlosthimself.
HewantedtothinkithadbeenfindingJulie,seeingwhathadhappenedtoherbody,knowinghe
hadn’t been able to save her, but that was only because it seemed like the sentimental moment. The
truthwashisdecisionsbeforethen—leavingCerestogoonawildhuntforJulie,drinkinghimself
outofacareer,remainingacopforevenadayafterthatfirstkillallthoseyearsearlier—noneof
themseemedtomakesense,viewedobjectively.He’dlostamarriagetoawomanhe’dlovedonce.
He’dlivedhipdeepintheworsthumanityhadtooffer.He’dlearnedfirsthandthathewascapableof
killinganotherhumanbeing.Andnowherealongthelinecouldhesaythatthere,atthatmoment,he
hadbeenasane,wholeman,andthatafterward,hehadn’t.
Maybeitwasacumulativeprocess,likesmokingcigarettes.Onedidn’tdomuch.Fivedidn’tdo
much more. Every emotion he’d shut down, every human contact he’d spurned, every love and
friendship and moment of compassion from which he’d turned had taken him a degree away from
himself. Until now, he’d been able to kill men with impunity. To face his impending death with a
denialthatlethimmakeplansandtakeaction.
Inhismind,JulieMaotiltedherhead,listeningtohisthoughts.Inhismind,sheheldhim,herbody
againsthisinawaythatwasmorecomfortingthanerotic.Consoling.Forgiving.
Thiswaswhyhehadsearchedforher.Juliehadbecomethepartofhimthatwascapableofhuman
feeling.Thesymbolofwhathecouldhavebeenifhehadn’tbeenthis.Therewasnoreasontothink
his imagined Julie had anything in common with the real woman. Meeting her would have been a
disappointmentforthemboth.
Hehadtobelievethat,thesamewayhe’dhadtobelieveeverythingthathadcuthimofffromlove
before.
Holdenstopped,thebody—corpsenow—ofKotuggingMillerbacktohimself.
“What?”Millersaid.
Holdennoddedattheaccesspanelinfrontofthem.Millerlookedatit,uncomprehending,andthen
recognizedit.They’dmadeit.Theywerebackatthehideout.
“Areyouallright?”Holdensaid.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Justwoolgathering.Sorry.”
HedroppedKo,andthethugslidtothefloorwithasadthud.Miller ’sarmhadfallenasleep.He
shook it, but the tingling didn’t go away. A wave of vertigo and nausea passed through him.
Symptoms,hethought.
“How’dwedofortime?”Millerasked.
“We’realittlepastdeadline.Fiveminutes.It’llbefine,”Holdensaid,andslidthedooropen.
Thespacebeyond,whereNaomiandAlexandAmoshadbeen,wasempty.
“Fuckme,”Holdensaid.
ChapterTwenty-Nine:Holden
Fuckme,”Holdensaid.Andamomentlater:“Theyleftus.”
No. She had left him. Naomi had said she would, but confronted with the reality of it, Holden
realized that he hadn’t really believed her. But here it was—the proof. The empty space where she
usedtobe.Hishearthammeredandhisthroattightened,breathcomingingasps.Thesickfeelingin
hisgutwaseitherdespairorhiscolonsloughingoffitslining.Hewasgoingtodiesittingoutsidea
cheaphotelonErosbecauseNaomihaddoneexactlywhatshe’dsaidshewould.Whathehimselfhad
orderedhertodo.Hisresentmentrefusedtolistentoreason.
“We’redead,”hesaid,andsatdownontheedgeofafern-filledplanter.
“Howlongdowehave?”Millerasked,lookingupanddownthecorridorwhilehefidgetedwith
hisgun.
“No idea,” Holden replied, gesturing vaguely at his terminal’s flashing red radiation symbol.
“Hoursbeforewereallystarttofeelit,Ithink,butIdon’tknow.God,IwishShedwasstillhere.”
“Shed?”
“Friendofmine,”Holdensaid,notfeelinguptoelaborating.“Goodmedtech.”
“Callher,”Millersaid.
Holdenlookedathisterminalandtappedthescreenafewtimes.
“Network’sstilldown,”hesaid.
“Allright,”Millersaid.“Let’sgotoyourship.Seeifit’sstillindock.”
“They’llbegone.Naomi’skeepingthecrewalive.Shewarnedme,butI—”
“Solet’sgoanyway,”Millersaid.Hewasshiftingfromonefoottotheotherandlookingdown
thecorridorashespoke.
“Miller,”Holdensaid,thenstopped.Millerwasclearlyonedge,andhe’dshotfourpeople.Holden
wasincreasinglyfrightenedoftheformercop.Asifreadinghismind,Millersteppedclose,thetwometer man towering over him where he sat. Miller smiled ruefully, his eyes unnervingly gentle.
Holdenwouldalmosthavepreferredtheybethreatening.
“WayIseeit,there’sthreewaysthiscango,”Millersaid.“One,wefindyourshipstillindock,get
themedsweneed,andmaybewelive.Two,wetrytogettotheship,andalongthewaywerunintoa
bunchofmafiathugs.Diegloriouslyinahailofbullets.Three,wesithereandleakoutofoureyes
andassholes.”
Holdensaidnothing;hejuststaredupatthecopandfrowned.
“I’m liking the first two better than the last one,” Miller said. His voice made it sound like an
apology.“Howaboutyoucomewith?”
Holdenlaughedbeforehecouldcatchhimself,butMillerdidn’tlooklikehewastakingoffense.
“Sure,”Holdensaid.“Ijustneededtofeelsorryformyselfforaminute.Let’sgogetkilledbythe
mafia.”
Hesaiditwithmuchmorebravadothanhefelt.Thetruthwashedidn’twanttodie.Evenduring
histimeinthenavy,theideaofdyinginthelineofdutyhadalwaysseemeddistantandunreal.His
ship would never be destroyed, and if it was, he would make it to the escape shuttle. The universe
without him in it didn’t make any sense at all. He’d taken risks; he’d seen other people die. Even
peopleheloved.Now,forthefirsttime,hisowndeathwasarealthing.
He looked at the cop. He’d known the man less than a day, didn’t trust him, and wasn’t sure he
muchlikedhim.Andthiswaswhohe’ddiewith.Holdenshudderedandstoodup,pullinghisgunout
ofhiswaistband.Underthepanicandfear,therewasadeepfeelingofcalm.Hehopeditwouldlast.
“Afteryou,”Holdensaid.“Ifwemakeit,remindmetocallmymothers.”
The casinos were a powder keg waiting for a match. If the evacuation sweeps had been even
moderatelysuccessful,therewereprobablyamillionormorepeoplecrammedintothreelevelsof
the station. Hard-looking men in riot gear moved through the crowds, telling everyone to stay put
untiltheyweretakentotheradiationshelters,keepingthecrowdfrightened.Everynowandthen,a
smallgroupofcitizenswouldbeledaway.KnowingwheretheyweregoingmadeHolden’sstomach
burn.Hewantedtoyelloutthatcopswerefake,thattheywerekillingpeople.Butariotwiththismany
people in such a confined space would be a meat grinder. Maybe that was inevitable but he wasn’t
goingtobetheonetostartit.
Someoneelsedid.
Holden could hear raised voices, the angry rumble of the mob, followed by the electronically
amplified voice of someone in a riot helmet yelling for people to get back. And then a gunshot, a
briefpause,thenafusillade.Peoplescreamed.TheentirecrowdaroundHoldenandMillersurgedin
twoopposingdirections,someofthepeoplerushingtowardthesoundoftheconflict,butmanymore
ofthemrunningawayfromit.Holdenspuninthecurrentofbodies;Millerreachedoutandgrabbed
thebackofhisshirt,grippingitinhisfistandyellingforHoldentostayclose.
Aboutadozenmetersdownthecorridor,inacoffeeshopseatingareaseparatedbyawaist-high
black iron fence, one of the mafia thugs had been cut off from his group by a dozen citizens. Gun
drawn,hewasbackingupandyellingatthemtomoveaside.Theykeptadvancing,theirfaceswild
withthedrunkenfrenzyofmobviolence.
Themafiathugfiredonce,andonesmallbodystaggeredforward,thenfelltothegroundatthe
thug’sfeet.Holdencouldn’ttellifitwasaboyoragirl,buttheycouldn’tbemorethanthirteenor
fourteen years old. The thug moved forward, looking down at the small thin figure at his feet, and
pointedhisgunatthemagain.
Itwastoomuch.
Holdenfoundhimselfrunningdownthecorridortowardthethug,gundrawnandscreamingfor
peopletogetoutoftheway.Whenhewasaboutsevenmetersaway,thecrowdsplitapartenoughfor
him to begin firing. Half his shots went wild, hitting the coffee shop counter and walls, one round
blowingastackofceramicplatesintotheair.Butafewofthemhitthethug,staggeringhimback.
Holdenvaultedthewaist-highmetalfenceandcametoaslidinghaltaboutthreemetersfromthe
fakecopandhisvictim.Holden’sgunfiredonelasttimeandthentheslidelockedintheopenposition
tolethimknowitwasempty.
Thethugdidn’tfalldown.Hestraightenedup,lookeddownathistorso,andthenlookedupand
pointedhisgunatHolden’sface.Holdenhadtimetocountthethreebulletsthatweresmashedagainst
theheavychestarmorofthethug’sriotgear.Diegloriouslyinahailofbullets,hethought.
Thethugsaid,“Stupidmotherfu—”andhisheadsnappedbackinasprayofred.Heslumpedto
thefloor.
“Gapattheneck,remember?”Millersaidfrombehindhim.“Chestarmor ’stoothickforapistol.”
Suddenlydizzy,Holdenbentoveratthewaist,gaspingforair.Hetastedlemonatthebackofhis
throatandswallowedtwicetostophimselffromthrowingup.Hewasafraiditwouldbefullofblood
andstomachlining.Hedidn’tneedtoseethat.
“Thanks,”hegaspedout,turninghisheadtowardMiller.
Millerjustnoddedvaguelyinhisdirection,thenwalkedovertotheguardandnudgedhimwith
one foot. Holden stood up and looked around the corridor, waiting for the inevitable wave of
vengeful mafia enforcers to come crashing down on them. He didn’t see any. He and Miller were
standinginaquietislandofcalminthemidstofArmageddon.Allaroundthem,tendrilsofviolence
werewhippingintohighgear.Peoplewererunningineverydirection;themafiagoonswereyelling
inboomingamplifiedvoicesandpunctuatingthethreatswithperiodicgunfire.Buttherewereonly
hundredsofthem,andthereweremanythousandsofangryandpanickedcivilians.Millergesturedat
thechaos.
“Thisiswhathappens,”hesaid.“Giveabunchofyahoostheequipment,andtheythinktheyknow
whatthey’redoing.”
Holdencrouchedbesidethefallenchild.Itwasaboy,maybethirteen,withAsianfeaturesanddark
hair.Hischesthadagapingwoundinit,bloodtricklingoutinsteadofgushing.Hedidn’thaveapulse
thatHoldencouldfind.Holdenpickedhimupanyway,lookingaroundforsomeplacetotakehim.
“He’sdead,”Millersaidashereplacedthecartridgehe’dfired.
“Gotohell.Wedon’tknow.Ifwecangethimtotheship,maybe…”
Millershookhishead,asadbutdistantexpressiononhisfaceashelookedatthechildinHolden’s
arms.
“Hetookhigh-caliberroundtothecenterofmass,”Millersaid.“He’sgone.”
“Fuckme,”Holdensaid.
“Youkeepsayingthat.”
Abrightneonsignflashedabovethecorridorthatledoutofthecasinolevelsandontotheramps
downtothedocks. THANKYOUFORPLAYING,itread.And YOU’REALWAYSAWINNERON EROS.Belowit,
two ranks of men in heavy combat armor blocked the way. They might have given up on crowd
controlinthecasinos,buttheyweren’tlettinganyonego.
HoldenandMillercrouchedbehindanoverturnedcoffeecartahundredmetersfromthesoldiers.
Astheywatched,adozenorsopeoplemadeadashtowardtheguardsandweresummarilymowed
downbymachinegunfire,thenfelltothedeckbesidethosewhohadtriedbefore.
“Icountthirty-fourofthem,”Millersaid.“Howmanycanyouhandle?”
Holdenspuntolookathiminsurprise,butMiller ’sfacetoldhimtheformercopwasjoking.
“Kiddingaside,howdowegetpastthat?”Holdensaid.
“Thirtymenwithmachinegunsandaclearlineofsight.Nocovertospeakofforthelasttwenty
metersorso,”Millersaid.“Wedon’tgetpastthat.”
ChapterThirty:Miller
T heysatonthefloorwiththeirbackstoabankofpachinkomachinesnoonewasplaying,watching
theebbandflowoftheviolencearoundthemlikeitwasasoccergame.Miller ’shatwasperchedon
hisbentknee.Hefeltthevibrationagainsthisbackwhenoneofthedisplayscycledthroughitsdupecall. The lights glittered and glowed. Holden, beside him, was breathing hard, like he’d run a race.
Outbeyondthem,likesomethingfromHieronymousBosch,thecasinolevelsofErospreparedfor
death.
Theriot’smomentumhadspentitselffornow.Menandwomengatheredtogetherinsmallgroups.
Guardsstrodethrough,threateningandscatteringanybunchthatgottoolargeorunruly.Something
was burning fast enough that the air scrubbers couldn’t get out the smell of melting plastic. The
bhangraMuzakmixedwithweepingandscreamingandwailsofdespair.Someidiotwasshoutingat
one of the so-called cops: he was a lawyer; he was getting all of this on video; whoever was
responsiblewasgoingtobeinbigtrouble.Millerwatchedabunchofpeoplestarttogatheraround
theconfrontation.Theguyintheriotgearlistened,nodded,andshotthelawyeronceinthekneecap.
The crowd dispersed except for one woman, the lawyer ’s wife or girlfriend, bent down over him
screaming.AndintheprivacyofMiller ’sskull,everythingslowlyfellapart.
Hewasawareofhavingtwodifferentminds.OnewastheMillerhewasusedto,familiarwith.The
onewhowasthinkingaboutwhatwasgoingtohappenwhenhegotout,whatthenextstepwouldbein
connectingthedotsbetweenPhoebeStation,Ceres,Eros,andJulietteMao,howtoworkthecase.That
version of him was scanning the crowd the way he might have watched the line at a crime scene,
waitingforsomedetail,somechangetocatchhisattention.Sendhimintherightdirectiontosolve
the mystery. It was the shortsighted, idiotic part of him that couldn’t conceive of his own personal
extinction,anditthoughtsurely,surelytherewasgoingtobeanafter.
TheotherMillerwasdifferent.Quieter.Sad,maybe,butatpeace.He’dreadapoemmanyyears
beforecalled“TheDeath-Self,”andhehadn’tunderstoodthetermuntilnow.Aknotatthemiddleof
hispsychewasuntying.Alltheenergyhe’dputintoholdingthingstogether—Ceres,hismarriage,his
career,himself—wascomingfree.He’dshotandkilledmoremeninthepastdaythaninhiswhole
careerasacop.He’dstarted—onlystarted—torealizethathe’dactuallyfalleninlovewiththeobject
ofhissearchafterheknewforcertainthathe’dlosther.He’dseenunequivocallythatthechaoshe’d
dedicatedhislifetoholdingatbaywasstrongerandwiderandmorepowerfulthanhewouldeverbe.
Nocompromisehecouldmakewouldbeenough.Hisdeath-selfwasunfoldinginhim,andthedark
bloomingtooknoeffort.Itwasarelief,arelaxation,along,slowexhaleafterdecadesofholdingit
in.
Hewasinruins,butitwasokay,becausehewasdying.
“Hey,”Holdensaid.HisvoicewasstrongerthanMillerhadexpecteditmightbe.
“Yeah?”
“DidyoueverwatchMiskoandMariskowhenyouwereakid?”
Millerfrowned.“Thekids’show?”heasked.
“Theonewiththefivedinosaursandtheevilguyinthebigpinkhat,”Holdensaid,thenstarting
hummingabright,boppytune.Millerclosedhiseyesandthenstartedsingingalong.Themusichad
had words once. Now it was only a series of rises and falls, runs up and down a major scale, with
everydissonanceresolvedinthenotethatfollowed.
“GuessImusthave,”Millersaidwhentheyreachedtheend.
“Ilovedthatshow.ImusthavebeeneightorninelasttimeIsawit,”Holdensaid.“Funnyhowthat
stuffstayswithyou.”
“Yeah,” Miller said. He coughed, turned his head, and spat out something red. “How are you
holdingtogether?”
“IthinkI’mokay,”Holdensaid.Then,amomentlater,headded,“AslongasIdon’tstandup.”
“Nauseated?”
“Yeah,some.”
“Metoo.”
“Whatisthis?”Holdenasked.“Imean,whatthehellisthisallabout?Whyaretheydoingthis?”
Itwasafairquestion.SlaughteringEros—slaughteringanystationintheBelt—wasaprettyeasy
job.Anyonewithfirst-yearorbitalmechanicsskillscouldfindawaytoslingarockbigenoughand
fastenoughtocrackthestationopen.WiththeeffortProtogenhadputin,theycouldhavekilledthe
air supply or drugged it or whatever the hell they wanted to do. This wasn’t a murder. This wasn’t
evenagenocide.
Andthentherewasalltheobservationequipment.Cameras,communicationsarrays,airandwater
sensors.Therewereonlytworeasonsforthatkindofshit.EitherthemadbastardsatProtogengotoff
onwatchingpeopledie,or…
“Theydon’tknow,”Millersaid.
“What?”
He turned to look at Holden. The first Miller, the detective, the optimist, the one who needed to
know,wasdrivingnow.Hisdeath-selfdidn’tfight,becauseofcourseitdidn’t.Itdidn’tfightanything.
Millerraisedhishand,likehewasgivingalecturetoarookie.
“Theydon’tknowwhatit’sabout,or…youknow,atleasttheydon’tknowwhat’sgoingtohappen.
Thisisn’tevenbuiltlikeatorturechamber.It’sallbeingwatched,right?Waterandairsensors.It’sa
petridish.Theydon’tknowwhatthatshitthatkilledJuliedoes,andthisishowthey’refindingout.”
Holdenfrowned.
“Don’ttheyhavelaboratories?Placeswhereyoucouldmaybeputthatcraponsomeanimalsor
something?Becauseasexperimentaldesigngoes,thisseemsalittlemessedup.”
“Maybe they need a really big sample size,” Miller said. “Or maybe it’s not about the people.
Maybeit’saboutwhathappenstothestation.”
“There’sacheerythought,”Holdensaid.
TheJulieMaoinMiller ’smindbrushedalockofhairoutofhereyes.Shewasfrowning,looking
thoughtful, interested, concerned. It all had to make sense. It was like one of those basic orbital
mechanics problems where every hitch and veer seemed random until all the variables slipped into
place.Whathadbeeninexplicablebecameinevitable.Juliesmiledathim.Julieasshehadbeen.Ashe
imaginedshehadbeen.TheMillerwhohadn’tresignedhimselftodeathsmiledback.Andthenshe
wasgone,hismindshiftingtothenoisefromthepachinkomachinesandthelow,demonicwailingof
thecrowds.
Anothergroup—twentymenhunkeredlow,likelinebackers—madearushtowardthemercenaries
guardingtheopeningtotheport.Thegunmenmowedthemdown.
“If we had enough people,” Holden said after the sound of machine guns fell away, “we could
makeit.Theycouldn’tkillallofus.”
“That’swhatthepatrolgoonsarefor,”Millersaid.“Makesurenoonecanorganizeabigenough
push.Keepstirringthepot.”
“Butifitwasamob,Imeanareallybigmob,itcould…”
“Maybe,”Milleragreed.Somethinginhischestclickedinawayithadn’taminutebefore.Hetook
aslow,deepbreath,andtheclickhappenedagain.Hecouldfeelitdeepinhisleftlung.
“AtleastNaomigotaway,”Holdensaid.
“Thatisgood.”
“She’s amazing. She’d never put Amos and Alex in danger if she could help it. I mean, she’s
serious.Professional.Strong,youknow?Imean,she’sreally,really…”
“Pretty,too,”Millersaid.“Greathair.Lovetheeyes.”
“No,thatwasn’twhatImeant,”Holdensaid.
“Youdon’tthinkshe’sagood-lookingwoman?”
“She’smyXO,”Holdensaid.“She’s…youknow…”
“Off-limits.”
Holdensighed.
“Shegotaway,didn’tshe?”Holdenasked.
“Almostforsure.”
They were silent. One of the linebackers coughed, stood up, and limped back into the casino,
trailingbloodfromaholeinhisribs.Thebhangragavewaytoanafropopmedleywithalow,sultry
voicesinginginlanguagesMillerdidn’tknow.
“She’dwaitforus,”Holdensaid.“Don’tyouthinkshe’dwaitforus?”
“Almostforsure,”Miller ’sdeath-selfsaid,notparticularlycaringifitwasalie.Hethoughtabout
itforalongmoment,thenturnedtofaceHoldenagain.“Hey.Justsoyouknowit?I’mnotexactlyat
mybestrightnow.”
“Okay.”
“Allright.”
Theglowingorangelockdownlightsonthetubestationacrossthelevelclickedtogreen.Miller
satforward,interested.Hisbackfeltsticky,butitwasprobablyjustsweat.Otherpeoplehadnoticed
the change too. Like a current in a water tank, the attention of the nearby crowds shifted from the
mercenariesblockingthewaytotheporttothebrushed-steeldoorsofthetubestation.
The doors opened, and the first zombies appeared. Men and women, their eyes glassy and their
muscles slack, stumbled out through the open doors. Miller had seen a documentary feed about
hemorrhagicfeversaspartofhistrainingonCeresStation.Theirmovementswerethesame:listless,
driven,autonomic.Likerabiddogswhosemindshadalreadybeengivenovertotheirdisease.
“Hey,”Millersaid,hishandonHolden’sshoulder.“Hey,it’shappening.”
Anoldermaninapairofemergencyservicesscrubsapproachedtheshamblingnewcomers.His
handswereoutbeforehim,asifhecouldcorralthembysimpleforceofwill.Thefirstzombieinthe
packturnedemptyeyestowardhimandvomitedupasprayofveryfamiliarbrowngoo.
“Look,”Holdensaid.
“Isaw.”
“No,look!”
Alldownthecasinolevel,tubestationlightsweregoingofflockdown.Doorswereopening.The
peoplewerepulsingtowardtheopentubesandtheimplicit,emptypromiseofescape,andawayfrom
thedeadmenandwomenwalkingoutfromthem.
“Vomitzombies,”Millersaid.
“Fromtheradshelters,”Holdensaid.“Thething,theorganism.Itgoesfasterinradiation,right?
That’swhywhat’s-her-namewassofreakyaboutthelightsandthevacsuit.”
“Hername’sJulie.Andyeah.Thoseincubatorswereforthis.Righthere,”Millersaid,andsighed.
Hethoughtaboutstandingup.“Well.Wemaynotdieofradiationpoisoningafterall.”
“Whynotjustpumpthatshitintotheair?”Holdenasked.
“Anaerobic,remember?”Millersaid.“Toomuchoxygenkills’em.”
Thevomit-coveredemergencymedicineguywasstilltryingtotreattheshamblingzombieslike
they were patients. Like they were still humans. There were smears of the brown goo on people’s
clothes,onthewalls.Thetubedoorsopenedagain,andMillersawhalfadozenpeopledodgeintoa
tube car coated in brown. The mob churned, unsure what to do, the group mind stretched past its
breakingpoint.
Ariotcopjumpedforwardandstartedsprayingdownthezombieswithgunfire.Theentranceand
exit wounds spilled out fine loops of black filament, and the zombies went down. Miller chuckled
evenbeforeheknewwhatwasfunny.Holdenlookedathim.
“Theydidn’tknow,”Millersaid.“Thebullyboysinriotgear?Theyaren’tgonnagetpulledout.
Meatforthemachine,justliketherestofus.”
Holdenmadeasmallapprovingsound.Millernodded,butsomethingwasnigglingatthebackof
his mind. The thugs from Ceres in their stolen armor were being sacrificed. That didn’t mean
everyonewas.Heleanedforward.
The archway leading to the port was still manned. Mercenary fighters in formation, guns at the
ready.Ifanything,theylookedmoredisciplinednowthantheyhadbefore.Millerwatchedastheguy
inthebackwithextrainsigniaonhisarmorbarkedintoamic.
Millerhadthoughthopewasdead.He’dthoughtallhischanceshadbeenplayed,andthen,likea
bitch,itallhauleditselfupoutofthegrave.
“Getup,”Millersaid.
“What?”
“Getup.They’regoingtopullback.”
“Who?”
Millernoddedatthemercenaries.
“Theyknew,”hesaid.“Lookatthem.Theyaren’tfreakingout.Theyaren’tconfused.Theywere
waitingforthis.”
“Andyouthinkthatmeansthey’llfallback?”
“Theyaren’tgoingtobehangingout.Standup.”
Almost as if he’d been giving the order to himself, Miller groaned and creaked to his feet. His
knees and spine ached badly. The click in his lung was getting worse. His belly made a soft,
complicated noise that would have been concerning under different circumstances. As soon as he
started moving, he could feel how far the damage had gone, his skin not yet in pain but in the soft
presentimentofit,likethegapbetweenaseriousburnandtheblistersthatfollowed.Ifhelived,itwas
goingtohurt.
Ifhelived,everythingwasgoingtohurt.
Hisdeath-selftuggedathim.Thesenseofrelease,ofrelief,ofrestfeltlikesomethingprecious
being lost. Even while the chattering, busy, machinelike mind kept grinding, grinding, grinding
forward,thesoft,bruisedcenterofMiller ’ssoulurgedhimtopause,sitbackdown,lettheproblems
goaway.
“Whatarewelookingfor?”Holdensaid.He’dstoodup.Abloodvesselintheman’slefteyehad
givenway,thewhiteofthescleraturningabright,meatyred.
Whatarewelookingfor?thedeath-selfechoed.
“They’regoingtofallback,”Millersaid,answeringthefirstquestion.“Wefollow.Justoutsidethe
rangesowhoever ’sgoinglastdoesn’tfeellikehehastoshootus.”
“Isn’teveryonegoingtodothesamething?Imean,oncethey’regone,isn’teveryoneinthisplace
goingtoheadinfortheport?”
“Iexpectso,”Millersaid.“Solet’strytoslipinaheadoftherush.Look.There.”
Itwasn’tmuch.Justachangeinthemercenaries’stance,ashiftintheircollectivecenterofgravity.
Millercoughed.Ithurtmorethanitshouldhave.
Whatarewelookingfor?hisdeath-selfaskedagain,itsvoicemoreinsistent.Ananswer?Justice?
Anotherchancefortheuniversetokickusintheballs?Whatisthroughthatarchwaythatthereisn’ta
faster,cleaner,lesspainfulversionofinthebarrelofourgun?
Themercenarycaptaintookacasualstepbackandstrodedowntheexteriorcorridorandoutof
sight.Wherehehadbeen,JulieMaosat,watchinghimgo.ShelookedatMiller.Shewavedhimon.
“Notyet,”hesaid.
“When?”Holdensaid,hisvoicesurprisingMiller.Julieinhisheadflickeredout,andhewasback
intherealworld.
“It’scoming,”Millersaid.
Heshouldwarntheguy.Itwasonlyfair.Yougotintoabadplace,andattheveryleast,youowed
yourpartnerthecourtesyoflettinghimknow.Millerclearedhisthroat.Thathurttoo.
It’spossibleImaystarthallucinatingorbecomesuicidal.Youmighthavetoshootme.
Holden glanced over at him. The pachinko machines lit them blue and green and shrieked in
artificialdelight.
“What?”Holdensaid.
“Nothing.Gettingmybalance,”Millersaid.
Behindthem,awomanshouted.Millerglancedbacktoseeherpushingavomitzombieaway,a
slickofbrowngooalreadycoveringthelivewoman.Atthearchway,themercenariesquietlystepped
backandstarteddownthecorridor.
“Comeon,”Millersaid.
HeandHoldenwalkedtowardthearchway,Millerpullinghishaton.Loudvoices,screams,the
low, liquid sound of people being violently ill. The air scrubbers were failing, the air taking on a
deep,pungentodorlikebeefbrothandacid.Millerfeltliketherewasastoneinhisshoe,buthewas
almostcertainifhelooked,therewouldbeonlyapointofrednesswherehisskinwasstartingbreak
down.
Nooneshotatthem.Noonetoldthemtostop.
At the archway, Miller led Holden against the wall, then ducked his head around the corner. A
quartersecondwasallittooktoknowthelong,widecorridorwasempty.Themercsweredonehere
andleavingErostoitsfate.Thewindowwasopen.Thewaywasclear.
Lastchance,hethought,andhemeantboththelastchancetoliveandthelastonetodie.
“Miller?”
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Itlooksgood.Comeon.Beforeeveryonegetstheidea.”
ChapterThirty-One:Holden
SomethingwasmovinginHolden’sgut.HeignoreditandkepthiseyesonMiller ’sback.Thelanky
detective barreled down the corridor toward the port, stopping occasionally at junctions to peek
aroundthecornerandlookfortrouble.Millerhadbecomeamachine.AllHoldencoulddowastryto
keepup.
Always the same distance ahead were the mercenaries who’d been guarding the exit from the
casino.Whentheymoved,Millermoved.Whentheysloweddown,heslowed.Theywereclearinga
path to the port, but if they thought that any of the citizens were getting too close, they’d probably
openfire.Theyweredefinitelyshootinganyonetheyranintoalongtheway.They’dalreadyshottwo
peoplewho’drunatthem.Bothhadbeenvomitingbrowngoo.Wherethehelldidthosevomitzombies
comefromsofast?
“Wherethehelldidthosevomitzombiescomefromsofast?”hesaidtoMiller ’sback.
Thedetectiveshruggedwithhislefthand,hisrightstillclutchinghispistol.
“Idon’tthinkenoughofthatcrapcameoutofJulietoinfectthewholestation,”herepliedwithout
slowingdown.“I’mguessingtheywerethefirstbatch.Theonestheyincubatedtogetenoughgooto
infecttheshelterswith.”
Thatmadesense.Andwhenthecontrolledportionoftheexperimentwenttoshit,youjustturned
them loose on the populace. By the time people figured out what was going on, half of them were
infectedalready.Thenitwasjustamatteroftime.
Theypausedbrieflyatacorridorintersection,watchingastheleaderofthemercgroupstoppeda
hundredmetersaheadandtalkedonhisradioforaminute.Holdenwasgaspingandtryingtocatch
hisbreathwhenthegroupstartedupagain,andMillermovedtofollow.Hereachedoutandgrabbed
the detective’s belt and let Miller drag him along. Where did the skinny Belter keep this reserve of
energy?
Thedetectivestopped.Hisexpressionwasblank.
“They’rearguing,”Millersaid.
“Huh?”
“Theleaderofthatgroupandsomeofthemen.Arguingaboutsomething,”Millerreplied.
“So?”Holdenasked,thencoughedsomethingwetintohishand.Hewipeditoffonthebackofhis
pants,notlookingtoseeifitwasblood.Pleasedon’tletitbeblood.
Millershruggedwithhishandagain.
“Idon’tthinkeveryone’sonthesameteamhere,”hesaid.
The merc group turned down another corridor, and Miller followed, yanking Holden along
behind him. These were the outer levels, filled with warehouse space and ship repair and resupply
depots. They didn’t see a lot of foot traffic at the best of times. Now the corridor echoed like a
mausoleum with their footsteps. Up ahead, the merc group turned again, and before Miller and
Holdencouldreachthejunction,alonefigurewanderedintoview.
He didn’t appear to be armed, so Miller moved toward him cautiously, impatiently reaching
behindhimselfandpullingHolden’shandoffhisbelt.Oncehewasfree,Millerhelduphislefthand
inanunmistakablycop-likegesture.
“Thisisadangerousplacetobewanderingaround,sir,”hesaid.
The man was now less than fifteen meters ahead of them and began moving toward them at a
lurch.Hewasdressedforapartyinacheaptuxedowithafrillyshirtandsparklyredbowtie.Hewas
wearing one shiny black shoe, the other foot covered with only a red sock. Brown vomit trickled
fromthecornersofhismouthandstainedthefrontofhiswhiteshirt.
“Shit,”Millersaid,andbroughtuphisgun.
Holdengrabbedhisarmandyankeditbackdown.
“He’s innocent in this,” Holden said, the sight of the injured and infected man making his eyes
burn.“He’sinnocent.”
“He’sstillcoming,”Millersaid.
“Sowalkfaster,”Holdensaid.“AndifyoushootanyoneelseandIhaven’tgivenyoupermission
to,youdon’tgetarideonmyship.Gotme?”
“Trustme,”Millersaid.“Dyingisthebestthingthatcouldhappentothatguytoday.You’renot
doinghimanyfavors.”
“Youdon’tgettodecidethat,”Holdenreplied,histoneedgingintorealanger.
Millerstartedtoreply,butHoldenhelduponehandandcuthimoff.
“YouwantontheRoci?I’mtheboss,then.Noquestions,nobullshit.”
Miller ’s smirk turned into a smile. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Our mercs are getting ahead of us.” He
pointeddownthecorridor.
Millernoddedandmovedoffagainathissteady,machinelikepace.Holdendidn’tturnaround,but
hecouldhearthemanMillerhadalmostshotcryinginthecorridorbehindhimforalongtime.To
coverupthesound,whichprobablyexistedonlyinhisheadoncethey’dmadeacouplemoreturnsin
thecorridor,hebeganhummingthethemetoMiskoandMariskoagain.
Mother Elise, who’d been the one to stay home with him when he was very young, had always
brought him something to eat while he watched, and then sat by him with her hand on his head,
playingwithhishair.She’dlaughedatthedinosauranticsevenharderthanhehad.OneHalloween
she’dmadehimabigpinkhattowearsothathecouldbetheevilCountMungo.Whyhadthatguy
been trying to capture the dinosaurs, anyway? It had never really been clear. Maybe he just liked
dinosaurs.Onetimehe’dusedashrinkrayand—
HoldenslammedintoMiller ’sback.Thedetectivehadstoppedsuddenlyandnowmovedquickly
to one side of the corridor, crouching low to keep himself in the shadows. Holden followed suit.
About thirty meters ahead, the mercenary group had gotten much bigger and had split into two
factions.
“Yep,”Millersaid.“Wholelotofpeoplehavingreallybaddaystoday.”
Holden nodded and wiped something wet off his face. It was blood. He didn’t think he’d hit
Miller ’sbackhardenoughtobloodyhisnose,andhehadasuspicionitwasn’tgoingtostoponits
own.Mucousmembranesgettingfragile.Wasn’tthatpartofradiationburning?Hetorestripsoffhis
shirtandstuffedthemuphisnostrilswhilehewatchedthesceneattheendofthecorridor.
Thereweretwocleargroups,andtheydidseemtobeengagedinsomesortofheatedargument.
Normally, that would have been fine. Holden didn’t care about the social lives of mercenaries. But
these mercenaries numbered by this time close to a hundred, were heavily armed, and blocked the
corridorthatledtohisship.Thatmadetheirargumentworthwatching.
“NoteveryonefromProtogenleft,Ithink,”Millersaidquietly,pointingatoneofthetwogroups.
“Thoseguysontherightdon’tlooklikethehometeam.”
Holden looked at the group and nodded. They were definitely the more professional-looking
soldiers.Theirarmorfitwell.Theothergrouplookedlikeitwaslargelymadeupofguysdressedin
policeriotgear,withonlyafewmenincombatarmor.
“Wanttoguesswhattheargumentisabout?”Millerasked.
“Hey,canwehavearidetoo?”HoldensaidmockinglywithaCeresaccent.“Uh,no,weneedyou
guystostayhereand,uh,keepaneyeonthings,whichwepromisewillbetotallysafeandabsolutely
notinvolveyouturningintovomitzombies.”
HeactuallygotachucklefromMillerandthenthecorridoreruptedinabarrageofgunfire.Both
sides of the discussion were firing automatic weapons at each other from point-blank range. The
noisewasdeafening.Menscreamedandflewapart,sprayingthecorridorandeachotherwithblood
andbodyparts.Holdendroppedflattothefloorbutcontinuedwatchingthefirefight.
Aftertheinitialbarrage,thesurvivorsfrombothgroupsbeganfallingbackinoppositedirections,
still firing as they moved. The floor at the corridor junction was littered with bodies. Holden
estimated that twenty or more men had died in that first second of the fight. The sounds of gunfire
grewmoredistantasthetwogroupsfiredateachotherdownthecorridor.
Inthemiddleofthejunction,oneofthebodiesonthefloorsuddenlystirredandraiseditshead.
Evenbeforethewoundedmancouldgettohisfeet,abulletholeappearedinthemiddleofhisface
shieldandhedroppedbacktothefloorwithlimpfinality.
“Where’syourship?”Millerasked.
“Theliftisattheendofthiscorridor,”Holdenreplied.
Millerspatwhatlookedlikebloodyphlegmonthefloor.
“Andthecorridorthatcrossesitisnowawarzone,witharmedcampssnipingateachotherfrom
bothsides,”hesaid.“Iguesswecouldtryjustrunningthroughit.”
“Isthereanotheroption?”Holdenasked.
Millerlookedathisterminal.
“We’re fifty-three minutes past the deadline Naomi set,” he said. “How much more time do you
wanttowaste?”
“Look,Iwasneverparticularlygoodatmath,”Holdensaid.“ButI’dguessthereareasmanyas
fortyguysineitherdirectiondownthatothercorridor.Acorridorwhichisagoodthree,maybethree
andahalfmeterswide.Whichmeansthatwegiveeightyguysthreemetersworthofshotsatus.Even
dumbluckmeanswegethitalotandthendie.Let’sthinkofaplanB.”
Asiftounderlinehisargument,anotherfusilladebrokeoutinthecrosscorridor,gougingchunks
outoftherubberywallinsulationandchewingupthebodieslyingonthefloor.
“They’restillwithdrawing,”Millersaid.“Thoseshotscamefromfartheraway.Iguesswecanjust
waitthemout.Imean,ifwecan.”
TheragsHoldenhadstuffeduphisnosehadn’tstoppedthebleeding;theyhadjustdammeditup.
Hecouldfeelasteadytrickledownthebackofhisthroatthatmadehisstomachheavewithnausea.
Millerwasright.Theyweregettingdowntothelastoftheirabilitytowaitanyoneoutatthispoint.
“Goddamn, I wish we could call and see if Naomi is even there,” Holden said, looking at the
flashingNetworkNotAvailableonhisterminal.
“Shhh,”Millerwhispered,puttingonefingeronhislips.Hepointedbackdownthecorridorinthe
directionthey’dcome,andnowHoldencouldhearheavyfootstepsapproaching.
“Lategueststotheparty,”Millersaid,andHoldennodded.Thetwomenswiveledaround,pointing
theirgunsdownthecorridorandwaiting.
Agroupoffourmeninpoliceriotarmorroundedthecorner.Theydidn’thavetheirgunsout,and
two of them had their helmets off. Apparently they hadn’t heard about the new hostilities. Holden
waitedforMillertofireand,whenhedidn’t,turnedtolookathim.Millerwasstaringback.
“I didn’t dress real warm,” Miller said, almost apologetically. It took Holden half a second to
understandwhathemeant.
Holden gave him permission by shooting first. He targeted one of the mafia thugs without a
helmetandshothimintheface,thencontinuedfiringatthegroupuntilhisgun’sslidelockedopen
when the magazine was empty. Miller had begun firing a split second after Holden’s first shot and
also fired until his gun was empty. When it was over, all four thugs were lying facedown in the
corridor.Holdenletoutalongbreaththatturnedintoasigh,andsatdownonthefloor.
Miller walked to the fallen men and nudged each one in turn with his foot as he replaced the
magazine in his gun. Holden didn’t bother reloading his. He was done with gunfights. He put the
emptypistolinhispocketandgotuptojointhecop.Hebentdownandbeganunbucklingtheleast
damagedarmorhecouldfind.Millerraisedaneyebrowbutdidn’tmovetohelp.
“We’remakingarunforit,”Holdensaid,swallowingbackthevomit-and-bloodtasteinhisthroat
ashepulledthechestandbackarmorfreeofthefirstman.“Butmaybeifwewearthisstuff,itwill
help.”
“Might,”Millersaidwithanod,thenkneltdowntohelpstripasecondman.
Holdenputonthedeadman’sarmor,workinghardtobelievethatthepinktraildownthebackwas
absolutelynotpartoftheman’sbrain.Undoingthestrapswasexhausting.Hisfingersfeltnumband
awkward. He picked up the thigh armor, then put it down again. He’d rather run fast. Miller had
finishedbucklinghisontooandpickeduponeoftheundamagedhelmets.Holdenfoundonewithjust
adentinitandslippeditontohishead.Itfeltgreasyinside,andhewasgladhehadnosenseofsmell.
Hesuspectedthatitspreviousoccupanthadn’tbathedoften.
Millerfiddledwiththesideofhishelmetuntiltheradiocameon.Thecop’svoicewasechoeda
split second later over the helmet’s tinny speakers as he said, “Hey, we’re coming out into the
corridor!Don’tshoot!We’recomingtojoinup!”
Thumbingoffthemic,heturnedtoHoldenandsaid,“Well,maybeonesidewon’tbeshootingat
usnow.”
Theymovedbackdownthecorridorandstoppedtenmetersfromtheintersection.Holdencounted
downfromthreeandthentookoffatthebestrunhecouldmanage.Itwasdishearteninglyslow;his
legs felt like they were filled with lead. Like he was running in a pool of water. Like he was in a
nightmare.HecouldhearMillerjustbehindhim,hisshoesslappingontheconcretefloor,hisbreath
cominginraggedgasps.
Thenheheardonlythesoundofgunfire.Hecouldn’ttellifMiller ’splanhadworked.Couldn’t
tellwhichdirectionthegunfirewascomingfrom.Itwasconstantanddeafeningandstartedtheinstant
heenteredthecrosscorridor.Whenhewasthreemetersfromtheotherside,heloweredhisheadand
jumpedforward.InEros’lightgravity,heseemedtofly,andhewasnearlytotheothersidewhena
burstofbulletscaughthiminthearmoroverhisribsandslammedhimintothecorridorwallwitha
spine-jarringcrack.Hedraggedhimselftherestofthewayasbulletscontinuedtohitallaroundhis
legs,oneofthempassingthroughthemeatypartofhiscalf.
Miller tripped over him, flying a few feet farther down the hall and then collapsing in a heap.
Holdencrawledtohisside.
“Stillalive?”
Millernodded.“Gotshot.Arm’sbroke.Keepmoving,”hegaspedout.
Holdenclimbedtohisfeet,hisleftlegfeelinglikeitwasonfireasthemuscleinhiscalfclenched
around his gaping wound. He pulled Miller up and then leaned on him as they limped toward the
elevator.Miller ’sleftarmwasdanglingbonelessathisside,andbloodwaspouringoffhishand.
Holden punched the button to call the lift, and he and Miller leaned on each other while they
waited.HehummedtheMiskoandMariskothemetohimself,andafterafewseconds,Millerstarted
too.
HoldenpunchedthebuttonfortheRocinante’sberthandwaitedfortheelevatortostopatablank
grayairlockdoorwithnoshipbeyondit.Thatwouldbewhenhefinallyhadpermissiontoliedown
ontheflooranddie.Helookedforwardtothatmomentwhenhisexertionscouldendwithareliefthat
wouldhavesurprisedhimifhe’dstillbeencapableofsurprise.Millerletgoofhimandsliddownthe
liftwall,leavingabloodtrailontheshinymetalandendinginapileonthefloor.Theman’seyes
wereclosed.Hecouldalmosthavebeensleeping.Holdenwatchedthedetective’schestriseandfallin
ragged,painfulbreathsthatgrewsmootherandmoreshallow.
Holdenenviedhim,buthehadtoseethatclosedairlockdoorbeforehecouldliedown.Hebegan
tofeelfaintlyangrywiththeelevatorfortakingsolong.
Itstopped,liftdoorsslidingopenwithacheerfulding.
Amos stood in the airlock on the other side, an assault rifle in each hand and two belts of
magazinesfortheriflesslungonhisshoulders.HelookedHoldenupanddownonce,thenglanced
overtoMillerandbackagain.
“Jesus,Captain,youlooklikeshit.”
ChapterThirty-Two:Miller
Miller ’smindreassembledslowlyandwithseveralfalsestarts.Inhisdreams,hewasfittingapuzzle
togetherasthepieceskeptchangingshape,andeachtime,justashewasonthevergeofslippingthe
wholemechanismtogether,thedreambeganagain.Thefirstthinghebecameawareofwastheacheat
thesmallofhisback,thentheheavinessofhisarmsandlegs,thenthenausea.Thenearerhecameto
consciousness,themorehetriedtopostponeit.Imaginaryfingerstriedtocompletethepuzzle,and
beforehecouldmakeitallfit,hiseyesopened.
Hecouldn’tmovehishead.Somethingwasinhisneck:athickbundleofblacktubesreachingout
ofhimanduppastthelimitsofhisvision.Hetriedtolifthisarms,topushtheinvading,vampiric
thingaway,buthecouldn’t.
Itgotme,hethoughtwithathrilloffear.I’minfected.
Thewomanappearedfromhisleft.Hewassurprisedshewasn’tJulie.Deepbrownskin,darkeyes
withjustahintofanepicanthicfold.Shesmiledathim.Blackhairdrapeddownthesideofherface.
Down.Therewasadown.Therewasgravity.Theywereunderthrust.Thatseemedveryimportant,
buthedidn’tknowwhy.
“Hey,Detective,”Naomisaid.“Welcomeback.”
WhereamI?hetriedtosay.Histhroatfeltsolid.Crowdedliketoomanypeopleinatubestation.
“Don’ttrytogetuportalkoranything,”shesaid.“You’vebeenunderforaboutthirty-sixhours.
Goodnewsiswehaveasickbaywithamilitary-gradeexpertsystemandsuppliesforfifteenMartian
soldiers.Ithinkweburnedhalfofwhatwe’vegotonyouandthecaptain.”
Thecaptain.Holden.Thatwasright.They’dbeeninafight.Therehadbeenacorridorandpeople
shooting. And someone had been sick. He remembered a woman, covered in brown vomit, with
vacanteyes,buthedidn’tknowwhetheritwaspartofanightmare.
Naomi was still talking. Something about full plasma flushes and cell damage. He tried to lift a
hand, to reach out to her, but a strap restrained him. The ache in his back was his kidneys, and he
wonderedwhatexactlywasgettingfilteredoutofhisblood.Millerclosedhiseyes,asleepbeforehe
coulddecidewhethertorest.
No dreams troubled him this time. He roused again when something deep in his throat shifted,
pulledathislarynx,andretreated.Withoutopeninghiseyes,herolledtohisside,coughed,puked,
androlledback.
Whenhewoke,hewasbreathingonhisown.Histhroatfeltsoreandabused,buthishandsweren’t
tieddown.Drainagetubesranoutofhisbellyandside,andtherewasacatheterthesizeofapencil
comingouthispenis.Nothingparticularlyhurt,sohehadtoassumehewasonprettynearlyallthe
narcoticstherewere.Hisclothesweregone,hismodestypreservedonlybyathinpapergownanda
castthatheldhisleftarmstonyandimmovable.Someonehadputhishatonthenextbedover.
Thesickbay,nowthathecouldseeit,lookedlikeawardonahigh-productionentertainmentfeed.
Itwasn’tahospital;itwasthematte-black-and-silverideaofwhatahospitalwassupposedtobe.The
monitorshungsuspendedintheaironcomplexarmatures,reportinghisbloodpressure,nucleicacid
concentrations,oxygenation,fluidbalance.Thereweretwoseparatecountdownsrunning,onetothe
next round of autophagics, the other for pain medication. And across the aisle, at another station,
Holden’sstatisticslookedmoreorlessthesame.
Holden looked like a ghost. His skin was pale and his sclera were red with a hundred little
hemorrhages.Hisfacewaspuffyfromsteroids.
“Hey,”Millersaid.
Holdenliftedahand,wavinggently.
“Wemadeit,”Millersaid.Hisvoicesoundedlikeithadbeendraggeddownanalleybyitsankles.
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.
“Thatwasugly.”
“Yeah.”
Millernodded.Thathadtakenalltheenergyhehad.Helaybackdownandfell,ifnotasleep,at
leastunconscious.Justbeforehismindflickeredbackintoforgetfulness,hesmiled.He’dmadeit.He
wasonHolden’sship.AndtheyweregoingtofindwhateverJuliehadleftbehindforthem.
Voiceswokehim.
“Maybeyoushouldn’t,then.”
Itwasthewoman.Naomi.PartofMillercursedherfordisturbinghim,buttherewasabuzzinher
voice—notfearoranger,butcloseenoughtobeinteresting.Hedidn’tmove,didn’tevenswimallthe
waybacktoawareness.Buthelistened.
“I need to,” Holden said. He sounded phlegmy, like someone who needed to cough. “What
happenedonEros…it’sputalotofthingsinperspective.I’vebeenaholdingsomethingback.”
“Captain—”
“No,hearmeout.WhenIwasintherethinkingthatallIwasgoingtohaveleftwashalfanhourof
rigged pachinko games and then death… when that happened, I knew what my regrets were. You
know?IfeltallthethingsthatIwishedI’ddoneandneverhadthecouragefor.NowthatIknow,I
can’tjustignoreit.Ican’tpretenditisn’tthere.”
“Captain,”Naomisaidagain,andthebuzzinhervoicewasstronger.
Don’tsayit,youpoorbastard,Millerthought.
“I’minlovewithyou,Naomi,”Holdensaid.
Thepauselastednolongerthanaheartbeat.
“No,sir,”shesaid.“Youaren’t.”
“Iam.Iknowwhatyou’rethinking.I’vebeenthroughthisbigtraumaticexperienceandI’mdoing
thewholethingwhereIwanttoaffirmlifeandmakeconnections,andmaybesomeofthat’spartofit.
ButyouhavetobelievethatIknowwhatIfeel.AndwhenIwasdownthere,IknewthatthethingthatI
wantedthemostwastogetbacktoyou.”
“Captain.Howlonghaveweservedtogether?”
“What?Idon’tknowexactly…”
“Ballparkestimate.”
“Eightandahalfrunsmakesitalmostfiveyears,”Holdensaid.Millercouldheartheconfusionin
hisvoice.
“Allright.Andinthattime,howmanyofthecrewdidyousharebunkswith?”
“Doesitmatter?”
“Onlyalittle.”
“Afew.”
“Morethanadozen?”
“No,”hesaid,buthedidn’tsoundsure.
“Let’scallitten,”Naomisaid.
“Okay. But this is different. I’m not talking about having a little shipboard romance to pass the
time.Eversince—”
MillerimaginedthewomanholdingupherhandortakingHolden’sormaybejustglaringathim.
Somethingtostoptheflowofwords.
“AnddoyouknowwhenIfellforyou,sir?”
Sorrow.Thatwaswhatthestraininhervoicewas.Sorrow.Disappointment.Regret.
“When…whenyou…”
“Icantellyoutheday,”Naomisaid.“Youwereaboutsevenweeksintothatfirstrun.Iwasstill
smartingthatsomeEartherhadcomeinfromoutoftheeclipticandtakenmyXOjob.Ididn’tlike
youmuchrightatthestart.Youweretoocharming,toopretty,andtoodamncomfortableinmychair.
But there was a poker game in the engine room. You and me and those two Luna boys out of
engineeringandKamalaTrask.YourememberTrask?”
“Shewasthecommtech.Theonewhowas…”
“Builtlikearefrigerator?Facelikeabulldogpuppy?”
“Irememberher.”
“Shehadthebiggestcrushonyou.Usedtocryherselftosleepatnightallthroughthatrun.She
wasn’tinthatgamebecauseshecaredaboutpoker.Shejustwantedtobreathesomeofyourair,and
everyone knew it. Even you. And all that night, I watched you and her, and you never once led her
along.Younevergaveheranyreasontothinkshehadachancewithyou.Andyoustilltreatedher
withrespect.ThatwasthefirsttimeIthoughtyoumightbeadecentXO,anditwasthefirsttimeI
wishedthatIcouldbethegirlinyourbunkatshift’send.”
“BecauseofTrask?”
“Thatandyou’vegotagreatass,sir.Mypointisweflewtogetherforfouryearsandmore.AndI
wouldhavecomealongwithyouanydayofthatifyou’daskedme.”
“Ididn’tknow,”Holdensaid.Hesoundedalittlestrangled.
“You didn’t ask. You always had your sights set someplace else. And, honestly, I think Belter
womenjustputyouoff.UntiltheCant…Untilitwasjustthefiveofus.I’veseenyoulookingatme.I
knowexactlywhatthoselooksmean,becauseIspentfouryearsontheothersideofthem.ButIonly
gotyourattentionwhenIwastheonlyfemaleonboard,andthat’snotgoodenoughforme.”
“Idon’tknow—”
“No,sir,youdon’t.That’smypoint.I’vewatchedyouseducealotofwomen,andIknowhowyou
doit.Yougetfixedonher,yougetexcitedbyher.Thenyouconvinceyourselfthatthetwoofyou
havesomekindofspecialconnection,andbythetimeyoubelieveit,sheusuallythinksit’struetoo.
Andthenyousleeptogetherforawhile,andtheconnectiongetsalittlefaded.Oneortheotherofyou
says something like professional or appropriate boundaries or starts worrying what the crew will
think,andthewholethingslidesaway.Afterwardstheystilllikeyou.Allofthem.Youdoitallsowell
theydon’tevenfeelliketheygettohateyouforit.”
“That’snottrue.”
“Itis.Anduntilyoufigureoutthatyoudon’thavetoloveeveryoneyoubeddownwith,I’mnever
goingtoknowwhetheryoulovemeorjustwanttobeddown.AndIwon’tsleepwithyouuntilyou
knowwhichitis.Thesmartmoneyisn’tonlove.”
“Iwasjust—”
“Ifyouwanttosleepwithme,”Naomisaid,“behonest.Respectmeenoughforthat.Okay?”
Millercoughed.Hehadn’tmeantto,hadn’tevenbeenawarehewasgoingto.Hisbellywenttight,
histhroatclampeddown,andhecoughedwetanddeep.Oncehestarted,itwashardtostop.Hesatup,
eyes watering from the effort. Holden was lying back on his bed. Naomi sat on the next bed over,
smilingliketherehadbeennothingtooverhear.Holden’smonitorsshowedanelevatedheartrateand
blood pressure. Miller could only hope the poor bastard hadn’t gotten an erection with the catheter
stillin.
“Hey,Detective,”Naomisaid.“How’reyoufeeling?”
Millernodded.
“I’vefeltworse,”hesaid.Then,amomentlater:“No.Ihaven’t.ButI’mallright.Howbadwasit?”
“You’rebothdead,”Naomisaid.“Seriously,wehadtooverridethetriagefiltersonbothofyou
morethanonce.Theexpertsystemkeptclickingyouoverintohospicecareandshootingyoufullof
morphine.”
Shesaiditlightly,buthebelievedher.Hetriedtositup.Hisbodystillfeltterriblyheavy,buthe
didn’tknowifitwasfromweaknessortheshipthrust.Holdenwasquiet,jawclampedtight.Miller
pretendednottonotice.
“Long-termestimates?”
“You’rebothgoingtoneedtobecheckedfornewcancerseverymonthfortherestofyourlives.
The captain has a new implant where his thyroid used to be, since his real one was pretty much
cooked down. We had to take out about a foot and a half of your small bowel that wouldn’t stop
bleeding.You’rebothgoingtobruiseeasyforawhile,andifyouwantedkids,Ihopeyouhavesome
sperminabanksomeplace,becauseallyourlittlesoldiershavetwoheadsnow.”
Millerchuckled.Hismonitorsblinkedintoalarmmodeandthenbackout.
“Yousoundlikeyoutrainedasamedtech,”hesaid.
“Nope.Engineer.ButI’vebeenreadingtheprintoutseveryday,soI’vegotthelingodown.Iwish
Shedwasstillhere,”shesaid,andsoundedsadforthefirsttime.
ThatwasthesecondtimesomeonehadmentionedShed.Therewasastorythere,butMillerletit
drop.
“Hairgoingtofallout?”heasked.
“Maybe,”Naomisaid.“Thesystemshotyoufullofthedrugsthataresupposedtostopthat,butif
thefolliclesdie,theydie.”
“Well.GoodthingI’vestillgotmyhat.WhataboutEros?”
Naomi’sfalselighttonefailedher.
“It’sdead,”Holdensaidfromhisbed,turningtolookatMiller.“Ithinkwewerethelastshipout.
Thestationisn’tansweringcalls,andalltheautomaticsystemshaveitinaquarantinelockdown.”
“Rescueships?”Millerasked,andcoughedagain.Histhroatwasstillsore.
“Notgoingtohappen,”Naomisaid.“Therewereamillionandahalfpeopleonstation.Noone
hastheresourcestoputintothatkindofrescueop.”
“Afterall,”Holdensaid,“there’sawaron.”
Theshipsystemdimmedthelightsfornight.Millerlayonhisbed.Theexpertsystemhadshiftedhis
treatment regimen into a new phase, and for the past three hours, he’d alternated between spiking
fevers and teeth-chattering chills. His teeth and the nail beds of his fingers and toes ached. Sleep
wasn’tanoption,sohelayinthegloomandtriedtopullhimselftogether.
HewonderedwhathisoldpartnerswouldhavemadeofhisbehavioronEros.Havelock.Muss.He
triedtoimaginetheminhisplace.He’dkilledpeople,andhe’ddoneitcold.Eroshadbeenakillbox,
andwhenthepeopleinchargeofthelawwantedyoudead,thelawdidn’tapplyanymore.Andsome
ofthedeadassholeshadbeentheoneswho’dkilledJulie.
So.Revengekilling.Washereallydowntorevengekilling?Thatwasasadthought.Hetriedto
imagineJuliesittingbesidehimthewayNaomihadwithHolden.Itwaslikeshe’dbeenwaitingfor
theinvitation.JulieMao,whohe’dneverreallyknown.Sheraisedahandingreeting.
Andwhataboutus?heaskedherashelookedintoherdark,unrealeyes.DoIloveyou,ordoIjust
wanttoloveyousobadIcan’ttellthedifference?
“Hey,Miller,”Holdensaid,andJulievanished.“Youawake?”
“Yeah.Can’tsleep.”
“Meeither.”
Theyweresilentforamoment.Theexpertsystemhummed.Miller ’sleftarmitchedunderitscast
asthetissuewentthroughanotherroundofforcedregrowth.
“Youdoingokay?”Millerasked.
“Whywouldn’tIbe?”Holdensaidsharply.
“Youkilledthatguy,”Millersaid.“Backonthestation.Youshothim.Imean,Iknowyoushotat
guysbeforethat.Backatthehotel.Butrightattheendthere,youactuallyhitsomebodyintheface.”
“Yeah.Idid.”
“Yougoodwiththat?”
“Sure,”Holdensaid,tooquickly.
Theairrecyclershummed,andthebloodpressurecuffonMiller ’sgoodarmsqueezedhimlikea
hand.Holdendidn’tspeak,butwhenMillersquinted,hecouldseetheelevatedbloodpressureandthe
uptickinbrainactivity.
“Theyalwaysmadeustaketimeoff,”Millersaid.
“What?”
“Whenweshotsomeone.Whethertheydiedornot,theyalwaysmadeustakealeaveofabsence.
Turninourweapon.Gotalktotheheadshrinker.”
“Bureaucrats,”Holdensaid.
“Theyhadapoint,”Millersaid.“Shootingsomeonedoessomethingtoyou.Killingsomeone…
that’s even worse. Doesn’t matter that they had it coming or you didn’t have a choice. Or maybe a
littledifference.Butitdoesn’ttakeitaway.”
“Seemslikeyougotoverit,though.”
“Maybe,”Millersaid.“Look.AllthatIsaidbackthereabouthowyoukillsomeone?Abouthow
leavingthemalivewasn’tdoingthemanyfavors?I’msorrythathappened.”
“Youthinkyouwerewrong?”
“Iwasn’t.ButI’mstillsorryithappened.”
“Okay.”
“Jesus. Look, I’m saying it’s good that it bothers you. It’s good that you can’t stop seeing it or
hearingit.Thatpartwhereithauntsyousome?That’sthewayit’ssupposedtobe.”
Holdenwasquietforamoment.Whenhespokeagain,hisvoicewasgrayasstone.
“I’vekilledpeoplebefore,youknow.Buttheywereblipsinaradartrack.I—”
“It’snotthesame,isit?”Millersaid.
“No,itisn’t,”Holdenreplied.“Doesthisgoaway?”
Sometimes,Millerthought.
“No,”hesaid.“Notifyou’vestillgotasoul.”
“Okay.Thanks.”
“Oneotherthing?”
“Yeah?”
“Iknowit’snoneofmybusiness,butIreallywouldn’tletherputyouoff.Soyoudon’tunderstand
sexandloveandwomen.Justmeansyouwerebornwithacock.Andthisgirl?Naomi?Sheseems
likeshe’sworthputtingalittleeffortintoit.Youknow?”
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.Then:“Canwenevertalkaboutthatagain?”
“Sure.”
The ship creaked and gravity shifted a degree to Miller ’s right. Course correction. Nothing
interesting.Millerclosedhiseyesandtriedtowillhimselftosleep.Hismindwasfullofdeadmen
andJulieandloveandsex.TherewassomethingHoldenhadsaidaboutthewarthatwasimportant,
buthecouldn’tmakethepiecesfit.Theykeptchanging.Millersighed,shiftedhisweightsothathe
blockedoneofhisdrainagetubesandhadtoshiftbacktostopthealarm.
Whenthebloodpressurecufffiredoffagain,itwasJulieholdinghim,pullingherselfsoclose
herlipsbrushedhisear.Hiseyesopened,hismindseeingboththeimaginarygirlandthemonitors
thatshewouldhaveblockedifshe’dreallybeenthere.
Iloveyoutoo,shesaid,andIwilltakecareofyou.
Hesmiledatseeingthenumberschangeashisheartraced.
ChapterThirty-Three:Holden
Forfivemoredays,HoldenandMillerlayontheirbacksinsickbaywhilethesolarsystemburned
downaroundthem.ThereportsofEros’deathranfrommassiveecologicalcollapsebroughtabout
by war-related supply shortages, to covert Martian attack, to secret Belt bioweapon laboratory
accident.AnalysisfromtheinnerplanetshaditthattheOPAandterroristslikethemhadfinallyshown
how dangerous they could be to innocent civilian populations. The Belt blamed Mars, or the
maintenancecrewsofEros,ortheOPAfornotstoppingit.
And then a group of Martian frigates blockaded Pallas, a revolt on Ganymede ended in sixteen
dead, and the new government of Ceres announced that all ships with Martian registry docked on
station were being commandeered. The threats and accusations, all set to the constant human
backgroundnoiseofwardrums,movedon.Eroshadbeenatragedyandacrime,butitwasfinished,
andtherewerenewdangerspoppingupineverycornerofhumanspace.
Holdenturnedoffhisnewsfeed,fidgetedinhisbunk,andtriedtowakeMillerupbystaringathim.
Itdidn’twork.Themassiveradiationexposurehadfailedtogivehimsuperpowers.Millerbeganto
snore.
Holdensatup,testingthegravity.Lessthanaquarterg.Alexwasn’tinahurry,then.Naomiwas
givinghimandMillertimetohealbeforetheyarrivedatJulie’smagicalmysteryasteroid.
Shit.
Naomi.
Thelastfewtimesshe’dcomeintosickbayhadbeenawkward.Sheneverbroughtthesubjectof
hisfailedromanticgesturebackup,buthecouldfeelabarrierbetweenthemnowthatfilledhimwith
regret. And every time she left the room, Miller would look away from him and sigh, which just
madeitworse.
Buthecouldn’tavoidherforever,nomatterhowmuchhefeltlikeanidiot.Heswunghisfeetoff
theedgeofthebedandpresseddownonthefloor.Hislegsfeltweakbutnotrubbery.Thesolesofhis
feethurt,butquiteabitlessthannearlyeverythingelseonhisbody.Hestoodup,onehandstillonthe
bed,andtestedhisbalance.Hewobbledbutremainedupright.Twostepsreassuredhimthatwalking
waspossibleinthelightgravity.TheIVtuggedathisarm.Hewasdowntojustonebagofsomething
a faint blue. He had no idea what it was, but after Naomi’s description of how close to death he’d
come,hefigureditmustbeimportant.Hepulleditoffthewallhookandhelditinhislefthand.The
roomsmelledlikeantisepticanddiarrhea.Hewashappytobeleaving.
“Whereyougoing?”Millerasked,hisvoicegroggy.
“Out.”Holdenhadthesudden,visceralmemoryofbeingfifteen.
“Okay,”Millersaid,thenrolledontohisside.
Thesickbayhatchwasfourmetersfromthecentralladder,andHoldencoveredthegroundwitha
slow, careful shuffle, his paper booties making a whispery scuffing sound on the fabric-covered
metalfloor.Theladderitselfdefeatedhim.Eventhoughopswasonly one deck up, the three-meter
climb might as well have been a thousand. He pressed the button to call the lift, and a few seconds
later,thefloorhatchslidopenandtheliftclimbedthroughwithanelectricwhine.Holdentriedtohop
onbutmanagedonlyasortofslow-motionfallthatendedwithhisclutchingtheladderandkneeling
ontheliftplatform.Hestoppedthelift,pulledhimselfupright,andstarteditagain,thenrodeitupto
thenextdeckinwhathehopedwasalessbeatenandmorecaptain-likepose.
“Jesus,Captain,youstilllooklikeshit,”Amossaidastheliftcametoastop.Themechanicwas
sprawledacrosstwochairsatthesensorstationsandmunchingonwhatlookedlikeastripofleather.
“Youkeepsayingthat.”
“Keepsbein’true.”
“Amos,don’tyouhaveworktodo?”Naomisaid.Shewassittingatoneofthecomputerstations,
watchingsomethingflashbyonthescreen.Shedidn’tlookupwhenHoldencameontothedeck.That
wasabadsign.
“Nope.MostboringshipIeverworked,Boss.Shedon’tbreak,shedon’tleak,shedon’tevenhave
an annoying rattle to tighten down,” Amos replied as he sucked down the last of his snack and
smackedhislips.
“There’salwaysmopping,”Naomisaid,thentappedoutsomethingonthescreeninfrontofher.
AmoslookedfromhertoHoldenandbackagain.
“Oh, that reminds me. I better get down to the engine room and look at that… thing I’ve been
meaningtolookat,”Amossaid,andjumpedtohisfeet.“’Scuseme,Cap.”
HesqueezedpastHolden,hoppedonthelift,androdeitsternward.Thedeckhatchclosedbehind
him.
“Hey,”HoldensaidtoNaomionceAmoswasgone.
“Hey,” she said without turning around. That wasn’t good either. When she’d sent Amos away,
he’dhopedshewantedtotalk.Itdidn’tlooklikeit.Holdensighedandshuffledovertothechairnext
toher.Hecollapsedintoit,hislegstinglinglikehe’drunakilometerinsteadofjustwalkingtwentyoddsteps.Naomihadleftherhairdown,andithidherfacefromhim.Holdenwantedtobrushitback
butwasafraidshe’dsnaphiselbowwithBelterkungfuifhetried.
“Look, Naomi,” he started, but she ignored him and hit a button on her panel. He stopped when
Fred’sfaceappearedonthedisplayinfrontofher.
“IsthatFred?”hesaid,becausehecouldn’tthinkofanythingevenmoreidiotictosay.
“Youshouldseethis.GotitfromTychoacouplehoursagoonthetightbeamafterIsenttheman
updateonourstatus.”
NaomitappedtheplaybuttonandFred’sfacesprangtolife.
“Naomi,soundslikeyouguyshavehadatoughtimeofit.Theair ’sfullofchatteronthestation
shutdown,andthesupposednuclearexplosion.Nooneknowswhattomakeofit.Keepusinformed.
Inthemeantime,wemanagedtohackopenthatdatacubeyoulefthere.Idon’tthinkit’llhelpmuch,
though.LookslikeabunchofsensordatafromtheDonnager,mostlyEMstuff.We’vetriedlooking
forhiddenmessages,butmysmartestpeoplecan’tfindanything.I’mpassingthedataalongtoyou.
Letmeknowifyoufindanything.Tychoout.”
Thescreenwentblank.
“Whatdoesthedatalooklike?”Holdenasked.
“It’sjustwhatthemansaid,”Naomisaid.“EMsensordatafromtheDonnagerduringthepursuit
bythesixships,andthebattleitself.I’vedugthroughrawstuff,lookingforanythinghiddeninside,
butforthelifeofme,Ican’tfindathing.I’veevenhadtheRocidiggingthroughthedataforthelast
couple hours, looking for patterns. She has really good software for that sort of thing. But so far,
nothing.”
She tapped on the screen again and the raw data began spooling past faster than Holden could
follow. In a small window inside the larger screen, the Rocinante’s pattern-recognition software
workedtofindmeaning.Holdenwatcheditforaminute,buthiseyesquicklyunfocused.
“LieutenantKellydiedforthisdata,”hesaid.“Helefttheshipwhilehismateswerestillfighting.
Marinesdon’tdothatunlessitmatters.”
Naomishruggedandpointedatthescreenwithresignation.
“That’s what was on his cube,” she said. “Maybe there’s something steganographic, but I don’t
haveanotherdatasettocompareitto.”
Holdenbegantappingonhisthigh,hispainandromanticfailuresmomentarilyforgotten.
“So let’s say that this data is all that it is. There’s nothing hidden. What would this information
meantotheMartiannavy?”
Naomileanedbackinherchairandclosedhereyesinthought,onefingertwistinganduntwisting
acurlofhairbyhertemple.
“It’smostlyEMdata,solotsofengine-signaturestuff.Driveradiationisthebestwaytokeeptrack
ofotherships.Sothattellsyouwherewhichshipswereduringthefight.Tacticaldata?”
“Maybe,”Holdensaid.“WouldthatbeimportantenoughtosendKellyoutwith?”
Naomitookadeepbreathandletitoutslowly.
“Idon’tthinkso,”shesaid.
“Meeither.”
Somethingtappedattheedgeofhisconsciousmind,askingtobeletin.
“WhatwasthatthingwithAmosallabout?”hesaid.
“Amos?”
“Himshowingupattheairlockwithtwogunswhenwearrived,”hesaid.
“Therewassometroubleonourtripbacktotheship.”
“Troubleforwho?”Holdenasked.Naomiactuallysmiledatthat.
“Somebadmendidn’twantustohackthelockdownontheRoci.Amostalkeditoverwiththem.
Youdidn’tthinkitwasbecausewewerewaitingforyou,didyou,sir?”
Wasthereasmileinhervoice?Ahintofcoyness?Flirtation?Hestoppedhimselffromgrinning.
“WhatdidtheRocisayaboutthedatawhenyouranit?”Holdenasked.
“Here,”Naomireplied,andhitsomethingonherpanel.Thescreenbegandisplayinglonglistsof
dataintext.“LotsofEMandlightspectrumstuff,someleakagefromdamaged—”
Holdenyelped.Naomilookedupathim.
“I’msuchanidiot,”Holdensaid.
“Granted.Elaborate?”
Holdentouchedthescreenandbeganscrollingupanddownthroughthedata.Hetappedonelong
listofnumbersandlettersandleanedbackwithagrin.
“There,that’sit,”hesaid.
“That’swhat?”
“Hullstructureisn’ttheonlyrecognitionmetric.It’sthemostaccurate,butit’salsogottheshortest
rangeand”—hegesturedaroundhimattheRocinante—“istheeasiesttofool.Thenextbestmethodis
drive signature. Can’t mask your radiation and heat patterns. And they’re easy to spot even from
reallyfaraway.”
Holden turned on the screen next to his chair and pulled up the ship’s friend/foe database, then
linkedittothedataonNaomi’sscreen.
“That’swhatthismessageis,Naomi.It’stellingMarswhokilledtheDonnagerbyshowingthem
whatthedrivesignaturewas.”
“Then why not just say, ‘So-and-so killed us,’ in a nice easy-to-read text file?” Naomi asked, a
skepticalfrownonherface.
Holden leaned forward and paused, opened his mouth, then closed it and sat back again with a
sigh.
“Idon’tknow.”
A hatch banged open with a hydraulic whine; then Naomi looked past Holden to the ladder and
said,“Miller ’scomingup.”
Holdenturnedtowatchthedetectivefinishtheslowclimbupfromthesickbaydeck.Helooked
likeapluckedchicken,pink-grayskinstippledwithgooseflesh.Hispapergownwentpoorlywiththe
hat.
“Uh,there’salift,”Holdensaid.
“WishI’dknownthat,”Millerreplied,thendraggedhimselfupontotheopsdeckwithagasp.“We
thereyet?”
“Tryingtofigureoutamystery,”Holdensaid.
“Ihatemysteries,”Millersaid,thenhauledhimselftohisfeetandmadehiswaytoachair.
“Thensolvethisoneforus.Youfindoutwhomurderedsomeone.Youcan’tarrestthemyourself,
so you send the information to your partner. But instead of just sending the perp’s name, you send
yourpartneralltheclues.Why?”
Millercoughedandscratchedhischin.Hiseyeswerefixedonsomething,likehewasreadinga
screenHoldencouldn’tsee.
“BecauseIdon’ttrustmyself.IwantmypartnertoarriveatthesameconclusionIdid,withoutmy
biasinghim.Igivehimthedots,seewhatitlookslikewhenheconnects’em.”
“Especiallyifguessingwronghasconsequences,”Naomisaid.
“Youdon’tliketoscrewupamurdercharge,”Millersaidwithanod.“Looksunprofessional.”
Holden’spanelbeepedathim.
“Shit,Iknowwhytheywerecareful,”hesaidafterreadinghisscreen.“TheRocithinksthosewere
standardlight-cruiserenginesbuiltbytheBushShipyards.”
“TheywereEarthships?”Naomisaid.“Buttheyweren’tflyinganycolors,and…Sonofabitch!”
ItwasthefirsttimeHoldenhadeverheardheryell,andheunderstood.IfUNNblackopsshipshad
killed the Donnager, then that meant Earth was behind the whole thing. Maybe even killing the
Canterburyinthefirstplace.ItwouldmeanthatMartianwarshipswerekillingBeltersfornoreason.
BelterslikeNaomi.
Holden leaned forward and called up the comm display, then tapped out a general broadcast.
Millercaughthisbreath.
“Thatbuttonyoujustpresseddoesn’tdowhatIthinkitdoes,doesit?”hesaid.
“IfinishedKelly’smissionforhim,”Holdensaid.
“I have no idea who the fuck Kelly is,” Miller said, “but please tell me that his mission wasn’t
broadcastingthatdatatothesolarsystematlarge.”
“Peopleneedtoknowwhat’sgoingon,”Holdensaid.
“Yes,theydo,butmaybeweshouldactuallyknowwhatthehellisgoingonbeforewetellthem,”
Millerreplied,allthewearinessgonefromhisvoice.“Howgullibleareyou?”
“Hey,”Holdensaid,butMillergotlouder.
“YoufoundaMartianbattery,right?Soyoutoldeveryoneinthesolarsystemaboutitandstarted
thesinglelargestwarinhumanhistory.OnlyturnsouttheMartiansmaybeweren’ttheonesthatleftit
there. Then, a bunch of mystery ships kill the Donnager, which Mars blames on the Belt, only,
dammit,theBeltdidn’tevenknowitwascapableofkillingaMartianbattlecruiser.”
Holden opened his mouth, but Miller grabbed a bulb of coffee Amos had left behind on the
consoleandthrewitathishead.
“Letmefinish!AndnowyoufindsomedatathatimplicatesEarth.Firstthingyoudoisblabitto
theuniverse,sothatMarsandtheBeltdragEarthintothisthing,makingthelargestwarofalltime
evenbigger.Areyouseeingapatternhere?”
“Yes,”Naomisaid.
“So what do you think’s going to happen?” Miller said. “This is how these people work! They
madetheCanterburylooklikeMars.Itwasn’t.TheymadetheDonnagerlookliketheBelt.Itwasn’t.
Now it looks like the whole damn thing’s Earth? Follow the pattern. It probably isn’t! You never,
never put that kind of accusation out there until you know the score. You look. You listen. You’re
quiet,fercrissakes,andwhenyouknow,thenyoucanmakeyourcase.”
Thedetectivesatback,clearlyexhausted.Hewassweating.Thedeckwassilent.
“Youdone?”Holdensaid.
Millernodded,breathingheavily.“ThinkImighthavestrainedsomething.”
“Ihaven’taccusedanyoneofdoinganything,”Holdensaid.“I’mnotbuildingacase.Ijustputthe
dataoutthere.Nowit’snotasecret.They’redoingsomethingonEros.Theydon’twantitinterrupted.
WithMarsandtheBeltshootingateachother,everyonewiththeresourcestohelpisbusyelsewhere.”
“AndyoujustdraggedEarthintoit,”Millersaid.
“Maybe,” Holden said. “But the killers did use ships that were built, at least in part, at Earth’s
orbital shipyards. Maybe someone will look into that. And that’s the point. If everyone knows
everything,nothingstayssecret.”
“Yeah,well,”Millersaid.Holdenignoredhim
“Eventually,someone’llfigureoutthebigpicture.Thiskindofthingrequiressecrecytofunction,
soexposingallthesecretshurtsthemintheend.It’stheonlywaythisreally,permanentlystops.”
Millersighed,noddedtohimself,tookoffhishat,andscratchedhisscalp.
“Iwasjustgoingtoput’emoutanairlock,”Millersaid.
BA834024112wasn’tmuchofanasteroid.Barelythirtymetersacross,ithadlongagobeensurveyed
and found completely devoid of useful or valuable minerals. It existed in the registry only to warn
shipsnottorunintoit.Juliehadleftittetheredtowealthmeasuredinthebillionswhensheflewher
smallshuttletoEros.
Upclose,theshipthathadkilledtheScopuliandstolenitscrewlookedlikeashark.Itwaslong
andleanandutterlyblack,almostimpossibletoseeagainstthebackdropofspacewiththenakedeye.
Itsradar-deflectingcurvesgaveitanaerodynamiclookalmostalwayslackinginspace-goingvessels.
ItmadeHolden’sskincrawl,butitwasbeautiful.
“Motherfucker,”AmossaidunderhisbreathasthecrewclusteredinthecockpitoftheRocinante
tolookatit.
“The Roci doesn’t even see it, Cap,” Alex said. “I’m pourin’ ladar into it, and all we see is a
slightlywarmerspotontheasteroid.”
“LikeBeccasawjustbeforetheCantdied,”Naomisaid.
“Her shuttle’s been launched, so I’m guessin’ this is the right stealth ship someone left tied to a
rock,”Alexadded.“Casethere’smorethanone.”
HoldentappedhisfingersonthebackofAlex’schairforamomentashefloatedoverthepilot’s
head.
“It’sprobablyfullofvomitzombies,”Holdenfinallysaid.
“Wanttogosee?”saidMiller.
“Ohyeah,”Holdensaid.
ChapterThirty-Four:Miller
T he environment suit was better than Miller was used to. He’d only done a couple walks outside
during his years on Ceres, and the Star Helix equipment had been old back then: thick corrugated
joints, separable air-supply unit, gloves that left his hands thirty degrees colder than the rest of his
body. The Rocinante’s suits were military and recent, no bulkier than standard riot gear, with
integratedlifesupportthatcouldprobablykeepfingerswarmafterahandgotshotoff.Millerfloated,
one hand on a strap in the airlock, and flexed his fingers, watching the sharkskin pattern of the
knucklejoints.
Itdidn’tfeellikeenough.
“Allright,Alex,”Holdensaid.“We’reinplace.HavetheRociknockforus.”
A deep, rumbling vibration shook them. Naomi put a hand against the airlock’s curved wall to
steadyherself.Amosshiftedforwardtotakepoint,areactionlessautomaticrifleinhishands.When
hebenthisneck,Millercouldhearthevertebraecrackingthroughhisradio.Itwastheonlywayhe
couldhaveheardit;theywerealreadyinvacuum.
“Okay,Captain,”Alexsaid.“I’vegotaseal.Thestandardsecurityoverrideisn’tworking,sogive
measecond…to…”
“Problem?”Holdensaid.
“Gotit.I’vegotit.Wehaveaconnection,”Alexsaid.Then,amomentlater:“Ah.Itdoesn’tlook
likethere’smuchtobreatheoverthere.”
“Anything?”Holdenasked.
“Nope.Hardvacuum,”Alexsaid.“Bothherlockdoorsareopen.”
“Allright,folks,”Holdensaid,“keepaneyeonyourairsupply.Let’sgo.”
Miller took a long breath. The external airlock went from soft red to soft green. Holden slid it
open,andAmoslaunchedforward,thecaptainjustbehindhim.MillergesturedtoNaomiwithanod.
Ladiesfirst.
Theconnectinggantrywasreinforced,readytodeflectenemylasersorslowdownslugs.Amos
landed on the other ship as the hatch to the Rocinante closed behind them. Miller had a moment’s
vertigo,theshipbeforethemsuddenlyclickingfromaheadtodowninhisperception,asiftheywere
fallingintosomething.
“Youallright?”Naomiasked.
Millernodded,andAmospassedintotheothership’shatch.Onebyone,theywentin.
The ship was dead. The lights coming off their environment suits played over the soft, almost
streamlinedcurvesofthebulkheads,thecushionedwalls,thegraysuitlockers.Onelockerwasbent
outofshape,likesomeoneorsomethinghadforceditswayoutfromwithin.Amospushedoffslow.
Undernormalcircumstances,hardvacuumwouldhavebeenassuranceenoughthatnothingwasabout
tojumpoutatthem.Rightnow,Millerfigureditwasonlyevenmoney.
“Wholeplaceisshutdown,”Holdensaid.
“Mightbebackupsintheengineroom,”Amossaid.
“Sotheassendoftheshipfromhere,”Holdensaid.
“Prettymuch.”
“Let’sbecareful,”Holdensaid.
“I’mheadinguptoops,”Naomisaid.“Ifthere’sanythingrunningoffbattery,Ican—”
“No,youaren’t,”Holdensaid.“Wearen’tsplittingupthegroupuntilweknowwhatwe’relooking
at.Staytogether.”
Amosmoveddown,sinkingintothedarkness.Holdenpushedoffafterhim.Millerfollowed.He
couldn’ttellfromNaomi’sbodylanguagewhethershewasannoyedorrelieved.
Thegalleywasempty,butsignsofstruggleshowedhereandthere.Achairwithabentleg.Along,
jaggedscratchdownthewallwheresomethingsharphadflakedthepaint.Twobulletholessethigh
alongonebulkheadwhereashothadgonewide.Millerputahandout,grabbedoneofthetables,and
swungslowly.
“Miller?”Holdensaid.“Areyoucoming?”
“Lookatthis,”Millersaid.
Thedarkspillwasthecolorofamber,flakyandshininglikeglassinhisflashlightbeam.Holden
hoveredcloser.
“Zombievomit?”Holdensaid.
“Thinkso.”
“Well.Iguesswe’reontherightship.Forsomevalueofright.”
The crew quarters hung silent and empty. They went through each of them, but there were no
personalmarkings—noterminals,nopictures,nocluestothenamesofthemenandwomenwhohad
livedandbreathedandpresumablydiedontheship.Eventhecaptain’scabinwasindicatedonlybya
slightlylargerbunkandthefaceofalockedsafe.
There was a massive central compartment as high and wide as the hull of the Rocinante, the
darkness dominated by twelve huge cylinders encrusted with narrow catwalks and scaffolds. Miller
sawNaomi’sexpressionharden.
“Whatarethey?”Millerasked.
“Torpedotubes,”shesaid.
“Torpedotubes?”hesaid.“JesusChrist,howmanyaretheypacking?Amillion?”
“Twelve,”shesaid.“Justtwelve.”
“Capital-ship busters,” Amos said. “Built to pretty much kill whatever you’re aiming at with the
firstshot.”
“SomethingliketheDonnager?”Millerasked.
Holdenlookedbackathim,theglowofhisheads-updisplaylightinghisfeatures.
“OrtheCanterbury,”hesaid.
Thefourofthempassedbetweenthewideblacktubesinsilence.
In the machine and fabrication shops, the signs of violence were more pronounced. There was
blood on the floor and walls, along with wide swaths of the glassy gold resin that had once been
vomit.Auniformlayinaball.Theclothhadbeenwaddedandsoakedinsomethingbeforethecoldof
space had frozen it. Habits formed from years of walking through crime scenes put a dozen small
thingsinplace:thepatternofscratchesonthefloorandliftdoors,thespatterofbloodandvomit,the
footprints.Theyalltoldthestory.
“They’reinengineering,”Millersaid.
“Who?”Holdensaid.
“Thecrew.Whoeverwasontheship.Allexceptthatone,”hesaid,gesturingathalfafootprintthat
ledtowardthelift.“Youseehowherfootprintsareoverthetopofeverythingelse.Andthere,where
shesteppedinthatblood,itwasalreadydry.Flakedinsteadofsmearing.”
“Howyouknowitwasagirl?”Holdenasked.
“BecauseitwasJulie,”Millersaid.
“Well,whoever ’sinthere,they’vebeensuckingvacuumforalongtime,”Amossaid.“Wanttogo
see?”
No one said yes, but they all floated forward. The hatch stood open. If the darkness beyond it
seemed more solid, more ominous, more personal than the rest of the dead ship had, it was only
Miller ’s imagination playing tricks. He hesitated, trying to summon up the image of Julie, but she
wouldn’tcome.
Floatingintotheengineeringdeckwaslikeswimmingintoacave.Millersawtheotherflashlights
playingoverwallsandpanels,lookingforlivecontrols,orelsecontrolsthatcouldcomealive.He
aimedhisownbeamintothebodyoftheroom,thedarkswallowingit.
“Wegotbatteries,Cap’n,”Amossaid.“And…lookslikethereactorgotshutdown.Intentional.”
“Thinkyoucangetitbackup?”
“Wanttorunsomediagnostics,”Amossaid.“Therecouldbeareasontheyshutitoff,andIdon’t
wanttofindoutthehardway.”
“Goodpoint.”
“ButIcanatleastgetus…some…comeon,youbastard.”
All around the deck, blue-white lights flared up. The sudden brilliance blinded Miller for a half
second. His vision returned with a sense of growing confusion. Naomi gasped, and Holden yelped.
SomethinginthebackofMiller ’sownmindstartedtoshriek,andheforceditintosilence.Itwasjust
acrimescene.Theywereonlybodies.
Excepttheyweren’t.
Thereactorstoodbeforehim,quiescentanddead.Allaroundit,alayerofhumanflesh.Hecould
pick out arms, hands with fingers splayed so wide they hurt to look at. The long snake of a spine
curved,ribsfanningoutlikethelegsofsomeperverseinsect.Hetriedtomakewhathewasseeing
make sense. He’d seen men eviscerated before. He knew that the long, ropy swirl to the left of the
thingwereintestines.Hecouldseewherethesmallbowelwidenedtobecomeacolon.Thefamiliar
shapeofaskulllookedoutathim.
But then, among the familiar anatomy of death and dismemberment, there were other things:
nautilusspirals,wideswathsofsoftblackfilament,apaleexpanseofsomethingthatmighthavebeen
skincutbyadozengill-likevents,ahalf-formedlimbthatlookedequallylikeaninsectandafetus
without being either one. The frozen, dead flesh surrounded the reactor like the skin of an orange.
Thecrewofthestealthship.MaybeoftheScopuliaswell.
AllbutJulie.
“Yeah,”Amossaid.“ThiscouldtakealittlelongerthanIwasthinking,Cap.”
“It’sokay,”Holdensaid.Hisvoiceontheradiosoundedshaky.“Youdon’thaveto.”
“It’snotrouble.Aslongasnoneofthatfreakyshitbrokethecontainment,reactorshouldbootup
justfine.”
“Youdon’tmindbeingaround…it?”Holdensaid.
“Honest,Cap’n,I’mnotthinkingaboutit.Givemetwentyminutes,I’lltellyouifwegotpoweror
ifwehavetopatchalineoverfromtheRoci.”
“Okay,”Holdensaid.Andthenagain,hisvoicemoresolid:“Okay,butdon’ttouchanyofthat.”
“Wasn’tgoingto,”Amossaid.
Theyfloatedbackoutthroughthehatch,HoldenandNaomiandMillercominglast.
“Isthat…”Naomisaid,thencoughedandstartedagain.“Isthatwhat’shappeningonEros?”
“Probably,”Millersaid.
“Amos,”Holdensaid.“Doyouhaveenoughbatterypowertolightupthecomputers?”
Therewasapause.Millertookadeepbreath,theplastic-and-ozonescentofthesuit’sairsystem
fillinghisnose.
“Ithinkso,”Amossaiddubiously.“Butifwecangetthereactorupfirst…”
“Bringupthecomputers.”
“You’rethecaptain,Cap’n,”Amossaid.“Haveittoyouinfive.”
Insilence,theyfloatedup—back—totheairlock,andpastittotheoperationsdeck.Millerhung
back,watchingthewayHolden’strajectorykepthimnearNaomiandthenawayfromher.
Protectiveandhead-shyboth,Millerthought.Badcombination.
Juliewaswaitingintheairlock.Notatfirst,ofcourse.Millerslidbackintothespace,hismind
churningthrougheverythinghe’dseen,justlikeitwasacase.Anormalcase.Hisgazedriftedtoward
thebrokenlocker.Therewasnosuitinit.Foramoment,hewasbackonEros,intheapartmentwhere
Juliehaddied.Therehadbeenanenvironmentsuitthere.AndthenJuliewastherewithhim,pushing
herwayoutofthelocker.
Whatwereyoudoingthere?hethought.
“Nobrig,”hesaid.
“What?”Holdensaid.
“Ijustnoticed,”Millersaid.“Ship’sgotnobrig.Theyaren’tbuilttocarryprisoners.”
Holdenmadealowagreeinggrunt.
“MakesyouwonderwhattheywereplanningtodowiththecrewoftheScopuli,”Naomisaid.The
toneofhervoicemeantshedidn’twonderatall.
“Idon’tthinktheywere,”Millersaidslowly.“Thiswholething…theywereimprovising.”
“Improvising?”Naomisaid.
“Ship was carrying an infectious something or other without enough containment to contain it.
Takingonprisonerswithoutabrigtohold’emin.Theyweremakingthisupastheywentalong.”
“Or they had to hurry,” Holden said. “Something happened that made them hurry. But what they
didonErosmusthavetakenmonthstoarrange.Maybeyears.Somaybesomethinghappenedatthe
lastminute?”
“Beinterestingtoknowwhat,”Millersaid.
Compared to the rest of the ship, the ops deck looked peaceful. Normal. The computers had
finishedtheirdiagnostics,screensglowingplacidly.Naomiwenttoone,holdingthebackofthechair
withonehandsothegentletouchofherfingersagainstthescreenwouldn’tpushherbackward.
“I’lldowhatIcanhere,”shesaid.“Youcancheckthebridge.”
Therewasapausethatcarriedweight.
“I’llbefine,”Naomisaid.
“Allright.Iknowyou’ll…I…C’mon,Miller.”
Miller let the captain float ahead into the bridge. The screens there were spooling through
diagnostics so standard Miller recognized them. It was a wider space than he’d imagined, with five
stationswithcrashcouchescustomizedforotherpeople’sbodies.Holdenstrappedinatone.Miller
tookaslowturnaroundthedeck.Nothingseemedoutofplacehere—noblood,nobrokenchairsor
tornpadding.Whenithappened,thefighthadbeendownnearthereactor.Hewasn’tsureyetwhatthat
meant. He sat at what, under a standard layout, would have been the security station, and opened a
privatechanneltoHolden.
“Anythingyou’relookingforinparticular?”
“Briefings.Overviews,”Holdensaidshortly.“Whatever ’suseful.You?”
“SeeifIcangetintotheinternalmonitors.”
“Hopingtofind…?”
“WhatJuliefound,”Millersaid.
The security assumed that anyone sitting at the console had access to the low-level feeds. It still
tookhalfanhourtoparsethecommandstructureandqueryinterface.OnceMillerhadthatdown,it
wasn’thard.ThetimestampontheloglistedthefeedasthedaytheScopulihadgonemissing.The
securitycameraintheairlockbayshowedthecrew—Belters,mostofthem—beingescortedin.Their
captors were in armor, with faceplates lowered. Miller wondered if they’d meant to keep their
identities secret. That would almost have suggested they were planning to keep the crew alive. Or
maybetheywerejustwaryofsomelast-minuteresistance.ThecrewoftheScopuliweren’twearing
environmentsuitsorarmor.Acoupleofthemweren’tevenwearinguniforms.
ButJuliewas.
It was strange, watching her move. With a sense of dislocation, Miller realized that he’d never
actuallyseenherinmotion.Allthepictureshe’dhadinhisfilebackonCereshadbeenstills.Now
hereshewas,floatingwithherchosencompatriots,herhairbackoutofhereyes,herjawclamped.
Shelookedverysmallsurroundedbyhercrewandthemeninarmor.Thelittlerichgirlwho’dturned
herbackonwealthandstatustobewiththedowntroddenBelt.Thegirlwho’dtoldhermothertosell
the Razorback—the ship she’d loved—rather than give in to emotional blackmail. In motion, she
looked a little different from the imaginary version he’d built of her—the way she pulled her
shouldersback,thehabitofreachinghertoestowardtheflooreveninnullg—butthebasicimage
was the same. He felt like he was filling in blanks with the new details rather than reimagining the
woman.
The guards said something—the security feed’s audio was playing to vacuum—and the Scopuli
crewlookedaghast.Then,hesitantly,thecaptainstartedtakinghisuniformoff.Theywerestripping
theprisoners.Millershookhishead.
“Badplan.”
“What?”Holdensaid.
“Nothing.Sorry.”
Julie wasn’t moving. One of the guards moved toward her, his legs braced on the wall. Julie,
who’d lived through being raped, maybe, or something as bad. Who’d studied jiu jitsu to feel safe
afterward.Maybetheythoughtshewasjustbeingmodest.Maybetheywereafraidshewashidinga
weaponunderherclothes.Eitherway,theytriedtoforcethepoint.Oneoftheguardspushedher,and
shelatchedontohisarmlikeherlifedependedonit.Millerwincedwhenhesawtheman’selbow
bendthewrongway,buthealsosmiled.
That’smygirl,hethought.Give’emhell.
And she did. For almost forty seconds, the airlock bay was a battleground. Even some of the
cowed Scopuli crew tried to join in. But then Julie didn’t see a thick-shouldered man launch from
behindher.MillerfeltitwhenthegauntletedhandhammeredJulie’stemple.Shewasn’tout,butshe
wasgroggy.Themenwithgunsstrippedherwithacoldefficiency,andwhentherewerenoweapons
orcommdevices,theyhandedherajumpsuitandshovedherinalocker.Theothers,theyleddown
intotheship.Millermatchedtimestampsandswitchedfeeds.
Theprisonersweretakentothegalley,thenboundtothetables.Oneoftheguardsspentaminute
orsotalking,butwithhisfaceplatedown,theonlycluesMillerhadtothecontentofthesermonwere
the reactions of the crew—wide-eyed disbelief, confusion, outrage, and fear. The guard could have
beensayinganything.
Miller started skipping. A few hours, then a few more. The ship was under thrust, the prisoners
actuallysittingatthetablesinsteadoffloatingnearthem.Heflippedtootherpartsoftheship.Julie’s
lockerwasstillclosed.Ifhehadn’tknownbetter,he’dhaveassumedshewasdead.
Heskippedahead.
Onehundredandthirty-twohourslater,thecrewoftheScopuligrewapair.Millersawitintheir
bodiesevenbeforetheviolencestarted.He’dseenholdingcellsriseupbefore,andtheprisonershad
thesamesullen-but-excitedlook.Thefeedshowedthestretchofwallwherehe’dseenthebulletholes.
Theyweren’tthereyet.Theywouldbe.Amancameintothepicturewithatrayoffoodrations.
Hereitcomes,Millerthought.
Thefightwasshortandbrutal.Theprisonersdidn’tstandachance.Millerwatchedastheyhauled
one of them—a sandy-haired man—to the airlock and spaced him. The others were put in heavy
restraints.Somewept.Somescreamed.Millerskippedahead.
Ithadtobeintheresomeplace.Themomentwhenit—whateveritwas—gotloose.Buteitherithad
happenedinsomeunmonitoredcrewquartersorithadbeentherefromthebeginning.Almostexactly
onehundredandsixtyhoursafterJuliehadgoneintothelocker,amaninawhitejumper,eyesglassy
andstanceunsure,lurchedoutofthecrewquartersandvomitedononeoftheguards.
“Fuck!”Amosshouted.
Millerwasoutofhischairbeforeheknewwhathadhappened.Holdenwasuptoo.
“Amos?”Holdensaid.“Talktome.”
“Holdon,”Amossaid.“Yeah,it’sokay,Cap’n.It’sjustthesefuckersstrippedoffabunchofthe
reactorshielding.We’vegotherup,butIsuckeddownafewmoreradsthanI’dhavepicked.”
“Get back to the Roci,” Holden said. Miller steadied himself against a wall, pushing back down
towardthecontrolstations.
“Nooffense,sir,butitain’tlikeI’mabouttostartpissingbloodoranythingfunlikethat,”Amos
said.“Igotsurprisedmorethananything.Istartfeelingitchy,I’llheadbackover,butIcangetsome
atmosphereforusbyworkingoutofthemachineshopifyougivemeafewmoreminutes.”
MillerwatchedHolden’sfaceasthemanstruggled.Hecouldmakeitanorder;hecouldleaveit
be.
“Okay,Amos.Butyoustartgettinglight-headedoranything—Imeananything—andyougetover
tothesickbay.”
“Aye,aye,”Amossaid.
“Alex, keep an eye on Amos’ biomed feed from over there. Give us a heads-up if you see a
problem,”Holdensaidonthegeneralchannel.
“Roger,”cameAlex’slazydrawl.
“Youfindinganything?”HoldenaskedMillerontheirprivatechannel.
“Nothingunexpected,”Millersaid.“You?”
“Yeah,actually.Takealook.”
MillerpushedhimselftothescreenHoldenhadbeenworking.Holdenpulledhimselfbackintothe
stationandstartedpullingupfeeds.
“Iwasthinkingthatsomeonehadtogolast,”Holdensaid.“Imean,therehadtobesomeonewho
wastheleastsickwhenwhateveritwasgotloose.SoIwentthroughthedirectorytoseewhatactivity
wasgoingonbeforethesystemwentdead.”
“And?”
“There’s a whole bunch of activity that looks like it happened a couple days before the system
shutdown, and then nothing for two solid days. And then a little spike. A lot of accessed files and
systemdiagnostics.Thensomeonehackedtheoverridecodestoblowatmosphere.”
“ItwasJulie,then.”
“That’swhatIwasthinking,”Holdensaid.“Butoneofthefeedssheaccessedwas…Shit,whereis
it?Itwasright…Oh.Here.Watchthis.”
Thescreenblinked,controlsdroppingtostandby,andahigh-resemblem,greenandgold,came
up.ThecorporatelogoofProtogen,withasloganMillerhadn’tseenbefore.First.Fastest.Furthest.
“What’sthetimestamponthefile?”Millerasked.
“Theoriginalwascreatedabouttwoyearsago,”Holdensaid.“Thiscopywasburnedeightmonths
ago.”
Theemblemfaded,andapleasant-facedmansittingatadesktookitsplace.Hehaddarkhair,with
justascatteringofgrayatthetemples,andlipsthatseemedusedtosmiling.Henoddedatthecamera.
Thesmiledidn’treachhiseyes,whichwereasemptyasashark’s.
Sociopath,Millerthought.
Theman’slipsbeganmovingsoundlessly.Holdensaid,“Shit,”andhitaswitchtohavetheaudio
transmittedtotheirsuits.Herewoundthevideofeedandstarteditover.
“Mr.Dresden,”themansaid.“Iwouldliketothankyouandthemembersoftheboardfortaking
thetimetoreviewthisinformation.Yoursupport,bothfinancialandotherwise,hasbeenabsolutely
essentialtotheincrediblediscoverieswe’veseenonthisproject.Whilemyteamhasbeenpointman,
as it were, Protogen’s tireless commitment to the advancement of science has made our work
possible.
“Gentlemen, I will be frank. The Phoebe protomolecule has exceeded all our expectations. I
believeitrepresentsagenuinelygame-changingtechnologicalbreakthrough.Iknowthatthesekinds
of corporate presentations are prone to hyperbole. Please understand that I have thought about this
carefullyandchosenmywords:Protogencanbecomethemostimportantandpowerfulentityinthe
historyofthehumanrace.Butitwillrequireinitiative,ambition,andboldaction.”
“He’stalkingaboutkillingpeople,”Millersaid.
“You’veseenthisalready?”Holdensaid.
Millershookhishead.Thefeedchanged.Themanfadedout,andananimationtookhisplace.A
graphicrepresentationofthesolarsystem.Orbitsmarkedinwideswathsofcolorshowedtheplane
oftheecliptic.Thevirtualcameraswirledoutfromtheinnerplanets,whereMr.Dresdenandboard
memberspresumablywere,andouttowardthegasgiants.
“For those of you on the board unfamiliar with the project, eight years ago, the first manned
landingwasmadeonPhoebe,”thesociopathsaid.
The animation zoomed in toward Saturn, rings and planet flying past in a triumph of graphic
designoveraccuracy.
“Asmallicemoon,theassumptionwasthatPhoebewouldeventuallybeminedforwater,much
liketheringsthemselves.TheMartiangovernmentcommissionedascientificsurveymoreoutofa
sense of bureaucratic completeness than from expectation of economic gain. Core samples were
taken, and when silicate anomalies raised flags, Protogen was approached as cosponsor of a longtermresearchfacility.”
Themoonitself—Phoebe—filledtheframe,turningslowlytoshowallsideslikeaprostituteata
cheap brothel. It was a crater-marked lump, indistinguishable from a thousand other asteroids and
planetesimalsMillerhadseen.
“GivenPhoebe’sextra-eclipticalorbit,”thesociopathwenton,“onetheoryhasbeenthatitwasa
body that originated in the Kuiper belt and had been captured by Saturn when it happened to pass
through the solar system. The existence of complex silicon structures within the interior ice, along
withsuggestionsofimpact-resistantstructureswithinthearchitectureofthebodyitself,haveforced
ustoreevaluatethis.
“Using analyses proprietary to Protogen and not yet shared with the Martian team, we have
determined beyond any credible doubt that what you are seeing now is not a naturally formed
planetesimal,butaweapon.Specifically,aweapondesignedtocarryitspayloadthroughthedepthsof
interplanetary space and deliver it safely onto Earth two and one third billion years ago, when life
itselfwasinitsearlieststages.Andthepayload,gentlemen,isthis.”
ThedisplayclickedtoagraphicthatMillercouldn’tquiteparse.Itlookedlikethemedicaltextofa
virus,butwithwide,loopingstructuresthatwereatoncebeautifulandimprobable.
“Theprotomoleculefirstcaughtourinterestforitsabilitytomaintainitsprimarystructureina
wide variety of conditions through secondary and tertiary changes. It also showed an affinity for
carbonandsiliconstructures.Itsactivitysuggesteditwasnotinitselfalivingthing,butasetoffreefloating instructions designed to adapt to and guide other replicating systems. Animal experiments
suggestthatitseffectsarenotexclusivetosimplereplicators,butare,infact,scalable.”
“Animaltests,”Millersaid.“What,theydumpeditonacat?”
“Theinitialimplicationofthis,”thesociopathwenton,“isthatalargerbiosphereexists,ofwhich
our solar system is only a part, and that the protomolecule is an artifact of that environment. That
alone, I think you must agree, would revolutionize human understanding of the universe. Let me
assureyou,it’ssmallbeer.IfaccidentsoforbitalmechanicshadnotcapturedPhoebe,lifeasweknow
itwouldnotpresentlyexist.Butsomethingelsewould.TheearliestcellularlifeonEarthwouldhave
beenhijacked.Reprogrammedalonglinescontainedwithinthestructureoftheprotomolecule.”
Thesociopathreappeared.Forthefirsttime,smilelinesappearedaroundhiseyes,likeaparody
of themselves. Miller felt a visceral hatred growing in his gut and knew himself well enough to
recognizeitforwhatitwas.Fear.
“Protogen is in a position to take sole possession of not only the first technology of genuinely
extraterrestrialorigin,butalsoaprefabricatedmechanismforthemanipulationoflivingsystemsand
the first clues as to the nature of the larger—I will call it galactic—biosphere. Directed by human
hands,theapplicationsofthisarelimitless.Ibelievethattheopportunitynowfacingnotonlyusbut
life itself is as profound and transformative as anything that has ever happened. And, further, the
controlofthistechnologywillrepresentthebaseofallpoliticalandeconomicpowerfromnowon.
“I urge you to consider the technical details I have outlined in the attached. Moving quickly to
understand the programming, mechanism, and intent of the protomolecule, as well as its direct
application to human beings, will mark the difference between a Protogen-led future and being left
behind.Iurgeimmediateanddecisiveactiontotakeexclusivecontroloftheprotomoleculeandmove
forwardwithlarge-scaletesting.
“Thankyouforyourtimeandattention.”
Thesociopathsmiledagain,andthecorporatelogoreappeared.First.Fastest.Furthest. Miller ’s
heartwasracing.
“Okay.Allright,”hesaid.Andthen:“Fuckme.”
“Protogen, protomolecule,” Holden said. “They had no idea what it does, but they slapped their
labelonitlikethey’dmadeit.Theyfoundanalienweapon,andalltheycouldthinktodowasbrand
it.”
“There’sreasontothinktheseboysareprettyimpressedwiththemselves,”Millerrepliedwitha
nod.
“Now, I’m not a scientist or anything,” Holden said, “but it seems to me like taking an alien
supervirusanddroppingitintoaspacestationwouldbeabadidea.”
“It’sbeentwoyears,”Millersaid.“They’vebeendoingtests.They’vebeen…Idon’tknowwhat
thehellthey’vebeendoing.ButErosiswhattheydecidedon.Andeveryoneknowswhathappenedon
Eros.Theothersidedidit.Noresearchandrecoveryshipsbecausethey’reallfightingeachotheror
guardingsomething.Thewar?It’sadistraction.”
“AndProtogenisdoing…what?”
“Seeingwhattheirtoydoeswhenyoutakeitoutforaspinismyguess,”Millersaid.
Theyweresilentforalongmoment.Holdenspokefirst.
“So you take a company that seems to be lacking an institutional conscience, that has enough
governmentresearchcontractstoalmostbeaprivatelyrunbranchofthemilitary.Howfarwillthey
gofortheholygrail?”
“First,fastest,furthest,”Millerreplied.
“Yeah.”
“Guys,”Naomisaid,“youshouldcomedownhere.IthinkI’vegotsomething.”
ChapterThirty-Five:Holden
I’vefoundthecommlogs,”NaomisaidasHoldenandMillerdriftedintotheroombehindher.
Holdenputahandonhershoulder,pulleditback,andhatedthathe’dpulledback.Aweekearlier
she’dhavebeenfinewithasimplegestureofaffectionlikethat,andhewouldn’thavebeenafraidof
her reaction. He regretted the new distance between them only slightly less than he would have
regrettednotsayinganythingatall.Hewantedtotellherthat.
Instead,hesaid,“Findanythinggood?”
Shetappedthescreenandpulledupthelog.
“They were hard-core about comm discipline,” she said, pointing at the long list of dates and
times.“Nothingeverwentoutonradio,everythingwastightbeam.Andeverythingwasdoublespeak,
lotsofobviouscodephrases.”
Miller ’smouthmovedinsidehishelmet.Holdentappedonhisfaceshield.Millerrolledhiseyes
indisgustandthenchinnedthecommlinktothegeneralchannel.
“Sorry.Don’tspendalotoftimeinsuits,”hesaid.“What’vewegotthat’sgood?”
“Notmuch.ButthelastcommunicationwasinplainEnglish,”shesaid,thentappedthelastlineon
thelist.
THOTHSTATION
CREW DEGENERATING. PROJECTING 100% CASUALTIES. MATERIALS SECURED. STABILIZING COURSE AND
SPEED.VECTORDATATOFOLLOW.EXTREMECONTAMINATIONHAZARDFORENTRYTEAMS.
CPT.HIGGINS
Holdenreaditseveraltimes,imaginingCaptainHigginswatchingtheinfectionspreadthroughhis
crew, helpless to stop it. His people vomiting all over in a vacuum-sealed metal box, even one
molecule of the substance on your skin a virtual death sentence. Black filament-covered tendrils
erupting from their eyes and mouths. And then that… soup that covered the reactor. He let himself
shudder,gratefulthatMillerwouldn’tseeitthroughtheatmospheresuit.
“SothisHigginsfellarealizeshiscrewisturningintovomitzombiesandsendsalastmessageto
hisbosses,right?”Millersaid,breakingintoHolden’sreverie.“What’sthisstuffaboutvectordata?”
“He knew they’d all be dead, so he was letting his people know how to catch the ship,” Holden
replied.
“Buttheydidn’t,becauseit’shere,becauseJulietookcontrolandflewitsomewhereelse,”Miller
said.“Whichmeansthey’relookingforit,right?”
Holden ignored that and put his hand back on Naomi’s shoulder with what he hoped was
companionablecasualness.
“We have tight beam messages and the vector info,” he said. “Are they all going to the same
place?”
“Sortof,”shesaid,noddingwithherrighthand.“Notthesameplace,butalltowhatappeartobe
pointsintheBelt.Butbasedonthechangesindirectionandthetimestheyweresent,toonepointin
theBeltthatismovingaround,andnotinastableorbiteither.”
“Aship,then?”
Naomigaveanothernod.
“Probably,”shesaid.“I’vebeenplayingwiththelocations,andIcan’tfindanythingintheregistry
thatlookslikely.Nostationsorinhabitedrocks.Ashipwouldmakesense.But—”
HoldenwaitedforNaomitofinish,butMillerleanedforwardimpatiently.
“Butwhat?”hesaid.
“Buthowdidtheyknowwhereitwouldbe?”shereplied.“Ihavenoincomingcommsinthelog.If
ashipwasmovingaroundrandomlyintheBelt,how’dtheyknowwheretosendthesemessages?”
Holden squeezed her shoulder, lightly enough that she probably didn’t even feel it in the heavy
environmentsuit,thenpushedoffandallowedhimselftodrifttowardtheceiling.
“Soit’snotrandom,”hesaid.“Theyhadsomesortofmapofwherethisthingwouldbeatthetime
theysentthelasercomms.Couldbeoneoftheirstealthships.”
Naomiturnedaroundinherchairtolookupathim.
“Couldbeastation,”shesaid.
“It’sthelab,”Millerbrokein.“They’rerunninganexperimentonEros,theyneedthewhitecoats
nearby.”
“Naomi,” Holden said. “ ‘Materials secured.’ There’s a safe in the captain’s quarters that’s still
lockeddown.Thinkyoucangetitopen?”
Naomigaveaone-handedshrug.
“Idon’tknow,”shesaid.“Maybe.Amoscouldprobablyblastitopenwithsomeoftheexplosives
wefoundinthatbigboxofweapons.”
Holdenlaughed.
“Well,”hesaid.“Sinceit’sprobablyfulloflittlevialsofnastyalienviruses,I’mgoingtonixthe
blastingoption.”
Naomishutdownthecommlogandpulledupageneralship’ssystemsmenu.
“Icanlookaroundandseeifthecomputerhasaccesstothesafe,”shesaid.“Trytoopenitthat
way.Itmighttakesometime.”
“Dowhatyoucan,”Holdensaid.“We’llgetoutofyourhair.”
Holdenpushedhimselfofftheceilingandovertotheopscompartmenthatch,thenpulledhimself
through, into the corridor beyond. A few moments later, Miller followed. The detective planted his
feetonthedeckwithmagneticboots,thenstaredatHolden,waiting.
Holdenfloateddowntothedecknexttohim.
“What do you think?” Holden asked. “Protogen being the whole thing? Or is this another one
whereitlookslikethem,soitisn’t?”
Millerwassilentforthespaceoftwolongbreaths.
“Thisonesmellsliketherealthing,”Millersaid.Hesoundedalmostgrudging.
Amospulledhimselfupthecrewladderfrombelow,draggingalargemetalcasebehindhim.
“Hey,Cap’n,”hesaid.“Ifoundawholecaseoffuelpelletsforthereactorinthemachineshop.
We’llprobablywanttotakethesewithus.”
“Goodwork,”Holdensaid,holdinguponehandtoletMillerknowtowait.“Goaheadandtake
thoseacross.Also,Ineedyoutoworkupaplanforscuttlingthisship.”
“Wait,what?”Amossaid.“Thisthingisworthajillionbucks,Captain.Stealthmissileship?The
OPA would sell their grandmothers for this thing. And six of those tubes still have fish in them.
Capital-shipbusters.Youcouldslagasmallmoonwiththose.Forgettheirgrannies,theOPAwould
pimptheirdaughtersforthatgear.Whythefuckwouldweblowitup?”
Holdenstaredathimindisbelief.
“Didyouforgetwhat’sintheengineroom?”heasked.
“Hell,Cap,”Amossnorted.“Thatshitisallfrozen.CouplehourswithatorchandIcanchopitup
andchuckitouttheairlock.Goodtogo.”
The mental image of Amos hacking the melted bodies of the ship’s former crew apart with a
plasmatorchandthencheerfullyhurlingthechunksoutanairlocktippedHoldenovertheedgeinto
full-fledged nausea. The big mechanic’s ability just to ignore anything that he didn’t want to notice
probablycameinhandywhilehewascrawlingaroundintightandgreasyenginecompartments.His
ability to shrug off the horrible mutilation of several dozen people threatened to change Holden’s
disgustintoanger.
“Forgettingthemess,”hesaid,“andtheveryrealpossibilityofinfectionbywhatmadethatmess,
thereisalsothefactthatsomeoneisdesperatelysearchingforthisveryexpensiveandverystealthy
ship,andsofarAlexcan’tfindtheshipthat’slooking.”
HestoppedtalkingandnoddedatAmoswhilethemechanicmulledthatover.HecouldseeAmos’
broadfaceworkingasheputittogetherinhishead.Foundastealthship.Otherpeoplelookingfor
stealthship.Wecan’tseetheotherpeoplelookingforit.
Shit.
Amos’facewentpale.
“Right,” he said. “I’ll set the reactor up to slag her.” He looked down at the time on his suit’s
forearmdisplay.“Shit,we’vebeenheretoolong.Bettergettheleadout.”
“Betterhad,”Milleragreed.
Naomiwasgood.Verygood.Holdenhaddiscoveredthiswhenhe’dsignedonwiththeCanterbury,
and over the course of years, he’d added it to his list of facts, along with space is cold and the
directionofgravityisdown.Whensomethingstoppedworkingonthewaterhauler,he’dtellNaomito
fixit,andthenneverthinkofitagain.Sometimesshe’dclaimnottobeabletofixsomething,butit
was always a negotiating tactic. A short conversation would lead to a request for spare parts or an
additional crewman hired on at the next port, and that would be that. There was no problem that
involvedelectronicsorspaceshippartsshecouldn’tsolve.
“Ican’topenthesafe,”shesaid.
She floated next to the safe in the captain’s quarters, one foot resting lightly on his bunk to
stabilizeherselfasshegestured.Holdenstoodonthefloorwithhisbootmagson.Millerwasinthe
hatchwaytothecorridor.
“Whatwouldyouneed?”Holdenasked.
“Ifyouwon’tletmeblastitorcutit,Ican’topenit.”
Holdenshookhishead,butNaomieitherdidn’tseeitorignoredhim.
“Thesafeisdesignedtoopenwhenaveryspecificpatternofmagneticfieldsisplayedacrossthat
metalplateonthefront,”shesaid.“Someonehasakeydesignedtodothat,butthatkeyisn’tonthis
ship.”
“It’satthatstation,”Millersaid.“Hewouldn’tsenditthereiftheycouldn’topenit.”
Holdenstaredatthewallsafeforamoment,hisfingerstappingonthebulkheadbesideit.
“What’rethechancescuttingitsetsoffaboobytrap?”hesaid.
“Fuckingexcellent,Cap,”Amossaid.Hewaslisteninginfromthetorpedobayashehackedthe
smallfusionreactorthatpoweredoneofthesixremainingtorpedoestogocritical.Workingonthe
ship’smainreactorwastoodangerouswiththeshieldingstrippedoff.
“Naomi,Ireallywantthatsafeandtheresearchnotesandsamplesitcontains,”Holdensaid.
“Youdon’tknowthat’swhat’sinthere,”Millersaid,thenlaughed.“No,ofcoursethat’swhat’sin
there.Butitwon’thelpusifwegetblownupor,worse,ifsomepieceofgoo-coatedshrapnelmakesa
holeinournicesuits.”
“I’mtakingit,”Holdenreplied,thenpulledapieceofchalkfromhissuit’spocketanddrewaline
aroundthesafeonthebulkhead.“Naomi,cutasmallholeinthebulkheadandseeifthere’sanything
thatwouldstopusfromjustcuttingthewholedamnedthingoutandtakingitwithus.”
“We’dhavetotakeouthalfthewall.”
“Okay.”
Naomifrowned,thenshrugged,thensmiledandnoddedwithonehand.
“Allright,then,”shesaid.“ThinkingoftakingittoFred’speople?”
Miller laughed again, a dry humorless rasp that made Holden uneasy. The detective had been
watchingthevideoofJulieMao’sfightwithhercaptorsoverandoveragainwhilethey’dwaitedon
NaomiandAmostofinishtheirwork.ItgaveHoldenthedisquietingfeelingthatMillerwasstoring
thefootageinhishead.Fuelforsomethingheplannedtodolater.
“Marswouldgiveyouyourlivesbackinexchangeforthis,”Millersaid.“IhearMarsisniceif
you’rerich.”
“Fuckrich,”Amossaidwithagruntasheworkedonsomethingbelow.“They’dbuildstatuesof
us.”
“WehaveanagreementwithFredtolethimoutbidanyothercontractswetake,”Holdensaid.“Of
course,thisisn’treallyacontractperse…”
NaomismiledandwinkedatHolden.
“Sowhatisit,sir?”shesaid,hervoicefaintlymocking.“OPAheroes?Martianbillionaires?Start
yourownbiotechfirm?Whatarewedoinghere?”
Holden pushed away from the safe and kicked out toward the airlock and the cutting torch that
waitedtherewiththeirothertools.
“Idon’tknowyet,”hesaid.“Butitsurefeelsnicetohavechoicesagain.”
Amos pushed the button again. No new stars flared in the dark. The radiation and infrared sensors
remainedquiet.
“There’ssupposedtobeanexplosion,right?”Holdenasked.
“Fuck, yes,” Amos said, then pushed the button on the black box in his hand a third time. “This
isn’tanexactscienceoranything.Thosemissiledrivesareassimpleasitgets.Justareactorwithone
wallmissing.Can’texactlypredict…”
“Itisn’trocketscience,”Holdensaidwithalaugh.
“What?”Amosasked,readytobeangryifhewasbeingmocked.
“Youknow,‘itisn’trocketscience,’”Holdensaid.“Like‘itisn’thard.’You’rearocketscientist,
Amos.Forreal.Youworkonfusionreactorsandstarshipdrivesforaliving.Couplehundredyears
ago,peoplewouldhavebeenlininguptogiveyoutheirchildrenforwhatyouknow.”
“Whatthefu—”Amosstarted,butstoppedwhenanewsunflaredoutsidethecockpitwindow,then
fadedquickly.“See?Fuckingtoldyouitwouldwork.”
“Neverdoubtedit,”Holdensaid,thenslappedAmosononemeatyshoulderandheadedaftdown
thecrewladder.
“Whatthefuckwasthatabout?”AmosaskednooneinparticularasHoldendriftedaway.
Heheadedthroughtheopsdeck.Naomi’schairwasempty.He’dorderedhertogetsomesleep.
Strapped down to loops inset in the deck was the stealth ship’s safe. It looked bigger cut out of the
wall.Blackandimposinglysolid.Thekindofcontainerinwhichonekepttheendofthesolarsystem.
Holdenfloatedovertoitandquietlysaid,“Opensesame.”
The safe ignored him, but the deck hatch opened and Miller pulled himself up into the
compartment.Hisenvironmentsuithadbeentradedinforastale-smellingbluejumpsuitandhiseverpresenthat.TherewassomethingaboutthelookonhisfacethatmadeHoldenuncomfortable.Even
moresothanthedetectiveusuallymadehim.
“Hey,”Holdensaid.
Millerjustnoddedandpulledhimselfovertooneoftheworkstations,thenbuckledintooneof
thechairs.
“Wedecidedonadestinationyet?”heasked.
“No. I’m having Alex run the numbers on a couple of possibilities, but I haven’t made up my
mind.”
“Beenwatchingthenewsatall?”thedetectiveasked.
Holden shook his head, then moved over to a chair on the other side of the compartment.
SomethinginMiller ’sfacewaschillinghisblood.
“No,”hesaid.“Whathappened?”
“Youdon’thedge,Holden.Iadmirethataboutyou,Iguess.”
“Justtellme,”Holdensaid.
“No,Imeanit.Alotofpeopleclaimtobelieveinthings.‘Familyismostimportant,’butthey’ll
screwafifty-dollarhookeronpayday.‘Countryfirst,’buttheycheatontheirtaxes.Notyou,though.
Yousayeveryoneshouldknoweverything,andbyGod,youputyourmoneywhereyourmouthis.”
Millerwaitedforhimtosaysomething,butHoldendidn’tknowwhat.Thisspeechhadthefeelof
somethingthedetectivehadpreparedaheadoftime.Mightaswelllethimfinishit.
“SoMarsfindsoutthatmaybeEarth’sbeenbuildingshipsontheside,oneswithnoflagonthem.
SomeofthemmighthavekilledaMartianflagship.IbetMarscallsuptocheck.Imean,it’stheEarthMarsCoalitionNavy,onebighappyhegemony.Beenpolicingthesolarsystemtogetherforalmosta
hundred years. Commanding officers are practically sleeping together. So it must be a mistake,
right?”
“Okay,”Holdensaid,waiting.
“SoMarscalls,”Millersaid.“Imean,Idon’tknowforsure,butIbetthat’showitstarts.Acall
fromsomebigwigonMarstosomebigwigonEarth.”
“Seemsreasonable,”Holdensaid.
“Whatd’youthinkEarthsaysback?”
“Idon’tknow.”
Millerreachedoverandflippedononeofthescreens,thenpulledupafilewithhisnameonit,
date stamped from less than an hour before. A recording of video from a Martian news source,
showingthenightskythroughaMartiandome.Streaksandflashesfillthesky.Thetickeracrossthe
bottomofthefeedsaysthatEarthshipsinorbitaroundMarssuddenlyandwithoutwarningfiredon
theirMartiancounterparts.Thestreaksintheskyaremissiles.Theflashesareshipsdying.
AndthenamassivewhiteflareturnstheMartiannightintodayforafewseconds,andthecrawl
saysthattheDeimosdeepradarstationhasbeendestroyed.
Holdensatandwatchedthevideodisplaytheendofthesolarsysteminvividcolorandwithexpert
commentary.Hekeptwaitingforthestreaksoflighttobegindescendingontheplanetitself,forthe
domestoflyapartinnuclearfire,butitseemedsomeonehadkeptsomemeasureofrestraint,andthe
battleremainedinthesky.
Itcouldn’tstaythatwayforever.
“You’retellingmethatIdidthis,”Holdensaid.“ThatifIhadn’tbroadcastthatdata,thoseships
wouldstillbealive.Thosepeople.”
“That,yeah.AndthatifthebadguyswantedtokeeppeoplefromwatchingEros,itjustworked.”
ChapterThirty-Six:Miller
T hewarstoriesflowedin.Millerwatchedthefeedsfiveatatime,subscreenscrowdingthefaceof
his terminal. Mars was shocked, amazed, reeling. The war between Mars and the Belt—the biggest,
most dangerous conflict in the history of mankind—was suddenly a sideshow. The reactions of the
talking heads of Earth security forces ran the gamut from calm, rational discussion of preemptive
defensetofoaming-at-the-mouthdenunciationsofMarsasapackofbaby-rapinganimals.Theattack
on Deimos had turned the moon into a slowly spreading ring of gravel in the moon’s old orbit, a
smudgeontheMartiansky,andwiththat,thegamehadchangedagain.
Miller watched for ten hours as the attack became the blockade. The Martian navy, spread
throughoutthesystem,wasturninghomeunderheavyburn.TheOPAfeedswerecallingitavictory,
andmaybesomeonethoughtthatwastrue.Thepicturescamethroughfromtheships,fromthesensor
arrays. Dead warships, their sides ripped open by high-energy explosions, spinning out into their
irregularorbitalgraves.MedicalbaysliketheRoci’sfilledwithboysandgirlshalfhisagebleeding,
burning, dying. Each cycle, new footage came in, new details of death and carnage. And each time
somenewclipappeared,hesatforward,handonhismouth,waitingforthewordtocome.Theone
eventthatwouldsignaltheendofitall.
Butithadn’tcomeyet,andeveryhourthatdidn’tbringitgaveanothersliverofhopethatmaybe,
maybeitwasn’tgoingtohappen.
“Hey,”Amossaid.“Yousleptatall?”
Miller looked up, his neck stiff. Red creases of his pillow still on his cheek and forehead, the
mechanicstoodintheopendoorwayofMiller ’scabin.
“What?”Millersaid.Then:“Yeah,no.I’vebeen…watching.”
“Anyonedroparock?”
“Notyet.It’sallstillorbitalorhigher.”
“Whatkindofhalf-assedapocalypsearetheyrunningdownthere?”Amossaid.
“Give’emabreak.It’stheirfirst.”
Themechanicshookhisbroadhead,butMillercouldseethereliefunderthefeigneddisgust.As
long as the domes were still standing on Mars, as long as the critical biosphere of Earth wasn’t in
directthreat,humanitywasn’tdead.MillerhadtowonderwhattheywerehopingforoutintheBelt,
whether they’d managed to talk themselves into believing that the rough ecological pockets of the
asteroidswouldsustainlifeindefinitely.
“Youwantabeer?”Amosasked.
“You’rehavingbeerforbreakfast?”
“Figureit’sdinnerforyou,”Amossaid.
The man was right. Miller needed sleep. He hadn’t managed more than a catnap since they’d
scuttled the stealth ship, and that had been plagued by strange dreams. He yawned at the thought of
yawning,butthetensioninhisgutsaidhewasmorelikelytospendthedaywatchingnewsfeedsthan
resting.
“It’sprobablybreakfastagain,”Millersaid.
“Wantsomebeerforbreakfast?”Amosasked.
“Sure.”
WalkingthroughtheRocinantefeltsurreal.Thequiethumoftheairrecyclers,thesoftnessofthe
air. The journey out to Julie’s ship was a haze of pain medication and sickness. The time on Eros
beforethatwasanightmarethatwouldn’tfade.Towalkthroughthespare,functionalcorridors,thrust
gravity holding him gently to the floor, with very little chance of anyone trying to kill him felt
suspicious.WhenheimaginedJuliewalkingwithhim,itwasn’tsobad.
Asheate,histerminalchimed,theautomaticreminderforanotherbloodflush.Hestood,adjusted
his hat, and headed off to let the needles and pressure injectors do their worst. The captain was
alreadythereandhookedintoastationwhenMillerarrived.
Holdenlookedlikehe’dslept,butnotwell.Thereweren’tthebruise-darkmarksunderhiseyes
that Miller had, but his shoulders were tense, his brow on the edge of furrowed. Miller wondered
whetherhe’dbeenalittletoohardontheguy.Itoldyousocouldbeanimportantmessage,butthe
burdenofinnocentdeath,ofthechaosofafailingcivilizationmightalsobetoomuchforonemanto
carry.
OrmaybehewasstillmooningoverNaomi.
Holdenraisedthehandthatwasn’tencasedinmedicalequipment.
“Morning,”Millersaid.
“Hey.”
“Decidedwherewe’regoingyet?”
“Notyet.”
“GettingharderandhardertogettoMars,”Millersaid,easinghimselfintothefamiliarembrace
ofthemedicalstation.“Ifthat’swhatyou’reaimingfor,you’dbetterdoitsoon.”
“Whilethere’sstillaMars,youmean?”
“Forinstance,”Milleragreed.
Theneedlessnakedoutongentlyarticulatedarmatures.Millerlookedattheceiling,tryingnotto
tenseupasthelinesforcedtheirwayintohisveins.Therewasamoment’sstinging,thenalow,dull
ache,andthennumbness.Thedisplayabovehimannouncedthestateofhisbodytodoctorswhowere
watchingyoungsoldiersdiemilesaboveOlympusMons.
“Do you think they’d stop?” Holden asked. “I mean, Earth has got to be doing this because
Protogen owns some generals or senators or something, right? It’s all because they want to be the
onlyoneswhohavethisthing.IfMarshasittoo,Protogendoesn’thaveareasontofight.”
Millerblinked.Beforehecouldpickhisanswer—They’dtrytoannihilateMarscompletely,orIt’s
gonetoofarforthat,orExactlyhownaiveareyou,Captain?—Holdenwenton.
“Screwit.We’vegotthedatafiles.I’mgoingtobroadcastthem.”
Miller ’sreplywasaseasyasreflex.
“No,youaren’t.”
Holdenproppedhimselfup,stormcloudsinhisexpression.
“Iappreciatethatyoumighthaveareasonabledifferenceofopinion,”hesaid,“butthisisstillmy
ship.You’reapassenger.”
“True,” Miller said. “But you have a hard time shooting people, and you are going to have to
shootmebeforeyousendthatthingout.”
“I’mwhat?”
The new blood flowed into Miller ’s system like a tickle of ice water crawling toward his heart.
Themedicalmonitorsshiftedtoanewpattern,countinguptheanomalouscellsastheyhititsfilters.
“You are going to have to shoot me,” Miller said, slowly this time. “Twice now you’ve had the
choiceofwhetherornottobreakthesolarsystem,andbothtimesyou’vescreweditup.Idon’twant
toseeyoustrikeout.”
“Ithinkyoumayhaveanexaggeratedideaofhowmuchinfluencethesecond-in-commandofa
long-distancewaterhauleractuallyhas.Yes,there’sawar.Andyes,Iwastherewhenitstartedup.But
theBelthashatedtheinnerplanetssincealongtimebeforetheCantwasattacked.”
“You’vegottheinnerplanetsdivideduptoo,”Millersaid.
Holdentiltedhishead.
“EarthhasalwayshatedMars,”Holdensaidlikehewasreportingthatwaterwaswet.“WhenIwas
inthenavy,weranprojectionsforthis.BattleplansifEarthandMarseverreallygotintoit.Earth
loses.Unlesstheyhitfirst,hithard,anddon’tletup,Earthjustplainloses.”
Maybe it was distance. Maybe it was a failure of imagination. Miller had never seen the inner
planetsasdivided.
“Seriously?”heasked.
“They’re the colony, but they have all the best toys and everyone knows it,” Holden said.
“Everythingthat’shappeningoutthererightnowhasbeenbuildingupforahundredyears.Ifithadn’t
beentheretostartwith,thiscouldn’thavehappened.”
“That’syourdefense?‘Notmypowderkeg;Ijustbroughtthematch’?”
“I’mnotmakingadefense,”Holdensaid.Hisbloodpressureandheartratewerespiking.
“We’vebeenthroughthis,”Millersaid.“Soletmejustask,whyisityouthinkthistimewillbe
different?”
TheneedlesinMiller ’sarmseemedtoheatupalmosttothepointofbeingpainful.Hewonderedif
thatwasnormal,ifeverybloodflushhehadwasgoingtofeelthesameway.
“Thistimeisdifferent,”Holdensaid.“Allthecrapthat’sgoingonoutthereiswhathappenswhen
youhaveimperfectinformation.MarsandtheBeltwouldn’thavebeengoingaftereachotherinthe
first place if they’d known what we know now. Earth and Mars wouldn’t be shooting each other if
everyoneknewthefightwasbeingengineered.Theproblemisn’tthatpeopleknowtoomuch,it’sthat
theydon’tknowenough.”
SomethinghissedandMillerfeltawaveofchemicalrelaxationswimthroughhim.Heresentedit,
buttherewasnocallingthedrugsback.
“Youcan’tjustthrowinformationatpeople,”Millersaid.“Youhavetoknowwhatitmeans.What
it’sgoingtodo.TherewasacasebackonCeres.Littlegirlgotkilled.Forthefirsteighteenhours,we
wereallsureDaddydidit.Hewasafelon.Adrunk.Hewasthelastonewhosawherbreathing.Allthe
classicsigns.Hournineteen,wegetatip.TurnedoutDaddyowedalotofmoneytooneofthelocal
syndicates.Allofasudden,thingsaremorecomplicated.Wehavemoresuspects.DoyouthinkifI’d
beenbroadcastingeverythingIknew,Daddywouldstillhavebeenalivewhenthetipcame?Orwould
someonehaveputitalltogetheranddonetheobviousthing?”
Miller ’s medical station chimed. Another new cancer. He ignored it. Holden’s cycle was just
finishing,therednessofhischeeksspeakingasmuchtothefresh,healthybloodinhisbodyastohis
emotionalstate.
“That’sthesameethostheyhave,”Holdensaid.
“Who?”
“Protogen. You may be on different sides, but you’re playing the same game. If everyone said
whattheyknew,noneofthiswouldhavehappened.IfthefirstlabtechonPhoebewhosawsomething
weird had gotten on his system and said, ‘Hey, everyone! Look, this is weird,’ none of this would
havehappened.”
“Yeah,”Millersaid,“becausetellingeveryonethere’sanalienvirusthatwantstokillthemallisa
greatwaytomaintaincalmandorder.”
“Miller,”Holdensaid.“Idon’tmeantopanicyou,butthere’sanalienvirus.Anditwantstokill
everyone.”
MillershookhisheadandsmiledlikeHoldenhadsaidsomethingfunny.“Solook,maybeIcan’t
pointagunatyouandmakeyoudotherightthing.Butlemmeaskyousomething.Okay?”
“Fine,”Holdensaid.Millerleanedback.Thedrugsweremakinghiseyelidsheavy.
“Whathappens?”Millersaid.
Therewasalongpause.Anotherchimefromthemedicalsystem.Anotherrushofcoldthrough
Miller ’sabusedveins.
“What happens?” Holden repeated. It occurred to Miller he could have been more specific. He
forcedhiseyesopenagain.
“Youbroadcasteverythingwe’vegot.Whathappens?”
“Thewarstops.PeoplegoafterProtogen.”
“There’ssomeholesinthat,butletitgo.Whathappensafterthat?”
Holdenwasquietforafewheartbeats.
“PeoplestartgoingafterthePhoebebug,”hesaid.
“Theystartexperimenting.Theystartfightingforit.Ifthatlittlebastard’sasvaluableasProtogen
thinks,youcan’tstopthewar.Allyoucandonowischangeit.”
Holdenfrowned,angrylinesatthecornersofhismouthandeyes.Millerwatchedalittlepieceof
theman’sidealismdieandwassorrythatitgavehimjoy.
“So what happens if we get to Mars?” Miller went on, his voice low. “We trade out the
protomoleculeformoremoneythananyofushaveeverseen.Ormaybetheyjustshootyou.Mars
just wins against Earth. And the Belt. Or you go to the OPA, who are the best hope the Belt has of
independence,andthey’reabunchofcrazyzealots,halfof’emthinkingwecanactuallysustainout
there without Earth. And trust me, they’ll probably shoot you too. Or you just tell everyone
everythingandpretendthathoweveritcomesdown,youkeptyourhandsclean.”
“There’sarightthingtodo,”Holdensaid.
“Youdon’thavearightthing,friend,”Millersaid.“You’vegotawholeplatefulofmaybealittle
lesswrong.”
Holden’s blood flush finished. The captain pulled the needles out of his arm and let the thin
metallictentaclesretract.Asherolleddownhissleeve,thefrownsoftened.
“Peoplehavearighttoknowwhat’sgoingon,”Holdensaid.“Yourargumentboilsdowntoyou
notthinkingpeoplearesmartenoughtofigureouttherightwaytouseit.”
“Has anyone used anything you’ve broadcast as something besides an excuse to shoot someone
theyalreadydidn’tlike?Givingthemanewreasonwon’tstopthemkillingeachother,”Millersaid.
“Youstartedthesewars,Captain.Doesn’tmeanyoucanstopthem.Butyouhavetotry.”
“AndhowamIsupposedtodothat?”Holdensaid.Thedistressinhisvoicecouldhavebeenanger.
Itcouldhavebeenprayer.
SomethinginMiller ’sbellyshifted,someinflamedorgancalmingenoughtoslipbackintoplace.
Hehadn’tbeenawarehe’dfeltwronguntilhesuddenlyfeltrightagain.
“Youaskyourselfwhathappens,”Millersaid.“AskyourselfwhatNaomi’ddo.”
Holdenbarkedoutalaugh.“Isthathowyoumakeyourdecisions?”
Millerlethiseyesclose.JulietteMaowasthere,sittingonthecouchatheroldapartmentonCeres.
Fightingthecrewofthestealthshiptoastandstill.Burstopenbythealienvirusonthefloorofher
showerstall.
“Somethinglikeit,”Millersaid.
The report from Ceres, a break from the usual competing press releases, came that night. The
governingcounciloftheOPAannouncedthataringofMartianspieshadbeenrootedout.Thevideo
feedshowedthebodiesfloatingoutanindustrialairlockinwhatlookedliketheolddocksinsector
six. At a distance, the victims seemed almost peaceful. The feed cut to the head of security. Captain
Shaddidlookedolder.Harder.
“We regret the necessity of this action,” she said to everyone everywhere. “But in the cause of
freedom,therecanbenocompromise.”
That’swhatit’scometo,Millerthought,rubbingahandacrosshischin.Pogromsafterall.Cutoff
justahundredmoreheads,justathousandmoreheads,justtenthousandmoreheads,andthenwe’ll
befree.
A soft alert sounded, and a moment later, gravity shifted a few degrees to Miller ’s left. Course
change.Holdenhadmadeadecision.
He found the captain sitting alone and staring at a monitor in ops. The glow lit his face from
below,castingshadowsupintohiseyes.Thecaptainlookedoldertoo.
“Youmakethebroadcast?”Millerasked.
“Nope.We’rejustoneship.Wetelleveryonewhatthisthingisandthatwe’vegotit,we’llbedead
beforeProtogen.”
“Probably true,” Miller said, sitting at an empty station with a grunt. The gimbaled seat shifted
silently.“We’regoingsomeplace.”
“Idon’ttrustthemwithit,”Holdensaid.“Idon’ttrustanyofthemwiththatsafe.”
“Probablysmart.”
“I’mgoingtoTychoStation.There’ssomeonethereI…trust.”
“Trust?”
“Don’tactivelydistrust.”
“Naomithinkit’stherightthing?”
“Idon’tknow.Ididn’taskher.ButIthinkso.”
“Closeenough,”Millersaid.
Holdenlookedupfromthemonitorforthefirsttime.
“Youknowtherightthing?”Holdensaid.
“Yeah.”
“Whatisit?”
“Throw that safe into a long collision course with the sun and find a way to make sure no one
ever,evergoestoErosorPhoebeagain,”Millersaid.“Pretendnoneofthiseverhappened.”
“Sowhyaren’twedoingthat?”
Millernoddedslowly.“Howdoyouthrowawaytheholygrail?”
ChapterThirty-Seven:Holden
A lexhadtheRocinanterunningatthree-quartersofagfortwohourswhilethecrewpreparedand
ate dinner. He would run it back up to three when the break was over, but in the meantime, Holden
enjoyedstandingonhisowntwolegsatsomethingnottoofarofffromEarthgravity.Itwasalittle
heavy for Naomi and Miller, but neither of them complained. They both understood the need for
haste.
Once the gravity had dropped from the crush of high acceleration, the whole crew quietly
gatheredinthegalleyandstartedmakingdinner.Naomiblendedtogetherfakeeggsandfakecheese.
Amos cooked tomato paste and the last of their fresh mushrooms into a red sauce that actually
smelledliketherealthing.Alex,whohadthedutywatch,hadforwardedshipopsdowntoapanelin
thegalleyandsatatatablenexttoit,spreadingthefakecheesepasteandredsauceontoflatnoodles
in hopes that the end result would approximate lasagna. Holden had oven duty and had spent the
lasagnapreptimebakingfrozenlumpsofdoughintobread.Thesmellinthegalleywasnotentirely
unlikeactualfood.
Millerhadfollowedthecrewintothegalleybutseemeduncomfortableaskingforsomethingto
do.Instead,hesetthetableandthensatdownatitandwatched.Hewasn’texactlyavoidingHolden’s
eyes,buthewasn’tgoingoutofhiswaytocatchhisattention.Byunspokenmutualagreement,noone
hadanyofthenewschannelson.Holdenwassureeveryonewouldrushbacktocheckthecurrentstate
ofthewarassoonasdinnerwasover,butfornowtheyallworkedincompanionablesilence.
When the prep was done, Holden switched off bread duty and on to moving lasagna-filled
cookwareintoandoutoftheoven.NaomisatdownnexttoAlexandbeganaquietconversationwith
himaboutsomethingshe’dseenontheopsscreen.Holdensplithistimebetweenwatchingherand
watchingthelasagna.ShelaughedatsomethingAlexsaidandunconsciouslytwistedonefingerinto
herhair.Holdenfelthisbellytightenanotch.
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Miller staring at him. When he looked, the
detectivehadturnedaway,ahintofasmileonhisface.Naomilaughedagain.Shehadonehandon
Alex’sarm,andthepilotwasblushingandtalkingasfastashissillyMartiandrawlwouldlethim.
Theylookedlikefriends.ThatbothmadeHoldenhappyandfilledhimwithjealousy.Hewonderedif
Naomiwouldeverbehisfriendagain.
Shecaughthimlookingandgavehimaconspiratorialwinkthatprobablywouldhavemadealot
ofsenseifhe’dbeenabletohearwhatAlexwassaying.Hesmiledandwinkedback,gratefuljustto
be included in the moment. A sizzling sound from inside the oven called his attention back. The
lasagnawasbeginningtobubbleandrunoverthesidesofthedishes.
Hepulledonhisovenmittsandopenedthedoor.
“Soup’son,”hesaid,pullingthefirstofthedishesandputtingitonthetable.
“That’smightyugly-lookingsoup,”Amossaid.
“Uh, yeah,” Holden said. “It’s just something Mother Tamara used to say when she’d finished
cooking.Notsurewhereitcomesfrom.”
“Oneofyourthreemothersdidthecooking?Howtraditional,”Naomisaidwithasmirk.
“Well,shesplititprettyevenlywithCaesar,oneofmyfathers.”
Naomismiledathim,agenuinesmilenow.
“Itsoundsreallynice,”shesaid.“Bigfamilylikethat.”
“Yeah, it really was,” he replied, a vision in his head of nuclear fire tearing apart the Montana
farmhousehe’dgrownupin,hisfamilyblowingintoash.Ifithappened,hewassureMillerwouldbe
theretolethimknowitwashisfault.Hewasn’tsurehe’dbeabletoargueanymore.
Astheyate,Holdenfeltaslowreleaseoftensionintheroom.Amosbelchedloudly,thenreacted
to the chorus of protests by doing it again even more loudly. Alex retold the joke that had made
Naomilaugh.EvenMillergotintothemoodandtoldalongandincreasinglyimprobablestoryabout
huntingdownablackmarketcheeseoperationthatendedinagunfightwithninenakedAustraliansin
anillegalbrothel.Bythefinishofthestory,Naomiwaslaughingsohardshe’ddrooledonhershirt,
andAmoskeptrepeating“Nofuckingway!”likeamantra.
Thestorywasamusingenough,andthedetective’sdrydeliverysuiteditwell,butHoldenonlyhalf
listened.Hewatchedhiscrew,sawthetensionfallingfromtheirfacesandshoulders.HeandAmos
werebothfromEarth,thoughifhehadtoguess,he’dsayAmoshadforgottenabouthishomeworld
the first time he’d shipped out. Alex was from Mars and clearly still loved it. One bad mistake on
eithersideandbothplanetsmightberadioactiverubblebytheendofdinner.Butrightnowtheywere
justfriendshavingamealtogether.Itwasright.ItwaswhatHoldenhadtokeepfightingfor.
“I actually remember that cheese shortage,” Naomi said once Miller had stopped talking. “Beltwide.Thatwasyourfault?”
“Yeah,well,ifthey’donlybeensneakingcheesepastthegovernmentauditors,wewouldn’thave
hadaproblem,”Millersaid.“Buttheyhadthishabitofshootingtheothercheesesmugglers.Makes
thecopsnotice.Badbusiness.”
“Overfuckingcheese?”Amossaid,tossinghisforkontohisplatewithaclack.“Areyouserious?
Imean,drugsorgamblingorsomething.Butcheese?”
“Gambling’s legal, most places,” Miller said. “And a chemistry class dropout can cook up just
aboutanydrugyoulikeinhisbathroom.Nowaytocontrolsupply.”
“RealcheesecomesfromEarth,orMars,”Naomiadded.“Andaftertheytackonshippingcosts
andtheCoalition’sfiftypercentintaxes,itcostsmorethanfuelpellets.”
“We wound up with one hundred and thirty kilos of Vermont Cheddar in the evidence lockup,”
Millersaid.“Streetvaluethatwouldhaveprobablyboughtsomeonetheirownship.Ithaddisappeared
bytheendoftheday.Wewroteitupaslosttospoilage.Noonesaidaword,aslongaseveryonewent
homewithabrick.”
Thedetectiveleanedbackinhischairwithadistantlookonhisface.
“MyGod,thatwasgoodcheese,”hesaidwithasmile.
“Yeah, well, this fake stuff does taste like shit,” Amos said, then added in a hurry, “No offense,
Boss,youdidarealgoodjobwhippingitup.Butthat’sstillweirdtome,fightingovercheese.”
“It’swhytheykilledEros,”Naomisaid.
Millernoddedbutsaidnothing.
“Howdoyoufigurethat?”Amossaid.
“Howlonghaveyoubeenflying?”Naomiasked.
“I dunno,” Amos replied, his lips compressing as he did the mental math. “Twenty-five years,
maybe?”
“FlywithalotofBelters,right?”
“Yeah,”Amossaid.“Can’tgetbettershipmatesthanBelters.’Ceptme,ofcourse.”
“You’veflownwithusfortwenty-fiveyears,youlikeus,you’velearnedthepatois.Ibetyoucan
orderabeerandahookeronanystationintheBelt.Heck,ifyouwerealittletallerandalotskinnier,
youcouldpassforoneofusbynow.”
Amossmiled,takingitasacompliment.
“Butyoustilldon’tgetus,”Naomisaid.“Notreally.Noonewhogrewupwithfreeaireverwill.
Andthat’swhytheycankillamillionandahalfofustofigureoutwhattheirbugreallydoes.”
“Hey now,” Alex interjected. “You serious ’bout that? You think the inners and outers see
themselvesasthatdifferent?”
“Of course they do,” Miller said. “We’re too tall, too skinny, our heads look too big, and our
jointstooknobby.”
HoldennoticedNaomiglancingacrossthetableathim,aspeculativelookonherface.Ilikeyour
head, Holden thought at her, but the radiation hadn’t given him telepathy either, because her
expressiondidn’tchange.
“We’ve practically got our own language now,” Miller said. “Ever see an Earther try to get
directionsinthedeepdig?”
“‘Turunspin,pow,Schlauchtuwayacimaandido,’”NaomisaidwithaheavyBelteraccent.
“Gospinwardtothetubestation,whichwilltakeyoubacktothedocks,”Amossaid.“Thefuck’s
sohardaboutthat?”
“Ihadapartnerwouldn’thaveknownthataftertwoyearsonCeres,”Millersaid.“AndHavelock
wasn’tstupid.Hejustwasn’t…fromthere.”
Holdenlistenedtothemtalkandpushedcoldpastaaroundonhisplatewithachunkofbread.
“Okay,wegetit,”hesaid.“You’reweird.Buttokillamillionandahalfpeopleoversomeskeletal
differencesandslang…”
“People have been getting tossed into ovens for less than that ever since they invented ovens,”
Millersaid.“Ifitmakesyoufeelbetter,mostofusthinkyou’resquatandmicrocephalic.”
Alexshookhishead.
“Don’tmakealickofsensetome,turnin’thatbugloose,evenifyouhatedeverysinglehumanon
Erospersonally.Whoknowswhatthatthing’lldo?”
Naomi walked to the galley sink and washed her hands, the running water drawing everyone’s
attention.
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutthat,”shesaid,thenturnedaround,wipingherhandsonatowel.“The
pointofit,Imean.”
Miller started to speak, but Holden hushed him with a quick gesture and waited for Naomi to
continue.
“So,”shesaid.“I’vebeenthinkingofitasacomputingproblem.Ifthevirusornanomachineor
protomoleculeorwhateverwasdesigned,ithasapurpose,right?”
“Definitely,”Holdensaid.
“Anditseemslikeit’stryingtodosomething—somethingcomplex.Itdoesn’tmakesensetogoto
all that trouble just to kill people. Those changes it makes look intentional, just… not complete, to
me.”
“Icanseethat,”Holdensaid.AlexandAmosnoddedalongwithhimbutstayedquiet.
“Somaybetheissueisthattheprotomoleculeisn’tsmartenoughyet.Youcancompressalotof
datadownprettysmall,butunlessit’saquantumcomputer,processingtakesspace.Theeasiestwayto
getthatprocessingintinymachinesisthroughdistribution.Maybetheprotomoleculeisn’tfinishing
itsjobbecauseitjustisn’tsmartenoughto.Yet.”
“Notenoughofthem,”Alexsaid.
“Right,” Naomi said, dropping the towel into a bin under the sink. “So you give them a lot of
biomasstoworkwith,andseewhatitistheyareultimatelymadetodo.”
“According to that guy in the video, they were made to hijack life on Earth and wipe us out,”
Millersaid.
“Andthat,”Holdensaid,“iswhyErosisperfect.Lotsofbiomassinavacuum-sealedtesttube.And
if it gets out of hand, there’s already a war going on. A lot of ships and missiles can be used for
nukingErosintoglassifthethreatseemsreal.Nothingtomakeusforgetourdifferenceslikeanew
playerbuttingin.”
“Wow,”Amossaid.“Thatisreally,reallyfuckedup.”
“Okay. But even though that’s probably what’s happened,” Holden said, “I still can’t believe that
thereareenoughevilpeopleallinoneplacetodoit.Thisisn’taone-manoperation.Thisisthework
of dozens, maybe hundreds, of very smart people. Does Protogen just go around recruiting every
potentialStalinandJacktheRipperitrunsacross?”
“I’llmakesuretoaskMr.Dresden,”Millersaid,anunreadableexpressiononhisface,“whenwe
finallymeet.”
Tycho’s habitat rings spun serenely around the bloated zero-g factory globe in the center. The
massive construction waldoes that sprouted from the top were maneuvering an enormous piece of
hullplatingontothesideoftheNauvoo.LookingatthestationontheopsscreenswhileAlexfinished
updockingprocedures,Holdenfeltsomethinglikerelief.Sofar,Tychowastheoneplacenoonehad
triedtoshootthem,orblowthemup,orvomitgooonthem,andthatpracticallymadeithome.
Holden looked at the research safe clamped securely to the deck and hoped that he hadn’t just
killedeveryoneonthestationbybringingitthere.
Asifoncue,Millerpulledhimselfthroughthedeckhatchanddriftedovertothesafe.Hegave
Holdenameaningfullook.
“Don’tsayit.I’malreadythinkingit,”Holdensaid.
Millershruggedanddriftedovertotheopsstation.
“Big,”hesaid,noddingattheNauvoo,onHolden’sscreen.
“Generationship,”Holdensaid.“Somethinglikethatwillgiveusthestars.”
“Oralonelydeathonalongtriptonowhere,”Millerreplied.
“You know,” Holden said, “some species’ version of the great galactic adventure is shooting
virus-filledbulletsattheirneighbors.Ithinkoursisprettydamnnobleincomparison.”
Millerseemedtoconsiderthat,nodded,andwatchedTychoStationswellonthemonitorasAlex
brought them closer. The detective kept one hand on the console, making the micro adjustments
necessary to remain still even as the pilot’s maneuvers threw unexpected bursts of gravity at them
fromeverydirection.Holdenwasstrappedintohischair.Evenconcentrating,hecouldn’thandlezero
gandintermittentthrusthalfthatwell.Hisbrainjustcouldn’tbetrainedoutofthetwenty-oddyears
he’dspentwithgravityasaconstant.
Naomiwasright.ItwouldbesoeasytoseeBeltersasalien.Hell,ifyougavethemtimetodevelop
somereallyefficientimplantableoxygenstorageandrecyclingandkepttrimmingtheenvironment
suitsdowntotheminimumnecessaryforheat,youmightwindupwithBelterswhospentmoretime
outsidetheirshipsandstationsthanin.
Maybe that was why they were taxed to subsistence level. The bird was out of the cage, but you
couldn’tletitstretchitswingstoofaroritmightforgetitbelongedtoyou.
“YoutrustthisFred?”Millerasked.
“Sortof,”Holdensaid.“Hetreateduswelllasttime,wheneveryoneelsewantedusdeadorlocked
up.”
Millergrunted,asifthatprovednothing.
“He’sOPA,right?”
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.“ButIthinkmaybetherealOPA.Notthecowboyswhowanttoshootitout
withtheinners.Andnotthosenutsontheradiocallingforwar.Fred’sapolitician.”
“WhatabouttheoneskeepingCeresinline?”
“I don’t know,” Holden said. “I don’t know about them. But Fred’s the best shot we have. Least
wrong.”
“Fairenough,”Millersaid.“Wewon’tfindapoliticalsolutiontoProtogen,youknow.”
“Yeah,”Holdensaid,thenbeganunbucklinghisharnessastheRocislidintoitsberthwithaseries
ofmetallicbangs.“ButFredisn’tjustapolitician.”
Fredsatbehindhislargewoodendesk,readingthenotesHoldenhadwrittenaboutEros,thesearch
for Julie, and the discovery of the stealth ship. Miller sat across from him, watching Fred like an
entomologistmightwatchanewspeciesofbug,guessingifitwaslikelytosting.Holdenwasalittle
fartherawayonFred’sright,tryingnottokeeplookingattheclockonhishandterminal.Onthehuge
screen behind the desk, the Nauvoo drifted by like the metal bones of some dead and decaying
leviathan.Holdencouldseethetinyspotsofbrilliantbluelightwhereworkersusedweldingtorches
onthehullandframe.Tooccupyhimself,hestartedcountingthem.
He’dreachedforty-threewhenasmallshuttleappearedinhisfieldofview,aloadofsteelbeams
clutched in a pair of heavy manipulator arms, and flew toward the half-built generation ship. The
shuttleshranktoapointnolargerthanthetipofapenbeforeitstopped.TheNauvoosuddenlyshifted
inHolden’smindfromalargeshiprelativelynearby,toagiganticshipfartheraway.Itgavehima
shortrushofvertigo.
HishandterminalbeepedatalmostthesameinstantthatMiller ’sdid.Hedidn’tevenlookatit;he
justtappedthefacetoshutitup.Heknewthisroutinebynow.Hepulledoutasmallbottle,tookout
twobluepills,andswallowedthemdry.HecouldhearMillerpouringpillsoutofhisbottleaswell.
Theship’sexpertmedicalsystemdispensedthemforhimeveryweekwithawarningthatfailingto
takethemonschedulewouldleadtohorrificdeath.Hetookthem.Hewouldfortherestofhislife.
Missingafewwouldjustmeanthatwasn’tverylong.
Fredfinishedreadingandthrewhishandterminaldownonthedesk,thenrubbedhiseyeswiththe
heelsofhishandsforseveralseconds.ToHolden,helookedolderthanthelasttimethey’dseeneach
other.
“Ihavetotellyou,Jim,Ihavenoideawhattomakeofthis,”hefinallysaid.
Miller looked at Holden and mouthed, Jim, at him with a question on his face. Holden ignored
him.
“DidyoureadNaomi’sadditionattheend?”Holdenasked.
“Thebitwiththenetworkednanobugsforincreasedprocessingpower?”
“Yeah,thatbit,”Holdensaid.“Itmakessense,Fred.”
Fredlaughedwithouthumor,thenstabbedonefingerathisterminal.
“That,” he said. “That only makes sense to a psychopath. No one sane could do that. No matter
whattheythoughttheymightgetoutofit.”
Millerclearedhisthroat.
“Youhavesomethingtoadd,Mr.Muller?”Fredasked.
“Miller,” the detective replied. “Yes. First—and all respect here—don’t kid yourself. Genocide’s
old-school. Second, the facts aren’t in question. Protogen infected Eros Station with a lethal alien
disease,andthey’rerecordingtheresults.Whydoesn’tmatter.Weneedtostopthem.”
“And,”Holdensaid,“wethinkwecantrackdownwheretheirobservationstationis.”
Fredleanedbackinhischair,thefakeleatherandmetalframecreakingunderhisweightevenin
theone-thirdg.
“Stopthemhow?”heasked.Fredknew.Hejustwantedtohearthemsayitoutloud.Millerplayed
along.
“I’dsayweflytotheirstationandshootthem.”
“Whois‘we’?”Fredasked.
“TherearealotofOPAhotheadslookingtoshootitoutwithEarthandMars,”Holdensaid.“We
givethemsomerealbadguystoshootatinstead.”
Frednoddedinawaythatdidn’tmeanheagreedtoanything.
“Andyoursample?Thecaptain’ssafe?”Fredsaid.
“That’smine,”Holdensaid.“Nonegotiationonthat.”
Fredlaughedagain,thoughtherewassomehumorinitthistime.Millerblinkedinsurpriseand
thenstifledagrin.
“WhywouldIagreetothat?”Fredasked.
Holdenliftedhischinandsmiled.
“What if I told you that I’ve hidden the safe on a planetesimal booby-trapped with enough
plutoniumtobreakanyonewhotouchesitintotheircomponentatomseveniftheycouldfindit?”he
said.
Fredstaredathimforamoment,thensaid,“Butyoudidn’t.”
“Well,no,”Holdensaid.“ButIcouldtellyouIdid.”
“Youaretoohonest,”Fredsaid.
“Andyoucan’ttrustanyonewithsomethingthisbig.YoualreadyknowwhatI’mgoingtodowith
it.That’swhy,untilwecanagreeonsomethingbetter,you’releavingitwithme.”
Frednodded.
“Yes,”hesaid,“IguessIam.”
ChapterThirty-Eight:Miller
T heobservationdecklookedoutovertheNauvooasthebehemothslowlycametogether.Millersat
on the edge of a soft couch, his fingers laced over his knee, his gaze on the immense vista of the
construction. After his time on Holden’s ship and, before that, in Eros, with its old-style closed
architecture, a view so wide seemed artificial. The deck itself was wider than the Rocinante and
decoratedwithsoftfernsandsculptedivies.Theairrecyclerswereeerilyquiet,andeventhoughthe
spingravitywasnearlythesameasCeres’,theCoriolisfeltsubtlywrong.
He’dlivedintheBelthiswholelife,andhe’dneverbeenanywherethatwasdesignedsocarefully
for the tasteful display of wealth and power. It was pleasant as long as he didn’t think about it too
much.
He wasn’t the only one drawn to the open spaces of Tycho. A few dozen station workers sat in
groupsorwalkedthroughtogether.Anhourbefore,AmosandAlexhadgoneby,deepintheirown
conversation,sohewasn’tentirelysurprisedwhen,standingupandwalkingbacktowardthedocks,
hesawNaomisittingbyherselfwithabowloffoodcoolingonatrayatherside.Hergazewasfixed
onherhandterminal.
“Hey,”hesaid.
Naomilookedup,recognizedhim,andsmileddistractedly.
“Hey,”shesaid.
Millernoddedtowardthehandterminalandshruggedaquestion.
“Comm data from that ship,” she said. It was always that ship, Miller noticed. The same way
peoplewouldcallaparticularlygodawfulcrimescenethatplace.“It’salltightbeam,soIthoughtit
wouldn’tbesohardtotriangulate.But…”
“Notsomuch?”
Naomiliftedhereyebrowsandsighed.
“I’vebeenplottingorbits,”shesaid.“Butnothing’sfitting.Therecouldberelaydrones,though.
Movingtargetstheshipsystemwascalibratedforthatwouldsendthemessageontotheactualstation.
Oranotherdrone,andthenthestation,orwhoknows?”
“AnydatacomingoffEros?”
“I assume so,” Naomi said, “but I don’t know that it would be any easier to make sense of than
this.”
“Can’tyourOPAfriendsdosomething?”Millerasked.“They’vegotmoreprocessingpowerthan
oneofthesehandhelds.ProbablyhaveabetteractivitymapoftheBelttoo.”
“Probably,”shesaid.
Hecouldn’ttellifshedidn’ttrustthisFredthatHoldenhadgiventhemoverto,orjustneededto
feelliketheinvestigationwasstillhers.Heconsideredtellinghertobackoffitforawhile,toletthe
otherscarryit,buthedidn’tseehehadthemoralauthoritytomakethatonestick.
“What?”Naomisaid,anuncertainsmileonherlips.
Millerblinked.
“Youwerelaughingalittle,”Naomisaid.“Idon’tthinkI’veeverseenyoulaughbefore.Imean,
notwhensomethingwasfunny.”
“Iwasjustthinkingaboutsomethingapartnerofminetoldmeaboutlettingcasesgowhenyou
gotpulledfromthem.”
“Whatdidhesay?”
“Thatit’sliketakinghalfashit,”Millersaid.
“Hadawaywithwords,thatone.”
“HewasallrightforanEarther,”Millersaid,andsomethingtickledatthebackofhismind.Then,
amomentlater:“Ah,Jesus.Imayhavesomething.”
HavelockmethiminanencrypteddropsitethatlivedonaserverclusteronGanymede.Thelatency
keptthemfromanythinglikereal-timeconversation.Itwasmorelikedroppingnotes,butitdidthe
trick.ThewaitingmadeMilleranxious.Hesatwithhisterminalsettorefresheverythreeseconds.
“Wouldyoulikeanythingelse?”thewomanasked.“Anotherbourbon?”
“That’dbegreat,”Millersaid,andcheckedtoseeifHavelockhadrepliedyet.Hehadn’t.
Like the observation deck, the bar looked out on the Nauvoo, though from a slightly different
angle. The great ship looked foreshortened, and arcs of energy lit it where a layer of ceramic was
annealing. A bunch of religious zealots were going to load themselves into that massive ship, that
small self-sustaining world, and launch themselves into the darkness between the stars. Generations
wouldliveanddieinit,andiftheyweremind-bendinglyluckyenoughtofindaplanetworthliving
ontheendofthejourney,thepeoplewhocameoutofitwouldneverhaveknownEarthorMarsor
theBelt.They’dbealiensalready.Andifwhateverhadmadetheprotomoleculewasouttheretogreet
them,thenwhat?
WouldtheyalldielikeJuliehad?
Therewaslifeoutthere.Theyhadproofofitnow.Andtheproofcameintheshapeofaweapon,
sowhatdidthattellhim?ExceptthatmaybetheMormonsdeservedalittlewarningaboutwhatthey
weresigningtheirgreat-grandkidsupfor.
HelaughedtohimselfwhenherealizedthatwasexactlywhatHoldenwouldsay.
Thebourbonarrivedatthesamemomenthishandterminalchimed.Thevideofilehadalayered
encryptionthattookalmostaminutetounpack.Thatalonewasagoodsign.
Thefileopened,andHavelockgrinnedoutfromthescreen.Hewasinbettershapethanhe’dbeen
onCeres,anditshowedintheshapeofhisjaw.Hisskinwasdarker,butMillerdidn’tknowifitwas
purely cosmetic or if his old partner had been basking in false sunlight for the joy of it. It didn’t
matter.ItmadetheEartherlookrichandfit.
“Hey,buddy,”Havelocksaid.“Goodtohearfromyou.AfterwhathappenedwithShaddidandthe
OPA,Iwasafraidweweregoingtobeondifferentsidesnow.I’mgladyougotoutoftherebefore
theshithitthefan.
“Yeah,I’mstillwithProtogen,andI’vegottotellyou,theseguysarekindofscary.Imean,I’ve
workedcontractsecuritybefore,andI’mprettyclearwhensomeone’shard-core.Theseguysaren’t
cops.They’retroops.YouknowwhatImean?
“Officially,Idon’tknowdickaboutaBeltstation,butyouknowhowitis.I’mfromEarth.There
arealotoftheseguyswhogavemeshitaboutCeres.Workingwiththevacuum-heads.Thatkindof
thing.Butthewaythingsarehere,it’sbettertobeonthegoodsideofthebadguys.It’sjustthatkind
ofjob.”
There was an apology in his expression. Miller understood. Working in some corporations was
likegoingtoprison.Youadoptedtheviewsofthepeoplearoundyou.ABeltermightgethiredon,but
he’dneverbelong.LikeCeres,justpointedtheotherway.IfHavelockhadmadefriendswithasetof
innerplanetsmercswhospenttheiroffnightscurb-stompingBeltersoutsidebars,thenhehad.
Butmakingfriendsdidn’tmeanhewasoneofthem.
“So.Offtherecord,yeah,there’sablackopsstationintheBelt.Ihadn’thearditcalledThoth,but
itcouldbe.Somesortofveryscarydeepresearchanddevelopmentlab.Heavysciencecrew,butnota
hugeplace.Ithinkdiscreetwouldbetheword.Lotsofautomateddefenses,butnotabiggroundcrew.
“Idon’tneedtotellyouthatleakingthecoordinateswouldgetmyasskilledouthere.Sowipethe
filewhenyou’redone,andlet’snottalkagainforalong,longtime.”
Thedatafilewassmall.Threelinesofplaintextorbitalnotation.Millerputitintohishandterminal
andkilledthefileofftheGanymedeserver.Thebourbonstillsatbesidehishand,andhedrankitoff
neat.Thewarmthinhischestmighthavebeenthealcoholoritmighthavebeenvictory.
Heturnedonthehandterminal’scamera.
“Thanks.Ioweyouone.Here’spartofthepayment.WhathappenedonEros?Protogenwaspart
ofit,andit’sbig.Ifyougetthechancetodropyourcontractwiththem,doit.Andiftheytrytorotate
yououttothatblackopsstation,don’tgo.”
Millerfrowned.ThesadtruthwasthatHavelockwasprobablythelastrealpartnerhe’dhad.The
onlyonewho’dlookedonhimasanequal.AsthekindofdetectiveMillerhadimaginedhimselfto
be.
“Takecareofyourself,partner,”hesaid,thenendedthefile,encryptedit,shippeditout.Hehad
thebone-deepfeelinghewasn’tevergoingtotalktoHavelockagain.
He put through a connection request to Holden. The screen filled with the captain’s open,
charming,vaguelynaiveface.
“Miller,”Holdensaid.“Everythingokay?”
“Yeah.Great.ButIneedtotalktoyourFredguy.Canyouarrangethat?”
Holdenfrownedandnoddedatthesametime.
“Sure.What’sgoingon?”
“IknowwhereThothStationis,”Millersaid.
“Youknowwhat?”
Millernodded.
“Wherethehelldidyougetthat?”
Millergrinned.“IfIgaveyouthatinformationanditgotout,agoodmanwouldgetkilled,”he
said.“Youseehowthatworks?”
ItstruckMillerashe,Holden,andNaomiwaitedforFredthatheknewanawfullotofinnerplanets
typesfightingagainsttheinnerplanets.Oratleastnotforthem.Fred,supposedlyahigh-rankingOPA
member.Havelock.Three-quartersofthecrewoftheRocinante.JulietteMao.
Itwasn’twhathewouldhaveexpected.Butmaybethatwasshortsighted.Hewasseeingthething
the way Shaddid and Protogen did. There were two sides fighting—that was true enough—but they
weren’ttheinnerplanetsversustheBelters.Theywerethepeoplewhothoughtitwasagoodideato
killpeoplewholookedoracteddifferentlyagainstthepeoplewhodidn’t.
Or maybe that was a crap analysis too. Because given the chance to put the scientist from the
Protogen pitch, the board of directors, and whoever this Dresden piece of shit was into an airlock,
Millerknewhe’dagonizeaboutitformaybehalfasecondafterheblewthemallintovacuum.Didn’t
puthimonthesideofangels.
“Mr.Miller.WhatcanIdoforyou?”
Fred.TheEartherOPA.Heworeabluebutton-downshirtandanicepairofslacks.Hecouldhave
been an architect or a mid-level administrator for any number of good, respectable corporations.
Millertriedtoimaginehimcoordinatingabattle.
“Youcanconvincemethatyou’vereallygotwhatittakestokilltheProtogenstation,”Millersaid.
“ThenI’lltellyouwhereitis.”
Fred’seyebrowsroseamillimeter.
“Comeintomyoffice,”Fredsaid.
Millerwent.HoldenandNaomifollowed.Whenthedoorsclosedbehindthem,Fredwasthefirst
tospeak.
“I’mnotsureexactlywhatyouwantfromme.I’mnotinthehabitofmakingmybattleplanspublic
knowledge.”
“We’retalkingaboutstormingastation,”Millersaid.“Somethingwithdamngooddefensesand
maybemoreshipsliketheonethatkilledtheCanterbury.Nodisrespectintended,butthat’sapretty
tallorderforabunchofamateursliketheOPA.”
“Ah,Miller?”Holdensaid.Millerheldupahand,cuttinghimoff.
“IcangiveyouthedirectionstoThothStation,”Millersaid.“ButifIdothatanditturnsoutyou
haven’tgotthepunchtoseethisthrough,thenalotofpeopledieandnothinggetsresolved.I’mnot
upforthat.”
Fredcockedhishead,likeadoghearinganunfamiliarsound.NaomiandHoldensharedaglance
thatMillercouldn’tparse.
“This is a war,” Miller said, warming to the subject. “I’ve worked with the OPA before, and
franklyyoufolksarealotbetteratlittleguerrillabullshitthanatcoordinatinganythingreal.Halfof
the people who claim to speak for you are crackpots who happened to have a radio nearby. I see
you’vegotalotofmoney.Iseeyou’vegotaniceoffice.WhatIdon’tsee—whatIneedtosee—isthat
you’vegotwhatittakestobringthesebastardsdown.Takingoutastationisn’tagame.Idon’tcare
howmanysimulationsyou’verun.Thisisrealnow.IfI’mgoingtohelpyou,Ineedtoknowyoucan
handleit.”
Therewasalongsilence.
“Miller?”Naomisaid.“YouknowwhoFredis,right?”
“TheTychomouthpiecefortheOPA,”Millersaid.“Thatdoesn’tdrawawholelotofwaterwith
me.”
“He’sFredJohnson,”Holdensaid.
Fred’seyebrowsroseanothermillimeter.Millerfrownedandcrossedhisarms.
“ColonelFrederickLuciusJohnson,”Naomisaid,clarifying.
Millerblinked.“TheButcherofAndersonStation?”hesaid.
“The same,” Fred said. “I have been talking with the central council of the OPA. I have a cargo
ship with more than enough troops to secure the station. Air support is a state-of-the-art Martian
torpedobomber.”
“TheRoci?”Millersaid.
“The Rocinante,” Fred agreed. “And while you may not believe it, I actually know what I’m
doing.”
Millerlookedathisfeet,thenuptowardHolden.
“ThatFredJohnson?”hesaid.
“Ithoughtyouknew,”Holdensaid.
“Well.Don’tIfeelliketheflamingidiot,”Millersaid.
“It’llpass,”Fredsaid.“Wasthereanythingelseyouwantedtodemand?”
“No,”Millersaid.Andthen:“Yes.Iwanttobepartofthegroundassault.Whenwetakethatstation
crew,Iwanttobethere.”
“Areyousure?”Fredsaid.“‘Takingoutastationisn’tagame.’Whatmakesyouthinkyou have
whatittakes?”
Millershrugged.
“Onethingittakesisthecoordinates,”Millersaid.“Ihavegotthose.”
Fredlaughed.“Mr.Miller.Ifyou’dliketogodowntothisstationandhavewhatever ’swaitingfor
usdowntheretrytokillyoualongwiththerestofus,Iwon’tstandinyourway.”
“Thanks,”Millersaid.HepulleduphishandterminalandsenttheplaintextcoordinatestoFred.
“There you go. My source is solid, but he’s not working from firsthand data. We should confirm
beforewecommit.”
“I’mnotanamateur,”ColonelFredJohnsonsaid,lookingatthefile.Millernodded,adjustedhis
hat, and walked out. Naomi and Holden flanked him. When they reached the wide, clean public
hallway,Millerlookedtohisright,catchingHolden’seyes.
“Really,Ithoughtyouknew,”Holdensaid.
Eight days later, the message came. The cargo ship Guy Molinari had arrived, full up with OPA
soldiers. Havelock’s coordinates had been verified. Something was sure as hell out there, and it
appearedtobecollectingthetightbeameddatafromEros.IfMillerwantedtobepartofthis,thetime
hadcometomoveout.
HesatinhisquartersintheRocinanteforwhatwaslikelythelast time. He realized with a little
twinge,equalpartssurpriseandsorrow,thathewasgoingtomisstheplace.Holden,forallhisfaults
andMiller ’scomplaints,wasadecentguy.Inoverhisheadandonlyhalfawareofthefact,butMiller
couldthinkofmorethanonepersonwhofitthatbill.HewasgoingtomissAlex’sodd,affecteddrawl
andAmos’casualobscenity.HewasgoingtowonderifandhowNaomieverworkedthingsoutwith
hercaptain.
Leavingwasareminderofthingshe’dalreadyknown:thathedidn’tknowwhatwouldcomenext,
that he didn’t have much money, and that while he was sure he could get back from Thoth station,
whereandhowhewentfromtherewasgoingtobeimprovisation.Maybetherewouldbeanothership
hecouldsignonwith.Maybehe’dhavetotakeacontractandsaveupsomemoneytocoverhisnew
medicalexpenses.
He checked the magazine in his gun. Packed his spare clothes into the small, battered pack he’d
takenonthetransportfromCeres.Everythingheownedstillfitinit.
Heturnedoffthelightsandmadehiswaydowntheshortcorridortowardtheladder-lift.Holden
was in the galley, twitching nervously. The dread of the coming battle was already showing in the
cornersoftheman’seyes.
“Well,”Millersaid.“Herewego,eh?”
“Yep,”Holdensaid.
“It’sbeenahellofaride,”Millersaid.“Can’tsayit’sallbeenpleasant,but…”
“Yeah.”
“TelltheothersIsaidgoodbye,”Millersaid.
“Will do,” Holden said. Then, as Miller moved past him toward the lift: “So assuming we all
actuallylivethroughthis,whereshouldwemeetup?”
Millerturned.
“Idon’tunderstand,”hesaid.
“Yeah,Iknow.Look,ItrustFredorIwouldn’thavecomehere.Ithinkhe’shonorable,andhe’ll
dotherightthingbyus.Thatdoesn’tmeanItrustthewholeOPA.Afterwegetthisthingdone,Iwant
thewholecrewtogether.Justincaseweneedtogetoutinahurry.”
Something painful happened under Miller ’s sternum. Not a sharp pain, just a sudden ache. His
throatfeltthick.Hecoughedtoclearit.
“Assoonaswegettheplacesecure,I’llgetintouch,”Millersaid.
“Okay,butdon’ttaketoolong.IfThothStationhasawhorehouseleftstanding,I’mgoingtoneed
helppryingAmosoutofit.”
Milleropenedhismouth,closedit,andtriedagain.
“Aye,aye,Captain,”hesaid,forcingalightnessintohisvoice.
“Becareful,”Holdensaid.
Miller left, pausing in the passageway between ship and station until he was sure he’d stopped
weeping,andthenmakinghiswaytothecargoshipandtheassault.
ChapterThirty-Nine:Holden
T heRocinantehurtledthroughspacelikeadeadthing,tumblinginallthreeaxes.Withthereactor
shutdownandallthecabinairvented,itradiatedneitherheatnorelectromagneticnoise.Ifitweren’t
for its speeding toward Thoth station significantly faster than a rifle shot, the ship would be
indistinguishable from the rocks in the Belt. Nearly half a million kilometers behind it, the Guy
MolinariscreamedtheRoci’sinnocencetoanyonewhowouldlisten,andfireditsenginesinalong
slowdeceleration.
Withtheradiooff,Holdencouldn’thearwhattheyweresaying,buthe’dhelpedwritethewarning,
soitechoedinhisheadanyway.Warning!AccidentaldetonationonthecargoshipGuyMolinarihas
broken large cargo container free. Warning to all ships in its path: Container is traveling at high
speedandwithoutindependentcontrol.Warning!
Therehadbeensomediscussionaboutnotbroadcastingatall.BecauseThothwasablackstation,
they’dbeusingonlypassivesensors.Scanningeverydirectionwithradarorladarwouldlightthem
uplikeaChristmastree.Itwaspossiblethatwithitsreactoroff,theRocinantecouldsneakuponthe
station without being noticed. But Fred had decided that if they were somehow spotted, it would be
suspicious enough to probably warrant an immediate counterattack. So instead of playing it quiet,
they’ddecidedtoplayitloudandcountonconfusiontohelpthem.
WithlucktheThothStationsecuritysystemswouldscanthemandseethattheywereinfactabig
chunk of metal flying on an unchanging vector and lacking apparent life support, and ignore them
just long enough to let them get close. From far away, the stations’ defense systems might be too
muchfortheRoci.Butupclose,themaneuverablelittleshipcoulddartaroundthestationandcutitto
pieces.Alltheircoverstoryneededtodowasbuythemtimewhilethestation’ssecurityteamtriedto
figureoutwhatwasgoingon.
Fred,andbyextensioneveryoneintheassault,wasbettingthatthestationwouldn’tfireuntilthey
were absolutely certain they were under attack. Protogen had gone to a lot of trouble to hide their
researchlabintheBelt.Assoonastheylaunchedtheirfirstmissile,theiranonymitywaslostforever.
With the war going on, monitors would pick up the fusion torch trails and wonder what was up.
FiringaweaponwouldbeThothStation’slastresort.
Intheory.
Sittingaloneinsidethetinybubbleofaircontainedinhishelmet,Holdenknewthatiftheywere
wrong,he’dneverevenrealizeit.TheRociwasflyingblind.Allradiocontactwasdown.Alexhada
mechanical timepiece with a glow-in-the-dark face, and a to-the-second schedule memorized. They
couldn’tbeatThothathigh-tech,sotheywereflyingaslow-techasyoucouldget.Ifthey’dmissed
theirguessandthestationfiredonthem,theRociwouldbevaporizedwithoutwarning.Holdenhad
once dated a Buddhist who said that death was merely a different state of being, and people only
feared the unknown that lay behind that transition. Death without warning was preferable, as it
removedallfear.
Hefelthenowhadthecounterargument.
Tokeephismindbusy,heranthroughtheplanagain.Whentheywerepracticallycloseenoughto
spitonThothstation,Alexwouldfireupthereactoranddoabrakingmaneuveratnearlyteng’s.The
GuyMolinariwouldbeginsprayingradiostaticandlaserclutteratthestationtoconfuseitstargeting
package for the few moments the Roci would need to come around on an attack vector. The Roci
wouldengagethestation’sdefenses,disablinganythingthatcouldhurttheMolinari,whilethecargo
shipmovedintobreachthestation’shullanddropoffherassaulttroops.
Therewereanynumberofthingswrongwiththisplan.
Ifthestationdecidedtofireearly,justincase,theRocicoulddiebeforethefightevenstarted.If
thestation’stargetingsystemcouldcuttheMolinari’sstaticandlaserclutter,theymightbeginfiring
whiletheRociwasstillgettingintoposition.Andevenifallthatworkedperfectly,therewasstillthe
assaultteam,cuttingtheirwayintothestationandfightingcorridortocorridortothenervecenterto
takecontrol.Eventheinnerplanets’bestmarineswereterrifiedofbreachingactions,andforgood
reason.Movingthroughunfamiliarmetalhallwayswithoutcoverwhiletheenemyambushedyouat
every intersection was a good way to get a lot of people killed. In training simulations back in the
Earthnavy,Holdenhadneverseenthemarinesdobetterthan60percentcasualties.Andtheseweren’t
innerplanetmarineswithyearsoftrainingandstate-of-the-artequipment.TheywereOPAcowboys
withwhatevergeartheycouldscrapetogetheratthelastminute.
Buteventhatwasn’twhatreallyworriedHolden.
Whatreallyworriedhimwasthelarge,slightly-warmer-than-spaceareajustafewdozenmeters
aboveThothstation.TheMolinarihadspotteditandwarnedthembeforecuttingthemloose.Having
seenthestealthshipsbefore,nooneontheRocidoubtedthatthiswasanotherone.
Fightingthestationwouldbebadenough,evenupclose,wheremostofthestation’sadvantages
werelost.ButHoldendidn’tlookforwardtododgingtorpedofirefromamissilefrigateatthesame
time.Alexhadassuredhimthatiftheycouldgetincloseenoughtothestation,theycouldkeepthe
frigatefromfiringatthemforfearofdamagingThoth,andthattheRoci’s greater maneuverability
would make it more than a match for the larger and more heavily armed ship. The stealth frigates
wereastrategicweapon,he’dsaid,notatacticalone.Holdenhadn’tsaid,Thenwhydotheyhaveone
here?
Holdenmovedtoglancedownathiswrist,thensnortedwithfrustrationinthepitchblackofthe
opsdeck.Hissuitwaspowereddown,chronometersandlightsboth.Theonlysystemoninhissuit
was air circulation, and that was strictly mechanical. If something got fouled up with it, no little
warninglightswouldcomeon;he’djustchokeanddie.
Heglancedaroundthedarkroomandsaid,“Comeon,howmuchlonger?”
As if in answer, lights began flickering on through the cabin. There was a burst of static in his
helmet;thenAlex’sdrawlingvoicesaid,“Internalcommsonline.”
Holdenbeganflippingswitchestobringtherestofthesystemsbackup.
“Reactor,”hesaid.
“Twominutes,”Amosrepliedfromtheengineroom.
“Maincomputer.”
“Thirtysecondstoreboot,”Naomisaid,andwavedathimfromacrosstheopsdeck.Thelights
hadcomeupenoughforthemtoseeeachother.
“Weps?”
Alexlaughedwithsomethinglikegenuinegleeoverthecomm.
“Weapons are coming online,” he said. “As soon as Naomi gives me back the targeting comp,
we’llbecocked,locked,andreadytorock.”
Hearing everyone check in after the long and silent darkness of their approach reassured him.
BeingabletolookacrosstheroomandseeNaomiworkingathertaskseasedadreadhehadn’teven
realizedhe’dbeenfeeling.
“Targetingshouldbeupnow,”Naomisaid.
“Rogerthat,”Alexreplied.“Scopesareup.Radar,up.Ladar,up—Shit,Naomi,youseeingthis?”
“Iseeit,”Naomisaid.“Captain,gettingenginesignaturesfromthestealthship.They’repowering
uptoo.”
“Weexpectedthat,”Holdensaid.“Everyonestayontask.”
“Oneminute,”Amossaid.
Holdenturnedonhisconsoleandpulleduphistacticaldisplay.Inthescope,ThothStationturned
inalazycirclewhiletheslightlywarmspotaboveitgothotenoughtoresolvearoughhulloutline.
“Alex,thatdoesn’tlooklikethelastfrigate,”Holdensaid.“DoestheRocirecognizeityet?”
“Notyet,Cap,butshe’sworkin’onit.”
“Thirtyseconds,”Amossaid.
“Gettingladarsearchesfromthestation,”Naomisaid.“Broadcastingchatter.”
Holden watched on his screen as Naomi tried to match the wavelength the station was using to
targetthem,andbegansprayingthestationwiththeirownlasercommarraytoconfusethereturns.
“Fifteenseconds,”Amossaid.
“Okay,buckleup,kids,”Alexsaid.“Herecomesthejuice.”
EvenbeforeAlexhadfinishedsayingit,Holdenfeltadozenpinpricksashischairpumpedhim
fullofdrugstokeephimaliveduringthecomingdeceleration.Hisskinwenttightandhot,andhis
ballscrawledupintohisbelly.Alexseemedtobespeakinginslowmotion.
“Five…four…three…two…”
Heneversaidone.Instead,athousandpoundssatonHolden’schestandrumbledlikealaughing
giantastheRoci’sengineslammedonthebrakesatteng’s.Holdenthoughthecouldactuallyfeelhis
lungsscrapingtheinsideofhisribcageashischestdiditsbesttocollapse.Butthechairpulledhim
intoasoftgel-filledembrace,andthedrugskepthisheartbeatingandhisbrainprocessing.Hedidn’t
blackout.Ifthehigh-gmaneuveringkilledhim,he’dbewideawakeandlucidfortheentirething.
Hishelmetfilledwiththesoundofgurglingandlaboredbreathing,onlysomeofwhichwashis
own.Amosmanagedpartofacursebeforehisjawwasclampedshut.Holdencouldn’theartheRoci
shudderingwiththestrainofhercoursechange,buthecouldfeelitthroughtheseat.Shewastough.
Tougherthananyofthem.They’dbelongdeadbeforetheshippulledenoughg’stohurtitself.
When relief came, it came so suddenly that Holden almost vomited. The drugs in his system
stopped that too. He took a deep breath and the cartilage of his sternum clicked painfully back into
place.
“Checkin,”hemuttered.Hisjawhurt.
“Commarraytargeted,”Alexrepliedimmediately.ThothStation’scommandtargetingarraywas
thefirstitemontheirtargetprioritylist.
“Allgreen,”Amossaidfrombelow.
“Sir,”Naomisaid,awarninginhervoice.
“Shit,Iseeit,”Alexsaid.
Holden told his console to mirror Naomi’s so he could see what she was looking at. On her
screen,theRocihadfiguredoutwhyitcouldn’tidentifythestealthship.
Thereweretwoships,notonelargeandungainlymissilefrigatethattheycoulddancearoundand
cuttopiecesatcloserange.No,thatwouldhavebeentooeasy.Theseweretwomuchsmallerships
parked close together to trick enemy sensors. And now they were both firing their engines and
splittingup.
Okay,Holdenthought.Newplan.
“Alex,gettheirattention,”hesaid.“Can’tletthemgoaftertheMolinari.”
“Roger,”Alexreplied.“Oneaway.”
Holden felt the Roci shudder as Alex fired a torpedo at one of the two ships. The smaller ships
wererapidlychangingspeedandvector,andthetorpedohadbeenfiredhastilyandfromabadangle.
Itwouldn’tscoreahit,buttheRociwouldbeoneveryone’sscopeasathreatnow.Sothatwasgood.
Bothofthesmallershipsdartedawayinoppositedirectionsatfullburn,sprayingchaffandlaser
chatter behind them as they went. The torpedo wobbled in its trajectory and then limped away in a
randomdirection.
“Naomi,Alex,anyideawhatwe’refacinghere?”Holdenasked.
“Rocistilldoesn’trecognizethem,sir,”Naomisaid.
“Newhulldesign,”Alexsaidoverher.“Butthey’reflyin’likefastinterceptors.Guessin’atorpedo
ortwoonthebelly,andakeel-mountedrailgun.”
FasterandmoremaneuverablethantheRoci,butthey’dbeabletofireinonlyonedirection.
“Alex, come around to—” Holden’s order was cut short when the Rocinante shuddered and
jumpedsideways,hurlinghimintothesideofhisrestraintswithrib-bruisingforce.
“We’rehit!”AmosandAlexyelledatthesametime.
“Stationshotuswithsomesortofheavygausscannon,”Naomisaid.
“Damage,”Holdensaid.
“Went clean through us, Cap,” Amos said. “Galley and the machine shop. Got yellows on the
board,butnothingthat’llkillus.”
Nothingthat’llkillussoundedgood,butHoldenfeltapangforhiscoffeemaker.
“Alex,”Holdensaid.“Forgetthelittleships,killthatcommarray.”
“Roger,”Alexreplied,andtheRocilurchedsidewaysasAlexchangedcoursetobeginhistorpedo
runonthestation.
“Naomi,assoonasthefirstoneofthosefighterscomesaroundonhisattackrun,givehimthe
commlaserintheface,fullstrength,andstartdroppingchaff.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied. Maybe the laser would be enough to screw up his targeting system for a
fewseconds.
“Station’sopenin’upwiththePDCs,”Alexsaid.“This’llgetamitebumpy.”
Holden switched from mirroring Naomi’s screen to watching Alex’s. His panel filled with
thousandsofrapidlymovingballsoflightandThothstationrotatinginthebackground.TheRoci’s
threat computer was outlining the incoming point defense cannon fire with bright light on Alex’s
HUD. It was moving impossibly fast, but at least with the system doing a bright overlay on each
round,thepilotcouldseewherethefirewascomingfromandwhichdirectionitwastraveling.Alex
reactedtothisthreatinformationwithconsummateskill,maneuveringawayfromthePDCs’direction
offireinquick,almostrandommovementsthatforcedtheautomatedtargetingofthepointdefense
cannonstoadjustconstantly.
ToHolden,itlookedlikeagame.Incrediblyfastblobsoflightflewupfromthespacestationin
chains, like long and thin pearl necklaces. The ship moved restlessly, finding the gaps between the
threadsanddodgingawaytoanewgapbeforethestrandscouldreactandtouchher.ButHoldenknew
that each blob of light represented a chunk of Teflon-coated tungsten steel with a depleted uranium
heart,goingthousandsofmeterspersecond.IfAlexlostthegame,they’dknowitwhentheRocinante
wascuttopieces.
HoldenalmostjumpedoutofhisskinwhenAmosspoke.“Shit,Cap,gotaleaksomewhere.Three
port-maneuveringthrustersarelosingwaterpressure.Goingtopatchit.”
“Copy,Amos.Gofast,”Holdensaid.
“Youhangondownthere,Amos,”Naomisaid.
Amosjustsnorted.
On his console, Holden watched as Thoth Station grew larger on the scope. Somewhere behind
them,thetwofighterswereprobablycomingabout.ThethoughtmadethebackofHolden’sheaditch,
buthetriedtokeepfocus.TheRocididn’thaveenoughtorpedoesforAlextofireshotaftershotat
thestationfromfaroffandhopeonemadeitthroughthepointdefensefire.Alexhadtobringthemin
soclosethatthecannonscouldn’tshootthetorpedodown.
A blue highlight appeared on the HUD surrounding a portion of the station’s central hub. The
highlighted portion expanded into a smaller subscreen. Holden could make out the dishes and
antennasthatmadeupthecommandtargetingarray.
“Oneaway,”Alexsaid,andtheRocivibratedashersecondtorpedowasfired.
HoldenshookviolentlyinhisrestraintsandthenslappedbackintohischairasAlextooktheRoci
throughaseriesofsuddenmaneuversandthenslammeddownthethrottletoevadethelastofthePDC
fire.Holdenwatchedhisscreenasthereddotoftheirmissilestreakedtowardthestationandstruck
thecommarray.Aflashblankedouthisscreenforasecondandthenfaded.Almostimmediatelythe
PDCfirestopped.
“Goodsh—”HoldenwascutoffbyNaomiyelling,“Bogeyonehasfired!Twofastmovers!”
Holdenflippedbacktoherscreenandsawthethreatsystemtrackingbothfightersandtwosmaller
andmuchfasterobjectsmovingtowardtheRocionaninterceptcourse.
“Alex!”Holdensaid.
“Gotit,Chief.Goingdefensive.”
HoldenslammedbackintohischairagainasAlexpouredonthespeed.Thesteadyrumbleofthe
engineseemedtostutter,andHoldenrealizedhewasfeelingtheconstantfireoftheirownPDCsas
theytriedtoshootdownthepursuingmissiles.
“Well,fuck,”Amossaidalmostconversationally.
“Whereareyou?”Holdenasked,thenflippedhisscreentoAmos’suitcamera.Themechanicwas
in a dimly illuminated crawl space filled with conduit and piping. That meant he was between the
innerandouterhulls.Infrontofhim,asectionofdamagedpipelookedlikesnappedbones.Acutting
torch floated nearby. The ship bounced violently, banging the mechanic around in the tight space.
Alexwhoopedoverthecomm.
“Missilesdidnotimpact!”hesaid.
“TellAlextostopjerkingheraround,”Amossaid.“Makesithardtohangontomytools.”
“Amos,getbacktoyourcrashcouch!”Naomisaid.
“Sorry,Boss,”Amosrepliedwithagruntasheyankedoneendofthebrokenpipefree.“IfIdon’t
fixthisandwelosepressure,Alexwon’tbeabletoturntostarboardanymore.Betthat’llfuckusup
good.”
“Keep working, Amos,” Holden said over Naomi’s protests. “But hang on. This is going to get
worse.”
Amossaid,“Rogerthat.”
HoldenswitchedbacktoAlex’sHUDdisplay.
“Holden,”Naomisaid.Therewasfearinhervoice.“Amosisgoingtoget—”
“He’sdoinghisjob.Doyours.Alex,wehavetotakethesetwooutbeforetheMolinarigetshere.
Getmeaninterceptononeofthemandlet’skickitsass.”
“Rogerthat,Cap,”Alexsaid.“Goingafterbogeytwo.Couldusesomehelpwithbogeyone.”
“Bogey one is Naomi’s priority,” Holden said. “Do what you can to keep it off of our backside
whilewekillhisfriend.”
“Roger,”Naomisaidinatightvoice.
HoldenswitchedbacktoAmos’helmetcamera,butthemechanicseemedtobedoingfine.Hewas
cuttingthedamagedpipefreewithhistorch,andalengthofreplacementpipefloatednearby.
“Strapthatpipedown,Amos,”Holdensaid.
“Allrespect,Captain,”Amossaid,“butsafetystandardscankissmyass.I’mgettingthisdonefast
andgettingouttahere.”
Holden hesitated. If Alex had to make a course correction, the floating pipe could turn into a
projectilemassiveenoughtokillAmosorbreaktheRoci.It’sAmos,hetoldhimself.Heknowswhat
he’sdoing.
Holden flipped to Naomi’s screen as she poured everything the comm system had at the small
interceptor,tryingtoblinditwithlightandradiostatic.Thenhewentbacktohistacticaldisplay.The
Rociandbogeytwoflewtowardeachotheratsuicidalspeeds.Assoonastheypassedthepointwhere
incomingtorpedofirecouldn’tbeavoided,bogeytwolaunchedbothhismissiles.Alexflaggedthe
twofastmoversforthePDCsandkeptuphisinterceptcoursebutdidn’tlaunchmissiles.
“Alex,whyaren’tweshooting?”Holdensaid.
“Gonna shoot his torpedoes down, then get in close and let the PDCs chew him up,” the pilot
replied.
“Why?”
“We’veonlygotsomanytorpedoesandnoresupply.Nocalltowaste’emonthesemunchkins.”
TheincomingtorpedoesarcedforwardonHolden’sdisplay,andhefelttheRoci’sPDCsfiringto
shootthemdown.
“Alex,”hesaid.“Wedidn’tpayforthisship.Feelfreetouseitup.IfIgetkilledsoyoucansave
ammo,Iamgoingtoputareprimandinyourpermanentfile.”
“Well,youputitthatway…”Alexsaid.Then:“Oneaway.”
Thereddotoftheirtorpedostreakedofftowardbogeytwo.Theincomingmissilesgotcloserand
closer,andthenonedisappearedfromthedisplay.
Alex said, “Shit,” in a flat voice, and then the Rocinante slammed sideways hard enough that
Holdenbrokehisnoseontheinsideofhishelmet.Yellowemergencylightsbeganrotatingonallthe
bulkheads, though with the ship evacuated of air, Holden mercifully couldn’t hear the Klaxons that
weretryingtosoundthroughoutit.Histacticaldisplayflickered,wentout,andthencamebackaftera
second. When it came back up, all three torpedoes, as well as bogey two, were gone. Bogey one
continuedtobeardownonthemfromastern.
“Damage!”Holdenyelled,hopingthecommwasstillup.
“Major damage to the outer hull,” Naomi replied. “Four maneuvering thrusters gone. One PDC
nonresponsive.We’vealsolostO2storage,andthecrewairlocklookslikeit’sslag.”
“Whyarewealive?”Holdenaskedwhileheflippedthroughthedamagereportandthenoverto
Amos’suitcamera.
“The fish didn’t hit us,” Alex said. “The PDC got it, but it was close. Warhead detonated and
sprayedusdownprettygood.”
Itdidn’tlooklikeAmoswasmoving.Holdenyelled,“Amos!Report!”
“Yeah,yeah,stillhere,Captain.Justhangingonincasewegetknockedaroundlikethatagain.I
think I busted a rib on one of the hull braces, but I’m strapped down. Good fucking thing I didn’t
wastetimewiththatpipe,though.”
Holdendidn’ttaketimetoanswer.Heflippedbacktohistacticaldisplayandwatchedtherapidly
approaching bogey one. It had already fired its torpedoes, but at close range it could still cut them
apartwithitscannon.
“Alex,canyougetusturnedaroundandgetafiringsolutiononthatfighter?”hesaid.
“Workingonit.Don’thavemuchmaneuverability,”Alexreplied,andtheRocibeganrotatingwith
aseriesoflurches.
Holdenswitchedtoatelescopeandzoomedinontheapproachingfighter.Upclose,themuzzleof
itscannonlookedasbigaroundasacorridoronCeres,anditappearedtobeaimeddirectlyathim.
“Alex,”hesaid.
“Workingonit,Chief,buttheRoci’shurtin’.”
Theenemyship’scannonflaredopen,preparingtofire.
“Alex,killit.Killitkillitkillit.”
“Oneaway,”thepilotsaid,andtheRocinanteshuddered.
Holden’sconsolethrewhimoutofthescopeviewandbacktothetacticalviewautomatically.The
Roci’storpedoflewtowardthefighteratalmostthesameinstantthatthefighteropenedupwithits
cannon.Thedisplayshowedtheincomingroundsassmallreddotsmovingtoofasttofollow.
“Incom—”heshouted,andtheRocinantecameapartaroundhim.
Holdencameto.
The inside of the ship was filled with flying debris and bits of superheated metal shavings that
looked like slow-motion showers of sparks. With no air, they bounced off walls and then floated,
slowlycooling,likelazyfireflies.Hehadavaguememoryofonecornerofawall-mountedmonitor
detachingandbouncingoffthreebulkheadsintheworld’smostelaboratebilliardsshot,thenhitting
him right below the sternum. He looked down, and the little chunk of monitor was floating a few
centimetersinfrontofhim,buttherewasnoholeinhissuit.Hisgutshurt.
TheopsconsolechairnexttoNaomihadaholeinit;greengelslowlyleakedintosmallballsthat
floated away in the zero g. Holden looked at the hole in the chair, and the matching hole in the
bulkhead across the room, and realized that the round must have passed within centimeters of
Naomi’sleg.Ashuddersweptthroughhim,leavinghimnauseatedinitswake.
“Whatthefuckwasthat?”Amosaskedquietly.“Andhowaboutwedon’tdoitanymore?”
“Alex?”Holdensaid.
“Stillhere,Cap,”thepilotreplied,hisvoiceeerilycalm.
“Mypanel’sdead,”Holdensaid.“Didwekillthatsonofabitch?”
“Yeah,Cap,he’sdead.AbouthalfadozenofhisroundsactuallyhittheRoci.Looksliketheywent
throughusfrombowtostern.Thatanti-spallingwebbingonthebulkheadsreallykeepstheshrapnel
down,doesn’tit?”
Alex’svoicehadstartedshaking.HemeantWeshouldallbedead.
“OpenachanneltoFred,Naomi,”Holdensaid.
Shedidn’tmove.
“Naomi?”
“Right.Fred,”shesaid,thentappedonherscreen.
Holden’shelmetwasfilledwithstaticforasecond,thenwithFred’svoice.
“GuyMolinarihere.Gladyouguysarestillalive.”
“Rogerthat.Beginyourrun.Letusknowwhenwecanlimpovertooneofthestation’sdocks.”
“Roger,”Fredreplied.“We’llfindyouaniceplacetoland.Fredout.”
Holdenpulledthequickreleaseonhischair ’srestraintsandfloatedtowardtheceiling,hisbody
limp.
Okay,Miller.Yourturn.
ChapterForty:Miller
Oi,Pampaw,”thekidinthecrashcouchtoMiller ’srightsaid.“Poppedseal,youandbang,hey?”
Thekid’scombatarmorwasgray-green,articulatedpressuresealsatthejointsandstripesacross
thefrontplateswhereaknifeorflechetteroundhadscrapedthefinish.Behindthefacemask,thekid
couldhavebeenfifteen.Hishandgesturesspokeofachildhoodspentinvacuumsuits,andhisspeech
waspureBeltcreole.
“Yeah,”Millersaid,raisinghisarm.“Sawsomeactionrecently.I’llbefine.”
“Fine’sfineasfine,”thekidsaid.“Butyouholdtothefoca,andnetocanpasstheairouttoyou,
hey?”
NooneonMarsorEarthwouldhavethefirstcluewhatyou’resaying,Millerthought.Shit, half
thepeopleonCereswouldbeembarrassedbyanaccentthatthick.Nowondertheydon’tmindkilling
you.
“Soundsgoodtome,”Millersaid.“Yougofirst,andI’lltrytokeepanyonefromshootingyouin
theback.”
Thekidgrinned.Millerhadseenthousandslikehim.Boysinthethroesofadolescence,working
throughthenormalteenagedrivetotakerisksandimpressgirls,butatthesametimetheylivedinthe
Belt, where one bad call meant dead. He’d seen thousands. He’d arrested hundreds. He’d watched a
fewdozenpickedupinhazmatbags.
Heleanedforwardtolookdownthelongrowsofclose-packedgimbaledcrashcouchesthatlined
thegutoftheGuyMolinari.Miller ’sroughestimateputthecountatbetweenninetyandahundredof
them.Sobydinner,chancesweregoodhe’dhaveseenacoupledozenmoredie.
“What’syourname,kid?”
“Diogo.”
“Miller,”hesaid,andgavethekidhishandtoshake.Thehigh-qualityMartianbattlearmorMiller
hadtakenfromtheRocinantelethisfingersflexalotmorethanthekid’s.
The truth was Miller was in no shape for the assault. He was still getting occasional waves of
inexplicable nausea, and his arm ached whenever the medication level in his blood started thinning
out. But he knew his way around a gun, and he probably knew more about corridor-to-corridor
fightingthannine-tenthsoftheOPArockjumpersandorehogslikeDiogowhowereabouttogoin.
Itwouldhavetobegoodenough.
Theship’saddresssystemclickedonce.
“ThisisFred.We’vehadwordfromairsupport,andwe’regreenforbreachintenminutes.Final
checksstartnow,people.”
Millersatbackinhiscouch.Theclickingandchatteringofahundredsuitsofarmor,ahundred
sidearms, a hundred assault weapons filled the air. He’d been over his own enough times now; he
didn’tfeeltheurgetodoitagain.
Inafewminutes,theburnwouldcome.Thecocktailofhigh-gdrugswaskeptontheraggededge,
sincethey’dbegoingstraightfromthecouchesintoafirefight.Nopointhavingyourassaultforce
moredopedthannecessary.
Julie sat on the wall beside him, her hair swirling around her like she was underwater. He
imaginedthedappledlightflashingacrossherface.Portraitoftheyoungpinnaceracerasamermaid.
Shesmiledattheidea,andMillersmiledback.Shewouldhavebeenhere,heknew.AlongwithDiogo
and Fred and all the other OPA militia, patriots of the vacuum, she’d have been in a crash couch,
wearingborrowedarmor,headingintothestationtogetherselfkilledforthegreatergood.Miller
knewhewouldn’thave.Notbeforeher.Soinasense,he’dtakenherplace.He’dbecomeher.
Theymadeit,Juliesaid,ormaybeonlythought.Ifthegroundattackwasgoingforward,itmeant
the Rocinante had survived—at least long enough to knock out the defenses. Miller nodded,
acknowledging her and letting himself feel a moment’s pleasure at the idea, and then thrust gravity
pushedhimintohiscouchsohardthathisconsciousnessflickered,andtheholdaroundhimdimmed.
Hefeltitwhenthebrakingburncame,allthecrashcouchesspinningtofacethenewup.Needlesdug
intoMiller ’sflesh.Somethingdeepandloudhappened,theGuyMolinariringinglikeagiganticbell.
Thebreachingcharge.Theworldpulledhardtotheleft,thecouchswingingforthelasttimeasthe
assaultshipmatchedthestation’sspin.
Someone was shouting at him. “Go go go!” Miller lifted his assault rifle, tapped the sidearm
strappedtohisthigh,andjoinedthepressofbodiesmakingfortheexit.Hemissedhishat.
Theservicecorridorthey’dcutintowasnarrowanddim.TheschematicstheTychoengineershad
workedupsuggestedtheywouldn’tseeanyrealresistanceuntiltheygotintothemannedpartsofthe
station.Thathadbeenabadguess.MillerstaggeredinwiththeotherOPAsoldiersintimetoseean
automaticdefenselasercutthefirstrankinhalf.
“Teamthree!Gasit!”Fredsnappedinalltheirears,andhalfadozenbloomsofthickwhiteantilasersmokeburstintothecloseair.Thenexttimeadefenselaserfired,thewallsflashedwithmad
iridescence,andthesmokeofburningplasticfilledtheair,butnoonedied.Millerpressedforward
anduparedmetalramp.Aweldingchargeflared,andaservicedoorswungopen.
ThecorridorsofThothstationwerewideandroomy,withlongswathsofivygrownincarefully
tended spirals, niches every few feet with tastefully lit bonsai. Soft light the pure white of sunlight
madetheplacefeellikeaspaorarichman’sprivateresidence.Thefloorswerecarpet.
The HUD in his armor flickered, marking the path the assault was meant to take. Miller ’s heart
stepped up to a fast, constant flutter, but his mind seemed to grow perfectly still. At the first
intersection, a riot barrier was manned by a dozen men in Protogen security uniforms. The OPA
troopshungback,usingthecurveoftheceilingascover.Whatsuppressingfiretherewascamein
kneecaplow.
The grenades were perfectly round, not even a hole where the pin had been pulled. They didn’t
rollaswellonthesoftindustrialcarpetastheywouldhaveonstoneortiling,sooneofthethreewent
off before it reached the barrier. The concussion was like being hit in the ears with a hammer; the
narrow,sealedcorridorschanneledtheblastbackatthemalmostasmuchasattheenemy.Buttheriot
barriershattered,andtheProtogensecuritymenfellback.
Astheyallrushedforward,Millerheardhisnew,temporarycompatriotswhoopingwiththefirst
tasteofvictory.Thesoundwasmuffled,asiftheywerealongwayaway.Maybehisearpieceshadn’t
dampened the blast as much as they were supposed to. Making the rest of the assault with blown
eardrumswouldn’tbeeasy.
ButthenFredcameon,andhisvoicewasclearenough.
“Donotadvance!Holdback!”
Itwasalmostenough.TheOPAgroundforcehesitated,Fred’sorderspullingatthemlikealeash.
These weren’t troops. They weren’t even cops. They were a Belter irregular militia; discipline and
respectforauthorityweren’tnaturaltothem.Theyslowed.Theygotcareful.Soroundingthecorner,
theydidn’twalkintothetrap.
The next corridor was long and straight, leading—the HUD suggested—to a service ramp up
towardthecontrolcenter.Itlookedempty,butathirdofthewaytothecurvehorizon,thecarpeting
startedtoflyapartinraggedtufts.OneoftheboysbesideMillergruntedandwentdown.
“They are using low-shrapnel rounds and bouncing them off the curve,” Fred said into all their
earsatonce.“Bank-shotricochet.Staylow,anddoexactlyasIsay.”
The calm in the Earther ’s voice had more effect than his shouting had. Miller thought he might
have been imagining it, but there also seemed to be a deeper tone. A certainty. The Butcher of
Anderson Station doing what he did best, leading his troops against the tactics and strategies he’d
helpedcreatebackwhenhe’dbeentheenemy.
Slowly,theOPAforcesmovedforward,uponelevel,andthenthenext,thenthenext.Theairgrew
hazywithsmokeandablatedpaneling.Thewidecorridorsopenedintobroadplazasandsquares,as
airyasprisonyards,withtheProtogenforcesintheguardtowers.Thesidecorridorswerelocked
down,localsecuritytryingtochannelthemintosituationswheretheycouldbecaughtincrossfire.
It didn’t work. The OPA forced open the doors, taking cover in display-rich rooms, something
between lecture halls and manufacturing complexes. Twice, unarmored civilians, still at their work
despitetheongoingassault,attackedthemwhentheyentered.TheOPAboysmowedthemdown.Part
ofMiller ’smind—thepartthatwasstillacopandnotasoldier—twitchedatthat.Theywerecivilians.
Killingthemwas,attheveryleast,badform.ButthenJuliewhisperedinthebackofhismind,Noone
hereisinnocent,andhehadtoagree.
Theoperationscenterwasathirdofthewayupthestation’sslight gravity well, defended better
thananythingtheyhadseensofar.Millerandfiveothers,directedbytheall-knowingvoiceofFred,
took cover in a narrow service corridor, keeping a steady suppressing fire up the main corridor
toward ops, and making sure no Protogen counterattack would go unanswered. Miller checked his
assaultweaponandwassurprisedtoseehowmuchammunitionwasleft.
“Oi,Pampaw,”thekidnexttohimsaid,andMillersmiled,recognizingDiogo’svoicebehindthe
facemask.“Day’stheday,passa?”
“I’veseenworse,”Milleragreed,thenpaused.Hetriedtoscratchhisinjuredelbow,butthearmor
plateskeptanythingsatisfyingfromhappening.
“Beccastu?”Diogoasked.
“No,I’mfine.It’sjust…thisplace.Idon’tgetit.Itlookslikeaspa,andit’sbuiltlikeaprison.”
Theboy’shandsshiftedinquery.Millershookhisfistinresponse,thinkingthroughtheideasas
hespoke.
“It’salllongsightlinesandlocked-downsidepassages,”Millersaid.“IfIwasgoingtobuilda
placelikethis,I’d—”
Theairsang,andDiogowentdown,hisheadsnappingbackashefell.Milleryelpedandwheeled.
Behind them in the side corridor, two figures in Protogen security uniform dove for cover.
SomethinghissedthroughtheairbyMiller ’sleftear.Somethingelsebouncedoffthebreastplateof
hisfancyMartianarmorlikeahammerblow.Hedidn’tthinkaboutraisinghisassaultweapon;itwas
justthere,coughingoutreturnfirelikeanextensionofhiswill.TheotherthreeOPAsoldiersturned
tohelp.
“Getback,”Millerbarked.“Keepyourfuckingeyesonthemaincorridor!I’monthis.”
Stupid,Millertoldhimself,stupidtoletthemgetbehindus.Stupidtostopandtalkinthemiddleof
afirefight.Heshouldhaveknownbetter,andnow,becausehe’dlostfocus,theboywas…
Laughing?
Diogosatup,liftedhisownassaultweapon,andpepperedthesidecorridorwithrounds.Hegot
unsteadilytohisfeet,thenwhoopedlikeachildwho’djustgottenoffathrillride.Awidestreakof
whitegoostretchedfromhiscollarboneupacrosstherightsideofhisfacemask.Behindit,Diogo
wasgrinning.Millershookhishead.
“Whatthehellaretheyusingcrowdsuppressionroundsfor?”hesaidtohimselfasmuchasthe
boy.“Theythinkthisariot?”
“Forwardteams,”FredsaidinMiller ’sear,“getready.We’removinginfive.Four.Three.Two.
Go!”
We don’t know what we’re getting into here, Miller thought as he joined the sprint down the
corridor,pressingtowardtheassault’sfinaltarget.Awiderampleduptoasetofblastdoorsdonein
wood-grainveneer.Somethingdetonatedbehindthem,butMillerkepthisheadlowanddidn’tlook
back. The press of bodies jostling in their ragtag armor grew thicker, and Miller stumbled on
somethingsoft.AbodyinProtogenuniform.
“Giveussomeroom!”awomanatthefrontshouted.Millerpushedtowardher,cuttingthroughthe
crowdofOPAsoldierswithhisshoulderandelbow.Thewomanshoutedagainashereachedher.
“What’stheproblem?”Millershouted.
“I can’t cut through this bitch with all these dick-lickers pushing me,” she said, lifting a cutting
torchalreadyglowingwhiteattheedge.Millernoddedandslidhisassaultrifleintotheslingonhis
back.Hegrabbedtwoofthenearestshoulders,shookthemenuntiltheynoticedhim,andthenlocked
hiselbowswiththeirs.
“Justneedtogivethetechssomeroom,”Millersaid,andtogethertheywadedintotheirownmen,
pushing them back. How many battles, all through history, fell apart at moments like this? he
wondered.Thevictoryallbutdelivereduntilalliedforcesstartedtrippingovereachother.Thewelder
poppedtolifebehindhim,theheatpressingathisbacklikeahandeveninarmor.
Attheedgeofthecrowd,automaticweaponsgurgledandchoked.
“How’sitgoingbackthere?”Millershoutedoverhisshoulder.
The woman didn’t answer. Hours seemed to pass, though it couldn’t have been more than five
minutes.Thehazeofhotmetalandaerosolizedplasticfilledtheair.
Theweldingtorchturnedoffwithapop.Overhisshoulder,Millersawthebulkheadsagandshift.
Thetechplacedacard-thinjackintothegapbetweenplates,activatedit,andstoodback.Thestation
aroundthemgroanedasanewsetofpressuresandstrainsreshapedthemetal.Thebulkheadopened.
“Come on,” Miller shouted, then tucked his head and moved through the new passageway, up a
carpetedramp,andintotheopscenter.Adozenmenandwomenlookedupfromtheirstations,eyes
widewithfear.
“You’reunderarrest!”MillershoutedastheOPAsoldiersboiledinaroundhim.“Well,noyou’re
not,but…shit.Putyourhandsupandbackawayfromthecontrols!”
Oneofthemen—tallasaBelter,butbuiltsolidasamaninfullgravity—sighed.Heworeagood
suit,linenandrawsilk,withoutthelinesandfoldsthatspokeofcomputertailoring.
“Dowhattheysay,”thelinensuitsaid.Hesoundedpeeved,butnotfrightened.
Miller ’seyesnarrowed.
“Mr.Dresden?”
Thesuitraisedacarefullyshapedeyebrow,paused,andnodded.
“Beenlookingforyou,”Millersaid.
Fred walked into the ops center like he belonged there. With a tighter set of the shoulders and a
degree’sshiftofthespine,themasterengineerofTychoStationwasgone,andthegeneralwasinhis
place.Helookedovertheopscenter,suckingineverydetailwithaflickerofhiseyes,thennoddedat
oneoftheseniorOPAtechs.
“Alllockeddown,sir,”thetechsaid.“Thestation’syours.”
Millerhadalmostneverbeenpresenttowitnessanotherman’smomentofabsolution.Itwassucha
rare thing, and so utterly private that it approached the spiritual. Decades ago, this man—younger,
fitter,notasmuchgrayinhishair—hadtakenaspacestation,wadinguptohiskneesinthegoreand
deathofBelters,andMillersawthebarelyperceptiblerelaxationinhisjaw,theopeningofhischest
thatmeantthatburdenhadlifted.Maybeitwasn’tgone,butitwasnearenough.Itwasmorethanmost
peoplemanagedinalifetime.
Hewonderedwhatitwouldfeellikeifheevergotthechance.
“Miller?”Fredsaid.“Ihearyou’vegotsomeonewe’dliketotalkto.”
Dresden unfolded from his chair, ignoring the sidearms and assault weapons as if such things
didn’tapplytohim.
“Colonel Johnson,” Dresden said. “I should have expected that a man of your caliber would be
behindallthis.MynameisDresden.”
HehandedFredamatteblackbusinesscard.Fredtookitasifbyreflexbutdidn’tlookatit.
“You’retheoneresponsibleforthis?”
Dresdengavehimachillysmileandlookedaroundbeforeheanswered.
“I’d say you’re responsible for at least part of it,” Dresden said. “You’ve just killed quite a few
peoplewhoweresimplydoingtheirjobs.Butmaybewecandispensewiththemoralfinger-pointing
andgetdowntowhatactuallymatters?”
Fred’ssmilereachedallthewaytohiseyes.
“Andwhatexactlywouldthatbe?”
“Negotiating terms,” Dresden replied. “You are a man of experience. You understand that your
victoryhereputsyouinanuntenableposition.Protogenisoneofthemostpowerfulcorporationson
Earth.TheOPAhasattackedit,andthelongeryoutrytoholdit,theworsethereprisalswillbe.”
“Isthatso?”
“Ofcourseitis,”Dresdensaid,wavingFred’stoneawaywithadismissinghand.Millershookhis
head. The man genuinely didn’t understand what was going on. “You’ve taken your hostages. Well,
hereweare.WecanwaituntilEarthsendsafewdozenbattleshipsandnegotiatewhileyoulookdown
thebarrels,orwecanendthisnow.”
“You’reaskingme…howmuchmoneyIwanttotakemypeopleandjustleave,”Fredsaid.
“Ifmoney’swhatyouwant,”Dresdensaidwithashrug.“Weapons.Ordinance.Medicalsupplies.
Whateveritisyouneedtoprosecuteyourlittlewarandgetthisoverwithquickly.”
“IknowwhatyoudidonEros,”Fredsaidquietly.
Dresdenchuckled.ThesoundmadeMiller ’sfleshcrawl.
“Mr. Johnson,” Dresden said. “Nobody knows what we did on Eros. And every minute I have to
spendplayinggameswithyouisoneIcan’tusemoreproductivelyelsewhere.Iwillswearthis:You
areinthebestbargainingpositionrightnowthatyouwilleverhave.Thereisnoincentiveforyouto
drawthisout.”
“Andyou’reoffering?”
Dresdenspreadhishands.“Anythingyoulikeandamnestybesides.Aslongasitgetsyououtof
hereandletsusreturntoourwork.Webothwin.”
Fredlaughed.Itwasmirthless.
“Letmegetthisstraight,”hesaid.“You’llgivemeallthekingdomsoftheEarthifIjustbowdown
anddooneactofworshipforyou?”
Dresdencockedhishead.“Idon’tknowthereference.”
ChapterForty-One:Holden
T heRocinantedockedwithThothstationonthelastgaspsfromhermaneuveringthrusters.Holden
feltthestation’sdockingclampsgrabthehullwithathud,andthengravityreturnedatalowone-third
g. The close detonation of a plasma warhead had torn off the outer door of the crew airlock and
floodedthechamberwithsuperheatedgas,effectivelyweldingitshut.Thatmeantthey’dbeusingthe
cargoairlockatthesternoftheshipandspacewalkingovertothestation.
That was fine; they were still in their suits. The Roci had more holes now than the air cycling
system could keep up with, and their shipboard O2 supply had been vented into space by the same
explosionthatkilledtheairlock.
Alex dropped from the cockpit, face hidden by his helmet, his belly unmistakable even in his
atmospheresuit.Naomifinishedlockingherstationandpoweringdowntheship,thenjoinedAlex,
and the three of them climbed down the crew ladder to the ship’s aft. Amos was waiting there,
buckling an EVA pack onto his suit and charging it with compressed nitrogen from a storage tank.
ThemechanichadassuredHoldenthattheEVAmaneuveringpackhadenoughthrusttoovercomethe
station’sspinandgetthembackuptoanairlock.
Noonespoke.Holdenhadexpectedbanter.He’dexpectedtowanttobanter.ButthedamagedRoci
seemedtocallforsilence.Maybeawe.
Holdenleanedagainstthecargobaybulkheadandclosedhiseyes.Theonlysoundshecouldhear
werethesteadyhissofhisairsupplyandthefaintstaticofthecomm.Hecouldsmellnothingthrough
his broken and blood-clogged nose, and his mouth was filled with a coppery taste. But even so, he
couldn’tkeepasmileoffhisface.
They’dwon.They’dflownrightuptoProtogen,takeneverythingtheevilbastardscouldthrowat
them, and bloodied their noses. Even now OPA soldiers were storming their station, shooting the
peoplewho’dhelpedkillEros.
Holdendecidedthathewasokaywithnotfeelinganyremorseforthem.Themoralcomplexityof
thesituationhadgrownpasthisabilitytoprocessit,sohejustrelaxedinthewarmglowofvictory
instead.
ThecommchirpedandAmossaid,“Readytomove.”
Holden nodded, remembered he was still in his atmosphere suit, and said, “Okay. Hook on,
everyone.”
He, Alex, and Naomi pulled tethers from their suits and clamped them to Amos’ broad waist.
Amoscycledthecargoairlockandflewoutthedooronpuffsofgas.Theywereimmediatelyhurled
awayfromtheshipbystationspin,butAmosquicklygotthemundercontrolandflewbackuptoward
Thoth’semergencyairlock.
AsAmosflewthempasttheRoci,Holdenstudiedtheoutsideoftheshipandtriedtocatalogrepair
requirements.Therewereadozenholesinbothherbowandaftthatcorrespondedtoholesallalong
theinsideoftheship.Thegausscannonroundstheinterceptorhadfiredprobablyhadn’tevenslowed
appreciably on their path through the Roci. The crew was just lucky none of them had found the
reactorandpunchedaholeinit.
Therewasalsoahugedentinthefalsesuperstructurethatmadetheshiplooklikeacompressed
gas freighter. Holden knew it would match an equally ugly wound in the armored outer hull. The
damagehadn’textendedtotheinnerhull,ortheshipwouldhavecrackedintwo.
With the damage to the airlock, and the total loss of their oxygen storage tanks and recycling
systems,therewouldbemillionsofdollarsindamageandweeksindrydock,assumingtheycould
makeittoadrydocksomewhere.
MaybetheMolinaricouldgivethematow.
Amos flashed the EVA pack’s yellow warning lights three times, and the station’s emergency
airlockdoorcycledopen.Heflewtheminside,wherefourBeltersincombatarmorwaited.
Assoonastheairlockfinishedcycling,Holdenpulledhishelmetoffandtouchedhisnose.Itfelt
twiceitsnormalsizeandthrobbedwitheveryheartbeat.
Naomi reached out and held his face still, her thumbs on either side of his nose, her touch
surprisinglygentle.Sheturnedhisheadfromsidetoside,examiningtheinjury,thenletgo.
“It’ll be crooked without some cosmetic surgery,” she said. “But you were too pretty before
anyway.It’llgiveyourfacecharacter.”
Holden felt a slow grin coming on, but before he could reply, one of the OPA troops started
talking.
“Watchedthefight,hermano.Youguysreallykickedsomeass.”
“Thanks,”saidAlex.“How’sitgoin’inhere?”
ThesoldierwiththemoststarsonhisOPAinsigniasaid,“Lessresistancethanexpected,butthe
Protogensecurity’sbeenfightingforeveryfootofrealestate.Evensomeoftheegg-headshavebeen
comingatus.We’vehadtoshootafew.”
Hepointedattheinnerairlockdoor.
“Fred’sheadinguptoops.Wantsyoupeopleupthere,pronto.”
“Leadtheway,”Holdenreplied,hisnoseturningitintoleedaway.
“How’sthatleg,Cap?”Amosaskedastheywalkedalongthestationcorridor.Holdenrealizedhe’d
forgottenaboutthelimphisgunshottothecalfhadlefthim.
“Doesn’thurt,butthemuscledoesn’tflexasmuch,”hereplied.“Yours?”
Amosgrinnedandglanceddownatthelegthatstilllimpedfromthefracturehe’dsufferedonthe
Donnagermonthsearlier.
“Nobiggie,”hesaid.“Theonesthatdon’tkillyoudon’tcount.”
Holdenstartedtoreply,thenstoppedwhenthegrouproundedacornerintoaslaughterhouse.They
were clearly coming up behind the assault team, because now the corridor floor was littered with
bodies,thewallswithbulletholesandscorchmarks.Tohisrelief,Holdensawalotmorebodiesin
ProtogensecurityarmorthaninOPAgear.ButtherewereenoughdeadBeltersonthefloortomake
hisstomachtwist.Whenhepassedadeadmaninalabcoat,hehadtostophimselffromspittingon
thefloor.Thesecurityguyshadmaybemadeabaddecisioningoingtoworkforthewrongteam,but
thescientistsonthisstationhadkilledamillionandahalfpeoplejusttoseewhatwouldhappen.They
couldn’tbedeadenoughforHolden’scomfort.
Somethingtuggedathim,andhepaused.Lyingnexttothedeadscientistwaswhatlookedlikea
kitchenknife.
“Huh,”Holdensaid.“Hedidn’tcomeatyouguyswiththat,didhe?”
“Yeah,crazy,no?”saidoneoftheirescorts.“Iheardofbringingaknifetoagunfight,but…”
“Opsisupahead,”saidtherankingtrooper.“General’swaiting.”
Holdenenteredthestations’opscenterandsawFred,Miller,abunchofOPAtroops,andonestranger
inanexpensive-lookingsuit.AlineoftechniciansandoperationsstaffinProtogenuniformhadtheir
wrists cuffed and were being led away. The room was covered deck to ceiling in screens and
monitors,mostofwhichwerespoolingtextdatatoofasttoread.
“Letmegetthisstraight,”Fredwassaying.“You’llgivemeallthekingdomsoftheEarthifIjust
bowdownanddooneactofworshipforyou?”
“Idon’tknowthereference,”thestrangersaid.
WhateverelsetheywereabouttosaystoppedwhenMillernoticedHoldenandtappedFredonthe
shoulder. Holden could swear that the detective gave him a warm smile, though on his dour face it
washardtotell.
“Jim,” Fred said, then gestured for him to come closer. He was reading a matte black business
card.“MeetAntonyDresden,executiveVPofbioresearchforProtogen,andthearchitectoftheEros
project.”
Theassholeinthesuitactuallyreachedoutlikehewasgoingtoshakehands.Holdenignoredhim.
“Fred,”hesaid.“Casualties?”
“Shockinglylow.”
“Halftheirsecurityhadnon-lethals,”Millersaid.“Riotcontrol.Stickyrounds.Likethat.”
Holdennoddedandthenshookhisheadandfrowned.
“IsawalotofProtogensecuritybodiesoutthereinthecorridor.Whyhavesomanyguysandthen
givethemweaponsthatcan’trepelboarders?”
“Goodquestion,”Milleragreed.
Dresdenchuckled.
“ThisiswhatImean,Mr.Johnson,”Dresdensaid.HeturnedtoHolden.“Jim?Wellthen,Jim.The
factthatyoudon’tunderstandthisstation’ssecurityneedstellsmethatyouhavenoideawhatyou’ve
becomeinvolvedwith.AndIthinkyouknowthataswellasIdo.AsIwassayingtoFredhere—”
“Antony, you need to shut the fuck up,” Holden said, surprised by the sudden flush of anger.
Dresdenlookeddisappointed.
The bastard had no right to be comfortable. Condescending. Holden wanted the man terrified,
beggingforhislife,notsneeringbehindhisculturedaccent.
“Amos,ifhetalkstomeagainwithoutbeingtoldto,breakhisjaw.”
“Mypleasure,Captain,”Amossaid,andtookhalfastepforward.
Dresdensmirkedattheham-fistedthreatbutkepthismouthshut.
“Whatdoweknow?”Holdenasked,aimingthequestionatFred.
“WeknowtheErosdataiscominghere,andweknowthispieceofshitisincharge.We’llknow
moreoncewe’vetakentheplaceapart.”
HoldenturnedtolookatDresdenagain,takinginthebluebloodEuropeangoodlooks,thegymsculptedphysique,theexpensivehaircut.Evennow,surroundedbymenwithguns,Dresdenmanaged
tolooklikehewasincharge.Holdencouldimaginehimglancingdownathiswatchandwondering
howmuchmoreofhisexpensivetimethisboardingpartywasgoingtotake.
Holdensaid,“Ineedtoaskhimsomething.”
Frednodded.“Youearnedit.”
“Why?”Holdenasked.“Iwanttoknowwhy.”
Dresden’ssmilewasalmostpitying,andhestuckhishandsintohispocketsascasuallyasaman
talkingsportsatadocksidebar.
“‘Why’isaverybigquestion,”Dresdensaid.“BecauseGodwanteditthatway?Orperhapsyou
wanttonarrowitforme.”
“WhyEros?”
“Well,Jim—”
“You can call me Captain Holden. I’m the guy that found your lost ship, so I’ve seen the video
fromPhoebe.Iknowwhattheprotomoleculeis.”
“Really!”Dresdensaid,hissmilebecominghalfadegreemoregenuine.“Ihaveyoutothankfor
turning the viral agent over to us on Eros. Losing the Anubis was going to put our timeline back
months.Findingtheinfectedbodyalreadythereonthestationwasagodsend.”
Iknewit.Ifuckingknewit,Holdenthought.Outloud,hesaid,“Why?”
“Youknowwhattheagentis,”Dresdensaid,atalossforthefirsttimesinceHoldenhadcomeinto
theroom.“Idon’tknowwhatmoreIcantellyou.Thisisthemostimportantthingtoeverhappento
thehumanrace.It’ssimultaneouslyproofthatwearenotaloneintheuniverse,andourticketoutof
thelimitationsthatbindustoourlittlebubblesofrockandair.”
“Youaren’tansweringme,”Holdensaid,hatingthewayhisbrokennosemadehisvoiceslightly
comical when he wanted to be threatening. “I want to know why you killed a million and a half
people.”
Fred cleared his throat, but he didn’t interrupt. Dresden looked from Holden to the colonel and
backagain.
“Iamanswering,Captain.Amillionandahalfpeopleissmallpotatoes.Whatwe’reworkingwith
hereisbiggerthanthat,”Dresdensaid,thenmovedovertoachairandsatdown,pullinguphispants
legashecrossedhisknees,soasnottostretchthefabric.“AreyoufamiliarwithGenghisKhan?”
“What?” Holden and Fred said at almost the same instant. Miller only stared at Dresden with a
blankexpression,tappingthebarrelofhispistolagainsthisownarmoredthigh.
“GenghisKhan.TherearesomehistorianswhoclaimthatGenghisKahnkilledordisplacedone
quarter of the total human population of Earth during his conquest,” Dresden said. “He did that in
pursuit of an empire that would begin falling apart as soon as he died. In today’s scale, that would
meankillingnearlytenbillionpeopleinordertoaffectageneration.Agenerationandahalf.Eros
isn’tevenaroundingerrorbycomparison.”
“Youreallydon’tcare,”Fredsaid,hisvoicequiet.
“AndunlikeKhan,wearen’tdoingittobuildabriefempire.Iknowwhatyouthink.Thatwe’re
tryingtoaggrandizeourselves.Grabpower.”
“Youdon’twantto?”Holdensaid.
“Of course we do.” Dresden’s voice was cutting. “But you’re thinking too small. Building
humanity’s greatest empire is like building the world’s largest anthill. Insignificant. There is a
civilizationouttherethatbuilttheprotomoleculeandhurleditatusovertwobillionyearsago.They
werealreadygodsatthatpoint.Whathavetheybecomesincethen?Withanothertwobillionyearsto
advance?”
With a growing dread, Holden listened to Dresden speak. This speech had the air of something
spokenbefore.Perhapsmanytimes.Andithadworked.Ithadconvincedpowerfulpeople.Itwaswhy
Protogen had stealth ships from the Earth shipyards and seemingly limitless behind-the-scenes
support.
“We have a terrifying amount of catching up to do, gentlemen,” Dresden was saying. “But
fortunatelywehavethetoolofourenemytouseindoingit.”
“Catchingup?”asoldiertoHolden’sleftsaid.Dresdennoddedatthemanandsmiled.
“The protomolecule can alter the host organism at the molecular level; it can create genetic
changeonthefly.NotjustDNA,butanystablereplicator.Butitisonlyamachine.Itdoesn’tthink.It
followsinstructions.Ifwelearnhowtoalterthatprogramming,thenwebecomethearchitectsofthat
change.”
Holdeninterrupted.“IfitwassupposedtowipeoutlifeonEarthandreplaceitwithwhateverthe
protomolecule’screatorswanted,whyturnitloose?”
“Excellentquestion,”Dresdensaid,holdinguponefingerlikeacollegeprofessorabouttodeliver
alecture.“Theprotomoleculedoesn’tcomewithauser ’smanual.Infact,we’veneverbeforebeen
able to actually watch it carry out its program. The molecule requires significant mass before it
developsenoughprocessingpowertofulfillitsdirectives.Whatevertheyare.”
Dresdenpointedatthescreenscoveredwithdataaroundthem.
“We are going to watch it at work. See what it intends to do. How it goes about doing it. And,
hopefully,learnhowtochangethatprogramintheprocess.”
“Youcoulddothatwithavatofbacteria,”Holdensaid.
“I’mnotinterestedinremakingbacteria,”Dresdensaid.
“You’refuckinginsane,”Amossaid,andtookanothersteptowardDresden.Holdenputahandon
thebigmechanic’sshoulder.
“So,”Holdensaid.“Youfigureouthowthebugworks,andthenwhat?”
“Theneverything.Belterswhocanworkoutsideashipwithoutwearingasuit.Humanscapableof
sleepingforhundredsofyearsatatimeflyingcolonyshipstothestars.Nolongerbeingboundtothe
millions of years of evolution inside one atmosphere of pressure at one g, slaves to oxygen and
water. We decide what we want to be, and we reprogram ourselves to be that. That’s what the
protomoleculegivesus.”
Dresden had stood back up as he’d delivered this speech, his face shining with the zeal of a
prophet.
“Whatwearedoingisthebestandonlyhopeofhumanity’ssurvival.Whenwegooutthere,we
willbefacinggods.”
“Andifwedon’tgoout?”Fredasked.Hesoundedthoughtful.
“They’vealreadyfiredadoomsdayweaponatusonce,”Dresdensaid.
The room was silent for a moment. Holden felt his certainty slip. He hated everything about
Dresden’s argument, but he couldn’t quite see his way past it. He knew in his bones that something
aboutitwasdeadwrong,buthecouldn’tfindthewords.
Naomi’svoicestartledhim.
“Diditconvincethem?”sheasked.
“Excuseme?”Dresdensaid.
“Thescientists.Thetechnicians.Everyoneyouneededtomakeithappen.Theyactuallyhadtodo
this.TheyhadtowatchthevideoofpeopledyingalloverEros.Theyhadtodesignthoseradioactive
murderchambers.Sounlessyoumanagedtoroundupeveryserialkillerinthesolarsystemandsend
themthroughapostgraduateprogram,howdidyoudothis?”
“Wemodifiedourscienceteamtoremoveethicalrestraints.”
HalfadozencluesclickedintoplaceinHolden’shead.
“Sociopaths,”hesaid.“Youturnedthemintosociopaths.”
“High-functioning sociopaths,” Dresden said with a nod. He seemed pleased to explain it. “And
extremely curious ones. As long as we kept them supplied with interesting problems to solve and
unlimitedresources,theyremainedquitecontent.”
“Andabigsecurityteamarmedwithriotcontrolroundsforwhentheyaren’t,”Fredsaid.
“Yes,thereareoccasionalissues,”Dresdensaid.Helookedaround,theslightestfrowncreasing
hisforehead.“Iknow.Youthinkit’smonstrous,butIamsavingthehumanrace.Iamgivinghumanity
thestars.Youdisapprove?Fine.Letmeaskyouthis.CanyousaveEros?Rightnow.”
“No,”Fredsaid,“butwecan—”
“Wastethedata,”Dresdensaid.“Youcanmakecertainthateveryman,woman,andchildwhodied
onErosdiedfornothing.”
Theroomwassilent.Fredwasfrowning,hisarmscrossed.Holdenunderstoodthestrugglegoing
on in the man’s mind. Everything Dresden said was repulsive and eerie and rang too much of the
truth.
“Or,”Dresdensaid,“wecannegotiateaprice,youcangoonyourway,andIcan—”
“Okay.That’senough,”Millersaid,speakingforthefirsttimesinceDresdenhadbegunhispitch.
Holdenglancedoveratthedetective.Hisflatexpressionhadgonestony.Hewasn’ttappingthebarrel
ofhispistolagainsthisleg.
Oh,shit.
ChapterForty-Two:Miller
Dresdendidn’tseeitcoming.EvenasMillerraisedthepistol,theman’seyesdidn’tregisterathreat.
AllhesawwasMillerwithanobjectinhishandthathappenedtobeagun.Adogwouldhaveknown
tobescared,butnotDresden.
“Miller!”Holdenshoutedfromagreatdistance.“Don’t!”
Pullingthetriggerwassimple.Asoftclick,thebounceofmetalagainsthisglove-cushionedpalm,
andthenagaintwomoretimes.Dresden’sheadsnappedback,bloomingred.Bloodspatteredawide
screen,obscuringthedatastream.Millersteppedclose,firedtwomoreroundsintoDresden’schest,
consideredforamoment,thenholsteredthepistol.
Theroomwassilent.TheOPAsoldierswerealllookingateachotheroratMiller,surprised,even
afterthepressoftheassault,bythesuddenviolence.NaomiandAmoswerelookingatHolden,and
thecaptainwasstaringatthecorpse.Holden’sinjuredfacewassetasamask;fury,outrage,maybe
evendespair.Millerunderstoodthat.Doingtheobviousthingstillwasn’tnaturalforHolden.There
hadbeenatimewhenithadn’tcomesoeasilyforMillereither.
Only Fred didn’t flinch or look nervous. The colonel didn’t smile or frown, and he didn’t look
away.
“What the fuck was that?” Holden said through his blood-plugged nose. “You shot him in cold
blood!”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.
Holdenshookhishead.“Whataboutatrial?Whataboutjustice?Youjustdecide,andthat’stheway
itgoes?”
“I’macop,”Millersaid,surprisedbytheapologyinhisvoice.
“Areyouevenhumananymore?”
“Allright,gentlemen!”Fredsaid,hisvoiceboomingoutinthequiet.“Show’sover.Let’sgetback
to work. I want the decryption team in here. We’ve got prisoners to evacuate and a station to strip
down.”
HoldenlookedfromFredtoMillertothestill-dyingDresden.Hisjawwassetwithrage.
“Hey,Miller,”Holdensaid.
“Yeah?”Millersaidsoftly.Heknewwhatwascoming.
“Find your own ride home,” the captain of the Rocinante said, then spun and stalked out of the
room,hiscrewfollowing.Millerwatchedthemwalkaway.Regrettappedgentlyathisheart,butthere
wasnothingtobedoneaboutit.Thebrokenbulkheadseemedtoswallowthem.MillerturnedtoFred.
“Hitchalift?”
“You’rewearingourcolors,”Fredsaid.“We’llgetyouasfarasTycho.”
“Iappreciatethat,”Millersaid.Then,amomentlater:“Youknowithadtobedone.”
Freddidn’treply.Therewasn’tanythingtosay.
Thoth Station was injured, but not dead. Not yet. Word of the sociopathic crew spread fast, and the
OPA forces took the warning to heart. The occupation and control phase of the attack lasted forty
hoursinsteadofthetwentythatitwouldhavetakenwithnormalprisoners.Withhumans.Millerdid
whathecouldwithprisonercontrol.
TheOPAkidswerewellintentioned,butmostofthemhadneverworkedwithcaptivepopulations
before.Theydidn’tknowhowtocuffsomeoneatthewristandelbowsothattheperpcouldn’tgethis
handsoutinfronttostranglethem.Theydidn’tknowhowtorestrainsomeonewithalengthofcord
aroundthenecksothattheprisonercouldn’tchokehimselftodeath,byaccidentorintentionally.Half
ofthemdidn’tevenknowhowtopatsomeonedown.Millerknewallofitlikeagamehe’dplayed
sincechildhood.Infivehours,hefoundtwentyhiddenbladesonthesciencecrewalone.Hehardly
hadtothinkaboutit.
Asecondwaveoftransportshipsarrived:personnelhaulersthatlookedreadytospilltheirairout
into the vacuum if you spat on them, salvage trawlers already dismantling the shielding and
superstructureofthestation,supplyshipsboxingandpackingthepreciousequipmentandlootingthe
pharmacies and food banks. By the time news of the assault reached Earth, the station would be
strippedtoaskeletonanditspeoplehiddenawayinunlicensedprisoncellsthroughouttheBelt.
Protogen would know sooner, of course. They had outposts much closer than the inner planets.
Therewasacalculusofresponsetimeandpossiblegain.Themathematicsofpiracyandwar.Miller
knewit,buthedidn’tletitworryhim.ThoseweredecisionsforFredandhisattachéstomake.Miller
hadtakenmorethanenoughinitiativeforoneday.
Posthuman.
Itwasawordthatcameupinthemediaeveryfiveorsixyears,anditmeantdifferentthingsevery
time.Neuralregrowthhormone?Posthuman.Sexrobotswithinbuiltpseudointelligence?Posthuman.
Self-optimizing network routing? Posthuman. It was a word from advertising copy, breathless and
empty,andallhe’deverthoughtitreallymeantwasthatthepeopleusingithadalimitedimagination
aboutwhatexactlyhumanswerecapableof.
Now,asheescortedadozencaptivesinProtogenuniformstoadockedtransportheadingGodknew-where,thewordwastakingonnewmeaning.
Areyouevenhumananymore?
Allposthuman meant, literally speaking, was what you were when you weren’t human anymore.
Protomolecule aside, Protogen aside, Dresden and his Mengele-as-Genghis-Khan self-righteous
fantasiesaside,Millerthoughtthatmaybehe’dbeenaheadofthecurveallalong.Maybehe’dbeen
posthumanforyears.
Themin-maxpointcamefortyhourslater,anditwastimetogo.TheOPAhadskeletonizedthe
station,anditwastimetogetoutbeforeanyonecamealongwithvengeanceinmind.Millersatina
crash couch, his blood dancing with spent amphetamines and his mind slipping into and out of
exhaustionpsychosis.Thethrustgravitywaslikeapillowoverhisface.Hewasvaguelyawarethathe
wasweeping.Itdidn’tmeananything.
InMiller ’shaze,Dresdenwastalkingagain,pouringoutpromisesandlies,half-truthsandvisions.
Millercouldseethewordsthemselveslikeadarksmoke,coalescingintothespillingblackfilament
oftheprotomolecule.ThethreadsofitwerereachingtowardHolden,Amos,Naomi.Hetriedtofind
hisgun,tostopit,todotheobviousthing.Hisdespairingshoutwokehim,andherememberedhe’d
alreadywon.
Julie sat beside him, her hand cool against his forehead. Her smile was gentle, understanding.
Forgiving.
Sleep,shesaid,andhismindfellintothedeepblack.
“Oi,Pampaw,”Diogosaid.“Acimaandout,sabez?”
It was Miller ’s tenth morning back on Tycho, his seventh hot-bunking in Diogo’s closet-sized
apartment.Hecouldtellfromthebuzzintheboy’svoiceitwouldhavetobeoneofthelast.Fishand
companystarttosmellafterthreedays.Herolledoffthethinbed,ranfingersthroughhishair,and
nodded.Diogostrippeddownandcrawledintothebedwithoutspeaking.Hestankofliquorandcheap
tub-grownmarijuana.
Miller ’sterminaltoldhimthatthesecondshifthadendedtwohoursbefore,thethirdshifthalfway
into its morning. He gathered his things in his suitcase, turned off the lights on Diogo’s already
snoringform,andtrundledouttothepublicshowerstospendafewofhisremainingcreditstryingto
looklesshomeless.
ThepleasantsurpriseofhisreturntoTychoStationwastheboostofmoneyinhisaccount.The
OPA,meaningFredJohnson,hadpaidhimforhistimeonThoth.Hehadn’taskedforit,andthere
waspartofhimthatwantedtoturnthepaymentdown.Iftherehadbeenanalternative,hemighthave.
Sincetherewasn’t,hetriedtostretchthefundsoutasfarastheywouldgoandappreciatetheirony.
HeandCaptainShaddidwereonthesamepayrollafterall.
ForthefirstfewdaysafterhisreturntoTycho,MillerhadexpectedtoseetheattackonThothin
the newsfeeds. EARTH CORPORATION LOSES RESEARCH STATION TO CRAZED BELTERS, or some such. He
should have been finding a job or a place to sleep that wasn’t charity. He meant to. But the hours
seemed to dissolve as he sat in the bar or the lounges, watching the screens for just a few more
minutes.
The Martian navy had suffered a series of harassing attacks by Belters. A half ton of superaccelerated gravel had forced two of their battleships to change course. A slowdown in water
harvesting on Saturn’s rings was either an illegal work stoppage, and therefore treasonous, or the
naturalresponsetoincreasedsecurityneeds.TwoEarth-ownedminingoperationshadbeenattacked
byeitherMarsortheOPA.Fourhundredpeopleweredead.Earth’sblockadeofMarswasenteringits
thirdmonth.Acoalitionofscientistsandterraformingspecialistswerescreamingthatthecascading
processeswereindanger,andthatwhilethewarwouldbeoverinayearortwo,thelossofsupplies
wouldsettheterraformingeffortbackgenerations.EveryoneblamedeveryoneelseforEros.Thoth
stationdidn’texist.
Itwould,though.
WithmostoftheMartiannavystillintheouterplanets,Earth’ssiegewasabrittlething.Timewas
gettingshort.EithertheMartianswouldgohomeandtryfacingdownthesomewhatolder,somewhat
slower,butmorenumerousshipsofEarth,orthey’dgostraightfortheplanetitself.Earthwasstill
the source of a thousand things that couldn’t be grown elsewhere, but if someone got happy or
cocksureordesperate,itwouldn’ttakemuchtostartdroppingrocksdownthegravitywells.
Allofitasadistraction.
There was an old joke. Miller didn’t remember where he’d heard it. Girl’s at her own father ’s
funeral,meetsthisreallycuteguy.Theytalk,hititoff,butheleavesbeforeshecangethisnumber.
Girldoesn’tknowhowtotracktheguydown.
Soaweeklater,shekillshermom.
Biglaugh.
ItwasthelogicofProtogen,ofDresden,ofThoth.Hereistheproblem,theysaidtothemselves,
andthereisthesolution.Thatitwasdrownedininnocentbloodwasastrivialasthefontthereports
wereprintedin.Theyhaddisconnectedthemselvesfromhumanity.Shutoffthecellclustersintheir
brainsthatmadelifebesidestheirownsacred.Orvaluable.Orworthsaving.Allithadcostthemwas
everyhumanconnection.
Funnyhowfamiliarthatsounded.
TheguywhowalkedintothebarandnoddedtoMillerwasoneofDiogo’sfriends.Twentyyears
oldormaybealittlesouthofthat.AveteranofThothStation,justlikeMiller.Hedidn’trememberthe
kid’sname,buthe’dseenhimaroundoftenenoughtoknowthatthewayheheldhimselfwasdifferent
thanusual.Tight-wound.Millertappedthemuteonhisterminal’snewsfeedandmadehiswayover.
“Hey,” he said, and the kid looked up sharply. The face was tense, but a softer, intentional ease
triedtomaskit.ItwasjustDiogo’soldgrandpa.Theone,everyoneonThothknew,who’dkilledthe
biggest dick in the universe. It won Miller some points, so the kid smiled and nodded to the stool
besidehim.
“Allprettyfuckedup,isn’tit?”Millersaid.
“Youdon’tknowthehalf,”thekidsaid.Hehadaclippedaccent.Belterbyhisheight,buteducated.
Technician,probably.Thekidtabbedinadrinkorder,andthebarofferedupaglassofclearfluidso
volatileMillercouldwatchitevaporate.Thekiddrankitdownwithagulp.
“Doesn’twork,”Millersaid.
Thekidlookedover.Millershrugged.
“Theysaydrinkinghelps,butitdoesn’t,”Millersaid.
“No?”
“Nope.Sexsometimes,ifyou’vegotagirlwho’lltalktoyouafter.Ortargetpractice.Working
out, sometimes. Liquor doesn’t make you feel better. Just makes you not so worried about feeling
bad.”
Thekidlaughedandshookhishead.Hewasontheedgeoftalking,soMillersatbackandletthe
quiet do his work for him. He figured the kid had killed someone, probably on Thoth, and it was
sneaking up on him. But instead of telling the story, the kid took Miller ’s terminal, keyed in a few
local codes, and handed it back. A huge menu of feeds appeared—video, audio, air pressure and
content,radiological.IttookMillerhalfasecondtounderstandwhathewasseeing.They’dcracked
theencryptionontheErosfeeds.
Hewaslookingattheprotomoleculeinaction.HewasseeingJulietteAndromedaMao’scorpse
writlarge.Foramoment,hisimaginedJulieflickeredbesidehim.
“Ifyoueverwonderifyoudidtherightthingshootingthatguy,”thekidsaid,“lookatthat.”
Miller opened a feed. A long corridor, wide enough for twenty people to walk abreast. The
flooring was wet and undulating like the surface of a canal. Something small rolled awkwardly
throughthemush.WhenMillerzoomedin,itwasahumantorso—ribcage,spine,trailinglengthsof
whatusedtobeintestinesandwerenowthelongblackthreadsoftheprotomolecule—pushingitself
alongonthestumpofanarm.Therewasnohead.Thefeedoutputbarshowedtherewassound,and
Miller undid the mute. The high, mindless piping reminded him of mentally ill children singing to
themselves.
“It’salllikethat,”thekidsaid.“Wholestation’scrawlingwith…shitlikethat.”
“What’sitdoing?”
“Buildingsomething,”thekidsaid,andshuddered.“Ithoughtyoushouldseeit.”
“Yeah?”Millersaid,hisgazenailedtothescreen.“WhatdidIeverdotoyou?”
Thekidlaughed.
“Everyone thinks you’re a hero for killing that guy,” the kid said. “Everyone thinks we should
pusheverylastprisonerwetookoffthatstationoutanairlock.”
Probably should, Miller thought, if we can’t make them human again. He switched the feed. The
casinolevelwhereheandHoldenhadbeen,orelseasectionverylikeit.Awebworkofsomething
likeboneslinkedceilingandroof.Blacksluglikethingsayardlongslitheredupandbetweenthem.
Thesoundwasahushing,liketherecordingshe’dheardofsurfagainstabeach.Heswitchedagain.
Theport,withbulkheadsclosedandencrustedwithhugenautilusspiralsthatseemedtoshiftwhilehe
watchedthem.
“Everyonethinksyou’reafuckinghero,”thekidsaid,andthistime,itbitalittle.Millershookhis
head.
“Nah,”hesaid.“Justaguywhousedtobeacop.”
Whyshouldgoingintoafirefight,chargingintoanenemystationfilledwithpeopleandautomatic
systems built to kill you, seem less frightening than talking to people who you shipped with for
weeks?
Andstill.
It was third shift, and the bar at the observation platform was set to imitate night. The air was
scented with something smoky that wasn’t smoke. A piano and bass dueled lazily with each other
while a man’s voice lamented in Arabic. Dim lights glowed at the bases of the tables, casting soft
shadows up across faces and bodies, emphasizing the customers’ legs and bellies and breasts. The
shipyardsbeyondthewindowswerebusyasalways.Ifhewentclose,hecouldpickouttheRocinante,
stillrecoveringfromitswounds.Notdead,andbeingmadestronger.
AmosandNaomiwereatatableinacorner.NosignofAlex.NosignofHolden.Thatmadeit
easier.Noteasy,butcloser.Hemadehiswaytowardthem.Naomisawhimfirst,andMillerreadthe
discomfortinherexpression,coveredoverasquicklyasitappeared.Amosturnedtoseewhatshe’d
beenreactingto,andthecornersofhismouthandeyesdidn’tshiftintoafrownorasmile.Miller
scratchedhisarmeventhoughitdidn’titch.
“Hey,”hesaid.“Buyyoufolksaround?”
Thesilencelastedabeatlongerthanitshouldhave,andthenNaomiforcedasmile.
“Sure.Justone.We’vegot…thatthing.Forthecaptain.”
“Ohyeah,”Amossaid,lyingevenmoreawkwardlythanNaomihad,makinghisawarenessofthe
factpartofthemessage.“Thething.That’simportant.”
Millersat,liftedahandforthewaitertosee,and,whenthemannodded,leanedforwardwithhis
elbows on the table. It was the seated version of a fighter ’s crouch, bent forward with his arms
protectingthesoftplacesinhisneckandbelly.Itwasthewayamanstoodwhenheexpectedinjury.
Thewaitercame,andthenbeersallaround.MillerpaidforthemwiththeOPA’smoneyandtooka
sip.
“How’stheship?”heaskedatlast.
“Comingtogether,”Naomisaid.“Theyreallybangedthehelloutofher.”
“She’llstillfly,”Amossaid.“She’sonetoughbitch.”
“That’sgood.When—”Millersaid,thentrippedonhiswordsandhadtostartagain.“Whenare
youfolksshippingout?”
“Wheneverthecaptainsays,”Amossaidwithashrug.“We’reairtightnow,socouldgotomorrow,
ifhe’sgotsomeplacehewantstobe.”
“AndifFredletsus,”Naomisaid,andthengrimacedlikeshewishedshe’dkeptsilent.
“Thatanissue?”Millerasked.“IstheOPAleaningonHolden?”
“It’sjustsomethingIwasthinkingabout,”Naomisaid.“It’snothing.Look,thanksforthedrink,
Miller.ButIreallythinkwe’dbetterbegoing.”
Millertookalongbreathandletitoutslow.
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Okay.”
“Youheadout,”AmossaidtoNaomi.“I’llcatchup.”
Naomishotaconfusedlookatthebigman,butAmosonlygavebackasmile.Itcouldhavemeant
anything.
“Okay,”Naomisaid.“Butdon’tbelong,okay?Thething.”
“Forthecaptain,”Amossaid.“Noworries.”
Naomiroseandwalkedaway.Hereffortnottolookbackoverhershoulderwasvisible.Miller
lookedatAmos.Thelightsgavethemechanicaslightlydemonicappearance.
“Naomi’sagoodperson,”Amossaid.“Ilikeher,youknow?Likemykidsister,onlysmartand
I’ddoherifsheletme.Youknow?”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Ilikehertoo.”
“She’snotlikeus,”Amossaid,andthewarmthandhumorweregone.
“That’swhyIlikeher,”Millersaid.Itwastherightthingtosay.Amosnodded.
“Sohere’sthething.Asfarasthecaptaingoes,you’redippedinshitrightnow.”
Thescrimofbubbleswherehisbeertouchedtheglassglowedwhiteinthedimlight.Millergave
theglassaquarterturn,watchingthemclosely.
“Because I killed someone who needed it?” Miller asked. The bitterness in his voice wasn’t
surprising,butitwasdeeperthanhe’dintended.Amosdidn’thearitorelsedidn’tcare.
“Because you’ve got a habit of that,” Amos said. “Cap’n’s not like that. Killing people without
talkingitoverfirstmakeshimjumpy.YoudidalotofitonEros,but…youknow.”
“Yeah,”Millersaid.
“Thoth Station wasn’t Eros. Next place we go won’t be Eros either. Holden doesn’t want you
around.”
“Andtherestofyou?”Millerasked.
“Wedon’twantyouaroundeither,”Amossaid.Hisvoicewasn’thardorgentle.Hewastalking
aboutthegaugeofamachinepart.Hewastalkingaboutanything.ThewordshitMillerinthebelly,
justwherehe’dexpectedit.Hecouldn’thaveblockedthem.
“Here’sthething,”Amoswenton.“Youandme,we’realotthesame.Beenaround.IknowwhatI
am,andmymoralcompass?I’lltellyou,it’sfucked.AfewthingsfelldifferentwhenIwasakid.I
couldhavebeenthoseass-banditsonThoth.Iknowthat.Captaincouldn’thavebeen.It’snotinhim.
He’sasclosetorighteousasanyoneoutheregets.Andwhenhesaysyou’reout,that’sjustthewayit
is,becausethewayIfigureit,he’sprobablyright.SureashellhasabetterchancethanIdo.”
“Okay,”Millersaid.
“Yeah,” Amos said. He finished his beer. Then he finished Naomi’s. And then he walked away,
leavingMillertohimselfandhisemptygut.Outside,theNauvoofannedaglitteringarrayofsensors,
testingsomethingorelsejustpreening.Millerwaited.
Besidehim,JulieMaoleanedonthetable,justwhereAmoshadbeen.
So,shesaid.Lookslikeit’sjustyouandmenow.
“Lookslike,”hesaid.
ChapterForty-Three:Holden
A Tycho worker in blue coveralls and a welding mask sealed up the hole in one of the galley
bulkheads. Holden watched with his hand shielding his eyes from the harsh blue glare of the torch.
Whentheplatesteelwassecuredinplace,thewelderflippedhermaskuptocheckthebead.Shehad
blueeyesandasmallmouthinaheart-shapedpixiefaceandamopofredhairpulledintoabun.Her
namewasSam,andshewastheteamleaderontheRocinanterepairproject.Amoshadbeenchasing
herfortwoweeksnowwithnosuccess.Holdenwasglad,becausethepixiehadturnedouttobeone
ofthebestmechanicshe’devermet,andhe’dhateforhertofocusonanythingotherthanhisship.
“It’sperfect,”hesaidtoherassheranoneglovedhandoverthecoolingmetal.
“It’sokay,”shesaidwithashrug.“We’llgrindthisdownsmoothenough,paintitnice,thenyou’ll
neverevenknowyourshiphadaboo-boo.”Shehadasurprisinglydeepvoicethatcontrastedwithher
looks and her habit of using mockingly childlike phrases. Holden guessed that her appearance
combinedwithherchosenprofessionhadledtoalotofpeopleunderestimatingherinthepast.He
didn’twanttomakethatmistake.
“You’vedoneamazingwork,Sam,”hesaid.HeguessedSamwasshortforsomething,buthe’d
neveraskedandshe’dnevervolunteered.“IkeeptellingFredhowhappywearetohaveyouincharge
ofthisjob.”
“Maybe I’ll get a gold star in my next report card,” she said while she put her torch away and
stoodup.Holdentriedtothinkofsomethingtosaytothatandfailed.
“Sorry,”shesaid,turningtofacehim.“Iappreciateyourpraisetotheboss.Andtobehonest,it’s
been a lot of fun working on your little girl. She’s quite a ship. The beating she took would have
blownanythingweownintoscrap.”
“Itwasaclosething,evenforus,”Holdenreplied.
Samnodded,thenbeganputtingtherestofhergearaway.Assheworked,Naomiclimbeddown
thecrewladderfromtheupperdecks,hergraycoverallshungwithelectrician’stools.
“Howarethingsupthere?”Holdenasked.
“Ninetypercent,”Naomisaidasshecrossedthegalleytotherefrigeratorandtookoutabottleof
juice.“Giveortake.”ShetookoutasecondbottleandtossedittoSam,whocaughtitone-handed.
“Naomi,”Samsaid,raisingthebottleinmocktoastbeforedowninghalfofitinoneswallow.
“Sammy,”Naomisaidinreturnwithagrin.
Thetwoofthemhadhititoffrightaway,andnowNaomiwasspendingalotofherofftimewith
SamandherTychocrowd.Holdenhatedtoadmitit,buthemissedbeingtheonlysocialcircleNaomi
had.Whenhedidadmitittohimself,likenow,itmadehimfeellikeacreep.
“Golgocompinrec,tonight?”Samsaidaftershe’dgulpeddownthelastofherdrink.
“ThinkthoseC7chumpsaretiredofgettingtheirasseshandedtothem?”Naomisaidinreturn.To
Holden,itsoundedliketheywerespeakingincode.
“Wecanthrowthefirstone,”Samsaid.“Get’emhookedtightbeforewedropthehammerand
wipetheirroll.”
“Soundsgoodtome,”Naomisaid,thentossedheremptybottleintotherecyclingbinandstarted
backuptheladder.“Seeyouateight,then.”ShetossedalittlewaveatHolden.“Later,Captain.”
Holdensaid,“Howmuchlonger,doyouthink?”toSam’sbackasshefinishedwithhertools.
Samshrugged.“Coupledays,maybe,togethertoperfect.Shecouldprobablyflynow,ifyou’re
notworriedaboutnonessentialsandcosmetics.”
“Thanks, again,” Holden said, holding out his hand to Sam as she turned around. She shook it
once, her palm heavily calloused and her grip firm. “And I hope you mop the floor with those
chumpsfromC7.”
Shegavehimapredatorygrin.
“It’snotevenindoubt.”
ThroughFredJohnson,theOPAhadprovidedthecrewwithlivingquartersonthestationduringthe
renovation of the Roci, and over the past few weeks, Holden’s cabin had almost come to feel like
home.Tychohadmoney,andtheyseemedtospendalotofitontheiremployees.Holdenhadthree
roomstohimself,includingabathandakitchennookoffthepublicspace.Onmoststations,you’d
havetobethegovernortohavethatkindofluxury.Holdenhadtheimpressionitwasfairlystandard
formanagementonTycho.
Hetossedhisgrimyjumpsuitintothelaundrybinandstartedapotofcoffeebeforejumpinginto
hisprivateshower.Ashowereverynightafterwork:anotheralmostunthinkableluxury.Itwouldbe
easytogetdistracted.Tostartthinkingofthisperiodofshiprepairandquiethomelifeasnormalcy,
notinterlude.Holdencouldn’tletthathappen.
Earth’sassaultonMarsfilledthenewsfeeds.ThedomesofMarsstillstood,buttwoshowersof
meteorshadpockedthewideslopesofOlympusMons.EarthclaimedthatitwasdebrisfromDeimos,
Marsthatitwasanintentionalthreatandprovocation.Martianshipsfromthegasgiantswereburning
hardfortheinnerplanets.Everyday,everyhourbroughtthemomentcloserwhenEarthwouldhave
to commit to annihilating Mars or backing away. The OPA’s rhetoric seemed built to ensure that
whoever won would kill them next. Holden had just helped Fred with what Earth would see as the
largestactofpiracyinthehistoryoftheBelt.
AndamillionandahalfpeopleweredyingrightnowonEros.Holdenthoughtofthevideofeed
he’dseenofwhatwashappeningtothepeopleonthestation,andshudderedevenintheheatofthe
shower.
Oh, and aliens. Aliens that had tried to take over the Earth two billion years ago, and failed
because Saturn got in the way. Can’t forget the aliens. His brain still hadn’t figured out a way to
processthat,soitkepttryingtopretenditdidn’texist.
Holdengrabbedatowelandturnedonthewallscreeninhislivingroomwhilehedriedoff.The
airwasfilledwiththecompetingscentsofcoffee,humidityfromtheshower,andthefaintlygrassy
andfloralscentTychopumpedintoalltheresidences.Holdentriedthenews,butitwasspeculation
aboutthewarwithoutanynewinformation.Hechangedtoacompetitionshowwithincomprehensible
rules and psychotically giddy contestants. He flipped through a few feeds that he could tell were
comedies,becausetheactorspausedandnoddedwheretheyexpectedthelaughstobe.
When his jaw started aching, he realized he was gritting his teeth. He turned off the screen and
threwtheremoteontohisbedinthenextroom.Hewrappedthetowelaroundhiswaist,thenpoureda
mugofcoffeeandcollapsedontothecouchjustintimeforhisdoortochime.
“What?”heyelledatthetopofhislungs.Noonereplied.GoodinsulationonTycho.Hewentto
thedoor,arranginghistowelformaximummodestyalongtheway,andyankeditopen.
ItwasMiller.Hewasdressedinarumpledgraysuithe’dprobablybroughtfromCeres,andwas
fumblingaroundwiththatstupidhat.
“Holden,hey—”hestarted,butHoldencuthimoff.
“What the hell do you want?” Holden said. “And are you really standing outside my door with
yourhatinyourhands?”
Millersmiled,thenputthehatbackonhishead.“Youknow,Ialwayswonderedwhatthatmeant.”
“Nowyouknow,”Holdenreplied.
“Yougotaminute?”Millersaid.
Holden waited a moment, staring up at the lanky detective. He quickly gave up. He probably
outweighedMillerbytwentykilos,butitwasimpossibletobeintimidatingwhenthepersonyouwere
staringdownwasafoottallerthanyou.
“Okay,comein,”hesaid,thenheadedforhisbedroom.“Letmegetdressed.There’scoffee.”
Holdendidn’twaitforareply;hejustclosedthebedroomdoorandsatonthebed.HeandMiller
hadn’texchangedmorethanadozenwordssincereturningtoTycho.Heknewtheycouldn’tleaveit
atthat,asmuchashemightliketo.HeowedMilleratleasttheconversationwherehetoldhimtoget
lost.
Heputonapairofwarmcottonpantsandapullover,ranonehandthroughhisdamphair,and
wentbackouttothelivingroom.Millerwassittingonhiscouchholdingasteamingmug.
“Goodcoffee,”thedetectivesaid.
“So,let’shearit,”Holdenreplied,sittinginachairacrossfromhim.
Millertookasipofhiscoffeeandsaid,“Well—”
“Imean,thisistheconversationwhereyoutellmehowyouwererighttoshootanunarmedman
intheface,andhowI’mjusttoonaivetoseeit.Right?”
“Actually—”
“Ifuckingtoldyou,”Holdensaid,surprisedtofeeltheheatriseinhischeeks.“Nomoreofthat
judge,jury,andexecutionershitoryoucouldfindyourownride,andyoudiditanyway.”
“Yes.”
ThesimpleaffirmativetookHoldenoffguard.
“Why?”
Millertookanothersipofhiscoffee,thensetthemugdown.Hereachedupandtookoffhishat,
tosseditontothecouchnexttohim,thenleanedback.
“Hewasgoingtogetawaywithit.”
“Excuseme?”Holdenreplied.“Didyoumissthepartwhereheconfessedtoeverything?”
“That wasn’t a confession. That was a boast. He was untouchable, and he knew it. Too much
money.Toomuchpower.”
“That’sbullshit.Noonegetstokillamillionandahalfpeopleandgetawaywithit.”
“People get away with things all time. Guilty as hell, but something gets in the way. Evidence.
Politics.Ihadapartnerforawhile,nameofMuss.WhenEarthpulledoutofCeres—”
“Stop,”Holdensaid.“Idon’tcare.Idon’twanttohearanymoreofyourstoriesabouthowbeinga
copmakesyouwiseranddeeperandabletofacethetruthabouthumanity.AsfarasIcantell,allit
didwasbreakyou.Okay?”
“Yeah,okay.”
“DresdenandhisProtogenbuddiesthoughttheycouldchoosewholivesandwhodies.Thatsound
familiar? And don’t tell me it’s different this time, because everyone says that, every time. And it’s
not.”
“Wasn’trevenge,”Millersaid,alittletoohotly.
“Ohreally?Thiswasn’taboutthegirlinthehotel?JulieMao?”
“Catchinghimwas.Killinghim…”
Millersighedandnoddedtohimself,thengotupandopenedthedoor.Hestoppedinthedoorway
andturnedaround,realpainonhisface.
“Hewastalkingusintoit,”Millersaid.“Allthataboutgettingthestarsandprotectingourselves
from whatever shot that thing at Earth? I was starting to think maybe he should get away with it.
Maybethingswerejusttoobigforrightandwrong.I’mnotsayingheconvincedme.Buthemademe
thinkmaybe,youknow?Justmaybe.”
“Andforthat,youshothim.”
“Idid.”
Holdensighed,thenleanedagainstthewallnexttotheopendoor,hisarmscrossed.
“Amoscallsyourighteous,”Millersaid.“Youknowthat?”
“Amosthinkshe’sabadguybecausehe’sdonesomethingshe’sashamedof,”Holdensaid.“He
doesn’talwaystrusthimself,butthefactthathecarestellsmeheisn’tabadguy.”
“Yeah—”Millerstarted,butHoldencuthimoff.
“Helooksathissoul,seesthestains,andwantstobeclean,”hesaid.“Butyou?Youjustshrug.”
“Dresdenwas—”
“Thisisn’taboutDresden.It’saboutyou,”Holdensaid.“Ican’ttrustyouaroundthepeopleIcare
about.”
HoldenstaredatMiller,waitingforhimtoreply,butthecopjustnoddedsadly,thenputhishaton
andwalkedawaydownthegentlycurvingcorridor.Hedidn’tturnaround.
Holdenwentbackinsideandtriedtorelax,buthefeltjumpyandnervous.Hewouldneverhave
gottenoffEroswithoutMiller ’shelp.Therewasnoquestionaboutit:Tossinghimoutonhisearfelt
wrong.Incomplete.
ThetruthwasMillermadehisscalpcrawleverytimetheywereinthesameroom.Thecopwas
likeanunpredictabledogthatmightlickyourhandortakeabiteoutofyourleg.
HoldenthoughtaboutcallingFredandwarninghim.HecalledNaomiinstead.
“Hey,” she answered on the second chime. Holden could hear a bar ’s frantic, alcohol-fueled
merrimentinthebackground.
“Naomi,” he said, then paused, trying to think of some excuse to have called. When he couldn’t
thinkofone,hesaid,“Millerwasjusthere.”
“Yeah,hecorneredAmosandmeawhileback.Whatdidhewant?”
“Idon’tknow,”Holdensaidwithasigh.“Saygoodbye,maybe.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”Naomiasked.“Wanttomeetup?”
“Yes.YesIdo.”
Holden didn’t recognize the bar at first, but after ordering a scotch from a professionally friendly
waiter,herealizeditwasthesameplacehe’dwatchedNaomisingkaraoketoaBelterpunksongwhat
seemedlikecenturiesbefore.Shewanderedinandploppeddownacrossfromhimintheboothjustas
hisdrinkshowedup.Thewaitergaveheraquestioningsmile.
“Gah,no,”shesaidquickly,wavingherhandsathim.“I’vehadplentytonight.Justsomewater,
thanks.”
As the waiter bustled away, Holden said, “How did your, uh… What exactly is Golgo, anyway?
Andhowdiditgo?”
“Game they play here,” Naomi said, then took a glass of water from their returning waiter and
drankhalfofitinonegulp.“Likeacrossbetweendartsandsoccer.Neverseenitbefore,butIseemto
begoodatit.Wewon.”
“Great,”Holdensaid.“Thanksforcoming.Iknowit’slate,butthisMillerthingfreakedmeouta
bit.”
“Hewantsyoutoabsolvehim,Ithink.”
“BecauseI’m‘righteous,’”Holdensaidwithasarcasticlaugh.
“You are,” Naomi said with no irony. “I mean, it’s a loaded term, but you’re as close to it as
anyoneI’veeverknown.”
“I’ve fucked everything up,” Holden blurted out before he could stop himself. “Everyone who’s
tried to help us, or that we’ve tried to help, has died spectacularly. This whole fucking war. And
CaptainMcDowellandBeccaandAde.AndShed—”Hehadtostopandswallowasuddenlumpinhis
throat.
Naomijustnodded,thenreachedacrossthetableandtookhishandinhers.
“I need a win, Naomi,” he continued. “I need to do something that makes a difference. Fate or
KarmaorGodorwhateverdroppedmeinthemiddleofthisthing,andIneedtoknowI’mmakinga
difference.”
Naomismiledathimandsqueezedhishand.
“You’re cute when you’re being noble,” she said. “But you need to stare off into the distance
more.”
“You’remakingfunofme.”
“Yeah,”shesaid.“Iam.Wanttocomehomewithme?”
“I—”Holdenstarted,thenstoppedandstaredather,lookingforthejoke.Naomiwasstillsmiling
athim,nothinginhereyesbutwarmthandatouchofmischief.Whilehewatched,onecurlylockof
hairfelloverhereye,andshepusheditupwithoutlookingawayfromhim.“Wait,what?Ithought
you’d—”
“Isaiddon’ttellmeyoulovemetogetmeintobed,”shesaid.“ButIalsosaidI’dhavegoneto
yourcabinanytimeyouaskedoverthelastfouryears.Ididn’tthinkIwasbeingsubtle,andI’msort
oftiredofwaiting.”
Holdenleanedbackintheboothandtriedtoremembertobreathe.Naomi’sgrinchangedtopure
mischiefnow,andoneeyebrowwentup.
“Youokay,sailor?”sheasked.
“I thought you were avoiding me,” he said once he was capable of speech. “Is this your way of
givingmeawin?”
“Don’t be insulting,” she said, though there was no hint of anger in her voice. “But I’ve waited
weeksforyoutogetyournerveup,andtheship’salmostdone.Thatmeansyou’llprobablyvolunteer
usforsomethingreallystupidandthistimeourluckwillrunout.”
“Well—”hesaid.
“Ifthathappenswithoutusatleastgivingthisatryonce,Iwillbeveryunhappyaboutit.”
“Naomi,I—”
“It’ssimple,Jim,”shesaid,reachingoutforhishandandpullinghimbacktowardher.Sheleaned
acrossthetablebetweenthemuntiltheirfaceswerealmosttouching.“It’sayesornoquestion.”
“Yes.”
ChapterForty-Four:Miller
Millersatbyhimself,staringoutthewideobservationwindowswithoutseeingtheview.Thefungalculture whiskey on the low black table beside him remained at the same level in the glass as when
he’dboughtit.Itwasn’treallyadrink.Itwaspermissiontosit.Therehadalwaysbeenahandfulof
drifters,evenonCeres.Menandwomenwhoseluckhadrunout.Noplacetogo,noonetoaskfavors
of. No connection to the vast net of humanity. He’d always felt a kind of sympathy for them, his
spiritualkindred.
Nowhewaspartofthatdisconnectedtribeinearnest.
Somethingbrighthappenedontheskinofthegreatgenerationship—aweldingarrayfiringoff
someintricatenetworkofsubtleconnection,maybe.PasttheNauvoo,nestledintheconstanthive-like
activityofTychoStation,wasahalf-degreearcoftheRocinante,likeahomehe’doncehad.Heknew
the story of Moses seeing a promised land he would never enter. Miller wondered how the old
prophet would have felt if he’d been ushered in for a moment—a day, a week, a year—and then
droppedbackoutinthedesert.Kindernevertoleavethewastelands.Safer.
Besidehim,JulietteMaowatchedhimfromthecornerofhismindcarvedoutforher.
Iwassupposedtosaveyou,hethought.Iwassupposedtofindyou.Findthetruth.
Anddidn’tyou?
Hesmiledather,andshesmiledback,asworld-wearyandtiredashewas.Becauseofcoursehe
had.He’dfoundher,he’dfoundwhokilledher,andHoldenwasright.He’dtakenrevenge.Allthat
he’dpromisedhimself,he’ddone.Onlyithadn’tsavedhim.
“CanIgetyouanything?”
Forhalfasecond,MillerthoughtJuliehadsaidit.Theservinggirlhadopenedhermouthtoask
himagainbeforeheshookhishead.Shecouldn’t.Andevenifshehadbeenableto,hecouldn’tafford
it.
Youknewitcouldn’tlast,Juliesaid.Holden.Hiscrew.Youknewyoudidn’treallybelongthere.You
belongwithme.
Asuddenshotofadrenalinerevvedhistiredheart.Helookedaroundforher,butJuliewasgone.
His own privately generated fight-or-flight reaction didn’t have room for daydream hallucinations.
Andstill.Youbelongwithme.
Hewonderedhowmanypeoplehe’dknownwhohadtakenthatpath.Copshadatraditionofeating
theirgunsthatwentbacktolongbeforehumanityhadlifteditselfupthegravitywell.Herehewas,
withoutahome,withoutafriend,withmorebloodonhishandsfromthepastmonththanfromhis
whole career before it. The in-house shrink on Ceres called it suicidal ideation in his yearly
presentationtothesecurityteams.Somethingtowatchoutfor,likegenitalliceorhighcholesterol.
Notabigdealifyouwerecareful.
Sohe’dbecareful.Forawhile.Seewhereitwent.
Hestood,hesitatedforthreeheartbeats,thenscoopeduphisbourbonanddrankitinagulp.Liquid
courage, they called it, and it seemed to do the trick. He pulled up his terminal, put in a connect
request,andtriedtocomposehimself.Hewasn’tthereyet.Andifhewasgoingtolive,heneededa
job.
“Sabeznichts,Pampaw,”Diogosaid.Thekidwaswearingameshworkshirtandpantscutinafashion
asyouthfulasitwasugly,andinhispreviouslife,Millerwouldprobablyhavewrittenhimoffastoo
youngtoknowanythinguseful.NowMillerwaited.IfanythingcouldwringaprospectoutofDiogo,
it would be the promise of Miller getting a hole of his own. The silence dragged. Miller forced
himselfnottospeakforfearofbegging.
“Well…”Diogosaidwarily.“Well.There’sonehombremightcould.Justarmandeye.”
“Securityguardwork’sfinewithme,”Millersaid.“Anythingthatpaysthebills.”
“Ilconversaádo.Hearwhat’ssaid.”
“Iappreciateanythingyoucando,”Millerreplied,thengesturedatthebed.“YoumindifI…?”
“Micamaessucama,”Diogosaid.Millerlaydown.
Diogo stepped into the small shower, and the sound of water against flesh drowned out the air
cycler. Even on board ship, Miller hadn’t lived in physical circumstances this intimate with anyone
sincehismarriage.Still,hewouldn’thavegoneasfarastocallDiogoafriend.
OpportunitywasthinneronTychothanhe’dhoped,andhedidn’thavemuchbywayofreferences.
Thefewpeoplewhoknewhimweren’tlikelytospeakonhisbehalf.Butsurelythere’dbesomething.
Allheneededwasawaytoremakehimself,tostartoverandbesomeonedifferentfromwhohe’d
been.
Assuming,ofcourse,thatEarthorMars—whicheveronecameoutontopofthewar—didn’tthen
wipetheOPAandallthestationsloyaltoitoutofthesky.Andthattheprotomoleculedidn’tescape
Erosandslaughteraplanet.Orastation.Orhim.Hehadamoment’schill,recallingthattherewas
stillasampleofthethingonboardtheRoci.Ifsomethinghappenedwithit,HoldenandNaomi,Alex
andAmosmightalljoinJulielongbeforeMillerdid.
He told himself that wasn’t his problem anymore. Still, he hoped they’d be all right. He wanted
themtobewell,evenifhewasn’t.
“Oi, Pampaw,” Diogo said as the door to the public hall slid open. “You hear that Eros started
talking?”
Millerliftedhimselftooneelbow.
“Sí,”Diogosaid.“Whateverthatshitis,itstartedbroadcasting.There’sevenwordsandshit.I’ve
gotafeed.Youwantalisten?”
No, Miller thought. No, I have seen those corridors. What’s happened to those people almost
happenedtome.Idon’twantanythingtodowiththatabomination.
“Sure,”hesaid.
Diogoscoopeduphisownhandterminalandkeyedinsomething.Miller ’sterminalchimedthatit
hadreceivedthenewfeedroute.
“Chicáperdídainopsbeenmixingabunchofittobhangra,”Diogosaid,makingashiftingdance
movewithhiships.“Hard-core,eh?”
DiogoandtheotherOPAirregularshadbreachedahigh-valueresearchstation,faceddownone
ofthemostpowerfulandevilcorporationsinahistoryofpowerandevil.Andnowtheyweremaking
musicfromthescreamsofthedying.Ofthedead.Theyweredancingtoitinthelow-rentclubs.What
itmustbelike,Millerthought,tobeyoungandsoulless.
Butno.Thatwasn’tfair.Diogowasagoodkid.Hewasjustnaive.Theuniversewouldtakecareof
that,givenalittletime.
“Hard-core,”Millersaid.Diogogrinned.
Thefeedsatinqueue,waiting.Millerturnedoutthelights,lettingthelittlebedbearhimupagainst
thepressofspin.Hedidn’twanttohear.Hedidn’twanttoknow.Hehadto.
At first, the sound was nothing—electric squeals and a wildly fluting static. Then, maybe
somewheredeepinthebackofit,music.Achorusofviolaschurningawaytogetherinalong,distant
crescendo.Andthen,asclearasifsomeonewerespeakingintoamicrophone,avoice.
“Rabbitsandhamsters.Ecologicallyunstabilizingandroundandblueasmoonbeams.August.”
Italmostcertainlywasn’tarealperson.ThecomputersystemsonEroscouldgenerateanynumber
ofperfectlyconvincingdialectsandvoices.Men’s,women’s,children’s.Andhowmanymillionsof
hoursofdatacouldtherebeonthecomputersandstoragedumpsallthroughthestation?
Another electronic flutter, like finches looped back against themselves. A new voice—feminine
andsoftthistime—withathrobbingpulsebehindit.
“Patientcomplainsofrapidheartbeatandnightsweats.Symptomonsetreportedasthreemonths
previous,butwithahistory…”
Thevoicefaded,andthethrobbingrose.LikeanoldmanwithSwisscheeseholesinhisbrain,the
complexsystemthathadbeenEroswasdying,changing,losingitsmind.AndbecauseProtogenhad
wireditallforsound,Millercouldlistentothestationfail.
“Ididn’ttellhim,Ididn’ttellhim,Ididn’ttellhim.Thesunrise.I’veneverseenthesunrise.”
Millerclosedhiseyesandsliddowntowardsleep,serenadedbyEros.Asconsciousnessfaded,he
imaginedabodyinthebedbesidehim,warmandaliveandbreathingslowlyintimewiththeriseand
fallofthestatic.
Themanagerwasathinman,weedy,withhaircombedhighabovehisbrowlikeawavethatnever
crashed.Theofficehunchedclosearoundthem,hummingatoddmomentswhentheinfrastructure—
water, air, energy—of Tycho impinged on it. A business built between ducts, improvisational and
cheap.Thelowestofthelow.
“I’m sorry,” the manager said. Miller felt his gut tighten and sink. Of all the humiliations the
universehadinstoreforhim,thisonehehadn’tforeseen.Itmadehimangry.
“YouthinkIcan’thandleit?”heasked,keepinghisvoicesoft.
“It’s not that,” the weedy man said. “It’s… Look, between us, we’re looking for a thumb, you
know?Someone’sidiotkidbrothercouldguardthiswarehouse.You’vegotallthisexperience.What
do we need with riot control protocols? Or investigative procedure? I mean, come on. This gig
doesn’tevencomewithagun.”
“Idon’tcare,”Millersaid.“Ineedsomething.”
TheweedymansighedandgavetheexaggeratedshrugofaBelter.
“Youneedsomethingelse,”hesaid.
Miller tried not to laugh, afraid it would sound like despair. He stared at the cheap plastic wall
behindthemanageruntiltheguystartedtogetuncomfortable.Itwasatrap.Hewastooexperiencedto
startover.Heknewtoomuch,sotherewasnogoingbackanddoingfreshbeginnings.
“Allright,”hesaidatlast,andthemanageracrossthedeskfromhimletoutabreath,thenhadthe
goodgracetolookembarrassed.
“CanIjustask,”theweedymansaid.“Whydidyouleaveyouroldjob?”
“Cereschangedhands,”Millersaid,puttingonhishat.“Iwasn’tonthenewteam.Thatwasall.”
“Ceres?”
Themanagerlookedconfused,whichinturnconfusedMiller.Heglanceddownathisownhand
terminal. There was his work history, just the way he’d presented it. The manager couldn’t have
missedit.
“That’swhereIwas,”Millersaid.
“Forthepolicething.ButImeantthelastjob.Imean,I’vebeenaround,Iunderstandnotputting
OPAworkonyourresume,butyouhavetofigureweallknowthatyouwerepartofthething…you
know,withthestation.Andall.”
“YouthinkIwasworkingfortheOPA,”Millersaid.
Theweedymanblinked.
“Youwere,”hesaid.
Which,afterall,wastrue.
NothinghadchangedinFredJohnson’soffice,andeverythinghad.Thefurnishings,thesmellofthe
air,thesenseofitsexistingsomewherebetweenaboardroomandacommandandcontrolcenter.The
generation ship outside the window might have been half a percent closer to completion, but that
wasn’t it. The stakes of the game had shifted, and what had been a war was something else now.
Somethingbigger.ItshoneinFred’seyesandtightenedhisshoulders.
“We could use a man with your skills,” Fred agreed. “It’s always the small-scale things that trip
you up. How to frisk someone. That kind of thing. Tycho security can handle themselves, but once
we’reoffourstationandshootingourwayintosomeoneelse’s,notasmuch.”
“Is that something you’re looking to do more of?” Miller said, trying to make it a casual joke.
Fred didn’t answer. For a moment, Julie stood at the general’s side. Miller saw the pair of them
reflectedinthescreens,themanpensive,theghostamused.MaybeMillerhadgottenitwrongfrom
the start, and the divide between the Belt and the inner planets was something besides politics and
resourcemanagement.HeknewaswellasanyonethattheBeltofferedaharder,moredangerouslife
than Mars or Earth provided. And yet it called these people—the best people—out of humanity’s
gravitywellstocastthemselvesintothedarkness.
Theimpulsetoexplore,tostretch,toleavehome.Togoasfaraspossibleoutintotheuniverse.
AndnowthatProtogenandErosofferedthechancetobecomegods,torecreatehumanityintobeings
thatcouldgobeyondmerelyhumanhopesanddreams,itoccurredtoMillerhowharditwouldbefor
menlikeFredtoturnthattemptationaway.
“YoukilledDresden,”Fredsaid.“That’saproblem.”
“Itneededtohappen.”
“I’mnotsureitdid,”Fredreplied,buthisvoicewascareful.Testing.Millersmiled,alittlesadly.
“That’swhyitneededtohappen,”hesaid.
Thesmall,coughinglaughtoldMillerthatFredunderstoodhim.Whenthegeneralturnedbackto
considerhimagain,hisgazewassteady.
“Whenitcomestothenegotiatingtable,someone’sgoingtohavetoanswerforit.Youkilleda
defenselessman.”
“Idid,”Millersaid.
“Whenthetimecomes,Iwillhand-feedyoutothewolvesasthefirstchipIoffer.Iwon’tprotect
you.”
“Wouldn’taskyoutoprotectme,”Millersaid.
“EvenifitmeantbeingaBelterex-copinanEarth-sideprison?”
It was a euphemism, and they both knew it. You belong with me, Julie said. And so what did it
matter,really,howhegotthere?
“I’vegotnoregrets,”hesaid,andhalfabreathlaterwasshockedtodiscoveritwasalmosttrue.
“Ifthere’sajudgeouttherewhowantstoaskmeaboutsomething,I’llanswer.I’mlookingforajob
here,notprotection.”
Fredsatinhischair,eyesnarrowandthoughtful.Millerleanedforwardinhisseat.
“You’ve got me in a hard position,” Fred said. “You’re saying all the right things. But I have a
hard time trusting that you’d follow through. Keeping you on the books would be risky. It could
underminemypositioninthepeacenegotiations.”
“It’sarisk,”Millersaid.“ButI’vebeenonErosandThothstation.IflewontheRocinante with
Holdenandhiscrew.Whenitcomestoanalysisoftheprotomoleculeandhowwegotintothismess,
thereisn’tanyoneinabetterpositiontogiveyouinformation.YoucanargueIknewtoomuch.ThatI
wastoovaluabletoletgo.”
“Ortoodangerous.”
“Sure.Orthat.”
Theyweresilentforamoment.OntheNauvoo,abankoflightsglitteredinagold-and-greentest
patternandthenwentdark.
“Securityconsultant,”Fredsaid.“Independent.Iwon’tgiveyouarank.”
I’mtoodirtyfortheOPA,Millerthoughtwithaglowofamusement.
“Ifitcomeswithmyownbunk,I’lltakeit,”hesaid.Itwasonlyuntilthewarwasover.Afterthat,
he was meat for the machine. That was fine. Fred leaned back. His chair hissed softly into its new
configuration.
“All right,” Fred said. “Here’s your first job. Give me your analysis. What’s my biggest
problem?”
“Containment,”Millersaid.
“YouthinkIcan’tkeeptheinformationaboutThothstationandtheprotomoleculequiet?”
“Of course you can’t,” Miller said. “For one thing, too many people already know. For another
thing, one of them’s Holden, and if he hasn’t already broadcast the whole thing on every empty
frequency, he will soon. And besides that, you can’t make a peace deal without explaining what the
hell’sgoingon.Soonerorlater,ithastocomeout.”
“Andwhatdoyouadvise?”
Foramoment,Millerwasbackinthedarkness,listeningtothegibbersofthedyingstation.The
voicesofthedeadcallingtohimfromacrossthevacuum.
“DefendEros,”hesaid.“Allsidesaregoingtowantsamplesoftheprotomolecule.Lockingdown
accessisgoingtobetheonlywayyougetyourselfaseatatthattable.”
Fredchuckled.
“Nice thought,” he said. “But how do propose we defend something the size of Eros Station if
EarthandMarsbringtheirnaviestobear?”
Itwasagoodpoint.Millerfeltatugofsorrow.EventhoughJulieMao—hisJulie—wasdeadand
gone,itfeltlikedisloyaltytosayit.
“Thenyouhavetogetridofit,”hesaid.
“AndhowwouldIdothat?”Fredsaid.“Evenifwestuddedthethingwithnukes,howwouldwebe
sure that no little scrap of the thing would make its way to a colony or down a well? Blowing that
thingupwouldbelikeblowingdandelionfluffintothebreeze.”
Millerhadneverseenadandelion,buthesawtheproblem.Eventhesmallestportionofthegoo
fillingErosmightbeenoughtostartthewholeevilexperimentoveragain.Andthegoothrivedon
radiation;simplycookingthestationmighthurrythethingalongitsoccultpathratherthanendit.To
besurethattheprotomoleculeonErosneverspread,they’dneedtobreakeverythingonthestation
downtoitsconstituentatoms…
“Oh,”Millersaid.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.You’renotgoingtolikethis.”
“Tryme.”
“Okay.Youasked.YoudriveErosintothesun.”
“Intothesun,”Fredsaid.“Doyouhaveanyideahowmuchmasswe’retalkingabouthere?”
Millernoddedtothewide,clearexpanseofwindow,totheconstructionyardsbeyondit.Tothe
Nauvoo.
“Bigenginesonthatthing,”Millersaid.“Getsomefastshipsouttothestation,makesurenoone
cangetinbeforeyougetthere.RuntheNauvoointoErosStation.Knockitsunward.”
Fred’sgazeturnedinwardasheplanned,calculated.
“Gottomakesurenoonegetsintoituntilithitscorona.That’llbehard,butEarthandMarsare
bothjustasinterestedinkeepingtheotherguyfromhavingitasingettingitthemselves.”
I’msorryIcouldn’tdobetter,Julie,hethought.Butit’llbeahellofafuneral.
Fred’sbreathgrewslowanddeep,hisgazeflickeringasifhewerereadingsomethingintheair
thatonlyhecouldsee.Millerdidn’tinterrupt,evenwhenthesilencegotheavy.Itwasalmostaminute
laterthatFredletoutashort,percussivebreath.
“TheMormonsaregoingtobepissed,”hesaid.
ChapterForty-Five:Holden
N aomi talked in her sleep. It was one of a dozen things Holden hadn’t known about her before
tonight. Even though they’d slept in crash couches a few feet apart on many occasions, he’d never
heardit.Now,withherfaceagainsthisbarechest,hecouldfeelherlipsmoveandthesoft,punctuated
exhalationsofherwords.Hecouldn’thearwhatshewassaying.
Shealsohadascaronherback,justaboveherleftbuttock.Itwasthreeincheslongandhadthe
unevenedgesandripplingthatcamefromatearratherthanaslice.Naomiwouldnevergetherself
knifedinabarfight,soithadtohavecomeonthejob.Maybeshehadbeenclimbingthroughtight
spaces in the engine room when the ship maneuvered unexpectedly. A competent plastic surgeon
couldhavemadeitinvisibleinonevisit.Thatshehadn’tbotheredandclearlydidn’tcarewasanother
thinghehadlearnedabouthertonight.
Shestoppedmurmuringandsmackedherlipsafewtimes,thensaid,“Thirsty.”
Holden slid out from under her and headed for the kitchen, knowing that this was the
obsequiousnessthatalwaysaccompaniedanewlover.Forthenextcoupleofweeks,hewouldn’tbe
able to stop himself from fulfilling every whim Naomi might have. It was a behavior some men
carriedatthegeneticlevel,theirDNAwantingtomakesurethatfirsttimewasn’tjustafluke.
Herroomwaslaidoutdifferentlythanhis,andtheunfamiliaritymadehimclumsyinthedark.He
fumbled around for a few minutes in her small kitchen nook, looking for a glass. By the time he
found it, filled it, and headed back into the bedroom, Naomi was sitting up in bed. The sheet lay
pooled on her lap. The sight of her half nude in the dimly lit room gave him an embarrassingly
suddenerection.
Naomipannedhergazeuphisbody,pausingathismidsection,thenatthewaterglass,andsaid,“Is
thatforme?”
Holdendidn’tknowwhichthingshewasaskingabout,sohejustsaid,“Yes.”
“Youasleep?”
Naomi’sfacewasonhisbelly,herbreathingslowanddeep,buttohissurpriseshesaid,“No.”
“Canwetalk?”
Naomirolledoffhimandpulledherselfupuntilherfacelaynexttohisonthepillow.Herhair
fellacrosshereyes,andHoldenreachedoutandbrusheditawayinamovethatfeltsointimateand
proprietarythathehadtoswallowalumpinhisthroat.
“Areyouabouttogetseriousonme?”sheasked,hereyeshalflidded.
“Yeah,Iam,”hesaid,andkissedherforehead.
“My last lover was over a year ago,” she said. “I’m a serial monogamist, so as far as I’m
concerned, this is an exclusive-rights deal until one of us decides it isn’t. As long as I get advance
warningthatyou’vedecidedtoendthedeal,therewon’tbeanyhardfeelings.I’mopentotheideaof
itbeingmorethanjustsex,butinmyexperiencethatwillhappenonitsownifit’sgoingto.Ihave
eggsinstorageonEuropaandLuna,ifthatmatterstoyou.”
Sherolledupontoherelbow,herfacehoveringoverhis.
“DidIcoverallthebases?”sheasked.
“No,”hesaid.“ButIagreetotheconditions.”
Shefloppedontoherback,lettingoutalongcontentedsigh.
“Good.”
Holdenwantedtoholdher,buthefelttoohotandstickywithsweat,sohejustreacheddownand
heldherhandinstead.Hewantedtotellherthatthismeantsomething,thatitwasalreadymorethan
sexforhim,butallthewordshetriedoutinhisheadcameoffsoundingphonyormaudlin.
“Thankyou,”hesaidinstead,butshewasalreadysnoringquietly.
They had sex again in the morning. After a long night with too little sleep, it wound up being far
moreeffortthanreleaseforHolden,buttherewasapleasureinthattoo,asiflessthanmind-blowing
sex somehow meant something different and funnier and gentler than what they’d already done
together.Afterward,Holdenwenttothekitchenandmadecoffee,thenbroughtitbacktobedonatray.
Theydrankitwithouttalking,someoftheshynessthey’davoidedthenightbeforecomingnowinthe
artificialmorningoftheroom’sLEDs.
Naomiputheremptycoffeecupdownandtouchedthebadlyhealedlumpinhisrecentlybroken
nose.
“Isithideous?”Holdenasked.
“No,”shesaid.“Youweretooperfectbefore.Itmakesyouseemmoresubstantial.”
Holdenlaughed.“Thatsoundslikeawordyouusetodescribeafatmanorahistoryprofessor.”
Naomismiledandtouchedhischestlightlywithherfingertips.Itwasn’tanattempttoarouse,just
the exploration that came when satiation had removed sex from the equation. Holden tried to
rememberthelasttimethecoldsanityfollowingsexhadbeenthiscomfortable,butmaybethathad
beennever.HewasmakingplanstospendtheremainderofthedayinNaomi’sbed,runningthrough
a mental list of restaurants on the station that delivered, when his terminal began buzzing on the
nightstand.
“Goddammit,”hesaid.
“Youdon’thavetoanswer,”Naomireplied,andmovedherexplorationstohisbelly.
“You’ve been paying attention the last couple months, right?” Holden said. “Unless it’s a wrong
number, then it’s probably some end-of-the-solar-system-type shit and we have five minutes to
evacuatethestation.”
Naomi kissed his ribs, which simultaneously tickled him and caused him to question his
assumptionsabouthisownrefractoryperiod.
“That’snotfunny,”shesaid.
Holdensighedandpickeduptheterminaloffthetable.Fred’snameflashedasitbuzzedagain.
“It’sFred,”hesaid.
Naomistoppedkissinghimandsatup.
“Yeah,thenit’sprobablynotgoodnews.”
Holdentappedonthescreentoacceptthecallandsaid,“Fred.”
“Jim.Comeseemeassoonasyougetachance.It’simportant.”
“Okay,”Holdenreplied.“Bethereinhalfanhour.”
Heendedthecallandtossedhishandterminalacrosstheroomontothepileofclotheshe’dleftat
thefootofthebed.
“Goingtoshower,thengoseewhatFredwants,”hesaid,pullingoffthesheetandgettingup.
“ShouldIcome,too?”Naomiasked.
“Areyoukidding?I’mneverlettingyououtofmysightagain.”
“Don’tgetcreepyonme,”Naomireplied,butshewassmilingwhenshesaidit.
ThefirstunpleasantsurprisewasMillersittinginFred’sofficewhentheyarrived.Holdennoddedat
themanonce,thensaidtoFred,“We’rehere.What’sup?”
Fredgesturedforthemtosit,andwhentheyhad,hesaid,“We’vebeendiscussingwhattodoabout
Eros.”
Holdenshrugged.“Okay.Whataboutit?”
“Miller thinks that someone will try to land there and recover some samples of the
protomolecule.”
“Ihavenotroublebelievingthatsomeonewillbethatstupid,”Holdensaidwithanod.
Fredstoodupandtappedsomethingonhisdesk.Thescreensthatnormallyshowedaviewofthe
Nauvoo construction outside suddenly switched to a 2-D map of the solar system, tiny lights of
different colors marking fleet positions. An angry swarm of green dots surrounded Mars. Holden
assumedthatmeantthegreenswereEarthships.TherewerealotofredandyellowdotsintheBelt
andouterplanets.RedwasprobablyMars,then.
“Nicemap,”Holdensaid.“Accurate?”
“Reasonably,”Fredsaid.Withafewquicktapsonhisdesk,hezoomedinononeportionofthe
Belt.Apotato-shapedlumplabeled EROSfilledthemiddleofthescreen.Twotinygreendotsinched
towarditfromseveralmetersaway.
“That is the Earth science vessel Charles Lyell moving toward Eros at full burn. She’s
accompaniedbywhatwethinkisaPhantom-classescortship.”
“TheRoci’sEarthnavycousin,”Holdensaid.
“Well,thePhantomclassisanoldermodel,andlargelyrelegatedtorear-echelonassignments,but
stillmorethanamatchforanythingtheOPAcanquicklyfield,”Fredreplied.
“Exactly the sort of ship that would be escorting science ships around, though,” Holden said.
“How’dtheygetouttheresoquick?Andwhyjustthetwoofthem?”
Fredbackedthemapupuntilitwasadistantviewoftheentiresolarsystemagain.
“Dumb luck. The Lyell was returning to Earth from doing non-Belt asteroid mapping when it
divertedcoursetowardEros.Itwasclose;nooneelsewas.Earthmusthaveseenachancetograba
samplewhileeveryoneelsewasfiguringoutwhattodo.”
Holden looked over at Naomi, but her face was unreadable. Miller was staring at him like an
entomologisttryingtofigureoutexactlywherethepinwent.
“Sotheyknow,then?”Holdensaid.“AboutProtogenandEros?”
“Weassumeso,”Fredsaid.
“Youwantustochasethemaway?Imean,Ithinkwecan,butthatwillonlyworkuntilEarthcan
rerouteafewmoreshipstobackthemup.Wewon’tbeabletobuymuchtime.”
Fredsmiled.
“Wewon’tneedmuch,”hesaid.“Wehaveaplan.”
Holdennodded,waitingtohearit,butFredsatdownandleanedbackinhischair.Millerstoodup
andchangedtheviewonthescreentoaclose-upofthesurfaceofEros.
NowwegettofindoutwhyFrediskeepingthisjackalaround,Holdenthought,butsaidnothing.
MillerpointedatthepictureofEros.
“Eros is an old station. Lots of redundancy. Lot of holes in her skin, mostly small maintenance
airlocks,” the former detective said. “The big docks are in five main clusters around the station.
We’relookingatsendingsixsupplyfreighterstoEros,alongwiththeRocinante.TheRocikeepsthe
sciencevesselfromlanding,andthefreighterssecurethemselvestothestation,oneateachdocking
cluster.”
“You’resendingpeoplein?”Holdensaid.
“Notin,”Millerreplied.“Juston.Surfacework.Anyway,thesixthfreighterevacuatesthecrews
once the others are docked. Each abandoned freighter will have a couple dozen high-yield fusion
warheads wired to the ship’s proximity detectors. Anything tries to land at the docks, and there’s a
few-hundred-megaton fusion explosion. It should be enough to take out the approaching ship, but
evenifitdoesn’t,thedockswillbetooslaggedtolandat.”
Naomiclearedherthroat.“Uh,theUNandMarsbothhavebombsquads.They’llfigureouthow
togetpastyourboobytraps.”
“Givenenoughtime,”Fredagreed.
Millercontinuedasthoughhehadn’tbeeninterrupted.
“Thebombsarejustasecondlineofdeterrence.Rocinantefirst,bombssecond.We’retryingto
buyFred’speopleenoughtimetopreptheNauvoo.”
“The Nauvoo?” Holden said, and half a breath later, Naomi whistled low. Miller nodded to her
almostasifhewereacceptingapplause.
“TheNauvoo’slaunchinginalongparaboliccourse,buildingupspeed.It’llhitErosatavelocity
andanglecalculatedtoknockErostowardthesun.Setoffthebombstoo.Betweentheimpactenergy
and the fusion warheads, we figure the surface of Eros’ll be hot and radioactive enough to cook
anythingthattriestolanduntilit’stoodamnlate,”Millerfinished,thensatbackdown.Helookedup
asifhewaswaitingforreactions.
“Thiswasyouridea?”HoldenaskedMiller.
“Nauvoopartwas.Butwedidn’tknowabouttheLyellwhenwefirsttalkedaboutit.Theboobytrap
thing’skindofimprovised.Ithinkit’llwork,though.Buyusenoughtime.”
“Iagree,”Holdensaid.“WeneedtokeepErosoutofanyone’shands,andIcan’tthinkofabetter
waytodoit.We’rein.We’llshoothescienceshipawaywhileyoudoyourwork.”
Fred leaned forward in his chair with a creak and said, “I knew you’d be on board. Miller was
moreskeptical.”
“Throwingamillionpeopleintothesunseemedlikesomethingyoumightbalkat,”thedetective
saidwithahumorlessgrin.
“There’s nothing human left on that station. What’s your part in all of this? You armchair
quarterbackingnow?”
Itcameoutnastierthanhe’dintended,butMillerdidn’tappearoffended.
“I’llbecoordinatingsecurity.”
“Security?Whywilltheyneedsecurity?”
Millersmiled.Allhissmileslookedlikehewashearingagoodjokeatafuneral.
“Incasesomethingcrawlsoutofanairlock,triestothumbaride,”hesaid.
Holdenfrowned.“Idon’tliketothinkthosethingscangetaroundinvacuum.Idon’tlikethatidea
atall.”
“OncewebringthesurfacetempofErosuptoanicebalmytenthousanddegrees,I’mthinkingit
won’tmattermuch,”Millerreplied.“Untilthen,bestbesafe.”
Holdenfoundhimselfwishinghesharedthedetective’sconfidence.
“What are the odds the impact and detonations just break Eros into a million pieces and scatter
themalloverthesolarsystem?”Naomiasked.
“Fred’sgotsomeofhisbestengineerscalculatingeverythingtothelastdecimaltomakesurethat
doesn’t happen,” Miller replied. “Tycho helped build Eros in the first place. They’ve got the
blueprints.”
“So,”saidFred.“Let’sdealwiththelastbitofbusiness.”
Holdenwaited.
“Youstillhavetheprotomolecule,”Fredsaid.
Holdennoddedagain.“And?”
“And,”repliedFred.“Andthelasttimewesentyouout,yourshipwasalmostwrecked.OnceEros
has been nuked, it will be the only confirmed sample around, outside of what might still be on
Phoebe.Ican’tfindanyreasontoletyoukeepit.IwantittoremainhereonTychowhenyougo.”
Holdenstoodup,shakinghishead.
“Ilikeyou,Fred,butI’mnothandingthatstuffovertoanyonewhomightseeitasabargaining
chip.”
“Idon’tthinkyouhavealotof—”Fredstarted,butHoldenheldupafingerandcuthimoff.While
Fredstaredathiminsurprise,hegrabbedhisterminalandopenedthecrewchannel.
“Alex,Amos,eitherofyouontheship?”
“I’mhere,”Amossaidasecondlater.“Finishingupsome—”
“Lockitdown,”Holdensaidoverhim.“Rightnow.Sealitup.IfIdon’tcallyouinanhour,orif
anyoneotherthanmetriestoboard,leavethedockandflyawayfromTychoatbestpossiblespeed.
Directionisyourchoice.Shootyourwayfreeifyouhaveto.Readme?”
“Loudandclear,Cap,”Amossaid.IfHoldenhadaskedhimtogetacupofcoffee,Amoswould
havesoundedexactlythesame.
Fredwasstillstaringathimincredulously.
“Don’tforcethisissue,Fred,”Holdensaid.
“Ifyouthinkyoucanthreatenme,you’remistaken,”Fredsaid,hisvoiceflatandfrightening.
Millerlaughed.
“Somethingfunny?”Fredsaid.
“Thatwasn’tathreat,”Millerreplied.
“No?Whatwouldyoucallit?”
“Anaccuratereportoftheworld,”Millersaid.Hestretchedslowlyashetalked.“IfitwasAlexon
board, he might think the captain was trying to intimidate someone, maybe back down at the last
minute.Amos,though?Amoswillabsolutelyshoothiswayfree,evenifitmeanshegoesdownwith
theship.”
Fredscowled,andMillershookhishead.
“It’snotabluff,”Millersaid.“Don’tcallit.”
Fred’s eyes narrowed, and Holden wondered if he’d finally gone too far with the man. He
certainly wouldn’t be the first person Fred Johnson had ordered shot. And he had Miller standing
right next to him. The unbalanced detective would probably shoot him at the first hint someone
thoughtitwasagoodidea.ItshookHolden’sconfidenceinFredthatMillerwasevenhere.
WhichmadeitalittlemoresurprisingwhenMillersavedhim.
“Look,”thedetectivesaid.“Factis,Holdenisthebestpersontocarrythatshitarounduntilyou
decidewhattodowithit.”
“Talkmeintoit,”Fredsaid,hisvoicestilltightwithanger.
“OnceErosgoesup,heandtheRociaregoingtohavetheirasseshanginginthebreeze.Someone
mightbeangryenoughtonukehimjustongeneralprinciples.”
“And how does that make the sample safer with him?” Fred asked, but Holden had understood
Miller ’spoint.
“TheymightbelessinclinedtoblowmeupifIletthemknowthatI’vegotthesampleandallthe
Protogennotes,”hesaid.
“Won’tmakethesamplesafer,”Millersaid.“Butitmakesthemissionmorelikelytowork.And
that’sthepoint,right?Also,he’sanidealist,”Millercontinued.“OfferHoldenhisweightingoldand
he’lljustbeoffendedyoutriedtobribehim.”
Naomilaughed.Millerglancedather,asmallsharedsmileatthecornerofhismouth,thenturned
backtoFred.
“AreyousayinghecanbetrustedandIcan’t?”Fredsaid.
“Iwasthinkingmoreaboutthecrew,”Millersaid.“Holden’sgotasmallbunch,andtheydowhat
hesays.Theythinkhe’srighteous,sotheyaretoo.”
“Mypeoplefollowme,”Fredsaid.
Miller ’sgrinwaswearyandunassailable.
“There’salotofpeopleintheOPA,”hesaid.
“Thestakesaretoohigh,”Fredsaid.
“You’rekindofinthewrongcareerforsafe,”Millersaid.“I’mnotsayingit’sagreatplan.Just
youwon’tgetabetterone.”
Fred’s slitted eyes glittered with equal parts frustration and rage. His jaw worked silently for a
momentbeforehespoke.
“CaptainHolden?I’mdisappointedwithyourlackoftrustafterallI’vedoneforyouandyours.”
“Ifthehumanracestillexistsamonthfromnow,I’llapologize,”Holdensaid.
“GetyourcrewouttoErosbeforeIchangemymind.”
Holdenrose,noddedtoFred,andleft.Naomiwalkedathisside.
“Wow,thatwasclose,”shesaidunderherbreath.
Oncethey’dlefttheoffice,Holdensaid,“IthinkFredwashalfasecondfromorderingMillerto
shootme.”
“Miller ’sonourside.Haven’tyoufiguredthatoutyet?”
ChapterForty-Six:Miller
Millerhadknownwhenhe’dtakenHolden’ssideagainsthisnewbossthatthereweregoingtobe
consequences. His position with Fred and the OPA was tenuous to start with, and pointing out that
Holden and his crew were not only more dedicated but also more trustworthy than Fred’s people
wasn’tthethingyoudidwhenyouwerekissingup.Thatitwasthetruthonlymadeitworse.
He’dexpectedsomekindofpayback.Hewouldhavebeennaivenotto.
“Riseup,OmenofGod,inoneunitedthrong,”theresisterssang.“Bringinthedaysofbro-therhood,andendthenightofwrong…”
Millertookoffhishatandranfingersthroughhisthinninghair.Itwasn’tgoingtobeagoodday.
The interior of the Nauvoo showed more patchwork and process than its hull suggested. Two
kilometerslong,itsdesignershadbuiltitasmorethanahugeship.Thegreatlevelsstackedoneatop
the other; alloy girders worked organically with what would have been pastoral meadows. The
structure echoed the greatest cathedrals of Earth and Mars, rising up through empty air and giving
both thrust-gravity stability and glory to God. It was still metal bones and woven agricultural
substrate,butMillercouldseewhereitwasallheading.
A generation ship was a statement of overarching ambition and utter faith. The Mormons had
knownthat.They’dembracedit.They’dconstructedashipthatwasprayerandpietyandcelebration
all at the same time. The Nauvoo would be the greatest temple mankind had ever built. It would
shepherd its crew through the uncrossable gulfs of interstellar space, humanity’s best hope of
reachingthestars
Oritwouldhavebeen,ifnotforhim.
“Youwantustogasthem,Pampaw?”Diogoasked.
Millerconsideredtheresisters.Ataguess,theremighthavebeentwohundredofthemstrungin
linked chains across the access paths and engineering ducts. Transport lifts and industrial waldoes
stoodidle,theirdisplaysdark,theirbatteriesshorted.
“Yeah,probablyshould,”Millersighed.
Thesecurityteam—hissecurityteam—numberedfewerthanthreedozen.Menandwomenmore
unified by the OPA-issued armbands than by their training, experience, loyalties, or politics. If the
Mormonshadchosenviolence,itwouldhavebeenabloodbath.Ifthey’dputonenvironmentsuits,the
protest would have lasted hours. Days, possibly. Instead, Diogo gave the signal, and three minutes
later,foursmallcometsarcedoutintothenull-gspace,waveringontheirtailsofNNLP-alphaand
tetrahydrocannabinol.
It was the kindest, gentlest riot control device in the arsenal. Any of the protesters with
compromised lungs could still be in trouble, but within half an hour, all of them would be relaxed
intonearstuporandhighasakite.NNLPaandTHCwasn’tacombinationMillerhadeverusedon
Ceres. If they’d tried to stock it, it would have been stolen for office parties. He tried to take some
comfortinthethought.Asifitwouldmakeupforthelifetimesofdreamsandlaborhewastaking
away.
Besidehim,Diogolaughed.
Ittookthemthreehourstomaketheprimarysweepoftheship,andanotherfivetohuntdownall
thestowawayshuddledinductsandsecurerooms,waitingtomaketheirpresenceknownatthelast
minute and sabotage the mission. As those were hauled weeping off the ship, Miller wondered
whetherhe’djustsavedtheirlives.Ifallhe’ddonewithhislifewaskeepFredJohnsonfromdeciding
whethertoletahandfulofinnocentpeoplediewiththeNauvoo,orriskkeepingErosaroundforthe
innerplanets,thatwasn’tsobad.
AssoonasMillergavetheword,theOPAtechteammovedintoaction,reengagingthewaldoes
andtransports,fixingthehundredsmallactsofsabotagethatwouldhavekepttheNauvoo’s engines
fromfiring,clearingoutequipmenttheywantedtosave.Millerwatchedindustrialliftsbigenoughto
houseafamilyoffiveshiftcrateaftercrate,movingoutthingsthathadonlyrecentlybeenmovedit.
ThedockswereasbusyasCeresatmid-shift.Millerhalfexpectedtoseehisoldcohortswandering
amongthestevedoresandlifttubes,keepingwhatpassedforthepeace.
Inthequietmoments,hesethishandterminaltotheErosfeed.Backwhenhe’dbeenakid,there
had been a performance artist making the rounds—Jila Sorormaya, her name was. As he recalled,
she’dintentionallycorrupteddata-storagedevicesandthenputthedatastreamthroughhermusickit.
She’d gotten into trouble when some of the proprietary code of the storage device software got
incorporated into her music and posted. Miller hadn’t been a sophisticate. He’d figured another
nutcaseartisthadtogetarealjob,andtheuniversecouldonlybeabetterplace.
Listening to the Eros feed—Radio Free Eros, he called it—he thought maybe he’d been a little
roughonoldJila.Thesqueaksandcross-chatter,theflowofemptynoisepunctuatedbyvoices,were
eerieandcompelling.Justlikethebrokendatastream,itwasthemusicofcorruption.
…asciugareilpusechepossanosentirsimeglio…
…jaminänousivatkuolleistajahalventaakohtalopakottaaminutjasiskoni…
…dowhatyouhaveto…
He’dlistenedtothefeedforhours,pickingoutvoices.Once,thewholethinghadfluttered,cutting
in and out like a piece of equipment on the edge of failure. Only after it had resumed did Miller
wonder if the stutters of quiet had been Morse code. He leaned against the bulkhead, the
overwhelmingmassoftheNauvootoweringabovehim.Theshiponlyhalfbornandalreadymarked
for sacrifice. Julie sat beside him, looking up. Her hair floated around her face; her eyes never
stoppedsmiling.WhatevertrickoftheimaginationhadkepthisowninternalJulietteAndromedaMao
fromcomingbacktohimashercorpse,hethankedit.
It would have been something, wouldn’t it? she said. Flying through vacuum without a suit.
Sleepingforahundredyearsandwakingupinthelightofadifferentsun.
“Ididn’tshootthatfuckerfastenough,”Millersaidaloud.
Hecouldhavegivenusthestars.
Anewvoicebrokein.Ahumanvoiceshakingwithrage.
“Antichrist!”
Millerblinked,returningtoreality,andthumbedofftheErosfeed.Aprisonertransportwoundits
lazywaythroughthedock,adozenMormontechniciansboundtoitsrestraintpoles.Onewasayoung
manwithapockedfaceandhatredinhiseyes.HewasstaringatMiller.
“You’retheAntichrist,youvileexcuseforahuman!Godknowsyou!He’llrememberyou!”
Millertippedhishatastheprisonersambledby.
“Starsarebetteroffwithoutus,”hesaid,buttoosoftlyforanyonebutJulietohear.
A dozen tugs flew before the Nauvoo, the web of nanotubule tethers invisible at this distance. All
Millersawwasthegreatbehemoth,asmuchapartofTychoStationasthebulkheadsandair,shiftin
itsbed,shrug,andbegintomove.Thetugs’driveflareslittheinteriorspaceofthestation,flickering
intheirperfectlychoreographeddutieslikeChristmaslights,andanearlysubliminalshudderpassed
throughthedeepsteelbonesofTycho.Ineighthours,theNauvoowouldbefarenoughoutthatthe
great engines could be brought online without endangering the station with their exhaust plume. It
mightbemorethantwoweeksafterthatbeforeitreachedEros.
Millerwouldbeatittherebyeightyhours.
“Oi,Pampaw,”Diogosaid.“Done-done?”
“Yeah,”Millersaidwithasigh.“I’mready.Let’sgeteveryonetogether.”
Theboygrinned.InthehourssincethecommandeeringoftheNauvoo, Diogo had added bright
red plastic decorations to three of his front teeth. It was apparently deeply meaningful in the youth
cultureofTychoStation,andsignifiedprowess,possiblysexual.Millerfeltamoment’sreliefthathe
wasn’thot-bunkingattheboy’splaceanymore.
NowthathewasrunningsecurityopsfortheOPA,theirregularnatureofthegroupwasclearerto
himthanever.Therehadbeenatimewhenhe’dthoughttheOPAmightbesomethingthatcouldtake
onEarthorMarswhenitcametoarealwar.Certainly,theyhadmoremoneyandresourcesthanhe’d
thought.TheyhadFredJohnson.TheyhadCeresnow,foraslongastheycouldholdit.They’dtaken
onThothStationandwon.
And yet the same kids he’d gone on the assault with had been working crowd control at the
Nauvoo,andmorethanhalfofthemwouldbeonthedemolitionsshipwhenitleftforEros.Itwasthe
thing that Havelock would never understand. For that matter, it was the thing Holden would never
understand.Maybenoonewhohadlivedwiththecertaintyandsupportofanaturalatmospherewould
ever completely accept the power and fragility of a society based in doing what needed doing, in
becomingfastandflexible,thewaytheOPAhad.Inbecomingarticulated.
IfFredcouldn’tbuildhimselfapeacetreaty,theOPAwouldneverwinagainstthedisciplineand
unityofaninnerplanetnavy.Buttheywouldalsoneverlose.Warwithoutend.
Well,whatwashistoryifnotthat?
Andhowwouldhavingthestarschangeanything?
As he walked to his apartment, he opened a channel request on his hand terminal. Fred Johnson
appeared,lookingtiredbutalert.
“Miller,”hesaid.
“We’regettingreadytoshipoutiftheordinanceisready.”
“It’s loading now,” Fred replied. “Enough fissionable material to keep the surface of Eros
unapproachableforyears.Becarefulwithit.Ifoneofyourboysgoesdownforasmokeinthewrong
place,wearen’tgoingtobeabletoreplacethemines.Notintime.”
Notyou’llallbedead.Theweaponswereprecious,notthepeople.
“Yeah,I’llwatchit,”Millersaid.
“TheRocinante’salreadyonitsway.”
That wasn’t something Miller needed to know, so there was some other reason Fred had
mentioned it. His carefully neutral tone made it something like an accusation. The only controlled
sampleofprotomoleculehadleftFred’ssphereofinfluence.
“We’ll get out there to meet her in plenty of time to keep anybody off of Eros,” Miller said.
“Shouldn’tbeaproblem.”
Onthetinyscreen,itwashardtotellhowgenuineFred’ssmilewas.
“Ihopeyourfriendsarereallyupforthis,”hesaid.
Millerfeltsomethingodd.Alittlehollownessjustbelowhisbreastbone.
“Theyaren’tmyfriends,”hesaid,keepinghistoneofvoicelight.
“No?”
“Idon’texactlyhavefriends.It’smoreI’vegotalotofpeopleIusedtoworkwith,”hesaid.
“You put a lot of faith in Holden,” Fred said, making it almost a question. A challenge, at least.
Millersmiled,knowingthatFredwouldbejustasunsureifhiswasgenuine.
“Notfaith.Judgment,”hesaid.
Fredcoughedoutalaugh.
“Andthat’swhyyoudon’thavefriends,friend.”
“Partofit,”Millersaid.
Therewasnothingmoretosay.Millerdroppedtheconnection.Hewasalmostathishole,anyway.
Itwasnothingmuch.Ananonymouscubeonthestationwithevenlesspersonalitytoitthanhis
placebackonCeres.Hesatonhisbunk,checkedhisterminalforthestatusofthedemolitionsship.
Heknewthatheshouldjustgouptothedocks.Diogoandtheotherswereassembling,andwhileit
wasn’tlikelythatthedrughazeofthepre-missionpartieswouldallowthemalltoarriveontime,it
wasatleastpossible.Hedidn’tevenhavethatexcuse.
Julie sat in the space behind his eyes. Her legs were folded under her. She was beautiful. She’d
beenlikeFredandHoldenandHavelock.SomeoneborninagravitywellwhocametotheBeltby
choice.She’ddiedforherchoice.She’dcomelookingforhelpandkilledErosbydoingit.Ifshe’d
stayedthere,onthatghostship…
Shetiltedherhead,herhairswingingagainstthespingravity.Therewasaquestioninhereyes.
Shewasright,ofcourse.Itwouldhaveslowedthingsdown,maybe.Itwouldn’thavestoppedthem.
ProtogenandDresdenwouldhavefoundhereventually.Wouldhavefoundit.Orgonebackanddug
upafreshsample.Nothingwouldhavestoppedthem.
Andheknew—knewthewayheknewhewashimself—thatJuliewasn’tliketheothers.Thatshe’d
understoodtheBeltandBelters,andtheneedtopushon.Ifnotforthestars,atleastclosetothem.The
luxury available to her was something Miller had never experienced, and never would. But she’d
turnedaway.She’dcomeouthere,andstayedevenwhentheyweregoingtosellherracingpinnace.
Herchildhood.Herpride.
Thatwaswhyhelovedher.
When Miller reached the dock, it was clear something had happened. It was in the way the
dockworkersheldthemselvesandthelookshalfamusementandhalfpleasure,ontheirfaces.Miller
signedinandcrawledthroughtheawkwardOjino-Gouch-styleairlock,seventyyearsoutofdateand
hardlylargerthanatorpedotube,intothecrampedcrewareaoftheTalbot Leeds. The ship looked
likeithadbeenweldedtogetherfromtwosmallerships,withoutparticularconcernfordesign.The
accelerationcoucheswerestackedthreedeep.Theairsmelledofoldsweatandhotmetal.Someone
hadbeensmokingmarijuanarecentlyenoughthatthefiltershadn’tcleareditoutyet.Diogowasthere
along with a half dozen others. They all wore different uniforms, but they also all had the OPA
armband.
“Oi,Pampaw!Kepttopbunkádir.”
“Thanks,”Millersaid.“Iappreciatethat.”
Thirteen days. He was going to spend thirteen days sharing this tiny space with the demolitions
crew.Thirteendayspressedintothesecouches,withmegatonsoffissionminesintheship’shold.And
yettheotherswereallsmiling.MillerhauledhimselfuptotheaccelerationcouchDiogohadsaved
forhim,andpointedtotheotherswithhischin.
“Someonehaveabirthday?”
Diogogaveanelaborateshrug.
“Why’s everyone in such a good fucking mood?” Miller said, more sharply than he’d intended.
Diogotooknooffense.Hesmiledhisgreatred-and-whiteteeth.
“Audi-nichts?”
“No,Ihaven’theard,orIwouldn’tbeasking,”Millersaid.
“Marsdidtherightthing,”Diogosaid.“GotthefeedoffEros,puttwoandtwo,and—”
The boy slammed a fist into his open palm. Miller tried to parse what he was saying. They’d
attackedEros?They’dtakenonProtogen?
Ah. Protogen. Protogen and Mars. Miller nodded. “The Phoebe science station,” he said. “Mars
quarantinedit.”
“Fuck that, Pampaw. Autoclaved it, them. Moon is gone. Dropped enough nukes on it to split it
subatomic.”
Theybetterhave,Millerthought.Itwasn’tabigmoon.IfMarshadreallydestroyeditandthere
wasanyprotomoleculeleftonahunkofejecta…
“Tusabez?”Diogosaid.“They’reonoursidenow.Theygetit.Mars-OPAalliance.”
“Youdon’treallythinkthat,”Millersaid.
“Nah,”Diogosaid,justaspleasedwithhimselfinadmittingthatthehopewasfragileatbestand
probablyfalse.“Butdon’thurttodream,queno?”
“Youdon’tthink?”Millersaid,andlayback.
Theaccelerationgelwastoostifftoconformtohisbodyatthedock’sone-thirdg,butitwasn’t
uncomfortable.Hecheckedthenewsonhishandterminal,andindeedsomeoneintheMartiannavy
hadmadeajudgmentcall.Itwasalotofordinancetouse,especiallyinthemiddleofashootingwar,
butthey’dexpendedit.Saturnhadonefewermoon,onemoretiny,unformed,filamentousring—if
therewasevenenoughmatterleftfromthedetonationstoformthat.ItlookedtoMiller ’sunpracticed
eyeasiftheexplosionshadbeendesignedtodropdebrisintotheprotectiveandcrushinggravityof
thegasgiant.
It was foolish to think it meant the Martian government wouldn’t want samples of the
protomolecule.Itwasnaivetopretendthatanyorganizationofthatsizeandcomplexitywasunivocal
aboutanything,muchlesssomethingasdangerousandtransformingasthis.
Butstill.
Perhapsitwasenoughjustknowingthatsomeoneontheothersideofthepoliticalandmilitary
dividehadseenthesameevidencetheyhadseenanddrawnthesameconclusions.Maybeitleftroom
for hope. He switched his hand terminal back to the Eros feed. A strong throbbing sound danced
belowacascadeofnoise.Voicesroseandfellandroseagain.Datastreamsspewedintooneanother,
and the pattern-recognition servers burned every spare cycle making something from the resultant
mess.Julietookhishand,thedreamsoconvincinghecouldalmostpretendhefeltit.
Youbelongwithme,shesaid.
Assoonasit’sover,hethought.Itwastruehekeptpushingbacktheendpointofthecase.Firstfind
Julie, then avenge her, and now destroy the project that had claimed her life. But after that was
accomplished,hecouldletgo.
Hejusthadthisonelastthingheneededtodo.
Twenty minutes later, the Klaxon sounded. Thirty minutes later, the engines kicked on, pressing
himintotheaccelerationgelatajoint-crushinghigh-gburnforthirteendays,withone-gbreaksfor
biological function every four hours. And when they were done, the half-trained jack-of-all-trades
crewwouldbehandlingnuclearminescapableofannihilatingthemiftheyscreweditup.
ButatleastJuliewouldbethere.Notreally,butstill.
Itdidn’thurttodream.
ChapterForty-Seven:Holden
Even the wet cellulose taste of reconstituted artificial scrambled eggs was not enough to ruin
Holden’s warm, self-satisfied glow. He shoveled the faux eggs into his mouth, trying not to grin.
Sittingathisleftaroundthegalleytable,Amosatewithlip-smackingenthusiasm.ToHolden’sright,
Alex pushed the limp eggs around on his plate with a piece of equally fake toast. Across the table,
Naomisippedacupofteaandlookedathimfromunderherhair.Hestifledtheurgetowinkather.
They’dtalkedabouthowtobreakthenewstothecrewbuthadn’tcometoanyconsensus.Holden
hatedtohideanything.Keepingitsecretmadeitseemdirtyorshameful.Hisparentshadraisedhimto
believethatsexwassomethingyoudidinprivatenotbecauseitwasembarrassing,butbecauseitwas
intimate.Withfivefathersandthreemothers,thesleepingarrangementswerealwayscomplexathis
house,butthediscussionsaboutwhowasbeddingwithwhomwereneverhiddenfromhim.Itlefthim
withastrongaversiontohidinghisownactivities.
Naomi, on the other hand, thought they shouldn’t do anything to upset the fragile equilibrium
they’dfound,andHoldentrustedherinstincts.Shehadaninsightintogroupdynamicsthatheoften
lacked.So,fornow,hewasfollowingherlead.
Besides,itwouldhavefeltlikeboasting,andthatwouldhavebeenrude.
Keepinghisvoiceneutralandprofessional,hesaid,“Naomi,canyoupassthepepper?”
Amos’headsnappedup,andhedroppedhisforkonthetablewithaloudclatter.
“Holyshit,youguysaredoingit!”
“Um,”Holdensaid.“What?”
“Something’sbeenscrewyeversincewegotbackontheRoci,butIcouldn’tfigure.Butthat’sit!
Youguysarefinallyplayinghidetheweasel.”
Holdenblinkedtwiceatthebigmechanic,unsureofwhattosay.HeglancedatNaomiforsupport,
but her head was down, and her hair completely covered her face. Her shoulders were shaking in
silentlaughter.
“Jesus,Cap,”Amossaid,agrinonhiswideface.“Itfuckingtookyoulongenough.Ifshe’dbeen
throwingherselfatmelikethat,I’dhavebeenneckdeepinthatshit.”
“Uh,” Alex said, looking shocked enough that it was clear he hadn’t shared Amos’ insights.
“Wow.”
Naomistoppedlaughingandwipedtearsawayfromthecornersofhereyes.
“Busted,”shesaid.
“Look. Guys, it’s important that you know this doesn’t affect our—” Holden said, but Amos cut
himoffwithasnort.
“Hey,Alex,”Amossaid.
“Yo,”Alexreplied.
“XOboningthecaptaingoingtomakeyouareallyshittypilot?”
“Don’tbelieveitwill,”Alexsaidwithagrin,exaggeratinghisdrawl.
“And,oddlyenough,Idon’tfeeltheneedtobealousymechanic.”
Holdentriedagain.“Ithinkit’simportantthat—”
“Cap’n?”Amoscontinued,ignoringhim.“Considerthatnoonegivesafuck,itwon’tstopusfrom
doingourjobs,andjustenjoyit,sincewe’llprobablyallbedeadinafewdaysanyway.”
Naomistartedlaughingagain.
“Fine,”shesaid.“Imean,everyoneknowsI’monlydoingittogetapromotion.Oh,wait,right.
Alreadythesecond-in-command.Hey,canIbecaptainnow?”
“No,”Holdensaid,laughing.“It’sashitjob.I’dneveraskyoutodoit.”
Naomi grinned and shrugged. See? I’m not always right. Holden glanced at Alex, who was
looking at him with genuine affection, clearly happy about the idea of him and Naomi together.
Everythingseemedright.
Erosspunlikeapotato-shapedtop,itsthickskinofrockhidingthehorrorsinside.Alexbroughtthem
inclosetodoathoroughscanofthestation.TheasteroidswelledonHolden’sscreenuntilitlooked
close enough to touch. At the other ops station, Naomi swept the surface with ladar, looking for
anythingthatmightposeadangertotheTychofreightercrews,stillafewdaysbehind.OnHolden’s
tacticaldisplay,theUNNscienceshipcontinuedtoflareinabrakingmaneuvertowardEros,itsescort
rightbesideit.
“Stillnottalking,huh?”Holdenasked.
Naomishookherhead,thentappedonherscreenandsentthecomm’smonitoringinformationto
hisworkstation.
“Nope,” she said. “But they see us. They’ve been bouncing radar off of us for a couple hours
now.”
Holdentappedhisfingersonthearmofhischairandthoughtaboutthechoices.Itwaspossible
thatthehullmodificationsTychohadmadetotheRociwerefoolingtheEarthcorvette’srecognition
software.TheymightjustignoretheRoci,thinkingshewasaBeltergasrunnerthathappenedtobe
hangingaround.ButtheRoci was running without a transponder, which made her illegal no matter
whathullconfigurationshewasshowing.Thatthecorvettewasn’ttryingtowarnoffashipthatwas
runningdarkmadehimnervous.TheBeltandtheinnerplanetswereinashootingwar.ABeltership
with no identification was hanging around Eros while two Earth ships flew toward it. No way any
captainwithhalfabrainwouldjustignorethem.
Thecorvette’ssilencemeantsomethingelse.
“Naomi,Ihaveafeelingthatcorvetteisgoingtotryandblowusup,”Holdensaidwithasigh.
“It’swhatI’ddo,”shereplied.
Holdentappedonelastcomplicatedrhythmonhischair,thenputhisheadseton.
“Allright,IguessImakethefirstoverture,then,”hesaid.
Not wishing to make their conversation public, Holden targeted the Earther corvette with the
Rocinante’s laser array and signaled a generic linkup request. After a few seconds, the link
established light went green, and his earplugs began to hiss with faint background static. Holden
waited,buttheUNshipofferednogreeting.Theywantedhimtospeakfirst.
Heflickedoffhismic,switchingtotheshipwidecomm.
“Alex,getusmoving.Onegfornow.IfIcan’tbluffthisguy,it’llbeashootingmatch.Bereadyto
openherup.”
“Roger,”drawledAlex.“Goin’onthejuice,justincase.”
HoldenglancedoveratNaomi’sstation,butshe’dalreadyswitchedtohertacticalscreenandhad
theRociplottingfiringsolutionsandjammingtacticsonthetwoapproachingships.Naomihadbeen
in only one battle, but she was reacting now like a seasoned veteran. He smiled at her back, then
turnedaroundbeforeshehadtimetorealizehewasstaring.
“Amos?”hesaid.
“Lockeddownandshipshapedownhere,Cap.TheRoci’spawingattheturf.Let’sgokicksome
ass.”
Let’shopewedon’thaveto,Holdenthought.
Heturnedhismicbackon.
“This is Captain James Holden of the Rocinante, calling the captain of the approaching United
NationsNavycorvette,callsignunknown.Pleaserespond.”
Therewasastatic-filledpause,followedby“Rocinante.Leaveourflightpathimmediately.Ifyou
donotbeginmovingawayfromErosatbestpossiblespeed,youwillbefiredupon.”
Thevoicewasyoung.Anagingcorvettewiththetedioustaskoffollowinganasteroid-mapping
shiparoundwouldn’tbeamuchsoughtaftercommand.Thecaptainwasprobablyalieutenantwithout
patrons or prospects. He’d be inexperienced, but he might see a confrontation as an opportunity to
provehimselftohissuperiors.Andthatmadethenextfewmomentstreacheroustonavigate.
“Sorry,”saidHolden.“Stilldon’tknowyourcallsign,oryourname.ButIcan’tdowhatyouwant.
Infact,Ican’tletanyonelandonEros.I’mgoingtoneedyoutostopapproachingthestation.”
“Rocinante,Idon’tthinkyou—”
Holden took control of the Roci’s targeting system and began painting the approaching corvette
withitstargetinglaser.
“Letmeexplainwhat’shappeninghere,”hesaid.“Rightnow,you’relookingatyoursensors,and
you’re seeing what looks like a thrown-together gas freighter that’s giving your ship-recognition
softwarefits.Andallofasudden,meaningrightnow,it’spaintingyouwithastate-of-the-arttargetacquisitionsystem.”
“Wedon’t—”
“Don’t lie. I know that’s what’s happening. So here’s the deal. Despite how it looks, my ship is
newer, faster, tougher, and better armed than yours. The only way for me to really prove that is to
openfire,andI’mhopingnottodothat.”
“Areyouthreateningme,Rocinante?”theyoungvoiceonHolden’sheadsetsaid,itstonehitting
justtherightnotesofarroganceanddisbelief.
“You? No,” said Holden. “I’m threatening the big, fat, slow-moving, and unarmed ship you’re
supposedtobeprotecting.YoukeepflyingtowardEros,andIwillunloadeverythingI’vegotatit.I
guarantee we will blow that flying science lab out of the sky. Now, it’s possible you might get us
whilewedoit,butbythenyourmissionisscrewedanyway,right?”
The line went silent again, only the hiss of background radiation letting him know his headset
hadn’tdied.
Whenhisanswercame,itcameontheshipwidecomms.
Alex said, “They’re stoppin’, Captain. They just started hard brakin’. Tracking says they’ll be
relativestoppedabouttwomillionklicksout.Wantmetokeepflyin’toward’em?”
“No,bringusbacktoourstationarypositionoverEros,”Holdenreplied.
“Rogerthat.”
“Naomi,”Holdensaid,spinninghischairaroundtofaceher.“Aretheydoinganythingelse?”
“NotthatIcanseethroughtheclutteroftheirexhaust.Buttheycouldbetightbeamingmessages
theotherdirectionandwe’dneverknow,”shesaid.
Holden flipped the shipwide comm off. He scratched his head for a minute, then unbuckled his
restraints.
“Well,westoppedthemfornow.I’mgoingtohittheheadandthengrabadrink.Wantanything?”
“He’snotwrong,youknow,”Naomisaidlaterthatnight.
Holdenwasfloatinginzerogontheopsdeck,hisstationafewfeetaway.He’dturneddownthe
deck lights, and the cabin was as dim as a moonlit night. Alex and Amos were sleeping two decks
below.Theymightaswellhavebeenamillionlight-yearsaway.Naomiwasfloatingnearherown
station, two meters away, her hair unbound and drifting around her like a black cloud. The panel
behindherlitherfaceinprofile:thelongforehead,flatnose,largelips.Hecouldtellthathereyes
wereclosed.Hefeltliketheyweretheonlytwopeopleintheuniverse.
“Who’snotwrong?”hesaid,justtobesayingsomething.
“Miller,”sherepliedasthoughitwereobvious.
“Ihavenoideawhatyou’retalkingabout.”
Naomi laughed, then swatted with one hand to rotate her body and face him in the air. Her eyes
wereopennow,thoughwiththepanellightsbehindher,theywerevisibleonlyasblackpoolsinher
face.
“I’vebeenthinkingaboutMiller,”shesaid.“ItreatedhimbadlyonTycho.Ignoredhimbecause
youwereangry.Iowedhimbetterthanthat.”
“Why?”
“HesavedyourlifeonEros.”
Holdensnorted,butshekeptgoinganyway.
“When you were in the navy,” she finally said, “what were you supposed to do when someone
wentcrazyontheship?Starteddoingthingsthatendangeredeveryone?”
Thinking they were talking about Miller, Holden said, “You restrain him and remove him as a
dangertotheshipandcrew.ButFreddidn’t—”
Naomicuthimoff.
“Whatifit’swartime?”shesaid.“Themiddleofabattle?”
“If he can’t be easily restrained, the chief of the watch has an obligation to protect the ship and
crewbywhatevermeansnecessary.”
“Evenshootinghim?”
“Ifthat’stheonlywaytodoit,”Holdenreplied.“Sure.Butitwouldonlybeinthemostpressing
circumstances.”
Naomi nodded with her hand, sending her body slowly twisting the other way. She stopped her
motionwithoneunconsciousgesture.Holdenwasprettygoodinzerog,buthe’dneverbethatgood.
“TheBeltisanetwork,”Naomisaid.“It’slikeonebigdistributedship.Wehavenodesthatmake
air, or water, or power, or structural materials. Those nodes may be separated by millions of
kilometersofspace,butthatdoesn’tmakethemanylessinterconnected.”
“Iseewherethisisgoing,”Holdensaidwithasigh.“Dresdenwasamadmanontheship,Miller
shothimtoprotecttherestofus.HegavemethatspeechbackonTycho.Didn’tbuyittheneither.”
“Why?”
“Because,”Holdensaid.“Dresdenwasn’tanimmediatethreat.Hewasjustanevillittlemaninan
expensivesuit.Hedidn’thaveaguninhishand,orhisfingeronabombtrigger.AndIwillnever
trustamanwhobelieveshehastherighttounilaterallyexecutepeople.”
Holdenputhisfootagainstthebulkheadandtappedoffjusthardenoughtofloatafewfeetcloser
toNaomi,closeenoughtoseehereyes,readherreactiontohim.
“IfthatscienceshipstartsflyingtowardErosagain,Iwillthroweverytorpedowehaveatit,and
tell myself I was protecting the rest of the solar system from what’s on Eros. But I won’t just start
shootingatitnow,ontheideathatitmightdecidetoheadtoErosagain,becausethat’smurder.What
Millerdidwasmurder.”
Naomismiledathim,thengrabbedhisflightsuitandpulledhimcloseenoughforakiss.
“You might be the best person I know. But you’re totally uncompromising on what you think is
right,andthat’swhatyouhateaboutMiller.”
“Ido?”
“Yes,”shesaid.“He’stotallyuncompromisingtoo,buthehasdifferentideasonhowthingswork.
You hate that. To Miller, Dresden was an active threat to the ship. Every second he stayed alive
endangeredeveryoneelsearoundhim.ToMiller,itwasself-defense.”
“Buthe’swrong.Themanwashelpless.”
“ThemantalkedtheUNNavyintogivinghiscompanystate-of-the-artships,”shesaid.“Hetalked
his company into murdering a million and a half people. Everything Miller said about why the
protomoleculeisbetteroffwithuswasjustastrueaboutDresden.HowlongisheinanOPAlockup
beforehefindsthejailerwhocanbebought?”
“Hewasaprisoner,”Holdensaid,feeingtheargumentslippingawayfromhim.
“He was a monster with power, access, and allies who would have paid any price to keep his
scienceprojectgoing,”Naomisaid.“AndI’mtellingyouasaBelter,Millerwasn’twrong.”
Holdendidn’tanswer;hejustcontinuedtofloatnexttoNaomi,keepinghimselfinherorbit.Was
heangrieraboutthekillingofDresdenoraboutMiller ’smakingadecisionthatdisagreedwithhim?
AndMillerhadknown.WhenHoldenhadtoldhimtofindhisownridebacktoTycho,he’dseenit
inthedetective’ssadbassethoundface.Millerhadknownitwascoming,andhadmadenoattemptto
fightorargue.ThatmeantthatMillerhadmadehischoicefullycognizantofthecostandreadytopay
it.Thatmeantsomething.Holdenwasn’tsureexactlywhat,butsomething.
A red telltale began flashing on the wall, and Naomi’s panel woke up and began throwing data
onto the screen. She pulled herself down to it using the back of her chair, then tapped out several
quickcommands.
“Shit,”shesaid.
“Whatisit?”
“The corvette or science ship must have called for help,” Naomi said, pointing at her screen.
“We’vegotshipsontheirwayfromalloverthesystem.”
“Howmanyarecoming?”Holdenasked,tryingtogetabetterlookatherscreen.
Naomimadeasmallsoundinthebackofherthroat,halfwaybetweenachuckleandacough.
“Ataguess?Allofthem.”
ChapterForty-Eight:Miller
Youare,andyouaren’t,”theErosfeedsaidthroughasemi-randomdrummingofstatic.“Youare,
andyouaren’t.Youare,andyouaren’t.”
The little ship shuddered and bumped. From a crash couch, one of the OPA techs called out a
string of obscenities remarkable more for inventiveness than actual rancor. Miller closed his eyes,
tryingtokeepthemicro-gadjustmentsoftheirnonstandarddockingfromnauseatinghim.Afterdays
ofjoint-achingaccelerationandanequallybruisingbrakingroutine,thesmallshiftsandmovements
feltarbitraryandstrange.
“Youare,are,are,are,are,are,are…”
He’dspentsometimelisteningtothenewsfeeds.Threedaysafterthey’dleftTycho,thenewsof
Protogen’sinvolvementwithErosbroke.Amazingly,Holdenhadn’tbeentheonetodoit.Sincethen,
thecorporationhadgonefromtotaldenial,toblamingaroguesubcontractor,toclaimingimmunity
underanEarthdefensesecretsstatute.Itdidn’tsoundgoodforthem.Earth’sblockadeofMarswas
stillinplace,butattentionhadshiftedtothepowerstrugglewithinEarth,andtheMartiannavyhad
sloweditsburn,givingtheEarthforcesalittlemorebreathingroombeforeanypermanentdecisions
hadtobemade.Itlookedlikethey’dpostponedArmageddonforafewweeks,anyway.Millerfound
hecouldtakeacertainjoyinthat.Italsolefthimtired.
More often, he listened to the voice of Eros. Sometimes he watched the video feeds too, but
usually,hejustlistened.Overthehoursanddays,hebegantohear,ifnotpatterns,atleastcommon
structures. Some of the voices spooling out of the dying station were consistent—broadcasters and
entertainers who were overrepresented in the audio files archives, he guessed. There seemed to be
somespecifictendenciesin,forwantofabetterterm,themusicofittoo.Hoursofrandom,fluting
staticandsnatchedbitsofphraseswouldgiveway,andEroswouldlatchontosomewordorphrase,
fixatingonitwithgreaterandgreaterintensityuntilitbrokeapartandtherandomnesspouredback
in.
“…are,are,are,ARE,ARE,ARE…”
Aren’t,Millerthought,andtheshipsuddenlyshoveditselfup,leavingMiller ’sstomachabouthalf
afootfromwhereithadbeen.Aseriesofloudclanksfollowed,andthenthebriefwailofaKlaxon.
“Dieu!Dieu!”someoneshouted.“Bombssonvamenroja!Goingtofryit!Fryustoda!”
Therewastheusualpolitechucklethatthesamejokehadoccasionedoverthecourseofthetrip,
andtheboywho’dmadeit—apimplyBelternomorethanfifteenyearsold—grinnedwithpleasureat
hisownwit.Ifhedidn’tstopthatshit,someonewasgoingtobeathimwithacrowbarbeforetheygot
backtoTycho.ButMillerfiguredthatsomeonewasn’thim.
Amassivejoltforwardpushedhimhardintothecouch,andthengravitywasback,thefamiliar0.3
g. Maybe a little more. Except that with the airlocks pointing toward ship’s down, the pilot had to
grapplethespinningskinofEros’bellyfirst.Thespingravitymadewhathadbeentheceilingthenew
floor; the lowest rank of couches was now the top; and while they rigged the fusion bombs to the
docks,theywereallgoingtohavetoclimbupontoacold,darkrockthatwastryingtoflingthemoff
intothevacuum.
Suchwerethejoysofsabotage.
Millersuitedup.Afterthemilitary-gradesuitsoftheRocinante,theOPA’smotleyassortmentof
equipment felt like third-hand clothes. His suit smelled of someone else’s body, and the Mylar
faceplate had a deformation where it had cracked and been repaired. He didn’t like thinking about
whathadhappenedtothepoorbastardwho’dbeenwearingit.Themagneticbootshadathicklayerof
corrodedplasticandoldmudbetweentheplatesandatriggeringmechanismsooldthatMillercould
feelitclickonandoffevenbeforehemovedhisfoot.HehadtheimageofthesuitlockingontoEros
andneverlettinggo.
Thethoughtmadehimsmile.Youbelongwithme,hisownprivateJuliehadsaid.Itwastrue,and
nowthathewashere,hefeltperfectlycertainthathewasn’tgoingtoleave.He’dbeenacopfortoo
long, and the idea of trying to reconnect to humanity again filled him with the presentiment of
exhaustion.Hewasheretodothelastpartofhisjob.Andthenhewasdone.
“Oi!Pampaw!”
“I’mcoming,”Millersaid.“Holdyourdamnhorses.It’snotlikethestation’sgoinganyplace.”
“Arainbowisacircleyoucan’tsee.Can’tsee.Can’tsee,”Erossaidinachild’ssingsongvoice.
Millerturneddownthevolumeofhisfeed.
Therockysurfaceofthestationhadnoparticularpurchaseforthesuitsandcontrolwaldoes.Two
othershipshadmadepolarlandingswheretherewasnospingravitytofightagainst,buttheCoriolis
wouldleaveeveryonewithasubliminalnausea.Miller ’steamhadtokeeptotheexposedmetalplates
ofthedock,clinginglikeflieslookingdownintothestarlitabyss.
Engineering the placement of the fusion bombs wasn’t trivial work. If the bombs didn’t pump
enoughenergyintothestation,thesurfacemightcoolenoughtogivesomeoneanotherchancetoput
ascienceteamonitbeforethepenumbraofthesunswalloweditandwhateverpartsoftheNauvoo
were still clinging to it. Even with the best minds of Tycho, there was still the chance that the
detonationswouldn’tsyncup.Ifthepressurewavestravelingthroughtherockamplifiedinwaysthey
hadn’tanticipated,thestationcouldcrackopenlikeanegg,spreadingtheprotomoleculethroughthe
wide, empty track of the solar system like scattering a handful of dust. But the difference between
successanddisastermightbeliterallyaquestionofmeters.
Miller crawled up the airlock and out to the station surface. The first wave of technicians were
settingupresonanceseismographs,theglowoftheworklightsandreadoutsthebrightestthinginthe
universe.Millersethisbootsonawideswathofaceramicsteelalloyandletthespinstretchthekinks
out of his back. After days in the acceleration couch, the freedom felt euphoric. One of the techs
raisedherhands,thephysicalBelteridiomthatcalledforattention.Milleruppedthesuitvolume.
“…insectesrampantsurmapeau…”
Withastabofimpatience,heswitchedfromtheErosfeedtotheteamchannel.
“Gottomove,”awoman’svoicesaid.“Toomuchsplashbackhere.Wehavetogettotheotherside
ofthedocks.”
“Thesegoonforalmosttwokilometers,”Millersaid.
“Is,” she agreed. “We can unmoor and move the ship under power or we can tow it. We’ve got
enoughleadline.”
“Whichone’sfastest?Wedon’thavealotofsparetimehere.”
“Towing.”
“Towit,then,”Millersaid.
Slowly, the ship rose, twenty small, crawling transport drones clinging to leads like they were
haulingagreatmetalliczeppelin.Theshipwasgoingtostaywithhim,hereonthestation,strappedto
therocklikeasacrificetothegods.Millerwalkedwiththecrewastheycrossedthewide,closedbay
doors.Theonlysoundswerethetappingofhissolesastheelectromagnetsjoltedontothesurfaceand
thenatickwhentheyletgoagain.Theonlysmellswereofhisownbodyandthefreshplasticofthe
airrecycler.Themetalunderhisfeetshonelikesomeonehadcleanedit.Anydustorpebbleshadbeen
hurledawaylongago.
They worked fast to place the ship, arm the bombs, and fit the security codes, everyone tacitly
awareofthegreatmissilethathadbeentheNauvoospeedingtowardthem.
Ifanothershipcamedownandtriedtodisarmthetrap,theshipwouldsendsynchronizingsignals
toalltheotherOPAbombshipsstuddingthemoon’ssurface.Threesecondslater,thesurfaceofEros
wouldbescrubbedclean.Thespareairandsupplieswereloadedofftheship,bundledtogetherand
readyforreclamation.Noreasontowastetheresources.
Nothing horrific crawled out of an airlock and tried to attack the crew, which made Miller ’s
presenceduringthemissionentirelysuperfluous.Ormaybenot.Maybeitwasjustaride.
Wheneverythingwasdonethatcouldbe,Millersenttheallclear,relayedthroughthenow-dead
ship’ssystem.Thereturntransportappearedslowly,adotoflightthatgrewgraduallybrighterand
then spread, the null-g boarding web strung out like scaffolding. At the new ship’s word, Miller ’s
teamturnedofftheirbootsandfiredsimplemaneuveringthrusterseitherfromtheirsuitsor,ifthe
suitsweretooold,fromsharedablativeevacuationshells.Millerwatchedthemdropaway.
“Callvaandroll,Pampaw,”Diogosaidfromsomeplace.Millerwasn’tsurewhichofthemhewas
atthisdistance.“Thistubedon’tsit.”
“I’mnotcoming,”Millersaid.
“Saque?”
“Idecided.I’mstayinghere.”
Therewasamomentofsilence.Millerhadbeenwaitingforthis.Hehadthesecuritycodes.Ifhe
neededtocrawlbackintotheshelloftheiroldshipandlockthedoorbehindhim,hecould.Buthe
didn’t want to. He’d prepared his arguments: He would only be going back to Tycho as a political
pawnforFredJohnson’snegotiations;hewastiredandoldinawaythatyearsdidn’tdescribe;he’d
alreadydiedonErosonce,andhewantedtobeheretofinishit.He’dearnedthatmuch.Diogoandthe
othersowedittohim.
Hewaitedfortheboytoreact,totrytotalkhimoutofit.
“Allcorrect,then,”Diogosaid.“Buonamorte.”
“Buonamorte,”Millersaid,andshutoffhisradio.Theuniversewassilent.Thestarsbelowhim
shiftedslowlybutperceptiblyasthestationhehungfromspun.OneofthoselightswastheRocinante.
Two others were the ships Holden had been sent out to stall. Miller couldn’t pick them out. Julie
floated beside him, her dark hair floating in the vacuum, the stars shining through her. She looked
peaceful.
Ifyouhadittodoagain,shesaid.Ifyoucoulddoitalloverfromthebeginning?
“Iwouldn’t,”hesaid.
He watched the OPA transport ship start up its engines, glowing gold and white, and pull away
until it was a star again. A small one. And then lost. Miller turned and considered the dark, empty
moonscapeandthepermanentnight.
Hejustneededtobewithherforanotherfewhours,andtheywouldbothbesafe.Theywouldall
besafe.Itwasenough.Millerfoundhimselfsmilingandweeping,thetearstrackingupfromhiseyes
andintohishair.
It’sgoingtobefine,Juliesaid.
“Iknow,”Millersaid.
Hestoodsilentlyforalmostanhour,thenturnedandmadehisslow,precariouswaybacktothe
sacrificedship,downtheairlock,andintothedimbelly.Therewasenoughresidualatmospherethat
hedidn’tneedtosleepinhissuit.Hestrippednaked,choseanaccelerationcouch,andcurledupon
thehardbluegel.Nottwentymetersaway,fivefusiondevicespowerfulenoughtooutshinethesun
waitedforasignal.Abovehim,everythingthathadoncebeenhumaninErosStationchangedandreformed,pouringfromoneshapetoanotherlikeHieronymousBoschmadereal.And still almost a
dayaway,theNauvoo,thehammerofGod,hurtledtowardhim.
Millersethissuittoplaysomeoldpoptuneshe’denjoyedwhenhewasyoungandlethimselfbe
sungtosleep.Whenhedreamed,hedreamedhe’dfoundatunnelatthebackofhisoldholeonCeres
thatmeanthewouldatlast,atlast,befree.
His last breakfast was a hard kibble bar and a handful of chocolate scrounged from a forgotten
survivalpack.Heateitwithtepidrecycledwaterthattastedofironandrot.ThesignalsfromEros
were almost drowned by the oscillating frequencies blasting out from the station above him, but
Millermadeoutenoughtoknowwherethingsstood.
Holden had won, much as Miller had expected him to. The OPA was responding to a thousand
angryaccusationsfromEarthandMarsand,inthetrueandpermanentstyle,factionswithintheOPA
itself.Itwastoolate.TheNauvoowasdueinhoursnow.Theendwascoming.
Millerputonhissuitforthelasttime,turnedoutthelights,andcrawledbackuptheairlock.Fora
longmoment,theexteriorreleasedidn’trespond,thesafetylightsglowingred,andhehadastabof
fearthathewouldspendhislastmomentsthere,trappedinatubelikeatorpedoreadytofire.Buthe
cycledthelock’spower,anditopened.
TheErosfeedwaswordlessnow,withonlyasoftmurmuringlikewateroverstone.Millerwalked
outacrossthewidemouthofthedockingbays.Theskyabovehimturned,andtheNauvoorosefrom
thehorizonlikesun.Hissplayedhandheldatfullarm’slengthwasn’tbigenoughtocovertheglow
of its engines. He hung by his boots, watching the ship approach. The phantom Julie watched with
him.
Ifhe’ddonethemathright,theNauvoo’simpactsitewouldbeatthecenterofEros’majoraxis.
Millerwouldbeabletoseeitwhenithappened,andthegiddyexcitementinhischestremindedhim
ofbeingyoung.Itwouldbeashow.Oh,itwouldbesomethingtosee.Heconsideredrecordingit.His
suitwouldbeabletomakeasimplevisualfileandstreamthedataoutinrealtime.Butno.Thiswas
hismoment.HisandJulie’s.Therestofhumanitycouldguesswhatithadbeenlikeiftheycared.
ThemassiveglowoftheNauvoofilledaquarteroftheskynow,andthefullcircleofitwasfree
of the horizon. The Eros feed’s soft murmur shifted to something more clearly synthetic: a rising,
spiralingsoundthatremindedhimfornoparticularreasonofthegreensweepingradarscreensof
ancient films. There were voices at the back of it, but he couldn’t make out the words or even the
language.
ThegreattorchoftheNauvoowasafullhalfofthesky,thestarsarounditblottedoutbythelight
offullburn.Miller ’ssuitchirpedaradiationwarningandheshutitoff.
AmannedNauvoowouldneverhavesustainedaburnlikethat;eveninthebestcouch,thethrust
gravitywouldhavepulpedbones.Hetriedtoguesshowfasttheshipwouldbegoingwhenithit.
Fastenough.Thatwasallthatmattered.Fastenough.
There,inthecenterofthefierybloom,Millersawadarkspot,nomorethanthedotofapencil’s
tip.Theshipitself.Hetookadeepbreath.Whenheclosedhiseyes,thelightpressedredthroughhis
lids.Whenheopenedthemagain,theNauvoohadlength.Shape.Itwasaneedle,anarrow,amissile.A
fistrisingfromthedepths.Forthefirsttimeinmemory,Millerfeltawe.
Erosshouted.
“DON’TYOUFUCKINGTOUCHME!”
Slowly,thebloomofenginefirechangedfromacircletoanovaltoagreatfeatheryplume,the
Nauvooitselfshowingsilverinroughprofile.Millergaped.
TheNauvoohadmissed.Ithadturned.Itwasrightnow,rightnow,speedingpastErosandnotinto
it.Buthehadn’tseenanykindofmaneuveringrocketsfire.Andhowwouldyouturnsomethingthat
big,movingthatquickly,soabruptlythatitwouldveeroffbetweenonebreathandthenextwithout
alsotearingtheshipapart?Theaccelerationgalone…
Millerlookedatthestarsasiftherewassomeanswerwritteninthem.Andtohissurprise,there
was.ThesweepoftheMilkyWay,theinfinitescatteringofstarswerestillthere.Buttheangleshad
changed.TherotationofEroshadshifted.Itsrelationtotheplaneoftheecliptic.
For the Nauvoo to change course at the last minute without falling apart would have been
impossible. And so it hadn’t happened. Eros was roughly six hundred cubic kilometers. Before
Protogen,ithadhousedthesecond-largestactiveportintheBelt.
And without so much as overcoming the grip of Miller ’s magnetic boots, Eros Station had
dodged.
ChapterForty-Nine:Holden
H olyshit,”saidAmosinaflatvoice.
“Jim,” Naomi said to Holden’s back, but he waved her off and opened a channel to Alex in the
cockpit.
“Alex,didwejustseewhatmysensorssaywesaw?”
“Yeah,Cap,”thepilotreplied.“Radarandscopesarebothsayin’Erosjumpedtwohundredklicks
spinwardinalittlelessthanaminute.”
“Holy shit,” Amos repeated in exactly the same emotionless tone. The metallic bang of deck
hatchesopeningandclosingechoedthroughtheship,signalingAmos’approachupthecrewladder.
HoldenshookofftheflushofirritationhefeltatAmos’leavinghispost.He’ddealwiththatlater.
HeneededtobesurethattheRocinanteandhercrewhadn’tjustexperiencedagrouphallucination.
“Naomi,givemecomms,”hesaid.
Naomiturnedaroundinherchairtofacehim,herfaceashen.
“Howcanyoubesocalm?”sheasked.
“Panic won’t help. We need to know what’s going on before we can plan intelligently. Please
transferthecommstome.”
“Holy shit,” Amos said as he climbed into the ops deck. The deck hatch shut with a punctuating
bang.
“Idon’trememberorderingyoutoleaveyourpost,sailor,”Holdensaid.
“Plan intelligently,” Naomi said like they were words in a foreign language that she almost
understood.“Planintelligently.”
Amos threw himself at a chair hard enough that the cushioning gel grabbed him and kept him
frombouncingoff.
“Erosisreallyfuckingbig,”Amossaid.
“Planintelligently,”Naomirepeated,speakingtoherselfnow.
“Imean,reallyfuckingbig,”Amossaid.“Doyouknowhowmuchenergyittooktospinthatrock
up?Imean,ittookyearstodothatshit.”
HoldenputhisheadsetontodrownAmosandNaomiout,andcalledupAlexagain.
“Alex,isErosstillchangingvelocity?”
“No,Cap.Justsittingtherelikearock.”
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“AmosandNaomiarevaporlocked.Howareyoudoing?”
“Not taking my hands off the stick while that bastard is anywhere in my space, that’s for damn
sure.”
ThankGodformilitarytraining,Holdenthought.
“Good,keepusataconstantdistanceoffivethousandklicksuntilIsayotherwise.Letmeknowif
itmovesagain,evenaninch.”
“Rogerthat,Cap,”saidAlex.
Holden took off his headset and turned to face the rest of the crew. Amos was looking at the
ceiling,tickingpointsoffwithhisfingers,hiseyesunfocused.
“—don’treallyrememberthemassofErosoffthetopofmyhead…”hewassayingtonoonein
particular.
“Aboutseventhousandtrillionkilos,”Naomireplied.“Giveortake.Andtheheatsignature’sup
abouttwodegrees.”
“Jesus,” the mechanic said. “I can’t do that math in my head. That much mass coming up two
degreeslikethat?”
“Alot,”Holdensaid.“Solet’smoveon—”
“Abouttenexajoules,”Naomisaid.“That’sjustoffthetopofmyhead,butI’mnotoffbyanorder
ofmagnitudeoranything.”
Amoswhistled.
“Tenexajoulesislike,what,atwo-gigatonfusionbomb?”
“It’saboutahundredkilosconverteddirectlytoenergy,”Naomisaid.Hervoicebegantosteady.
“Which,ofcourse,wecouldn’tdo.Butatleastwhatevertheydidwasn’tmagic.”
Holden’s mind grabbed on to her words with an almost physical sensation. Naomi was, in fact,
aboutthesmartestpersonheknew.Shehadjustspokendirectlytothehalf-articulatedfearhe’dbeen
harboringsinceEroshadjumpedsideways:thatthiswasmagic,thattheprotomoleculedidn’thaveto
obeythelawsofphysics.Becauseifthatwastrue,humansdidn’tstandachance.
“Explain,”hesaid.
“Well,” she replied, tapping on her keypad. “Heating Eros up didn’t move it. So I assume that
meansitwaswasteheatfromwhateveritwastheyactuallydid.”
“Andthatmeans?”
“Thatentropystillexists.Thattheycan’tconvertmasstoenergywithperfectefficiency.Thattheir
machinesorprocessesorwhatevertheyusetomoveseventhousandtrilliontonsofrockwastessome
energy.Aboutatwo-gigatonbomb’sworthofit.”
“Ah.”
“You couldn’t move Eros two hundred kilometers with a two-gigaton bomb,” Amos said with a
snort.
“No,youcouldn’t,”Naomireplied.“Thisisjusttheleftovers.Heatby-product.Theirefficiencyis
stilloffthecharts,butitisn’tperfect.Whichmeansthelawsofphysicsstillhold.Whichmeansitisn’t
magic.”
“Mightaswellbe,”Amossaid.
NaomilookedatHolden.
“So,we—”hestartedwhenAlexinterruptedovertheshipwidecomm.
“Cap,Erosismovin’again.”
“Follow it, get me a course and speed as soon as you can,” Holden said, turning back to his
console.“Amos,getbackdowntoengineering.Ifyouleaveitagainwithoutadirectorder,I’llhave
theXObeatyoutodeathwithapipewrench.”
The only reply was the hiss of the deck hatch opening and the bang as it closed behind the
descendingmechanic.
“Alex,”Holdensaid,staringatthedatastreamtheRocinantewasfeedinghimaboutEros.“Tellme
something.”
“Sunward is all we know for sure,” Alex replied, his voice still calm and professional. When
Holden had been in the military, he’d been officer track right from the start. He’d never been to
militarypilotschool,butheknewthatyearsoftraininghadcompartmentalizedAlex’sbrainintotwo
halves:pilotingproblemsand,secondarily,everythingelse.MatchingErosandgettingacourseforit
wastheformer.Extra-solarspacealienstryingtodestroyhumanitywasn’tapilotingissueandcould
besafelyignoreduntilheleftthecockpit.Hemighthaveanervousbreakdownafterward,butuntil
then,Alexwouldkeepdoinghisjob.
“Dropbacktofiftythousandklicksandmaintainaconstantdistance,”Holdentoldhim.
“Huh,”saidAlex.“Maintainin’aconstantdistancemightbetough,Cap.Erosjustdisappearedoff
theradar.”
Holdenfelthisthroatgotight.
“Sayagain?”
“Erosjustdisappearedofftheradar,”Alexwassaying,butHoldenwasalreadypunchingupthe
sensor suite to check for himself. His telescopes showed the rock still moving on its new course
towardthesun.Thermalimagingshoweditasslightlywarmerthanspace.Theweirdfeedofvoices
andmadnessthathadbeenleakingoutofthestationwasstilldetectable,iffaint.Butradarsaidthere
wasnothingthere.
Magic,asmallvoiceatthebackofhismindsaidagain.
No,notmagic.Humanshadstealthshipstoo.Itwasjustamatterofabsorbingtheradar ’senergy
rather than reflecting it. But suddenly, keeping the asteroid in visual range became all the more
important.Eroshadshownthatitcouldmovefastandmaneuverwildly,anditwasnowinvisibleto
radar.Itwasentirelypossiblethatamountain-sizedrockcoulddisappearcompletely.
GravitybegantopileupastheRocichasedErostowardthesun.
“Naomi?”
Shelookedupathim.Thefearwasstillinhereyes,butshewasholdingittogether.Fornow.
“Jim?”
“Thecomm?Couldyou…?”
Thechagrinonherfacewasthemostreassuringthinghe’dseeninhours.Sheshiftedcontrolto
hisstation,andheopenedaconnectionrequest.
“UNNcorvette,thisistheRocinante,pleaserespond.”
“Goahead,Rocinante,”theothershipsaidafterhalfaminuteofstatic.
“Calling to confirm our sensor data,” Holden said, then transmitted the data regarding Eros’
movement.“Youguysseeingthesamething?”
Anotherdelay,thisonelonger.
“Rogerthat,Rocinante.”
“I know we were just about to shoot each other and all, but I think we’re a little past that now,”
Holden said. “Anyway, we’re chasing the rock. If we lose sight of it, we might never find it again.
Wanttocomewith?Mightbenicetohavesomebackupifitdecidestoshootatusorsomething.”
Anotherdelay,thisonealmosttwominuteslong;thenadifferentvoicecameontheline.Older,
female,andtotallylackingthearroganceandangeroftheyoungmalevoicehe’dbeendealingwith
sofar.
“Rocinante, this is Captain McBride of the UNN Escort Vessel Ravi.” Ah, thought Holden. I’ve
beentalkingtothefirstofficerallalong.Thecaptainfinallytookthehorn.Thatmightbeagoodsign.
“I’vesentwordtofleetcommand,butit’satwenty-threeminutelagrightnow,andthatrock’sputting
onspeed.Youhaveaplan?”
“Not really, Ravi. Just follow and gather intel until we find an opportunity to do something that
makesadifference.Butifyoucamealong,maybenoneofyourpeoplewillshootatusaccidentally
whilewefigureitout.”
Therewasalongpause.HoldenknewthatthecaptainoftheRaviwasweighingthechancethathe
was telling the truth against the threat he’d made against their science vessel. What if he was in on
whateverwashappening?He’dbewonderingthesamethingintheirposition.
“Look,”hesaid.“I’vetoldyoumyname.JamesHolden.IservedasalieutenantintheUNN.My
recordsshouldbeonfile.It’llshowadishonorabledischarge,butthey’llalsoshowthatmyfamily
livesinMontana.Idon’twantthatrocktohitEarthanymorethanyoudo.”
Thesilenceontheotherendcontinuedforanotherfewminutes.
“Captain,” she said, “I believe my superiors would want me to keep an eye on you. We’ll be
comingalongfortheridewhilethebrainsfigurethisout.”
Holdenletoutalong,noisyexhale.
“Thanksforthat,McBride.Keeptryingtogetyourpeopleontheline.I’mgoingtomakeafew
callsmyself.Twocorvettesarenotgoingtofixthisproblem.”
“Rogerthat,”theRavireplied,thenkilledtheconnection.
“I’veopenedaconnectionwithTycho,”Naomisaid.
Holdenleanedbackinhischair,themountinggravityoftheiraccelerationpressingagainsthim.A
waterylumpwasgatheringlowinhisgut,thelooseknottellinghimthathehadnoideawhathewas
doing,thatallthebestplanshadfailed,andthattheendwasnear.Thebriefhopehe’dfeltwasalready
startingtoslipaway.
Howcanyoubesocalm?
IthinkI’mwatchingtheendofthehumanrace,Holdenthought.I’mcallingFredsothatitisn’tmy
faultwhennoonehasanideahowtostopit.OfcourseI’mnotcalm.
I’mjustspreadingtheguilt.
“Howfast?”FredJohnsonaskedincredulously.
“Fourg’snowandclimbing,”Holdenreplied,hisvoicethickashisthroatcompressed.“Oh,and
it’sinvisibletoradarnow.”
“Fourg.DoyouknowhowheavyErosis?”
“There’s, uh, been some discussion,” Holden said, only the acceleration keeping his impatience
fromshowinginhisvoice.“Thequestionis,nowwhat?TheNauvoo missed. Our plans are shot to
shit.”
TherewasanotherperceptibleincreaseinpressureasAlexspedtheshipuptokeepupwithEros.
Alittlewhilelongerandspeechwouldn’tbepossible.
“It’sdefinitelyheadedforEarth?”Fredasked.
“AlexandNaomiareninetypercentorso.Hardtobetotallyaccuratewhenwecanonlyusevisual
data.ButItrustthem.I’dgotowheretherearethirtybillionnewhoststoo.”
Thirtybillionnewhosts.Eightofwhomwerehisparents.HeimaginedFatherTomasabundleof
tubesoozingbrowngoo.MotherEliseasaribcagedraggingitselfacrossthefloorwithoneskeletal
arm.Andwiththatmuchbiomass,whatcoulditdothen?MoveEarth?Turnoutthesun?
“Havetowarnthem,”Holdensaid,tryingnottostrangleonhisowntongueashespoke.
“Youdon’tthinktheyknow?”
“Theyseeathreat.Theymaynotseetheendofallnativelifeinthesolarsystem,”Holdensaid.
“Youwantedareasontositatthetable?Howaboutthisone:Cometogetherordie.”
Fred was quiet for a moment. Background radiation spoke to Holden in mystic whispers full of
dire portents while he waited. Newcomer, it said. Hang around for fourteen billion years or so. See
whatI’veseen.Thenallthisnonsensewon’tseemsoimportant.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Fred said, interrupting the universe’s lecture on transience. “In the
meantime,whatareyougoingtodo?”
Getoutrunbyarockandthenwatchthecradleofhumanitydie.
“I’mopentosuggestions,”Holdensaid.
“Maybe you could detonate some of the surface nukes the demo team put down. Deflect Eros’
course.Buyustime.”
“They’reonproximityfuses.Can’tsetthemoff,”Holdensaid,thelastwordturningintoayelpas
hischairstabbedhiminadozendifferentplacesandinjectedhimfulloffire.Alexhadhitthemwith
thejuice,whichmeantEroswasstillspeedingup,andhewasworriedthey’dallblackout.Howfast
wasitgoingtogo?Evenonthejuicetheycouldn’tsustainprolongedaccelerationpastsevenoreight
gwithoutseriousrisk.IfEroskeptthisrateofincreaseup,itwouldoutrunthem.
“Youcanremotedetonate,”Fredsaid.“Millerwillhavethecodes.Havethedemoteamcalculate
whichonestosetoffformaximumeffect.”
“Rogerthat,”Holdensaid.“I’llgiveMilleracall.”
“I’ll work on the inners,” Fred said, using the Belter slang without a hint of self-consciousness.
“SeewhatIcando.”
Holdenbroketheconnection,thenlinkeduptoMiller ’sship.
“Yo,”saidwhoeverwasmanningtheradiothere.
“ThisisHolden,ontheRocinante.GivemeMiller.”
“Uh…”saidthevoice.“Okay.”
Therewasaclick,thenstatic,thenMillersayinghellowithafaintecho.Stillwearinghishelmet,
then.
“Miller,thisisHolden.Weneedtotalkaboutwhatjusthappened.”
“Erosmoved.”
Miller sounded strange, his voice distant, as though he was only barely paying attention to the
conversation.Holdenfeltaflushofirritationbuttampeditbackdown.HeneededMillerrightnow,
whetherhewantedtoornot.
“Look,”hesaid.“I’vetalkedtoFredandhewantsustocoordinatewithyourdemoguys.You’ve
gotremotecodes.Ifwesetoffallofthemononeside,wecandeflectitscourse.Getyourtechsonthe
line,andwe’llworkitout.”
“Huh, yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll send the codes along,” said Miller, his voice no
longerdistant,butholdingbackalaugh.Likeamanabouttotellthepunchlineofareallygoodjoke.
“ButIcan’treallyhelpyouwiththetechs.”
“Shit,Miller,youpissedthosepeopleoff,too?”
Millerdidlaughnow,afree,softsoundthatsomeonewhowasn’tpilingongcouldafford.Ifthere
wasapunchline,Holdenhadmissedit.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Probably.Butthat’snotwhyIcan’tgetthemforyou.I’mnotontheshipwith
them.”
“What?”
“I’mstillonEros.”
ChapterFifty:Miller
W hatdoyoumeanyou’reonEros?”Holdensaid.
“Prettymuchthat,”Millersaid,coveringhisgrowingsenseofshamewithacasualtoneofvoice.
“Hanging upside down outside the tertiary docks, where we moored one of the ships. Feel like a
freakingbat.”
“But—”
“Funnything,too.Ididn’tfeelitwhenthethingmoved.You’dthinkacceleratinglikethat,itwould
havethrownmeofforsquashedmeflat,oneortheother.Buttherewasnothing.”
“Okay,holdon.We’recomingtogetyou.”
“Holden,”Millersaid.“Juststopit,allright?”
Thesilencedidn’tlastmorethanadozenseconds,butitcarriedawealthofmeaning.It’snotsafe
tobringtheRocinantetoEros,andIcameheretodie,andDon’tmakethisharderthanitis.
“Yeah,Ijust…”Holdensaid.Andthen:“Okay.Letme…letmecoordinatewiththetechnicians.
I’ll…Jesus.I’llletyouknowwhattheysay.”
“Onething,though,”Millersaid.“You’retalkingaboutdeflectingthissonofabitch?Justkeepin
mindit’snotarockanymore.It’saship.”
“Right,”Holdensaid.Andamomentlater:“Okay.”
Theconnectiondroppedwithatick.Millercheckedhisoxygensupply.Threehoursin-suit,buthe
couldheadbacktohislittleshipandrefillitwellbeforethat.SoEroswasmoving,wasit?Hestill
didn’t feel it, but watching the curved surface of the asteroid, he could see micro-asteroids, all
coming from the same direction, bouncing off. If the station kept accelerating, they’d start coming
moreoften,morepowerfully.He’dneedtostayintheship.
He turned his hand terminal back to the Eros feed. The station beneath him was chirping and
muttering,longslowvowelsoundsradiatingoutfromitlikerecordedwhalesong.Aftertheangry
words and static, the voice of Eros sounded peaceful. He wondered what kind of music Diogo’s
friends would be making out of this. Slow dancing didn’t seem like their style. An annoying itch
settled in the small of his back, and he shifted in his suit, trying to rub it away. Almost without his
noticingit,hegrinned.Andthenlaughed.Awaveofeuphoriapassedintohim.
Therewasalienlifeintheuniverse,andhewasridingonitlikeatickonadog.ErosStationhad
moved of its own free will and by mechanisms he couldn’t begin to imagine. He didn’t know how
manyyearsithadbeensincehe’dbeenoverwhelmedbyawe.He’dforgottenthefeeling.Heraisedhis
armstohissides,reachingoutasifhecouldembracetheendlessdarkvacuumbelowhim.
Then,withasigh,heturnedbacktowardtheship.
Backintheprotectiveshell,hetookoffthevacsuitandhookedtheairsupplytotherecyclersto
chargeup.Withonlyonepersontocarefor,evenlow-levellifesupportwouldhaveitreadytogo
within the hour. The ship batteries were still almost fully charged. His hand terminal chimed twice,
remindinghimthatitwasonceagaintimefortheanti-cancermeds.Theoneshe’dearnedthelasttime
he’dbeenonEros.Theoneshe’dbeonfortherestofhislife.Goodjoke.
Thefusionbombswereintheship’scargohold:graysquareboxesabouthalfagainaslongas
they were tall, like bricks in a mortar of pink adhesive foam. It took Miller twenty minutes of
searchingthroughstoragelockerstofindacanofsolventthatstillhadchargeinit.Thethinspray
fromitsmelledlikeozoneandoil,andthestiffpinkfoammeltedunderit.Millersquattedbesidethe
bombsandatearationbarthattastedconvincinglylikeapples.Juliesatbesidehim,herheadresting
weightlesslyonhisshoulder.
TherehadbeenafewtimesthatMillerhadflirtedwithfaith.Mosthadbeenwhenhewasyoung
andtryingouteverything.Thenwhenhewasolder,wiser,moreworn,andinthecrushingpainofthe
divorce.Heunderstoodthelongingforagreaterbeing,ahugeandcompassionateintelligencethat
couldseeeverythingfromaperspectivethatdissolvedthepettinessandevilandmadeeverythingall
right.Hestillfeltthatlonging.Hejustcouldn’tconvincehimselfitwastrue.
Andstill,maybetherewassomethinglikeaplan.Maybetheuniversehadputhimintherightplace
attherighttimetodothethingthatnooneelsewoulddo.Maybeallthepainandsufferinghe’dbeen
through,allthedisappointmentsandsoul-crushingyearswallowingthroughtheworstthathumanity
had to offer up, had been meant to bring him here, to this moment, when he was ready to die if it
boughthumanityalittletime.
Itwouldbeprettytothinkso,Juliesaidinhismind.
“It would,” he agreed with a sigh. At the sound of his voice, the vision of her vanished, just
anotherdaydream.
The bombs were heavier than he’d remembered. Under a full g, he wouldn’t have been able to
movethem.Atonlyone-third,itwasastruggle,butpossible.Anagonizingcentimeteratatime,he
draggedoneofthemontoahandcartandhauledittotheairlock.Eros,abovehim,sangtoitself.
Hehadtorestbeforehetackledthehardwork.Theairlockwasthinenoughthatonlythebombor
hecouldfitthroughatatime.Heclimbedontopofittogetouttheouterairlockdoor,thenhadtolift
thebomboutwithstrapsheriggedfromcargonetting.Andonceout,ithadtobetetheredtotheship
withmagneticclampstokeepEros’spinfromslingingitoutintothevoid.Afterhe’dpulleditoutand
strappedittothecart,hestoppedtorestforhalfanhour.
Thereweremoreimpactsnow,aroughsignthatEroswasindeedaccelerating.Eachonearifle
shot, capable of bouncing clean through him or the ship behind him if bad luck sent it in the right
direction.Buttheoddswerelowofoneoftheoccasionalrocksliningupakillingshotwithhistiny
antlikefigurecrawlingacrossthesurface.OnceErosclearedtheBelt,they’dstop,anyway.WasEros
leaving the Belt? He realized he had no idea where Eros was going. He’d assumed it was Earth.
Holdenwouldknowbynow,probably.
His shoulders ached a little from his efforts, but not badly. He worried that he’d overloaded the
cart. Its wheels were stronger than his mag boots, but they could still be overcome. The asteroid
abovehimlurchedonce,anewandunsettlingmotionthatdidn’trepeat.Hishandterminalcutoffthe
Erosfeed,alertinghimthathehadanincomingconnection.Helookedatit,shrugged,andletthecall
comethrough.
“Naomi,”hesaidbeforeshecouldspeak.“How’veyoubeendoing?”
“Hey,”shesaid.
Thesilencebetweenthemstretched.
“YoutalkedtoHolden,then?”
“Idid,”shesaid.“He’sstilltalkingaboutwaystogetyouoffthatthing.”
“He’sagoodguy,”Millersaid.“Talkhimoutofitforme,okay?”
ThesilencehunglongenoughthatMillerstartedtogetuncomfortable.
“Whatareyoudoingthere?”sheasked.Asiftherewereananswerforthat.Asifallhislifecould
besummarizedinanswertoonesimplequestion.Hedancedaroundwhatshemeantandrepliedonly
towhatshe’dsaid.
“Well,I’vegotanuclearbombstrappedtoacargowagon.I’mhaulingitovertotheaccesshatch
andtakingitintostation.”
“Miller—”
“Thethingis,weweretreatingthislikearock.Noweveryoneknowsthat’salittlesimplistic,but
it’s going to take people time to adjust. Navies are still going to be thinking of this thing like a
billiardballwhenit’sreallyarat.”
Hewastalkingtoofast.Thewordsspillingoutofhiminarush.Ifhedidn’tgiveherroom,she
wouldn’t talk. He wouldn’t have to hear what she had to say. He wouldn’t have to keep her from
talkinghimdown.
“It’sgoingtohavestructure.Enginesorcontrolcenters.Something.IfItruckthisthinginside,get
itclosetowhatevercoordinatesthething,Icanbreakit.Turnitbackintoabilliardball.Evenifit’s
justforalittlewhile,thatgivestherestofyouachance.”
“Ifigured,”shesaid.“Itmakessense.It’stherightthingtodo.”
Millerchuckled.Aparticularlysolidimpacttockedagainsttheshipbeneathhim,thevibrationofit
jarringhisbones.Gasstartedventingoutofthenewhole.Thestationwasmovingfaster.
“Yeah,”hesaid.“Well.”
“IwastalkingtoAmos,”shesaid.“Youneedadeadman’sswitch.Sothatifsomethinghappens,
thebombstillgoesoff.Ifyouhavetheaccesscodes…?”
“Ido.”
“Good.I’vegotaroutineyoucanputonyourhandterminal.You’llneedtokeepyourfingeron
theselectbutton.Ifyougoawayforfiveseconds,itsendsthegosignal.Ifyouwant,Icanuploaditto
you.”
“SoIhavetowanderaroundthestationwithmyfingermashedonabutton?”
Naomi’s tone made it an apology. “They might take you out with a head shot. Or wrestle you
down.Thelongerthegap,themorechancefortheprotomoleculetodisablethebombbeforeitgoes
off.Ifyouneedmore,Icanreprogramit.”
Millerlookedatthebombrestingonitscartjustoutsidetheship’sairlock.Itsreadoutsallglowed
greenandgold.Hissighbrieflyfoggedtheinsideofhishelmet.
“Yeah,no.Fiveisgood.Uploadtheroutine.AmIgoingtoneedtotweakit,oristhereasimple
placeIcanputthearm-and-firestring?”
“There’sasetupsection,”Naomisaid.“Itpromptsyou.”
Thehandterminalchirped,announcingthenewfile.Milleracceptedit,ranit.Itwaseasyaskeying
inadoorcode.Somehowhefeltthatarmingfusionbombstodetonatearoundhimshouldhavebeen
moredifficult.
“Gotit,”hesaid.“We’regoodtogo.Imean,Istillhavetomovethisbastard,butotherthanthat.
HowfastamIacceleratingonthisthing,anyway?”
“EventuallyitwillbefasterthantheRocicango.Fourgandrampingupwithnosignofeasing
offthethrottle.”
“Can’tfeelitatall,”hesaid.
“I’msorryaboutbefore,”Naomisaid.
“Itwasabadsituation.Wedidwhatwehadtodo.Sameasalways.”
“Sameasalways,”sheechoed.
Theydidn’tspeakforafewseconds.
“Thanksforthetrigger,”Millersaid.“TellAmosIappreciateit.”
Hecuttheconnectionbeforeshecouldanswer.Longgoodbyesweren’tanyone’sstrongsuit.The
bombrestedinthehandcart,magneticclampsinplaceandawidewoven-steelbeltaroundthewhole
mess.Hemovedslowlyacrossthemetallicsurfaceoftheportdocks.IfthecartlostitsgriponEros,
hewouldn’tbestrongenoughtoholditback.Ofcourse,ifoneoftheincreasinglyfrequentstrikeshit
him, it would be a lot like getting shot, so waiting around wasn’t a good solve either. He put both
dangersoutofhismindanddidthework.Fortennervousminutes,hissuitsmelledofoverheating
plastic.Allthediagnosticsshowedwithintheerrorbars,andbythetimetherecyclersclearedit,his
airsupplystilllookedgood.Anotherlittlemysteryhewasn’tgoingtosolve.
Theabyssabovehimshonewithunflickeringstars.OneofthedotsoflightwasEarth.Hedidn’t
knowwhichone.
Theservicehatchhadbeentuckedinanaturaloutcroppingofstone,theraw-ferrouscarttracklike
a ribbon of silver in the darkness. Grunting, Miller hauled the cart and the bomb and his own
exhaustedbodyuparoundthecurve,andspingravityonceagainpresseddownonhisfeetinsteadof
stretchinghiskneesandspine.Light-headed,hekeyedinthecodesuntilthehatchopened.
Eroslaybeforehim,darkerthantheemptysky.
Heranthehandterminalconnectionthroughthesuit,callingHoldenforwhatheexpectedwasthe
lasttime.
“Miller,”Holdensaidalmostimmediately.
“I’mheadinginnow,”hesaid.
“Wait.Look,there’sawaywemightbeabletogetanautomatedcart.IftheRoci—”
“Yeah,butyouknowhowitis.I’malreadyhere.Andwedon’tknowhowfastthissonofabitchcan
go.We’vegotaproblemweneedtofix.Thisishowwedoit.”
Holden’s hope had been weak, anyway. Pro forma. A gesture and, Miller thought, maybe even
heartfelt.Tryingtosaveeveryone,righttothelast.
“Iunderstand,”Holdenfinallysaid.
“Okay.SoonceI’vebrokenwhateverthehellIfindinthere…?”
“We’reworkingonwaystoannihilatethestation.”
“Good.I’dhatetogothroughthetroublefornothing.”
“Isthere…Isthereanythingyouwantmetodo?After?”
“Nah,” Miller said, and then Julie was at his side, her hair floating around her like they were
underwater.Sheglowedinmorestarlightthanwasactuallythere.“Wait.Yes.Acouplethings.Julie’s
parents. They run Mao-Kwikowski Mercantile. They knew the war was going start before it did.
They’vegottohavelinkstoProtogen.Makesuretheydon’tgetawaywithit.Andifyouseethem,tell
themI’msorryIdidn’tfindherintime.”
“Right,”Holdensaid.
Millersquattedinthedarkness.Wasthereanythingelse?Shouldn’ttherebemore?Amessageto
Havelock, maybe? Or Muss. Or Diogo and his OPA friends? But then there would have to be
somethingtosay.
“Okay,”Millersaid.“That’sit,then.Itwasgoodworkingwithyou.”
“I’msorryitcamedownthisway,”Holdensaid.Itwasn’tanapologyforwhathe’ddoneorsaid,
forwhathe’dchosenandrefused.
“Yeah,”Millersaid.“Butwhatcanyoudo,right?”
Itwasasclosetogoodbyeaseitherofthemcouldget.Millershuttheconnection,broughtupthe
scriptNaomihadsenthim,andenabledit.Whilehewasatit,heturnedtheErosfeedbackon.
Asofthushingsound,likefingernailsscratchingdownanendlesssheetofpaper.Heturnedonthe
cart’s lights, the dark entrance of Eros brightening to industrial gray, shadows scattering to the
corners.HisimaginedJuliestoodintheglarelikeitwasaspotlight,theglowilluminatingherandall
thestructuresbehindheratthesametime,theremnantofalongdream,almostover.
Hetookoffthebrakes,pushed,andwentinsideErosforthelasttime.
ChapterFifty-One:Holden
H oldenknewthathumanscouldtolerateextremelyhighg-forcesovershortdurations.Withproper
safety systems, professional daredevils had sustained impacts in excess of twenty-five g’s and
survived.Thehumanbodydeformednaturally,absorbedenergyinsofttissues,anddiffusedimpacts
acrosslargerareas.
Healsoknewthattheproblemwithextendedexposuretohighgwasthattheconstantpressureon
the circulatory system would begin exposing weaknesses. Have a weak spot in an artery that could
turnintoananeurysminfortyyears?Afewhoursatsevengmightjustpopitopennow.Capillaries
intheeyesstartedtoleak.Theeyeitselfdeformed,sometimescausingpermanentdamage.Andthen
therewerethehollowspaces,likethelungsanddigestivetract.Youpiledonenoughgravity,andthey
collapsed.
Andwhilecombatshipsmightmaneuveratveryhighgforshortdurations,everymomentspent
underthrustmultipliedthedanger.
Eros didn’t need to shoot anything at them. It could just keep speeding up until their bodies
explodedunderthepressure.Hisconsolewasshowingfiveg,butevenashewatched,itshiftedtosix.
Theycouldn’tkeepthisup.Eroswasgoingtogetaway.Therewasnothinghecoulddoaboutit.
Buthestilldidn’torderAlextostopaccelerating.
AsifNaomiwerereadinghismind, WECAN’TKEEPTHISUPPOPPEDUP onhisconsole,heruserID
infrontofthetext.
FRED’SWORKINGONIT.THEYMIGHTNEEDUSTOBEWITHINRANGEOFEROSWHENTHEYCOMEUPWITHA
PLAN ,hereplied.Evenmovinghisfingersthemillimetersnecessarytousethecontrolsbuiltintohis
chairforexactlythisreasonwaspainfullydifficult.
WITHINRANGEFORWHAT?NAOMITYPED.
Holdendidn’tanswer.Hehadnoidea.Hisbloodwasburningwithdrugstokeephimawakeand
alert even while his body was being crushed. The drugs had the contradictory effect of making his
brain run at double speed while not allowing him to actually think. But Fred would come up with
something.Lotsofsmartpeoplewerethinkingaboutit.
AndMiller.
Miller was lugging a fusion bomb through Eros right now. When your enemy had the tech
advantage,youcameathimaslow-techasyoucouldget.Maybeonesaddetectivepullinganuclear
weapon on a wagon would slip through their defenses. Naomi had said they weren’t magic. Maybe
Millercouldmakeitandgivethemtheopeningtheyneeded.
Eitherway,Holdenhadtobethere,evenifitwasjusttosee.
FRED,Naomitypedtohim.
Holdenopenedtheconnection.Fredlookedtohimlikeamansuppressingagrin.
“Holden,”hesaid.“Howareyouguysholdingup?”
SIXG’S.SPITITOUT.
“Right.SoitturnsoutthattheUNcopshavebeenrippingProtogen’snetworkapart,lookingfor
cluesastowhatthehell’sbeengoingon.Guesswhoshowedupaspublicenemynumberoneforthe
Protogenbigwigs?Yourstruly.Suddenlyallisforgiven,andEarthwelcomesmebackintoherwarm
embrace.TheenemyofmyenemythinksIamarighteousbastard.”
GOODY.MYSPLEENISCOLLAPSING.HURRYUP.
“TheideaofEroscrashingintoEarthisbadenough.Extinction-levelevent,evenifit’sjustarock.
ButtheUNpeoplehavebeenwatchingtheErosfeeds,andit’sscaringtheshitoutofthem.”
AND.
“Earth is preparing to launch her entire ground-based nuclear arsenal. Thousands of nukes.
They’re going to vaporize that rock. The navy will intercept what’s left after the initial attack and
sterilizethatentireareaofspacewithconstantnuclearbombardment.Iknowit’sarisk,butit’swhat
wehave.”
Holdenresistedtheurgetoshakehishead.Hedidn’twanttowindupwithonecheekstucktothe
chairpermanently.
EROSDODGEDTHENAUVOO.IT’SGOINGSIXG’SRIGHTNOW,ANDACCORDINGTONAOMI,MILLERFEELSNO
ACCELERATION.WHATEVERIT’SDOING,ITDOESN’THAVETHESAMEINERTIALLIMITATIONSWEHAVE.WHAT’STO
STOPITFROMJUSTDODGINGAGAIN?ATTHESESPEEDS,THEMISSILESWILLNEVERBEABLETOTURNAROUND
ANDCATCHIT.ANDWHATTHEHELLAREYOUTARGETINGON?EROSDOESN’TREFLECTRADARANYMORE.
“That’s where you come in. We need you to try bouncing a laser off of it. We can use the
Rocinante’stargetingsystemtoguidethemissilesin.”
I HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU, BUT WE’LL BE OUT OF THIS GAME LONG BEFORE THOSE MISSILES SHOW. WE
CAN’TKEEPUP.WECAN’TGUIDETHEMISSILESINFORYOU.ANDONCEWELOSEVISUAL,NOONEWILLBEABLE
TOTRACKWHEREEROSIS.
“Youmighthavetoputitonautopilot,”Fredsaid.
MeaningYoumightallhavetodieintheseatsyou’reinrightnow.
I’VEALWAYSWANTEDTODIEAMARTYRANDALL,BUTWHATMAKESYOUTHINKTHEROCICANBEATTHIS
THINGONITSOWN?I’MNOTKILLINGMYCREWBECAUSEYOUCAN’TCOMEUPWITHAGOODPLAN .
Fred leaned toward the screen, his eyes narrowing. For the first time, Fred’s mask slipped and
Holdensawthefearandhelplessnessbehindit.
“Look,IknowwhatI’masking,butyouknowthestakes.Thisiswhatwehave.Ididn’tcallyouto
hearhowitwon’twork.Eitherhelporgiveup.Rightnowdevil’sadvocateisjustanothernamefor
asshole.”
I’mcrushingmyselftodeath,probablydoingpermanentdamage,justbecauseIwouldn’tgive up,
youbastard.SosorryIdidn’tsignmycrewuptodietheminuteyousaidtodoit.
Having to type everything out had the advantage of restraining emotional outbursts. Instead of
rippingintoFredforquestioninghiscommitment,Holdenjusttyped LET ME THINK ABOUT ITandcut
theconnection.
The optical tracking system watching Eros flashed a warning to him that the asteroid was
increasing speed again. The giant sitting on his chest added a few pounds as Alex pushed the
Rocinantetokeepup.AflashingredindicatorinformedHoldenthatbecauseofthedurationthey’d
spentatthecurrentacceleration,hecouldexpectasmuchas12percentofthecrewtostrokeout.It
would go up. Enough time, and it would reach 100 percent. He tried to remember the Roci’s
maximumtheoreticalacceleration.Alexhadalreadyflownitattwelvegbrieflywhenthey’dleftthe
Donnager.Theactuallimitwasoneofthosetrivialnumbers,awaytobragaboutsomethingyourship
wouldneverreallydo.Fifteeng,wasit?Twenty?
Millerhadn’tfeltanyaccelerationatall.Howfastcouldyougoifyoudidn’tevenfeelit?
Almostwithoutrealizinghewasgoingtodoit,Holdenactivatedthemasterenginecutoffswitch.
Within seconds he was in free fall, wracked with coughs as his organs tried to find their original
restingplacesinsidehisbody.WhenHoldenhadrecoveredenoughtotakeonereallydeepbreath,his
firstinhours,Alexcameonthecomm.
“Cap,didyoukilltheengines?”thepilotsaid.
“Yeah, that was me. We’re done. Eros is getting away no matter what we do. We were just
prolongingtheinevitable,andriskingsomecrewdeathsintheprocess.”
Naomi turned her chair and gave him a sad little smile. She was sporting a black eye from the
acceleration.
“Wedidourbest,”shesaid.
Holden shoved out of his chair hard enough that he bruised his forearms on the ceiling, then
shovedoffhardagainandpinnedhisbacktoabulkheadbygrabbingontoafireextinguishermount.
Naomi was watching him from across the deck, her mouth a comical O of surprise. He knew he
probablylookedridiculous,likeapetulantchildthrowingatantrum,buthecouldn’tstophimself.He
broke free of his grip on the fire extinguisher and floated into the middle of the deck. He hadn’t
knownhe’dbeenpoundingonthebulkheadwithhisotherfist.Nowthathedid,hishandhurt.
“Goddammit,”hesaid.“JustGoddammit.”
“We—”Naomistarted,buthecutheroff.
“Wedidourbest?Whatthehelldoesthatmatter?”Holdenfeltaredhazeinhismind,andnotall
ofitwasfromthedrugs.“IdidmybesttohelptheCanterbury,too.ItriedtodotherightthingwhenI
letusbetakenbytheDonnager.Didmygoodintentionsmeanjackshit?”
Naomi’sexpressionwentflat.Nowhereyelidsdropped,andshestaredathimfromnarrowslits.
Herlipspressedtogetheruntiltheywerealmostwhite.Theywantedmetokillyou, Holden thought.
TheywantedmetokillmycrewjustincaseEroscan’tbreakfifteeng,andIcouldn’tdoit.Theguilt
and rage and sorrow played against each other, turning into something thin and unfamiliar. He
couldn’tputanametothefeeling.
“You’rethelastpersonI’dexpecttohearself-pityfrom,”shesaid,hervoicetight.“Where’sthe
captainwho’salwaysasking,‘Whatcanwedorightnowtomakethingsbetter?’”
Holdengesturedaroundhimselfhelplessly.“Showmewhichbuttontopushtostopeveryoneon
Earthfrombeingkilled,I’llpushit.”
Justaslongasitdoesn’tkillyou.
Naomiunbuckledherharnessandfloatedtowardthecrewladder.
“I’mgoingbelowtocheckonAmos,”shesaid,thenopenedthedeckhatch.Shepaused.“I’myour
operations officer, Holden. Monitoring communication lines is part of the job. I know what Fred
wanted.”
Holdenblinked,andNaomipulledherselfoutofsight.Thehatchslammedbehindherwithabang
thatcouldn’thavebeenanyharderthannormalbutfeltlikeitwasanyway.
Holden called up to the cockpit and told Alex to take a break and get some coffee. The pilot
stoppedonhiswaythroughthedeck,lookinglikehewantedtotalk,butHoldenjustwavedhimon.
Alexshruggedandleft.
Thewateryfeelinginhisguthadtakenrootandbloomedintoafull-fledged,limb-shakingpanic.
Some vicious, vindictive, self-flagellating part of his mind insisted on running nonstop movies of
EroshurtlingtowardEarth.Itwouldcomescreamingdownoutoftheskylikeeveryreligion’svision
ofapocalypsemadereal,fireandearthquakesandpestilentialrainsweepingtheland.Buteachtime
EroshittheEarthinhismind,itwastheexplosionoftheCanterbury he saw. A shockingly sudden
whitelight,andthennothingbutthesoundoficepebblesrattlingacrosshishulllikegentlehail.
Marswouldsurvive,forawhile.PocketsoftheBeltwouldholdoutevenlonger,probably.They
hadacultureofmakingdo,survivingonscraps,livingonthebleedingedgeoftheirresources.Butin
theend,withoutEarth,everythingwouldeventuallydie.Humanshadbeenoutofthegravitywella
longtime.Longenoughtohavedevelopedthetechnologytocutthatumbilicalcord,butthey’djust
neverbotheredtodoit.Stagnant.Humanity,forallitsdesiretoflingitselfintoeverylivablepocketit
couldreach,hadbecomestagnant.Satisfiedtoflyaroundinshipsbuilthalfacentury before, using
technologythathadn’tchangedinlongerthanthat.
Earthhadbeensofocusedonherownproblemsthatshe’dignoredherfar-flungchildren,except
whenaskingforhershareoftheirlabors.Marshadbentherentirepopulationtothetaskofremaking
theplanet,changingitsredfacetogreen.TryingtomakeanewEarthtoendtheirrelianceontheold.
AndtheBelthadbecometheslumsofthesolarsystem.Everyonetoobusytryingtosurvivetospend
anytimecreatingsomethingnew.
We found the protomolecule at exactly the right time for it to do the most damage to us, Holden
thought.
Ithadlookedlikeashortcut.Awaytoavoidhavingtodoanyofthework,tojustjumpstraightto
godhood.Andithadbeensolongsinceanythingwasarealthreattohumanityoutsideofitselfthatno
onewasevensmartenoughtobescared.Dresdenhadsaidithimself:Thethingsthathadmadethe
protomolecule, loaded it into Phoebe, and shot it at the Earth were already godlike back when
humanity’sancestorsthoughtphotosynthesisandtheflagellumwerecutting-edge.Buthe’dtakentheir
ancient engine of destruction and turned the key anyway, because when you got right down to it,
humanswerestilljustcuriousmonkeys.Theystillhadtopokeeverythingtheyfoundwithastickto
seewhatitdid.
TheredhazeinHolden’svisionhadtakenonastrangestrobingpattern.Ittookhimamomentto
realize that a red telltale on his panel was flashing, letting him know that the Ravi was calling. He
kickedoffanearbycrashcouch,floatedbacktohisstation,andopenedthelink.
“Rocinantehere,Ravi,goahead.”
“Holden,whyarewestopped?”McBrideasked.
“Becauseweweren’tgoingtokeepupanyway,andthedangerofcrewcasualtieswasgettingtoo
high,”hereplied.Itsoundedweakeventohim.Cowardly.McBridedidn’tseemtonotice.
“Roger.I’mgoingtogetneworders.Willletyouknowifanythingchanges.”
Holden killed the connection and stared blankly at the console. The visual tracking system was
doingitsverybesttokeepErosinsight.TheRociwasagoodship.Stateoftheart.AndsinceAlex
hadtaggedtheasteroidasathreat,thecomputerwoulddoeverythinginitspowertokeeptrackofit.
ButEroswasafast-moving,low-albedoobjectthatdidn’treflectradar.Itcouldmoveunpredictably
andathighspeed.Itwasjustamatteroftimebeforetheylosttrackofit,especiallyifitwantedtobe
losttrackof.
Nexttothetrackinginformationonhisconsole,asmalldatawindowopenedtoinformhimthat
theRavihadturnedonitstransponder.Itwasstandardpracticeevenformilitaryshipstokeepthemon
whentherewasnoapparentthreatorneedforstealth.TheradiomanonthelittleUNNcorvettemust
haveflippeditbackonoutofhabit.
AndnowtheRociregistereditasaknownvesselandthrewitontothethreatdisplaywithagently
pulsinggreendotandanametag.Holdenlookedatitblanklyforalongmoment.Hefelthiseyesgo
wide.
“Shit,”Holdensaid,thenopenedtheshipwidecomm.“Naomi,Ineedyouinops.”
“IthinkI’dratherstaydownhereforabit,”shereplied.
Holden hit the battle station’s alert button on his console. The deck lights shifted to red and a
Klaxonsoundedthreetimes.
“XONagatatoops,”hesaid.Letherchewhimoutlater.He’dhaveitcoming.Butrightnowhe
didn’thaveanytimetowaste.
Naomiwasontheopsdeckinlessthanaminute.Holdenhadalreadybuckledbackintohiscrash
couchandwaspullingupthecommlogs.Naomipushedovertoherchairandbeltedinaswell.She
gave him an inquiring look—Are we going to die after all?—but said nothing. If he said so, she
would.Hefeltaspikeofequalpartsadmirationforandimpatiencewithher.Hefoundwhathewas
lookingforinthelogsbeforespeaking.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ve had radio contact with Miller after Eros dropped off of radar. Is that
right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “But his suit isn’t powerful enough to transmit through the shell of
Erosouttomuchdistance,sooneofthemooredshipsisboostingthesignalforhim.”
“Which means that whatever Eros is doing to kill the radar isn’t killing all radio transmissions
fromoutside.”
“Thatseemsright,”Naomisaid,agrowingcuriosityinhervoice.
“AndyoustillhavethecontrolcodesforthefiveOPAfreightersonthesurface,right?”
“Yes,sir.”Andthenamomentlater:“Oh,shit.”
“Okay,”Holdensaid,turninginhischairtofaceNaomiwithagrin.“WhydotheRociandevery
othernavalshipinthesystemhaveaswitchtoturnofftheirtransponders?”
“So the enemy can’t get a missile lock on the transponder signal and blow them up,” she said,
sharinghisgrinnow.
HoldenspunhischairbackaroundandbeganopeningacommchanneltoTychoStation.
“XO, would you be so kind as to use the control codes Miller gave you to turn those five OPA
freightersbackonandfireuptheirtransponders?UnlessourvisitoronEroscanoutrunradiowaves,
Ithinkwe’vegottenaroundtheaccelerationproblem.”
“Aye,aye,Captain,”Naomireplied.Evenlookingtheotherway,Holdencouldhearthesmilein
her voice, and it melted the last of the ice in his gut. They had a plan. They were going to make a
difference.
“CallcominginfromtheRavi,”Naomisaid.“YouwantitbeforeIturnthetransponderson?”
“Hellyes.”
Thelineclicked.
“CaptainHolden.We’vegotourneworders.Seemswe’regoingtobechasingthatthingalittle
further.”
McBridesoundedalmostlikesomeonewhohadn’tjustbeensenttoherdeath.Stoic.
“Youmightwanttoholdoffonthatforacoupleminutes,”Holdensaid.“Wehaveanalternative.”
As Naomi activated the transponders on the five OPA freighters Miller had left moored to the
surfaceofEros,HoldenlaidouttheplantoMcBrideandthen,onaseparateline,Fred.Bythetime
Fred had gotten back to him with an enthusiastic approval of the plan from both him and the UN
Navalcommand,thefivefreighterswerepingingaway,tellingthesolarsystemwheretheywere.An
hour after that, the largest swarm of interplanetary nuclear weapons in the history of humanity had
beenfiredandwerewingingtheirwaytowardEros.
We’regoingtowin,Holdenthoughtashewatchedthemissilestakeflightlikeaswarmofangry
reddotsonhisthreatdisplay.We’regoingtobeatthisthing.Andwhatwasmore,hiscrewwasgoing
toseetheendofit.Nooneelsehadtodie.
Except…
“Miller ’scalling,”Naomisaid.“Probablynoticedweturnedhisshipsbackon.”
Holden had a wrenching feeling in his stomach. Miller would be there, on Eros, when those
missilesarrived.Noteveryonewouldgettocelebratethecomingvictory.
“Hey.Miller.Howyoudoing?”hesaid,notquiteabletokeepthefunerealtoneoutofhisvoice.
Miller ’s voice was choppy, and half drowned by static, but not so garbled that Holden couldn’t
hearthetoneinitandknowthathewasabouttotakeapissallovertheirparade.
“Holden,”Millersaid.“Wehaveaproblem.”
ChapterFifty-Two:Miller
One.Two.Three.
Millerpusheddownonthehandterminal,resettingthetriggeragain.Thedoubledoorsinfrontof
himhadoncebeenoneofthousandsofquietlyautomatedmechanisms.Theyhadrunreliablyintheir
subtlemagnetictracks,maybeforyears.Nowsomethingblackwiththetextureoftreebarkgrewlike
creepers around their sides, deforming the metal. Past them lay the port corridors, the warehouses,
the casino. Everything that had been Eros Station and was now the vanguard of an invading alien
intelligence. But to reach it, Miller had to pry open a stuck door. In less than five seconds. While
wearinganenvironmentsuit.
Heputthehandterminaldownagainandreachedquicklyforthethincrackwherethetwodoors
met.One.Two.Thedoorshiftedacentimeter,flakesofblackmattersiftingdown.Three.
Four.
Hegrabbedthehandterminalagain,resettingthetrigger.
Thisshitjustwasn’tgoingtowork.
Miller sat on the ground beside the cart. The Eros feed whispered and muttered, apparently
unaware of the tiny invader scratching at the station’s skin. Miller took a long, deep breath. Door
didn’tmove.Hehadtogetpastit.
Naomiwasn’tgoingtolikethis.
Withhisonefreehand,Millerloosenedthewovenmetalstraparoundthebombuntilitcouldrock
backandforthalittle.Carefully,slowly,heliftedthecornerofit.Then,watchingthestatusreadouts,
hewedgedthehandterminalunderit,themetalcornerdigginghardintothetouchscreenoverthe
enterbutton.Thetriggerstayedgreen.Ifthestationshookorshifted,he’dstillhavefivesecondsto
gettoit.
Goodenough.
Bracedwithbothhands,Millertuggedatthedoors.Moreoftheblackcrustfellawayashelevered
thedoorsopenfarenoughtoseethrough.Thecorridorbeyondwasnearlyround;thedarkgrowth
hadfilledinthecornersuntilthepassagelookedlikeahugedesiccatedbloodvessel.Theonlylights
werehissuit’sheadlightsandamilliontinyluminescentdotsthatswirledintheairlikebluefireflies.
WhentheErosfeedpulsed,growingmomentarilylouder,thefirefliesdimmedandthenreturned.The
environment suit reported breathable air with higher than expected concentrations of argon, ozone,
andbenzene.
Oneoftheluminescentdotsfloatedpasthim,swirlingoncurrentshecouldn’tfeel.Millerignored
it,pushingatthedoors,wideningthegapcentimeterbycentimeter.Hecouldputinanarmtofeelthe
crust.Itseemedsolidenoughtosupportthecart.Thatwasagodsend.Ifithadbeenthigh-highalien
mud,hewouldhavehadtofindsomeotherwaytocarrythebomb.Itwasgoingtobebadenough
haulingthecartuptotheroundedsurface.
Norestforthewicked,JulieMaosaidinhismind.Nopeaceforthegood.
Hewentbacktowork.
By the time he’d shoved the doors wide enough to get through, he was sweating. His arms and
backached.Thedarkcrusthadstartedgrowingdownthecorridor,tendrilsshootingouttowardthe
airlock,keepingtotheedges,wherewallsmetfloororceiling.Theblueglowhadcolonizedtheair.
Eroswasheadingoutthecorridorasquicklyashewasheadingin.Faster,maybe.
Millerhauledthecartupwithbothhands,watchingthehandterminalclosely.Thebombrocked,
butnotsomuchitlostitsgriponthetrigger.Oncehewassafelyinthecorridor,hetooktheterminal
back.
One.Two.
Theheavybombcasinghadcarvedalittledivotinthetouchpad,butitstillworked.Millertook
thecarthandleandleanedforward,theuneven,organicsurfacebeneathhimtranslatedintotherough
tugandflutterofthecart’svibration.
He’ddiedhereonce.He’dbeenpoisoned.Shot.Thesehalls,oronesmuchlikethem,hadbeenhis
battleground.HisandHolden’s.Theywereunrecognizablenow.
Hepassedthroughawide,nearlyemptyspace.Thecrusthadthinnedhere,themetalwallsofthe
warehouse showing through in places. One LED still glowed in the ceiling, the cool white light
spillingontothedarkness.
The path led him to the casino level, the architecture of commerce still bringing visitors to the
samespot.Thealienbarkwasnearlygone,butthespacehadbeentransformed.Pachinkomachines
stoodintheirrows,halfmeltedorexplodedor,likeafew,stillglitteringandaskingforthefinancial
informationthatwouldunlockthegaudylightsandfestive,celebratorysoundeffects.Thecardtables
were still visible under mushroom caps of clear glutinous gel. Lining the walls and cathedral-high
ceilings, black ribs rippled with hairlike threads that glowed at the tips without offering any
illumination.
Something screamed, the sound muffled by Miller ’s suit. The broadcast feed of the station
soundedlouderandrichernowthathewasunderitsskin.Hehadthesudden,transportingmemoryof
beingachildandwatchingavideofeedofaboywho’dbeenswallowedbyamonstrouswhale.
SomethinggrayandthesizeofMiller ’stwofiststogetherflewbyalmosttoofasttosee.Ithadn’t
beenabird.Somethingscuttledbehindanoverturnedvendingmachine.Herealizedwhatwasmissing.
TherehadbeenamillionandahalfpeopleonEros,andalargepercentageofthemhadbeenhere,on
the casino level, when their own personal apocalypse came. But there were no bodies. Or, no. That
wasn’ttrue.Theblackcrust,themillionsofdarkrillsabovehimwiththeirsoft,oceanicglow.Those
werethecorpsesofEros,recreated.Humanflesh,remade.Asuitalarmtoldhimhewasstartingto
hyperventilate.Darknessstartedtocreepinattheedgeofhisvision.
Millersanktohisknees.
Don’tpassout,yousonofabitch, he told himself. Don’t pass out, or if you do, at least land so
yourweight’sonthedamnedtrigger.
Julieputherhandonhis.Hecouldalmostfeelit,anditsteadiedhim.Shewasright.Theywere
onlybodies.Justdeadpeople.Victims.Justanotherslabofrecycledmeat,sameaseveryunlicensed
whorehe’dseenstabbedtodeathinthecheaphotelsonCeres.Sameasallthesuicideswho’dthrown
themselves out of airlocks. Okay, the protomolecule had mutilated the flesh in weird ways. Didn’t
changewhatitwas.Didn’tchangewhathewas.
“When you’re a cop,” he told Julie, repeating something he’d told every rookie he’d been
partneredwithinhiscareer,“youdon’thavetheluxuryoffeelingthings.Youhavetodothejob.”
Sodothejob,shesaidgently.
Henodded.Hestood.Dothejob.
As if in response, the sound in his suit changed, the Eros feed fluting up through a hundred
differentfrequenciesbeforeexplodinginaharshfloodofwhathethoughtwasHindi.Humanvoices.
Tillhumanvoiceswakeus,hethought,withoutquitebeingabletorecallwherethephrasecamefrom.
Somewhereinthestation,therewasgoingtobe…something.Acontrolmechanismorapower
supplyorwhatevertheprotomoleculewasusinginsteadofanengine.Hedidn’tknowwhatitwould
look like or how it would be defended. He didn’t have any idea how it worked, apart from the
assumptionthatifheblewitup,itwouldn’tkeepgoingverywell.
Sowegoback,hetoldJulie.Wegobacktowhatwedoknow.
The thing that was growing inside Eros, using the stone skin of the asteroid as its own
unarticulatedexoskeleton,hadn’tcutofftheports.Ithadn’tmovedtheinteriorwallsorrecreatedthe
chambersandpassagesofthecasinolevel.Sothestation’slayoutshouldbeprettynearwhatithad
alwaysbeen.Okay.
Whateveritusedtodrivethestationthroughspace,itwasusingashitloadofenergy.Okay.
Sofindthehotspot.Withhisfreehand,hecheckedtheenvironmentsuit.Ambienttemperaturewas
twenty-sevendegrees:hotbutfarfromunbearable.Hewalkedbrisklybacktowardtheportcorridor.
The temperature dropped by less than a hundredth of a degree, but it did drop. All right, then. He
couldgotoeachofthecorridors,findwhichonewashottest,andfollowit.Whenhefoundaplacein
thestationthatwas,say,threeorfourdegreeshotterthantherest,thatwouldbetheplace.He’droll
thecartupbesideit,letuphisthumb,andcounttofive.
Noproblem.
Whenhegotbacktothecart,somethinggoldenwiththesoftlookofheatherwasgrowingaround
thewheels.Millerscrapeditoffasbesthecould,butoneofthewheelshadstilldevelopedasqueak.
Nothingtobedoneaboutthat.
With one hand hauling the cart and the other mashing down on his hand terminal’s dead-man’sswitch,Millerheadedup,deeperintothestation.
“She’smine,”mindlessErossaid.Ithadbeenstuckonthephraseforthebetterpartofanhour.“She’s
mine.She’s…mine.”
“Fine,”Millermuttered.“Youcanhaveher.”
His shoulder ached. The squeak in the cart’s wheel had grown worse, the whine of it cutting
throughthesouls-of-the-damnedmadnessoftheErosfeed.Histhumbwasstartingtotinglefromthe
constant, relentless pressure of not annihilating himself quite yet. With each level he rose, the spin
gravitygrewlighterandtheCoriolisalittlemorenoticeable.Itwasn’tquitethesameasonCeres,but
itwascloseandfeltlikecominghome.Hefoundhimselflookingforwardtowhenthejobwasdone.
He imagined himself back in his hole, a six-pack of beer, some music on the speakers that had an
actualcomposerinsteadofthewild,empty-mindedglossolaliaofthedeadstation.Maybesomelight
jazz.
Whoeverthoughttheideaoflightjazzwouldbeappealing?
“Catchmeifyoucan,cocksuckers,”Erossaid.“Iamgoneandgoneandgone.Goneandgoneand
gone.”
Theinnerlevelsofthestationwerebothmorefamiliarandstranger.Awayfromthemassgraveof
the casino level, more of Eros’ old life showed through. Tube stops still glowed, announcing line
errors and counseling patience. Air recyclers hummed. The floors were relatively clean and clear.
The sense of near normalcy made the changes stand out eerily. Dark fronds coated the walls with
swirlingnautiluspatterns.Flakesofthestuffdrifteddownfromabove,whirlinginthespingravity
like soot. Eros still had spin gravity but didn’t have gravity from the massive acceleration it was
under.Millerchosenottotrytofigurethatout.
Aflockofsoftball-sizedspiderlikethingscrawledthroughthecorridor,leavingaslicksheenof
glowingslimebehindthem.Itwasn’tuntilhepausedtoknockoneoffthecartthatherecognizedthem
asseveredhands,thetrailingwristbonescharredblackandremade.Partofhismindwasscreaming,
butitwasadistantoneandeasytoignore.
He had to respect the protomolecule. For something that had been expecting prokaryotic
anaerobes,itwasdoingabang-upjobofmakingdo.Hepausedtocheckhissuit’ssensorarray.The
temperature had risen half a degree since he’d left the casino and a tenth of a degree since he’d
enteredthisparticularmainhall.Thebackgroundradiationwasalsoclimbing,hispoorabusedflesh
sucking in more rads. The concentration of benzene was going down, and his suit was picking up
more exotic aromatic molecules—tetracene, anthracene, naphthalene—with behavior sufficiently
strangetoconfusethesensors.Soitwastherightdirection.Heleanedforward,thecartresistinghis
pulllikeaboredkid.Asherecalled,thestructurallayoutwasroughlylikeCeres’,andheknewCeres
like he knew his name. One more level up—maybe two—there would be a confluence of services
from the lower, high-g levels and the supply and energy systems that did better at lower gravity. It
seemed as likely a place to grow a command and control center as any. As good a location for a
brain.
“Goneandgoneandgone,”Erossaid.“Andgone.”
Itwasfunny,hethought,howtheruinsofthepastshapedeverythingthatcameafter.Itseemedto
work on all levels; one of the truths of the universe. Back in the ancient days, when humanity still
lived entirely down a well, the paths laid down by Roman legions had become asphalt and later
ferroconcrete without ever changing a curve or a turn. On Ceres, Eros, Tycho, the bore of the
standardcorridorhadbeendeterminedbyminingtoolsbuilttoaccommodatethetrucksandliftsof
Earth,whichhadinturnbeendesignedtogodowntrackswideenoughforamulecart’saxle.
Andnowthealien—thethingfromoutinthevastdark—wasgrowingalongthecorridors,ducts,
tuberoutes,andwaterpipeslaidoutbyahandfulofambitiousprimates.Hewonderedwhatitwould
havebeenlikeiftheprotomoleculehadn’tbeencapturedbySaturn,hadactuallyfounditswayintothe
soupofprimordialEarth.Nofusionreactors,nonavigationdrives,nocomplexfleshtoappropriate.
What would it have done differently if it hadn’t had to build around some other evolution’s design
choices?
Miller,Juliesaid.Keepmoving.
He blinked. He was standing in the empty passageway at the base of an access ramp. He didn’t
knowhowlonghe’dbeenlostinhisownmind.
Years,maybe.
He blew out a long breath and started up the ramp. The corridors above him were reading as
considerably hotter than ambient. Almost three degrees. He was getting close. There was no light,
though.Hetookhistingling,half-numbedthumbofftheselectbutton,turnedonthehandterminal’s
littleutilityLED,andgotbacktothedeadman’sswitchjustbeforethecountoffour.
“Goneandgoneand…and…andandandand.”
The Eros feed squealed, a chorus of voices chattering in Russian and Hindi clamoring over the
old singular voice and being drowned out in turn by a deep creaking howl. Whale song, maybe.
Miller ’ssuitmentionedpolitelythathehadhalfanhourofoxygenleft.Heshutthealarmdown.
The transfer station was overgrown. Pale fronds swarmed along the corridors and twisted into
ropes.Recognizableinsects—flies,cockroaches,waterspiders—crawledalongthethickwhitecables
in purposeful waves. Tendrils of something that looked like articulated bile swept back and forth,
leaving a film of scurrying larvae. They were as much victim of the protomolecule as the human
population.Poorbastards.
“You can’t take the razor back,” Eros said, and its voice sounded almost triumphant. “You can’t
taketherazorback.Sheisgoneandgoneandgone.”
Thetemperaturewasclimbingfasternow.Ittookhimafewminutestodecidethatspinwardmight
beslightlywarmer.Hehauledthecart.Hecouldfeelthesqueaking,atiny,rattlingtremorinthebones
ofhishand.Betweenthemassofthebombandthefailingwheelbearings,hisshoulderswerestarting
toreallyache.Goodthinghewasn’tgoingtohavetohaulthisdamnthingbackdown.
Juliewaswaitingforhiminthedarkness;thethinbeamfromhishandterminalcutthroughher.
Herhairfloated,spingravityhaving,afterall,noeffectonphantomsofthemind.Herexpressionwas
grave.
Howdoesitknow?sheasked.
Millerpaused.Everynowandthen,allthroughhiscareer,somedaydreamed witness would say
something,usesomephrase,laughatthewrongthing,andhe’dknowthatthebackofhismindhada
newangleonthecase.
Thiswasthatmoment.
“Youcan’ttaketherazorback,”Eroscrowed.
Thecometthattooktheprotomoleculeintothesolarsysteminthefirstplacewasadeaddrop,not
a ship, Julie said, her dark lips never moving. It was just ballistic. Any ice bullet with the
protomoleculeindeepfreeze.ItwasaimedatEarth,butitmissedandgotgrabbedbySaturninstead.
Thepayloaddidn’tsteerit.Didn’tdriveit.Didn’tnavigate.
“Itdidn’tneedto,”Millersaid.
It’s navigating now. It’s going to Earth. How does it know to go to Earth? Where did that
informationcomefrom?It’stalking.Wheredidthatgrammarcomefrom?
WhoisthevoiceofEros?
Millerclosedhiseyes.Hissuitmentionedthatheonlyhadtwentyminutesofair.
“Youcan’ttaketheRazorback!Sheisgoneandgoneandgone!”
“Ohfuck,”Millersaid.“OhJesus.”
Heletgoofthecart,turningbacktowardtherampandthelightandthewidestationcorridors.
Everythingwasshaking,thestationitselftremblinglikesomeoneontheedgeofhypothermia.Only
ofcourseitwasn’t.Theonlyoneshakingwashim.ItwasallinthevoiceofEros.Ithadbeenthereall
thetime.Heshouldhaveknown.
Maybehehad.
Theprotomoleculedidn’tknowEnglishorHindiorRussianoranyofthelanguagesithadbeen
spouting. All of that had been in the minds and softwares of Eros’ dead, coded in the neurons and
grammar programs that the protomolecule had eaten. Eaten, but not destroyed. It had kept the
informationandlanguagesandcomplexcognitivestructures,buildingitselfonthemlikeasphaltover
theroadsthelegionsbuilt.
ThedeadofErosweren’tdead.JulietteAndromedaMaowasalive.
He was grinning so hard his cheeks ached. With one gloved hand, he tried the connection. The
signalwastooweak.Hecouldn’tgetthrough.Hetoldhisuplinkonthesurfaceshiptocrankupthe
power,gotaconnection.
Holden’svoicecameoverthelink.
“Hey.Miller.Howyoudoing?”
The words were soft, apologetic. A hospice worker being gentle to the dying. An incandescent
sparkofannoyancelithismind,buthekepthisvoicesteady.
“Holden,”hesaid.“Wehaveaproblem.”
ChapterFifty-Three:Holden
A ctually,we’vesortoffiguredouthowtosolvetheproblem,”Holdenreplied.
“Idon’tthinkso.I’mlinkingyoutomysuit’smeddata,”Millersaid.
Afewsecondslater,fourcolumnsofnumberspoppedupinasmallwindowonHolden’sconsole.
Italllookedfairlynormal,thoughthereweresubtletiesthatonlyamed-tech,likeShed,wouldbeable
tointerpretcorrectly.
“Okay,”Holdensaid.“That’sgreat.You’regettingalittleirradiated,butotherthanthat—”
Millercuthimoff.
“AmIsufferingfromhypoxia?”hesaid.
Thedatafromhissuitshowed87mmHg,comfortablyabovebaseline.
“No,”Holdensaid.
“Anythingthatwouldmakeaguyhallucinateorgetdemented?Alcohol,opiates.Somethinglike
that?”
“NotthatIcansee,”Holdensaid,growingimpatient.“What’sthisabout?Areyouseeingthings?”
“Justtheusual,”Millerreplied.“Iwantedtogetthatshitouttheway,becauseIknowwhatyou’re
goingtosaynext.”
He stopped talking, and the radio hissed and popped in Holden’s ear. When Miller spoke again
afterseveralsecondsofsilence,hisvoicehadtakenonadifferenttone.Itwasn’tquitepleading,but
closeenoughtomakeHoldenshiftuncomfortablyinhisseat.
“She’salive.”
There was only one she in Miller ’s universe. Julie Mao. “Uh, okay. Not sure how to respond to
that.”
“You’llhavetotakemywordthatI’mnothavinganervousbreakdownorpsychoticepisodeor
anythinglikethat.ButJulie’sinhere.She’sdrivingEros.”
Holden looked at the suit’s medical data again, but it kept reporting normal readings, all the
numbersexceptforradiationcomfortablyinthegreen.Hisbloodchemistrydidn’tevenlooklikehe
wasparticularlystressedforaguycarryingafusionbombtohisownfuneral.
“Miller,Julie’sdead.Webothsawthebody.Wesawwhattheprotomolecule…didtoit.”
“Wesawherbody,sure.Wejustassumedshewasdeadbecauseofthedamage—”
“Shedidn’thaveaheartbeat,”Holdensaid.“Nobrainactivity,nometabolism.That’sprettymuch
thedefinitionofdead.”
“Howdoweknowwhatdeadlooksliketotheprotomolecule?”
“We—” Holden started, then stopped. “We don’t, I guess. But no heartbeat, that’s a pretty good
start.”
Millerlaughed.
“We’vebothseenthefeeds,Holden.Thoseribcagesequippedwithonearmthatdragthemselves
around, think they have a heartbeat? This shit hasn’t been playing by our rules since day one, you
expectittostartnow?”
Holdensmiledtohimself.Millerwasright.
“Okay,sowhatmakesyouthinkJulieisn’tjustaribcageandamassoftentacles?”
“Shemightbe,butit’snotherbodyI’mtalkingabout,”Millersaid.“She’sinhere.Hermind.It’s
likeshe’sflyingheroldracingpinnace.TheRazorback.She’sbeenbabblingaboutitontheradiofor
hoursnow,andIjustdidn’tputittogether.ButnowthatIhave,it’sprettygoddamnclear.”
“WhyissheheadedtowardEarth?”
“Idon’tknow,”Millersaid.Hesoundedexcited,interested.MorealivethanHoldenhadeverheard
him. “Maybe the protomolecule wants to get there and it’s messing with her. Julie wasn’t the first
person to get infected, but she’s the first one that survived long enough to get somewhere. Maybe
she’stheseedcrystalandeverythingthattheprotomolecule’sdoingisbuiltonher.Idon’tknowthat,
butIcanfindout.Ijustneedtofindher.Talktoher.”
“Youneedtogetthatbombtowhereverthecontrolsareandsetitoff.”
“Ican’tdothat,”Millersaid.Becauseofcoursehecouldn’t.
Itdoesn’tmatter,Holdenthought.Inalittlelessthanthirtyhours,you’rebothradioactivedust.
“Allright.Canyoufindyourgirlinlessthan”—HoldenhadtheRocidoarevisedtimeofimpact
fortheincomingmissiles—“twenty-sevenhours?”
“Why?Whathappensintwenty-sevenhours?”
“EarthfiredherentireinterplanetarynucleararsenalatErosafewhoursago.Wejustturnedthe
transpondersoninthefivefreightersyouparkedonthesurface.Themissilesaretargetingthem.The
Rociisguessingtwenty-sevenhourstoimpactbasedonthecurrentaccelerationcurve.TheMartian
andUNnaviesareontheirwaytosterilizetheareaafterdetonation.Makesurenothingsurvivesor
slipsthenet.”
“Jesus.”
“Yeah,”Holdensaidwithasigh.“I’msorryIdidn’ttellyousooner.I’vehadalotgoingon,andit
sortofslippedmymind.”
Therewasanotherlongsilenceontheline.
“Youcanstopthem,”Millersaid.“Shutdownthetransponders.”
HoldenspunhischairaroundtofaceNaomi.Herfacehadthesamewhatdidhejustsay?lookthat
he knew was on his own. She pulled the suit’s medical data over to her console, then called up the
Roci’smedicalexpertsystemandbeganrunningafullmedicaldiagnostic.Theimplicationwasclear.
She thought something was wrong with Miller that wasn’t immediately apparent from the data they
weregetting.Iftheprotomoleculehadinfectedhim,usedhimasalast-ditchmisdirection…
“Notachance,Miller.Thisisourlastshot.Ifweblowthisone,EroscanorbittheEarth,spraying
browngooalloverit.Nowaywetakethatrisk.”
“Look,”Millersaid,histonealternatingbetweentheearlierpleadingandagrowingfrustration.
“Julieisinhere.IfIcanfindher,awaytotalktoher,Icanstopthiswithoutthenukes.”
“What, ask the protomolecule to pretty please not infect the Earth, when that was what it was
designedtodo?Appealtoitsbetternature?”
Millerpausedforamomentbeforespeakingagain.
“Look, Holden, I think I know what’s going on here. This thing was intended to infect singlecelledorganisms.Themostbasicformsoflife,right?”
Holdenshrugged,thenrememberedtherewasnovideofeedandsaid,“Okay.”
“That didn’t work, but it’s a smart bastard. Adaptive. It got into a human host, a complex
multicelledorganism.Aerobic.Hugebrain.Nothinglikewhatitwasbuiltfor.It’sbeenimprovising
eversince.Thatmessonthestealthship?Thatwasitsfirsttry.WesawwhatitwasdoingwithJuliein
thatErosbathroom.Itwaslearninghowtoworkwithus.”
“Whereareyougoingwiththis?”Holdensaid.Therewasnotimepressureyet,withthemissiles
stillmorethanadayaway,buthecouldn’tquitekeeptheimpatienceoutofhisvoice.
“All I’m saying is Eros now isn’t what the protomolecule’s designers planned on. It’s their
originalplanlaidoverthetopofbillionsofyearsofourevolution.Andwhenyouimprovise,you
usewhatyou’vegot.Youusewhatworks.Julie’sthetemplate.Herbrain,heremotionsareallover
this thing. She sees this run to Earth as a race, and she’s crowing about winning. Laughing at you
becauseyoucan’tkeepup.”
“Wait,”Holdensaid.
“She’snotattackingEarth,she’sgoinghome.Forallweknow,she’snotheadingforEarthatall.
Luna,maybe.Shegrewupthere.Theprotomoleculepiggybackedonherstructure,herbrain.Andso
sheinfecteditasmuchasitinfectedher.IfIcanmakeherunderstandwhat’sreallygoingon,then
maybeIcannegotiatewithher.”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”
“Callitahunch,”Millersaid.“I’mgoodwithhunches.”
Holden whistled, the entire situation doing a flip-flop in his head. The new perspective was
dizzying.
“Buttheprotomoleculestillwantstoobeyitsprogram,”Holdensaid.“Andwehavenoideawhat
thatis.”
“Icandamnsuretellyouitisn’twipinghumansout.ThethingsthatshotPhoebeatustwobillion
yearsagodidn’tknowwhatthehellhumanswere.Whateveritwantstodoneededbiomass,andit’s
gotthatnow.”
Holdencouldn’tstophimselffromsnortingatthat.
“So,what?Theydon’tmeanusanyharm?Seriously?Youthinkifweexplainthatwe’drathernot
haveitlandonEarth,thenitwilljustagreeandgosomewhereelse?”
“Notit,”Millersaid.“Her.”
Naomi looked up at Holden, shaking her head. She wasn’t seeing anything organic wrong with
Millereither.
“I’vebeenworkingthiscasefor,shit,almostayear,”Millersaid.“I’veclimbedintoherlife,read
hermail,metherfriends.Iknowher.She’saboutasindependentasapersoncanbe,andsheloves
us.”
“Us?”Holdenasked.
“People.Sheloveshumans.ShegaveupbeingthelittlerichgirlandjoinedtheOPA.Shebacked
theBeltbecauseitwastherightthingtodo.Nowayshekillsusifsheknowsthat’swhat’shappening.
Ijustneedtofindawaytoexplain.Icandothis.Givemeachance.”
Holdenranahandthroughhishair,grimacingattheaccumulatinggrease.Adayortwoathighg
wasnotconducivetoregularshowering.
“Can’tdoit,”Holdensaid.“Stakesaretoohigh.We’regoingaheadwiththeplan.I’msorry.”
“She’llbeatyou,”Millersaid.
“What?”
“Okay,maybeshewon’t.You’vegotashitloadoffirepower.Buttheprotomolecule’sfiguredout
howtogetaroundinertia.AndJulie?She’safighter,Holden.Ifyoutakeheron,mymoney’sonher.”
HoldenhadseenthevideoofJuliefightingoffherattackersonboardthestealthship.She’dbeen
methodical and ruthless in her own defense. She’d fought without giving quarter. He’d seen the
wildnessinhereyeswhenshefelttrappedandthreatened.Onlyherattackers’combatarmorhadkept
herfromdoingalotmoredamagebeforetheytookherdown.
HoldenfeltthehaironthebackofhisneckstandupattheideaofErosactuallyfighting.Sofarit
hadbeencontenttorunfromtheirclumsyattacks.Whathappenedwhenitwenttowar?
“Youcouldfindher,”Holdensaid,“andusethebomb.”
“IfIcan’tgetthroughtoher,”Millersaid,“that’smydeal.I’llfindher.I’lltalktoher.IfIcan’tget
through,I’lltakeherout,andyoucanturnErosintoacinder.I’mfinewiththat.Butyouhavetogive
metimetotryitmywayfirst.”
HoldenlookedatNaomilookingbackathim.Herfacewaspale.Hewantedtoseetheanswerin
herexpression,toknowwhatheshoulddobasedonwhatshethought.Hedidn’t.Itwashiscall.
“Doyouneedmorethantwenty-sevenhours?”Holdenfinallyasked.
He heard Miller exhale loudly. There was gratitude in his voice that was, in its own way, worse
thanthepleadinghadbeen.
“I don’t know. There are a couple thousand kilometers of tunnels down here, and none of the
transitsystemswork.Ihavetowalkeverywherepullingthisdamnwagon.Nottomentionthefactthat
Idon’treallyknowwhatI’mevenlookingfor.Butgivemealittletime,I’llfigureit.”
“Andyouknowthatifthisdoesn’twork,you’llhavetokillher.YourselfandJulie?”
“Iknow.”
HoldenhadtheRocicalculatehowlongitwouldtakeErostoreachtheEarthatthecurrentrateof
acceleration. The missiles from Earth were covering the distance a lot faster than Eros was. The
IPBMswerejustoverpoweredEpsteindriveswithnuclearbombsridingupfront.Theiracceleration
limitswerethefunctionallimitsoftheEpsteindriveitself.Ifthemissilesdidn’tarrive,itwouldstill
takenearlyaweekforErostogettoEarth,evenifitkeptaconstantrateofacceleration.
Therewassomeflexibilityinthere.
“Hold on, let me work something out here,” Holden said to Miller, then muted the connection.
“Naomi,themissilesareflyinginastraightlinetowardEros,andtheRocithinksthey’llinterceptitin
abouttwenty-sevenhours,giveortake.Howmuchtimedowebuyifweturnthatstraightlineintoa
curve?HowmuchofacurvecanwedoandstillgivethemissilesachancetocatchErosbeforeitgets
tooclose?”
Naomitippedherheadtooneside,lookingathimsuspiciouslythroughnarrowedeyes.
“Whatareyouabouttodo?”shesaid.
“MaybegiveMillerachancetoheadoffthefirstinterspecieswar.”
“YoutrustMiller?”shesaidwithsurprisingvehemence.“Youthinkhe’sinsane.Youthrewhimoff
theshipbecauseyouthoughthewasapsychopathandakiller,andnowyou’regoingtolethimspeak
forhumanitytoanalienGod-thingthatwantstoripustoshreds?”
Holdenhadtosuppressasmile.Tellinganangrywomanwashowattractiveherangermadeher
wouldmakeitstopbeingcuteveryquickly.Andbesidesthat,heneededittomakesensetoher.That
washowhe’dknowifhewasright.
“YoutoldmeoncethatMillerwasright,evenwhenIthoughthewaswrong.”
“Ididn’tmakeitablanketstatement,”Naomisaid,spacingherwordsoutlikeshewasspeakingto
anidiotchild.“IsaidhewasrighttoshootDresden.Thatdoesn’tmeanMiller ’sstable. He’s in the
processofcommittingsuicide,Jim.He’sfixatedonthisdeadgirl.Ican’tevenbegintoimaginewhat
mightbegoingthroughhisheadrightnow.”
“Agreed. But he’s there, on the scene, and he’s got a keen eye for observation and just plain
figuringshitout.ThisguytrackedustoErosbasedontheshipnamewepicked.That’sprettydamned
impressive.He’dneverevenmetme,andheknewmewellenoughfromresearchingmetoknowI’d
likenamingmyshipafterDonQuixote’shorse.”
Naomilaughed.“Really?Isthatwherethatcomesfrom?”
“SowhenhesaysthatheknowsJulie,Ibelievehim.”
Naomistartedtosaysomething,thenpaused.
“Youthinkshe’llbeatthenukes?”Naomisaid,moresoftly.
“He thinks she can. And he thinks he can talk her into not killing us all. I have to give him that
chance.Ioweittohim.”
“EvenifitmeanskillingEarth?”
“No,”Holdensaid.“Notthatmuch.”
Naomipausedagain.Herangerfaded.
“Sodelaytheimpact,notabort,”Naomisaid.
“Buyhimsometime.Howmuchcanweget?”
Naomi frowned, looking at the readouts. He could almost see the options clicking through her
mind.Shesmiled,herfiercenessgonenow,replacedbythemischievouslookshegotwhensheknew
shewasbeingreallyclever.
“Asmuchasyouwant.”
“Youwanttodowhat?”Fredasked.
“PullthenukesoffcourseforawhiletobuyMillersometime,butnotsomuchthatwecan’tstill
usethemtodestroyErosifweneedto,”Holdensaid.
“It’ssimple,”Naomiadded.“I’msendingyoudetailedinstructions.”
“Givemetheoverview,”Fredsaid.
“EarthhastargetedtheirmissilesonthefivefreightertranspondersonEros,”Naomisaid,pulling
herplanupasanoverlayonthecommvideo.“YouhaveshipsandstationsallovertheBelt.Youuse
the transponder reconfiguring program you gave us way back when, and you keep shifting those
transponder codes to ships or stations along these vectors to pull the missiles into a long arc that
eventuallywrapsbackaroundtoEros.”
Fredshookhishead.
“Won’twork.TheminuteUNNCommandseeswe’redoingit,they’lljusttellthemissilestostop
followingthoseparticularcodes,andthey’lltrytofigureoutsomeotherwaytotargetEros,”hesaid.
“Andthey’llalsobereallypissedatus.”
“Yeah, they’re going to be pissed all right,” Holden said. “But they’re not going to get their
missilesback.Justbeforeyoustartleadingthemissilesoffcourse,we’regoingtolaunchamassive
hackingattemptfrommultiplelocationsonthemissiles.”
“Sothey’llassumeanenemyistryingtotrickthem,andshutdownmid-flightreprogramming,”
Fredsaid.
“Yep,”Holdenreplied.“We’lltellthemwe’regoingtotrickthemsotheystoplistening,andonce
they’renotlistening,we’lltrickthem.”
Fred shook his head again, this time giving Holden the vaguely frightened look of a man who
wantedtobackslowlyoutoftheroom.
“ThereisnowayinhellIamgoingalongwiththis,”hesaid.“Millerisn’tgoingtoworksome
magical deal with the aliens. We’re going to wind up nuking Eros no matter what. Why delay the
inevitable?”
“Because,”Holdensaid.“I’mstartingtothinkitmightbelessdangerousthisway.Ifweusethe
missileswithouttakingoutEros’commandcenter…brain…whatever,wedon’tknowifit’llwork,
but I’m pretty sure our chances go down. Miller ’s the only one who can do that. And these are his
terms.”
Fredsaidsomethingobscene.
“IfMillerdoesn’tmanagetotalktoit,he’lltakeitout.Idotrusthimforthat,”Holdensaid.“Come
on,Fred,youknowthesemissiledesignsaswellasIdo.Better.Theyputenoughfuelpelletsinthose
drivestoflyaroundthesolarsystemtwice.Wearen’tlosinganythingbygivingMilleralittlemore
time.”
Fredshookhisheadathirdtime.Holdensawhisfacegohard.Hewasn’tgoingtobuyit.Before
hecouldsayno,Holdensaid,“Rememberthatboxwiththeprotomoleculesamples,andallthelab
notes?Wanttoknowwhatmypriceisforit?”
“You,”Fredsaidslowly,drawingitout,“areoutofyourGoddamnmind.”
“Wanttobuyitorwhat?”Holdenreplied.“Youwantthemagictickettoaseatatthetable?You
knowmypricenow.GiveMillerhischance,andthesample’syours.”
“I’d be curious to know how you talked them into it,” Miller said. “I was thinking I was probably
screwed.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Holden said. “We bought you your time. Go find the girl and save humanity.
We’llbewaitingtohearback.”Andreadytonukeyouintodustifwedon’t remained unsaid. There
wasnoneed.
“I’ve been thinking about where to go, if I can talk to her,” Miller said. He had the already lost
hopefulnessofamanwithalotteryticket.“Imean,she’sgottoparkthisthingsomewhere.”
Ifwelive.IfIcansaveher.Ifthemiracleistrue.
Holdenshrugged,eventhoughnoonecouldseeit.
“GiveherVenus,”hesaid.“It’sanawfulplace.”
ChapterFifty-Four:Miller
Idon’tandIdon’t,”thevoiceofErosmuttered.JulietteMao,talkinginhersleep.“Idon’tandIdon’t
andIdon’t…”
“Comeon,”Millersaid.“Comeon,yousonofabitch.Behere.”
The medical bays were lush and overgrown, black spirals with filaments of bronze and steel
climbingthewalls,encrustingtheexaminationtables,feedingonthesuppliesofnarcotics,steroids,
and antibiotics spilling out of the broken supply cabinets. Miller dug through the clutter with one
hand,hissuitalarmchiming.Hisairhadthesourtastethatcamefrombeingthroughtherecyclerstoo
manytimes.Histhumb,stillmashedonthedeadman’sswitch,tingledwhenitwasn’tshootingwith
pain.
He brushed the almost fungal growth off a storage box that wasn’t broken yet, found the latch.
Fourmedicalgascylinders:twored,onegreen,oneblue.Helookedattheseal.Theprotomolecule
hadn’tgottenthemyet.Redforanesthetic.Bluenitrogen.Hepickedupthegreen.Thesterileshieldon
thedeliverynipplewasinplace.Hetookadeepsighingbreathofdyingair.Anotherfewhours.He
put down his hand terminal (one… two…), popped the seal (three…), fed the nipple into his suit’s
intake(four…),andputafingeronthehandterminal.Hestood,feelingthecooloftheoxygentankin
hishandwhilehissuitrevisedhislifespan.Tenminutes,anhour,fourhours.Themedicalcylinder ’s
pressurehitequalitywiththesuit’s,andhepoppeditoff.Fourmorehours.He’dwonhimselffour
morehours.
Itwasthethirdtimehe’dmanagedanemergencyresupplysincehe’dtalkedtoHolden.Thefirst
hadbeenatafire-suppressionstation,thesecondatabackuprecyclingunit.Ifhewentbackdownto
the port, there would probably be some uncompromised oxygen in some of the supply closets and
dockedships.Ifhewentallthewaybacktothesurface,theOPAshipswouldhaveplenty.
But there wasn’t time for that. He wasn’t looking for air; he was looking for Juliette. He let
himselfstretch.Thekinksinhisneckandbackwerethreateningtoturnintocramps.TheCO2levels
inthesuitwerestillonthehighsideofacceptable,evenwiththenewoxygencomingintothemix.
Thesuitneededmaintenanceandanewfilter.It’dhavetowait.Behindhim,thebombinitscartkept
itsowncounsel.
Hehadtofindher.Somewhereinthemazeofcorridorsandrooms,thedeadcity,JulietteMaowas
driving them back to Earth. He’d tracked four hot spots. Three had been decent candidates for his
original plan of vast nuclear immolation: hubs of wire and black alien filament tangling into huge
organic-lookingnodes.Thefourthhadbeenacheaplabreactorchurningonitswaytomeltdown.It
hadtakenhimfifteenminutestogettheemergencyshutdowngoing,andheprobablyshouldn’thave
wastedthetime.Butwhereverhewent,noJulie.EventheJulieofhisimaginationwasgone,asifthe
ghosthadnoplacenowthatheknewtherealwomanwasstillalive.Hemissedhavingheraround,
evenifshe’donlybeenavision.
Awavewentthroughthemedicalbays,allthealiengrowthrisingandfallinglikeironfilingswith
amagnetpassedbeneaththem.Miller ’sheartspedup,adrenalineleakingintohisblood,butitdidn’t
happenagain.
Hehadtofindher.Hehadtofindhersoon.Hecouldfeelexhaustiongrindingathim,littleteeth
chewingatthebackofhismind.Healreadywasn’tthinkingasclearlyasheshould.BackonCeres,
he’dhavegonebacktohishole,sleptforaday,andcomebacktotheproblemwhole.Notanoption
here.
Fullcircle.He’dcomefullcircle.Once,inadifferentlife,he’dtakenonthetaskoffindingher;
then,whenhe’dfailed,there’dbeentakingvengeance.Andnowhehadthechancetofindheragain,to
save her. And if he couldn’t, he was still pulling a cheap, squeaky-wheeled wagon behind him that
woulddoforrevenge.
Miller shook his head. He was having too many moments like this, getting lost in his own
thoughts.Hetookafreshgriponthecartfulloffusionbomb,leanedforward,andheadedout.The
station around him creaked the way he imagined an old sailing ship might have, timbers bent by
waves of salt water and the great tidal tug-of-war between earth and moon. Here, it was stone, and
Millercouldn’tguesswhatforceswereactingonit.Hopefullynothingthatwouldinterferewiththe
signalbetweenhishandterminalandhiscargo.Hedidn’twanttobereducedtohiscomponentatoms
unintentionally.
Itwasgettingmoreandmoreclearthathecouldn’tcoverthewholestation.He’dknownthatfrom
thestart.IfJuliehadgottenherselfsomeplaceobscure—hiddeninsomenicheorholelikeadyingcat
—he wouldn’t find her. He’d become a gambler, betting against all hope on drawing the inside
straight.ThevoiceofErosshifted,differentvoicesnow,singingsomethinginHindi.Achild’sround,
Erosharmonizingwithitselfinagrowingrichnessofvoices.Nowthatheknewtolistenforit,he
heard Julie’s voice threading its way among the others. Maybe it had always been there. His
frustrationvergedonphysicalpain.Shewassoclose,buthecouldn’tquitereachher.
Hepulledhimselfbackintothemaincorridorcomplex.Thehospitalbayshadbeenagoodplace
to look for her too. Plausible. Fruitless. He’d looked at the two mercantile bio-labs. Nothing. He’d
tried the morgue, the police holding tanks. He’d even gone through the evidence room, bin after
plasticbinofcontrabanddrugsandconfiscatedweaponsscatteredonthefloorlikeoakleavesinone
ofthegrandparks.Ithadallmeantsomethingonce.Eachonehadbeenpartofasmallhumandrama,
waitingtobebroughtoutintothelight,partofatrialoratleastahearing.Somesmallpracticefor
judgmentday,postponednowforever.Allpointsweremoot.
Somethingsilverflewabovehim,fasterthanabird,andthenanother,andthenaflock,streaming
by overhead. Light glittered off the living metal, bright as fish scales. Miller watched the alien
moleculeimprovisinginthespaceabovehim.
Youcan’tstophere,Holdensaid.Youhavetostoprunningandgetontherightroad.
Millerlookedoverhisshoulder.Thecaptainstood,realandnot,wherehisinnerJuliewouldhave
been.
Well,that’sinteresting,Millerthought.
“Iknow,”hesaid.“It’sjust…Idon’tknowwhereshewent.And…well,lookaround.Bigplace,
youknow?”
YoucanstopherorIwill,hisimaginaryHoldensaid.
“IfIjustknewwhereshewent,”Millersaid.
Shedidn’t,Holdensaid.Sheneverwent.
Miller turned to look at him. The swarm of silver roiled overhead, chittering like insects or a
badlytuneddrive.Thecaptainlookedtired.Miller ’simaginationhadputasurprisingswathofblood
at the corner of the man’s mouth. And then it wasn’t Holden anymore; it was Havelock. The other
Earther.Hisoldpartner.AndthenitwasMuss,hereyesasdeadashisown.
Juliedidn’tgoanyplace.Millerhadseenherinthehotelroom,backwhenhestillhadn’tbelieved
thatanythingbutabadsmellcouldrisefromthegrave.Backbefore.She’dbeentakenawayinabody
bag. And then taken somewhere else. The Protogen scientists had recovered her, harvested the
protomolecule, and spread Julie’s remade flesh through the station like bees pollinating a field of
wildflowers. They’d given her the station, but before they’d done it, they’d put her someplace they
thoughttheywouldbesafe.
Safe room. Until they were ready to distribute the thing, they’d want to contain it. To pretend it
couldbecontained.Itwasn’tlikelythey’dhavegonetothetroubleofcleaningupafterthey’dgotten
whattheyneeded.Itwasn’tasifanyoneelsewasgoingtobearoundtousethespace,sochanceswere
goodshewasstillthere.Thatnarrowedthings.
There would be isolation wards in the hospital, but Protogen wouldn’t have been likely to use
facilities where non-Protogen doctors and nurses might wonder what was happening. Unnecessary
risk.
Allright.
Theycouldhavesetupinoneofthemanufacturingplantsdownbytheport.Therewereplentyof
places there that required all-waldo work. But again, it would have been at the risk of being
discoveredorquestionedbeforethetrapwasreadytospring.
It’sadrughouse,Musssaidinhismind.You want privacy, you want control. Extracting the bug
fromthedeadgirlandextractingthegoodshitfromthepoppyseedsmighthavedifferentchemistry,
butit’sstillcrime.
“Goodpoint,”Millersaid.“Andnearthecasinolevel…No,that’snotright.Thecasinowasthe
secondstage.Thefirstwastheradiationscare.Theyputabunchofpeopleintheradiationshelters
andcookedthemtogettheprotomoleculegoodandhappy,thentheyinfectedthecasinolevel.”
Sowherewouldyouputadrugkitchenthatwasclosetotheradshelters?Mussasked.
Theroilingsilverstreamoverheadveeredleftandthenright,pouringthroughtheair.Tinycurls
ofmetalbegantoraindown,drawingthintrailsofsmokebehindthemastheydid.
“IfIhadtheaccess?Thebackupenvironmentcontrols.It’sanemergencyfacility.Nofoottraffic
unlesssomeone’srunninginventory.It’sgotalltheequipmentforisolationbuiltinalready.Wouldn’t
behard.”
AndsinceProtogenranErossecurityevenbeforetheyputthedisposablethugsinplace,they’dbe
abletoarrangeit,Musssaid,andshesmiledjoylessly.See?Iknewyoucouldthinkthatthrough.
For less than a second, Muss was gone and Julie Mao—his Julie—was in her place. She was
smilingandbeautiful.Radiant.Herhairfloatedaroundherasifshewereswimminginzerog.And
thenshewasgone.Hissuitalarmwarnedhimaboutanincreasinglycorrosiveenvironment.
“Hangtight,”hesaidtotheburningair.“I’llberightthere.”
It was just less than thirty-three hours from the moment he’d realized that Juliette Andromeda Mao
wasn’tdeadtotheonewhenhecycleddowntheemergencysealsandpulledhiscartintoEros’backup
environmental control facility. The clean, simple lines and error-reducing design of the place still
showedundertheoutgrowthoftheprotomolecule.Barely.Knotsofdarkfilamentandnautilusspirals
softenedthecornersofwallandfloorandceiling.LoopshungfromtheceilinglikeSpanishmoss.
The familiar LED lights still shone under the soft growth, but more illumination came from the
swarmoffaintbluedotsglowingintheair.Hisfirststepontothefloorsankhimintoathickcarpet
uptheankle;thebombcartwouldhavetostayoutside.Hissuitreportedawildmixofexoticgases
andaromaticmolecules,butallhesmelledwashimself.
All the interior rooms had been remade. Transformed. He walked through the wastewater
treatment control areas like a scuba diver in a grotto. The blue lights swirled around him as he
passed, a few dozen adhering to his suit and glittering there. He almost didn’t brush them off the
helmet’sfaceplate,thinkingtheywouldsmearlikedeadfireflies,buttheyonlyswirledbackupinto
theair.Theairrecyclingmonitorsstilldancedandglowed,thethousandalarmsandincidentreports
silhouettingthelatticeworkofprotomoleculethatcoveredthescreens.Waterwasflowingsomewhere
closeby.
Shewasinahazmatanalysisnode,lyingonabedofthedarkthreadthatspilledoutfromherspine
untilitwasindistinguishablefromamassivefairy-talecushionofherownflowinghair.Tinypoints
ofbluelightglitteredonherface,herarms,herbreasts.Thebonespursthathadbeenpressingoutof
herskinhadgrownintosweeping,almostarchitecturalconnectionswiththelushnessaroundher.Her
legs were gone, lost in the tangle of dark alien webs; she reminded Miller of a mermaid who had
tradedherfinsforaspacestation.Hereyeswereclosed,buthecouldseethemshiftinganddancing
underthelids.Andshewasbreathing.
Millerstoodbesideher.Shedidn’thavequitethesamefaceashisimaginedJulie.Therealwoman
waswiderthroughthejaw,andhernosewasn’tasstraightasherememberedit.Hedidn’tnoticethat
hewasweepinguntilhetriedtowipethetearsaway,battinghishelmetwithaglovedhand.Hehadto
makedowithblinkingharduntilhissightcleared.
Allthistime.Allthisway.Andherewaswhathe’dcomefor.
“Julie,”hesaid,puttinghisfreehandonhershoulder.“Hey.Julie.Wakeup.Ineedyoutowakeup
now.”
He had his suit’s medical supplies. If he needed to, he could dose her with adrenaline or
amphetamines.Instead,herockedhergently,likehehadCandaceonasleepySundaymorning,back
when she’d still been his wife, back in some distant, near-forgotten lifetime. Julie frowned, opened
hermouth,closedit.
“Julie.Youneedtowakeupnow.”
Shemoanedandliftedanineffectualarmtopushhimaway.
“Comebacktome,”hesaid.“Youneedtocomebacknow.”
Hereyesopened.Theyweren’thumananymore—thescleraetchedwithswirlsofredandblack,
theiristhesameluminousblueasthefireflies.Nothuman,butstillJulie.Herlipsmovedsoundlessly.
Andthen:
“WhereamI?”
“ErosStation,”Millersaid.“Theplaceisn’twhatitusedtobe.Notevenwhereitusedtobe,but…
”
Hepressedthebedoffilamentwithhishand,judgingit,andthenrestedhishipathersidelikehe
was sitting on her bed. His body felt achingly tired and also lighter than it should. Not like low
gravity.Theunrealbuoyancyhadnothingtodowiththewearyflesh.
Julietriedtotalkagain,struggled,stopped,triedagain.
“Whoareyou?”
“Yeah, we haven’t officially met, have we? My name’s Miller. I used to be a detective for Star
HelixSecuritybackonCeres.Yourparentscontractedwithus,onlyitwasreallymoreafriends-inhigh-placesthing.Iwassupposedtotrackyoudown,grabyou,shipyoubackdownthewell.”
“Kidnapjob?”shesaid.Hervoicewasstronger.Hergazeseemedmorefocused.
“Prettystandard,”Millersaid,thensighed.“Ikindofcockeditup,though.”
Hereyesflutteredclosed,butshekepttalking.
“Somethinghappenedtome.”
“Yeah.Itdid.”
“I’mscared.”
“No,no,no.Don’tbescared.It’sallright.Inanass-backwardkindofway,butit’sallright.Look,
rightnowthewholestationisheadingbackforEarth.Reallyfast.”
“IdreamedIwasracing.Iwasgoinghome.”
“Yeah,weneedtostopthat.”
Hereyesopenedagain.Shelookedlost,anguished,alone.Atearstreakeddownfromthecorner
ofhereye,glowingblue.
“Givemeyourhand,”Millersaid.“No,really,Ineedyoutoholdsomethingforme.”
Sheliftedherhandslowly,seaweedinasoftcurrent.Hetookhishandterminal,settleditinher
palm,pressedherthumbtothedeadman’sswitch.
“Justholdthatthere.Don’tletitup.”
“Whatisit?”sheasked.
“Longstory,justdon’tletup.”
Hissuitalarmsshriekedathimwhenheundidhishelmetseals.Heturnedthemoff.Theairwas
strange: acetate and cumin and a deep, powerful musk that made him think of hibernating animals.
Juliewatchedhimashestrippedoffhisgloves.Rightthen,theprotomoleculewaslatchingontohim,
burrowingintohisskinandeyes,gettingreadytodotohimwhatithaddonetoeveryoneonEros.He
didn’tcare.Hetookthehandterminalbackandthenlacedhisfingersthroughhers.
“You’redrivingthisbus,Julie,”hesaid.“Doyouknowthat?Imean,canyoutell?”
Herfingerswerecoolinhis,butnotcold.
“Icanfeel…something,”shesaid.“I’mhungry?Nothungry,but…Iwantsomething.Iwanttogo
backtoEarth.”
“Wecan’tdothat.Ineedyoutochangecourse,”Millerreplied.WhathadHoldensaid?Give her
Venus.“HeadforVenusinstead.”
“That’snotwhatitwants,”shesaid.
“It’swhatwe’vegotonoffer,”Millersaid.Then,amomentlater:“Wecan’tgohome.Weneedto
gotoVenus.”
Shewasquietforalongmoment.
“You’reafighter,Julie.You’veneverletanyonecallyourshotsforyou.Don’tstartnow.Ifwego
toEarth—”
“It’lleatthemtoo.Thesamewayitateme.”
“Yeah.”
Shelookedupathim.
“Yeah,”hesaidagain.“Likethat.”
“WhathappensonVenus?”
“Wediemaybe.Idon’tknow.Butwedon’ttakealotofpeoplewithus,andwemakesurenoone
getsaholdofthiscrap,”hesaid,gesturingatthegrottoaroundthem.“Andifwedon’tdie,then…
well,that’llbeinteresting.”
“Idon’tthinkIcan.”
“Youcan.Thethingthat’sdoingallthis?You’resmarterthanitis.You’reincontrol.Takeusto
Venus.”
Thefirefliesswirledaroundthem,thebluelightpulsingslightly:brightanddim,brightanddim.
Miller saw it in her face when she made the decision. All around them, the lights went bright, the
grotto flooding in soft blue, and then dimmed back to where they had been before. Miller felt
somethingcatchatthebackofhisnecklikethefirstwarningofasorethroat.Hewonderedifhe’d
have time to deactivate the bomb. And then he looked at Julie. Juliette Andromeda Mao. OPA pilot.
HeirtotheMao-Kwikowskicorporatethrone.Theseedcrystalofafuturebeyondanythinghe’dever
dreamed.He’dhaveplentyoftime.
“I’mafraid,”shesaid.
“Don’tbe,”hesaid.
“Idon’tknowwhat’sgoingtohappen,”shesaid.
“Nooneeverdoes.And,look,youdon’thavetodothisalone,”hesaid.
“Icanfeelsomethinginthebackofmymind.ItwantssomethingIdon’tunderstand.It’ssobig.”
Reflexively,hekissedthebackofherhand.Therewasanachestartingdeepinhisbelly.Asenseof
illness.Amoment’snausea.ThefirstpangsofhistransformationintoEros.
“Don’tworry,”hesaid.“We’regonnabefine.”
ChapterFifty-Five:Holden
H oldendreamed.
He’dbeenaluciddreamermostofhislife,sowhenhefoundhimselfsittinginhisparents’kitchen
intheoldhouseinMontana,talkingtoNaomi,heknew.Hecouldn’tquiteunderstandwhatshewas
saying,butshekeptpushingherhairoutofhereyesasshemunchedcookiesanddranktea.Andwhile
hefoundthathewasn’teverabletopickacookieupandtakeabiteoutofit,hecouldsmellthem,and
thememoryofMotherElise’schocolatechipoatmealcookieswasaverygoodone.
Itwasagooddream.
The kitchen strobed red once, and something changed. Holden felt the wrongness of it, felt the
dreamslippingfromwarmmemoryintonightmare.HetriedtosaysomethingtoNaomibutcouldn’t
formthewords.Theroomstrobedredagain,butshedidn’tseemtonotice.Hegotupandwenttothe
kitchen window and looked out. When the room strobed a third time, he saw what was causing it.
Meteorswerefallingoutofthesky,leavingbehindthemfierytrailsthecolorofblood.Hesomehow
knewtheywerechunksofErosasitcrashedthroughtheatmosphere.Millerhadfailed.Thenuclear
attackhadfailed.
Juliehadcomehome.
HeturnedaroundtotellNaomitorun,butblacktendrilshadburstthroughthefloorandwrapped
herup,piercedherbodyinmultipleplaces.Theypouredfromhermouthandeyes.
Holdentriedtoruntoher,tohelpher,buthecouldn’tmove,andwhenhelookeddown,hesaw
that the tendrils had come up and grabbed him too. One wrapped around his waist and held him.
Anotherpressedintohismouth.
Hewokewithayellinadarkroomthatwasstrobingwithredlight.Somethingwasholdinghim
aroundthewaist.Inapanichebeganclawingatit,threateningtotearafingernaillooseonhisleft
hand,beforehisrationalmindremindedhimwherehewas.Ontheopsdeck,inhischair,belteddown
inzerog.
Hepoppedhisfingerintohismouth,tryingtosoothetheabusedfingertiphe’ddamagedononeof
the chair buckles, and took a few deep breaths through his nose. The deck was empty. Naomi was
asleepdowninhercabin.AlexandAmoswereoffdutyandpresumablysleepingtoo.They’dspent
almost two days without rest during the high-g chase of Eros. Holden had ordered everyone to get
someshut-eyeandhadvolunteeredtotakefirstwatch.
Andthenhadpromptlyfallenasleep.Notgood.
The room flashed red again. Holden shook his head to clear the last of the sleep away, and
refocusedhisattentiononhisconsole.Aredwarninglightpulsed,andhetappedthescreentoopenup
themenu.Itwashisthreatpanel.Someonewashittingthemwithatargetinglaser.
Heopenedupthethreatdisplayandturnedontheactivesensors.Theonlyshipwithinmillionsof
kilometerswastheRavi,anditwastheshipthatwastargetingthem.Accordingtotheautomaticlogs,
ithadjuststartedafewsecondsearlier.
HereachedouttoactivatethecommandcalltheRaviashisincoming-messagelightflickeredon.
Heopenedtheconnection,andasecondlater,McBride’svoicesaid,“Rocinante,ceasemaneuvering,
openyourouterairlockdoor,andpreparetobeboarded.”
Holdenfrownedathisconsole.Wasthataweirdjoke?
“McBride,thisisHolden.Uh,what?”
Herreplywasinaclippedtonethatwasnotencouraging.
“Holden, open your outer airlock and prepare for boarding. If I see a single defensive system
wakeup,Iwillfireonyourship.Isthatunderstood?”
“No,”hesaid,notquiteabletokeeptheannoyanceoutofhisvoice.“It’snotunderstood.AndI’m
notgoingtoletyouboardme.Whatthehellisgoingon?”
“I’ve been ordered by UNN Command to take control of your vessel. You’re charged with
interferingwithUNNmilitaryoperations,unlawfullycommandeeringUNNmilitaryassets,andalist
ofothercrimesI’mnotgoingtobotherreadingrightnow.Ifyoudonotsurrenderimmediately,we
willbeforcedtofireonyou.”
“Oh,” said Holden. The UNN had discovered that their missiles were changing course, had
attemptedtoreprogramthem,andhaddiscoveredthatthemissilesweren’tlistening.
Theywereupset.
“McBride,” Holden said after a moment. “Boarding us won’t do any good. We can’t give you
thosemissilesback.Andit’sunnecessary,anyway.They’rejusttakingalittledetour.”
McBride’slaughsoundedmorelikethesharpbarkofanangrydogjustbeforeitbit.
“Detour?” she said. “You handed three thousand five hundred and seventy-three high-yield
thermonuclearinterplanetaryballisticmissilesovertoatraitorandaccusedwarcriminal!”
IttookHoldenaminute.
“YoumeanFred?Ithinktraitorisabitharsh—”
McBridecutin.
“Deactivate the false transponders leading our missiles away from Eros, and reactivate the
transpondersonthesurface,orwewillfireonyourship.Youhavetenminutestocomply.”
The connection dropped with a click. Holden looked at the console with something between
disbeliefandoutrage,thenshruggedandhitthebattlestationsalarm.Decklightscameonalloverthe
shipinanangryred.ThewarningKlaxonsoundedthreetimes.Inlessthantwominutes,Alexrushed
uptheladdertothecockpit,andhalfaminutebehindhim,Naomithrewherselfintoheropsstation.
Alexspokefirst.
“TheRaviisfourhundredkilometersaway,”hesaid.“Ladarsayshertubeisopen,andshe’sgot
uslocked.”
Clearlyenunciatinghiswords,Holdensaid,“Donot—Irepeat,donot—openourtubesorattempt
togetatargetlockontheRaviatthistime.Justkeepacloseeyeonher,andpreparetogodefensiveif
shelookslikeshe’sfiring.Let’snotdoanythingtoprovokeher.”
“ShallIbeginjamming?”Naomisaidfrombehindhim.
“No,thatwouldlookaggressive.Butprepacountermeasurespackageandhaveyourfingeronthe
readybutton,”Holdensaid.“Amos,youinengineering?”
“Rogerthat,Cap.Readytogodownhere.”
“Bringthereactoruptoonehundredpercentandpullcontrolofthepointdefensecannonstoyour
consoledownthere.Iftheyshootatusatthisrange,Alexwon’thavetimetoflyandshootback.You
seeareddotonthethreatconsole,youopenupwiththePDCsimmediately.Copy?”
“Rogerthat,”Amossaid.
Holdenblewalongbreaththroughhisteeth,thenopenedthechanneltotheRaviagain.
“McBride,thisisHolden.Wearenotsurrendering,wearenotgoingtoletyouboardus,andwe
aren’tgoingtocomplywithyourdemands.Wheredowegofromhere?”
“Holden,”McBridesaid.“Yourreactoriscomingup.Areyougettingreadytofightwithus?”
“No,justgettingreadytotryandsurvive.Why,arewefighting?”
Anothershortharshlaugh.
“Holden,”McBridesaid.“WhydoIgetthefeelingyouaren’ttakingthisseriously?”
“Oh,Iabsolutelyam,”Holdenreplied.“Idon’twantyoutokillme,andbelieveitornot,Ihaveno
desire to kill you. The nukes are on a little detour, but this isn’t something we need to go down in
flamesover.Ican’tgiveyouwhatyouwant,andI’mnotinterestedinspendingthenextthirtyyearsin
amilitaryprison.Yougainnothingbyshootingus,andIwillfightbackifitcomestothat.”
McBridecutthechannel.
“Captain,”Alexsaid.“TheRaviisstartin’tomaneuver.She’ssprayingclutter.Ithinkshe’sgettin’
readytomakeanattackrun.”
Shit.Holdenhadbeensosurehecouldtalkheroutofit.
“Okay,godefensive.Naomi,startyourcountermeasures.Amos?Gotyourfingeronthatbutton?”
“Ready,”Amosreplied.
“Don’thitituntilyouseeamissilelaunch.Don’twanttoforcetheirhand.”
Suddencrushingg’shitHolden,stuffinghimintohischair.Alexhadstartedmaneuvering.
“Atthisdistance,maybeIcanout-turnher.Keepherfrombein’abletotakeashot,”thepilotsaid.
“Doit,andopenthetubes.”
“Roger,” Alex said, his professional pilot’s calm not quite able to keep the excitement about a
possiblebattleoutofhisvoice.
“I’ve broken the targeting lock,” Naomi said. “Their laser array is not nearly as good as the
Roci’s.I’mjustdrowningitinclutter.”
“HoorayforbloatedMartiandefensebudgets,”Holdenreplied.
Theshipjerkedsuddenlythroughaseriesofwildmaneuvers.
“Damn,”Alexsaid,hisvoicestrainedbytheg-forceofthesharpturns.“TheRavijustopenedup
onuswithherPDCs.”
Holden checked his threat display and saw the long glowing pearl strands of incoming rounds
displayedthere.Theshotswerefallingwellbehindthem.TheRocireportedthedistancebetweenthe
ships as 370 kilometers—pretty long range for computer targeting systems to hit a wildly
maneuveringshipwithaballisticshotfromanotherwildlymaneuveringship.
“Returnfire?”Amosyelledintothecomm.
“No!”Holdenyelledback.“Ifshewantedusdead,she’dbethrowingtorpedoes.Don’tgivehera
reasontowantusdead.”
“Cap,we’reout-turnin’her,”Alexsaid.“TheRoci’sjusttoofast.We’llhaveafiringsolutionin
lessthanaminute.”
“Roger,”Holdensaid.
“DoItaketheshot?”Alexasked,hissillyMartiancowboyaccentfadingashistensionrose.
“No.”
“Theirtargetinglaserjustshutoff,”Naomisaid.
“Which means they’ve given up trying to cut our jamming,” Holden replied, “and have just
switchedtheirmissilesovertoradartracking.”
“Notasaccurate,”Naomisaidhopefully.
“A corvette like that carries at least a dozen fish. They only need to hit us with one to make us
dead.Andatthisrange…”
Agentlesoundcamefromhisthreatconsole,lettinghimknowthattheRocihadcalculatedafiring
solutiontotheRavi.
“I’vegottone!”Alexyelled.“Fire?”
“No!”Holdensaid.HeknewthatinsidetheRavi, they were getting the loud warning buzz of an
enemylock.Stop,Holdenwilledthem.Pleasedon’tmakemekillyou.
“Uh,”Alexsaidinalowvoice.“Huh.”
BehindHolden,atalmostthesamemoment,Naomisaid,“Jim?”
Beforehecouldask,Alexcamebackonthegeneralcomm.
“Hey,Captain,Erosjustcameback.”
“What?”Holdensaid,abriefimageoftheasteroidsneakinguplikeacartoonvillainonthetwo
circlingwarshipspoppingintohishead.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “Eros. It just popped back up on radar. Whatever it was doing to block our
sensors,itjuststoppeddoingit.”
“What’sitdoing?”Holdensaid.“Getmeacourse.”
Naomipulledthetrackinginformationtoherconsoleandbeganworkingonit,butAlexwasdone
afewsecondssooner.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good guess. It’s changing course. Still heading sunward, but deflecting away
fromtheEarthvectoritwason.”
“Ifitkeepsthiscourseandspeed,”Naomichimedin,“I’dsayitwasheadingtowardVenus.”
“Wow,”saidHolden.“Thatwasajoke.”
“Goodjoke,”Naomisaid.
“Well,someonetellMcBrideshedoesn’tneedtoshootusnow.”
“Hey,”Alexsaid,hisvoicethoughtful.“Ifwemadethosenukesstoplistening,thatmeanswecan’t
shut’emdown,right?WonderwhereFred’sgoingtodropthose.”
“HellifIknow,”Amossaid.“JustdisarmedEarth,though.That’sgottabefuckingembarrassing.”
“Unintendedconsequences,”Naomisighed.“Alwayswiththeunintendedconsequences.”
EroscrashingintoVenuswasthemostwidelybroadcastandrecordedeventinhistory.Bythetimethe
asteroid reached the sun’s second planet, several hundred ships had taken up orbits there. Military
vesselstriedtokeepthecivilianshipsaway,butitwasnouse.Theywerejustoutnumbered.Thevideo
ofEros’descentwascapturedbymilitaryguncameras,civilianshiptelescopes,andtheobservatories
ontwoplanetsandfivemoons.
Holdenwishedhecouldhavebeentheretoseeitupclose,butEroshadpickedupspeedafterit
had turned, almost as though the asteroid were impatient for the journey to end now that the
destination was in sight. He and the crew sat in the galley of the Rocinante and watched it on the
broadcastnewsfeeds.Amoshaddugupyetanotherbottleoffauxtequilafromsomewhereandwas
liberallysplashingitintocoffeecups.AlexhadthemflyingtowardTychoatagentleone-thirdg.No
needtohurrynow.
Itwasalloverbutthefireworks.
Holdenreachedout,tookNaomi’shand,andheldittightlyastheasteroidenteredVenusorbitand
then seemed to stop. He felt like he could feel the entire human race holding their breath. No one
knew what Eros—no, what Julie—would do now. No one had spoken to Miller after the last time
Holdenhad,andhewasn’tansweringhishandterminal.Nooneknewforsurewhathadhappenedon
theasteroid.
Whentheendcame,itwasbeautiful.
In orbit around Venus, Eros came apart like a puzzle box. The giant asteroid split into a dozen
chunks, stringing out around the equator of the planet in a long necklace. Then those dozen pieces
split into a dozen more, and then a dozen after that, a glittering fractal seed cloud spreading out
acrosstheentiresurfaceoftheplanet,disappearingintothethickcloudlayerthatusuallyhidVenus
fromview.
“Wow,”Amossaid,hisvoicealmostreverent.
“Thatwasgorgeous,”Naomisaid.“Vaguelyunsettling,butgorgeous.”
“Theywon’tstaythereforever,”Holdensaid.
Alextossedoffthelastofthetequilainhisglass,thenrefilleditfromthebottle.
“Whatd’yamean,Cap?”heasked.
“Well,I’mjustguessing.ButIdoubtthethingsthatbuilttheprotomoleculejustwantedtostoreit
here.Thiswaspartofabiggerplan.WesavedtheEarth,Mars,theBelt.Questionis,whathappens
now?”
NaomiandAlexexchangedglances.Amospursedhislips.On-screen,Venusglitteredasarcsof
lightningdancedallacrosstheplanet.
“Cap,”Amossaid.“Youareseriouslyharshingmybuzz.”
Epilogue:Fred
Frederick Lucius Johnson. Former colonel in Earth’s armed forces, Butcher of Anderson Station.
ThothStationnowtoo.UnelectedprimeministeroftheOPA.Hehadfacedhisownmortalityadozen
times, lost friends to violence and politics and betrayal. He’d lived through four assassination
attempts,onlytwoofwhichwereonanyrecord.He’dkilledapistol-wieldingattackerusingonlya
tableknife.He’dgiventheordersthathadendedhundredsoflives,andstoodbyhisdecisions.
Andyetpublicspeakingstillmadehimnervousashell.Itdidn’tmakesense,butthereitwas.
Ladiesandgentlemen,westandatacrossroads—
“General Sebastian will be at the reception,” his personal secretary said. “Remember not to ask
afterherhusband.”
“Why?Ididn’tkillhim,didI?”
“No,sir.He’shavingaverypublicaffair,andthegeneral’sabittouchyaboutit.”
“Soshemightwantmetokillhim.”
“Youcanmaketheoffer,sir.”
The“greenroom”wasactuallydoneinredandochre,withablackleathercouch,amirroredwall,
andatablelaidoutwithhydroponicstrawberriesandcarefullymineralizeddrinkingwater.Thehead
of Ceres security, a dour-faced woman named Shaddid, had escorted him from the dock to the
conferencefacilitiesthreehoursearlier.Sincethen,he’dbeenpacing—threestepsinonedirection,
turn,threestepsback—likethecaptainofanancientshipofthelineonhisquarterdeck.
Elsewhere in the station, the representatives of the formerly warring factions were in rooms of
their own, with secretaries of their own. Most of them hated Fred, which wasn’t particularly a
problem.Mostofthemfearedhimtoo.NotbecauseofhisstandingintheOPA,ofcourse.Becauseof
theprotomolecule.
The political rift between Earth and Mars was probably irreparable; the Earth forces loyal to
Protogenhadengineeredabetrayaltoodeepforapologies,andtoomanyliveshadbeenlostonboth
sides for the coming peace to look anything like it had been before. The naive among the OPA
thoughtthiswasagoodthing:anopportunitytoplayoneplanetagainsttheother.Fredknewbetter.
Unlessallthreeforces—Earth,Mars,andtheBelt—couldreacharealpeace,theywouldinevitably
fallbackintoarealwar.
Now if only Earth or Mars thought of the Belt as something more than an annoyance to be
squashed after their true enemy was humiliated… But in truth, anti-Mars sentiment on Earth was
highernowthanithadbeenduringtheshootingwar,andMartianelectionswereonlyfourmonths
away.AsignificantshiftintheMartianpolitycouldeasethetensionsormakethingsimmeasurably
worse.Bothsideshadtoseethebigpicture.
Fredstoppedbeforeamirror,adjustedhistunicforthehundredthtime,andgrimaced.
“WhendidIturnintoadamnedmarriagecounselor?”hesaid.
“Wearen’tstilltalkingaboutGeneralSebastian,arewe,sir?”
“No.ForgetIsaidanything.WhatelsedoIneedtoknow?”
“There’sapossibilitythatBlueMarswilltrytodisruptyourpresentation.Hecklersandsigns,not
guns.CaptainShaddidhasseveralBluesincustody,butsomemayhaveslippedpasther.”
“Allright.”
“You have interviews scheduled with two political narrowcasts and a news source based on
Europa.TheEuropainterviewerislikelytoaskaboutAndersonStation.”
“Allright.AnythingnewfromVenus?”
“Something’shappeningdownthere,”hissecretarysaid.
“It’snotdead,then.”
“Apparentlynot,sir.”
“Great,”hesaidbitterly.
Ladiesandgentlemen,westandatacrossroads.Ononehandthereistheveryrealthreatofmutual
annihilation,andontheother—
And on the other, there’s the bogeyman of Venus, getting ready to crawl up out of its well and
slaughteryouallinyoursleep.Ihavethelivesample,whichisyourbest,ifnotonly,hopeofdivining
whatitsintentionsandcapabilitiesare,andwhichIhavehiddensothatyoucan’tjustmarchoverand
takeitfromme.It’stheonlyreasonanyofyouarelisteningtomeinthefirstplace.Sohowabouta
littlerespecthere?
Hissecretary’sterminalchirped,andsheconsulteditbriefly.
“It’sCaptainHolden,sir.”
“DoIhaveto?”
“Itwouldbebestifhefelthewaspartoftheeffort,sir.Hehasatrackrecordofamateurpress
releases.”
“Fine.Bringhimin.”
TheweeksthathadpassedsinceErosStationhadcomeapartinthethickskiesofVenushadbeen
good to Holden, but prolonged high-g dives like the one the Rocinante had sustained chasing Eros
hadlong-lastingeffects.Theburstbloodvesselsintheman’ssclerahadhealed;thepressurebruising
wasgonefromaroundhiseyesandthebackofhisneck.Onlyalittlehesitationinthewayhewalked
spokeofthedeepjointpain,cartilagestillonitswaybacktoitsnaturalform.Accelerationswagger,
they’dcalledit,backwhenFredhadbeenadifferentman.
“Hey,” Holden said. “You’re looking pretty. Did you see the latest feed from Venus? Twokilometer-highcrystaltowers.Whatdoyouthinkthatis?”
“Your fault?” Fred suggested, keeping the tone friendly. “You could have told Miller to drive it
intothesun.”
“Yes,becausetwo-kilometer-highcrystaltowerscomingoutofthesunwouldn’tbecreepyatall,”
Holdensaid.“Arethosestrawberries?”
“Havesome,”Fredsaid.Hehadn’tbeenabletoeatanythingsincethatmorning.
“So,”Holdensaidaroundamouthfuloffruit,“aretheyreallygoingtosuemeoverthis?”
“Unilaterallygivingawayallmineralanddevelopmentrightstoanentireplanetonanopenradio
channel?”
“Yeah,”Holdensaid.
“Iwouldguessthepeoplewhoactuallyownedthoserightsareprobablygoingtosueyou,”Fred
said.“Iftheyeverfigureoutwhotheyare.”
“Couldyougivemeahandwiththat?”Holdenasked.
“I’llbeacharacterwitness,”Fredsaid.“Idon’tactuallymakethelaw.”
“Thenwhatexactlyareyoualldoinghere?Couldn’ttherebesomekindofamnesty?Weretrieved
theprotomolecule,trackeddownJulieMaoonEros,brokeProtogen,andsavedEarth.”
“YousavedEarth?”
“Wehelped,”Holdensaid,buthisvoicehadamoresombertone.Miller ’sdeathstillbotheredthe
captain.Fredknewhowthatfelt.“Itwasajointeffort.”
Fred’spersonalsecretaryclearedherthroatandglancedtowardthedoor.They’dneedtogosoon.
“I’lldowhatIcan,”Fredsaid.“I’vegotalotofotherthingsontheplate,butI’lldowhatIcan.”
“AndMarscan’thavetheRociback,”Holdensaid.“Rightofsalvagesaysthat’smyshipnow.”
“Theyaren’tgoingtoseeitthatway,butIwilldowhatIcan.”
“Youkeepsayingthat.”
“ItkeepsbeingallIcando.”
“Andyou’lltellthemabouthim,right?”Holdensaid.“Miller.Hedeservesthecredit.”
“TheBelterwhowentbackintoErosofhisownfreewillinordertosaveEarth?You’redamn
rightI’mgoingtotellthemabouthim.”
“Not‘theBelter.’Him.JosephusAloisusMiller.”
Holdenhadstoppedeatingthefreestrawberries.Fredcrossedhisarms.
“You’vebeenreadingup,”Fredsaid.
“Yeah.Well.Ididn’tknowhimallthatwell.”
“Neither did anybody else,” Fred said, and then softened a little. “I know it’s hard, but we don’t
needarealmanwithacomplexlife.WeneedasymboloftheBelt.Anicon.”
“Sir,”thesecretarysaid.“Wereallydoneedtogonow.”
“That’s what got us here,” Holden said. “Icons. Symbols. People without names. All of those
Protogen scientists were thinking about biomass and populations. Not Mary who worked in supply
andraisedflowersinhersparetime.Noneofthemkilledher.”
“Youthinktheywouldn’thave?”
“Ithinkiftheyweregoingto,theyowedittohertoknowhername.Alltheirnames.Andyouowe
ittoMillernottomakehimintosomethinghewasn’t.”
Fredlaughed.Hecouldn’thelpit.
“Captain,”hesaid,“ifyou’resayingthatIshouldamendmyaddresstothepeaceconferenceso
that it wasn’t a noble Belter sacrificing himself to save the Earth—if you’re suggesting that I say
somethinglike‘Wehappenedtohaveasuicidalex-copon-site’instead—youunderstandthisprocess
lessthanIthoughtyoudid.Miller ’ssacrificeisatool,andI’mgoingtouseit.”
“Evenifitmakeshimfaceless,”Holdensaid.“Evenifitmakeshimsomethingheneverwas?”
“Especiallyifitmakeshimsomethingheneverwas,”Fredsaid.“Doyourememberwhathewas
like?”
Holdenfrownedandthensomethingflickeredinhiseyes.Amusement.Memory.
“Hewaskindofapainintheass,wasn’the?”Holdensaid.
“ThatmancouldtakeavisitationfromGodwiththirtyunderdressedangelsannouncingthatsex
wasokayafterallandmakeitseemvaguelydepressing.”
“Hewasagoodman,”Holdensaid.
“Hewasn’t,”Fredsaid.“Buthedidhisjob.AndnowI’vegottogodomine.”
“Give’emhell,”Holdensaid.“Andamnesty.Keeptalkinguptheamnesty.”
Fredwalkeddownthecurvinghallway,hissecretaryclosebehindhim.Theconferencehallshad
beendesignedforsmallerthings.Pettyones.Hydroponicsscientistsgettingawayfromtheirhusbands
andwivesandchildrentogetdrunkandtalkaboutraisingbeansprouts.Minerscomingtogetherto
lecture each other about waste minimization and tailings disposal. High school band competitions.
Andinstead,theseworkcarpetsandbrushed-stonewallsweregoingtohavetobearthefulcrumof
history.ItwasHolden’sfaultthattheshabby,smallsurroundingsremindedhimofthedeaddetective.
Theyhadn’tbefore.
The delegations were seated across the aisle from each other. The generals and political
appointeesandgeneralsecretariesofEarthandMars,thetwogreatpowerstogetherathisinvitation
to Ceres, to the Belt. Territory made neutral because neither side took it seriously enough to be
concernedabouttheirdemands.
Allofhistoryhadbroughtthemhere,tothismoment,andnow,inthenextfewminutes,Fred’sjob
was to change that trajectory. The fear was gone. Smiling, he stepped up to the speaker ’s dais, the
podium.
Thepulpit.
Therewasascatteringofpoliteapplause.Afewsmiles,andafewfrowns.Fredgrinned.Hewasn’t
amananymore.Hewasasymbol,anicon.Anarrativeabouthimselfandabouttheforcesatplayin
thesolarsystem.
Andforamoment,hewastempted.Inthathesitationbetweendrawingbreathandspeaking,partof
himwonderedwhatwouldhappenifheshedthepatternsofhistoryandspokeabouthimselfasaman,
abouttheJoeMillerwhohe’dknownbriefly,abouttheresponsibilitytheyallsharedtoteardownthe
imagestheyheldofoneanotherandfindthegenuine,flawed,conflictedpeopletheyactuallywere.
Itwouldhavebeenanoblewaytofail.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “We stand at a crossroads. On one hand, there is the very real
threatofmutualannihilation.Ontheother…”
Hepausedforeffect.
“Ontheother,thestars.”
extras
meettheauthor
JAMESS.A.COREYisthepennameoffantasyauthorDanielAbrahamandTyFranck,GeorgeR.R.
Martin’s assistant. They both live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Find out more about this series at
www.the-expanse.com.
interview
LeviathanWakesisthefirstbookinaseriescalledTheExpanse.Whatkindofstoryareyoutelling
inthisseries?
There’salotofsciencefictionthattalksaboutthenearfuture.There’salotaboutgreatgalaxyspanningempiresofthedistantfuture.Butthere’snotmuchthattalksaboutthepartinbetween.
The Expanse is playing on that bridge. Whatever drives us off Earth to the rest of the solar
systemorfromtheretothestars,theproblemswehavearetheoneswebringwithus.WhatI
wanttodoiswritegoodold-fashionedspaceoperacenteredaroundhumanstories,butwithan
increasinglylargebackdrop.
ItseemslikeLeviathanWakesisasciencefictionbook,butitborrowsfromalotofothergenresas
well, including horror and noir. Did you intend to blend those genres? What kind of book do you
feelthisis?
It’sdefinitelysciencefictionoftheold-schoolspaceoperavariety.That’sthestoryIwantedto
tell.Buthalfofthestorywasadetectivestory,andassoonasDetectiveMillerhitthepage,he
toldmeinaloudvoicethathewasaclassicnoircharacter.Itwasinhisvoiceandthewayhe
talkedaboutthings,youknow?Asforthehorrorfeel,that’sjustthewayIroll.I’veneverwritten
anythinginmylifethatdidn’tatleastblurthelineintohorror.IfIwrotegreetingcards,they’d
probablyhaveasquickfactor.
LeviathanWakeshastwoprotagonistswithverydifferentworldviews,whichareofteninconflict.
Canyoudescribethoseviewsandwhyyouchosethatparticularconflict?
You know how they say science fiction is about the future you’re writing about, but it’s also
aboutthetimeyou’rewritingin?HoldenandMillerhavegottwodifferentviewsontheethical
use of information. That’s very much a current argument. Holden’s my holy fool. He’s an
idealist,amanwhofacesthingswiththisveryoptimisticviewofhumanity.Hebelievesthatif
you give people all of the information, they’ll do the right thing with it, because people are
naturallygood.Millerisacynicandanihilist.Helooksatthedisseminationofinformationasa
gameyouplay.Hedoesn’thavefaithinanyoneelse’smoraljudgment.Controlofinformationis
how you get people to do what you want, and he doesn’t trust anyone else to make that call. I
pickedthosetwocharactersbecausethey’rebothright,andthey’rebothwrong.Byhavingthem
in the same story, I can have them talk to each other. And that central disagreement is sort of
underneatheverythingelsethathappens.
LeviathanWakeshasagrittyandrealisticfeel.Howmuchresearchdidyoudoonthetechnology
sideofthings,andhowimportantwasittoyouthattheyberealisticandaccurate?
Okay,sowhatyou’rereallyaskingmethereisifthisishardsciencefiction.Theanswerisan
emphatic no. I have nothing but respect for well-written hard science fiction, and I wanted
everything in the book to be plausible enough that it doesn’t get in the way. But the rigorous
how-towiththemathshown?It’snotthatstory.Thisisworkingman’ssciencefiction.It’slikein
Alien,wemeetthecrewoftheNostromodoingtheirjobsinthisveryblue-collarenvironment.
They’re truckers, right? Why is there a room in the Nostromo where water leaks down off of
chainssuspendedfromtheceiling?Becauseitlookscoolandmakestheworldfeelalittlemessy.
Itgivesyouthefeeloftheworld.RidleyScottdoesn’texplainwhythatroomexists,andwhen
most people watch the film, it never even occurs to them to ask. What kind of drive does the
Nostromouse?Ibetnoonewalkedoutofthefilmaskingthatquestion.Iwantedtotellastory
abouthumanslivingandworkinginawell-populatedsolarsystem.Iwantedtoconveyafeeling
ofwhatthatwouldbelike,andthentellastoryaboutthepeoplewholivethere.
SohowdoestheEpsteindrivework?
Verywell.Efficiently.
InyouracknowledgmentsyouthanktheNewMexicoCriticalMasswritersgroup.Whateffectdid
havingthatworkshopenvironmenthaveonyourwork?
Well, Critical Mass is a lot more than a workshop or critical group. It’s more like a writer ’s
mafia.Justaboutanythingyoumightneed,someoneinthegroupcangetitforyou.WalterJon
Williams, who wrote the brilliant Dread Empire’s Fall space opera series, was there to give
important tips about writing in that genre. S. M. Stirling and Victor Milan write some of best
actioninthebusiness,andtherewasalotofactionforthemtocritique.IanTregillisisanactual
astrophysicist and made himself available for technical questions. Melinda Snodgrass is pretty
muchtheYodaoflettingyouknowwhenyou’vewanderedtoofarawayfromyourplot.Andthe
entiregroup,includingEmilyMah,TerryEngland,andGeorgeR.R.Martin,wastheretoread
andcritiquetheearlydraftsofthebook,andalotofchangesweremadebasedontheiradvice.
You’veworkedwithGeorgeR.R.Martinalotinthepast.Whatkindofadvicedidhehaveforthis
project?
Yes,I’vedoneanumberofprojectswithhiminoneincarnationoranother.Inthiscase,hewas
mostlyjustencouraging.Helikesold-fashionedspaceopera,andhefollowedmyprogresson
the book with great interest. He was also the first to read the final version. He was very
complimentary. He said at one point that it was the best book about vomit zombies he’d ever
read.Thatwasnice.
WheredoyouseetheExpanseseriesgoingfromhere?
Well,I’mcontractedwithOrbitforatleasttwomorebooks.TheyaretitledCaliban’s War and
DandelionSky.Ihopetokeepexploringtheideaofhumanexpansionintothesolarsystemand
beyond, and balancing the very real threats that the galaxy poses for the fledgling human
diaspora against the threats that those same humans will bring with them. For up-to-date
information on what I’m up to and where the project is headed, people can visit www.theexpanse.comandgetthelatest.
introducing
IfyouenjoyedLEVIATHANWAKES,
lookoutfor
CALIBAN’SWAR
BookTwoofTheExpanse
byJamesS.A.Corey
“Snoopy’soutagain,”PrivateHillmansaid.“IthinkhisCOmustbepissedathim.”
Gunnery Sergeant Roberta Draper of the Martian Marine Corps upped the magnification on her
armor ’s heads-up display and looked in the direction Hillman was pointing. Twenty-five hundred
metersaway,asquadoffourUnitedNationsmarinesweretrompingaroundtheiroutpost,backlitby
thegiantgreenhousedometheywereguarding.Agreenhousedomeidenticalinnearlyallrespectsto
thedomethatwasbehindher.
OneofthefourUNmarineshadblacksmudgesonthesidesofhishelmetthatlookedlikebeagle
ears.
“Yep,that’sSnoopy,”Bobbiesaid.“Beenoneverypatroldetailsofartoday.Wonderwhathedid.”
GuarddutyaroundthegreenhousesonGanymedemeantdoingwhatyoucouldtokeepyourmind
occupied.Includingspeculatingonthelivesofthemarinesontheotherside.
Theotherside.Eighteenmonthsbefore,therehadn’tbeensides.Theinnerplanetshadallbeenone
big,happy,slightlydysfunctionalfamily.ThentheErosincident,andnowthetwosuperpowerswere
dividingupthesolarsystembetweenthem,andtheonemoonneithersidewaswillingtogiveupwas
Ganymede,breadbasketoftheJoviansystem.
Astheonlymoonwithanymagnetosphere,itwastheonlyplacewheredome-growncropsstooda
chanceinJupiter ’sharshradiationbelt,andeventhere,thedomesandhabitatshadtobeshieldedto
protectciviliansfromtheeightremsadayburningoffJupiterandontothemoon’ssurface.
Bobbie’s armor had been designed to let a soldier walk through a nuclear bomb crater an hour
aftertheblast.ItalsoworkedwellatkeepingJupiterfromfryingMartianmarines.
Behind the Earth soldiers on patrol, their dome glowed in a shaft of weak sunlight captured by
enormousorbitalmirrors.Evenwiththemirrors,mostterrestrialplantswouldhavedied,starvedof
sunlight. Only the heavily modified versions the Ganymede scientists cranked out could hope to
surviveinthetrickleoflightthemirrorsfedthem.
“Be sunset soon,” Bobbie said, still watching the Earth marines outside their little guard hut,
knowingtheywerewatchinghertoo.InadditiontoSnoopy,shespottedtheonetheycalledStumpy
because he or she couldn’t be much more than a meter and a half tall. She wondered what their
nicknameforherwas.MaybeBigRed.HerarmorstillhadtheMartiansurfacecamouflageonit.She
hadn’tbeenonGanymedelongenoughtogetitresurfacedwithmottledgrayandwhite.
Onebyone,overthecourseoffiveminutes,theorbitalmirrorswinkedoutasGanymedepassed
behindJupiterforafewhours.Theglowfromthegreenhousebehindherchangedtoactinicblueas
theartificiallightscameon.Whiletheoveralllightleveldidn’tgodownmuch,theshadowsshiftedin
strangeandsubtleways.Above,thesun—notevenadiskfromhereasmuchasthebrighteststar—
flashedasitpassedbehindJupiter ’slimb,andforamomenttheplanet’sfaintringsystemwasvisible.
“They’regoingbackin,”CorporalTravissaid.“Snoop’sbringinguptherear.Poorguy.Canwe
bailtoo?”
BobbielookedaroundatthefeaturelessdirtyiceofGanymede.Eveninherhigh-techarmorshe
couldfeelthemoon’schill.
“Nope.”
Her squad grumbled but fell in line as she led them on a slow low-gravity shuffle around the
dome.InadditiontoHillmanandTravis,shehadagreenprivatenamedGourabonthispatrol.And
eventhoughhe’dbeeninthemarinesallofaboutaminuteandahalf,hegrumbledjustasloudasthe
othertwoinhisMarinerValleydrawl.
Shecouldn’tblamethem.Itwasmake-work.SomethingfortheMartiansoldiersonGanymedeto
dotokeepthembusy.IfEarthdecideditneededGanymedealltoitself,fourgruntswalkingaround
thegreenhousedomewouldn’tstopthem.WithdozensofEarthandMarswarshipsinatensestandoff
inorbit,ifhostilitiesbrokeout,thegroundpounderswouldprobablyfindoutonlywhenthesurface
bombardmentbegan.
To her left, the dome rose to almost half a kilometer: triangular glass panels separated by
gleamingcopper-coloredstrutsthatturnedtheentirestructureintoamassiveFaradaycage.Bobbie
hadneverbeeninsideoneofthegreenhousedomes.She’dbeensentoutfromMarsaspartofahuge
surgeintroopstotheouterplanetsandhadbeenwalkingpatrolsonthesurfacealmostsincedayone.
Ganymede to her was a spaceport, a small marine base, and the even smaller guard outpost she
currentlycalledhome.
Astheyshuffledaroundthedome,Bobbiewatchedtheunremarkablelandscape.Ganymededidn’t
changemuchwithoutacatastrophicevent.Thesurfacewasmostlysilicaterockandwatericeafew
degreeswarmerthanspace.Theatmospherewasoxygensothinitcouldpassasanindustrialvacuum.
Ganymededidn’tweather.Itchangedwhenrocksfellonitfromspace,orwhenwarmwaterfromthe
liquidcoreforceditselfontothesurfaceandcreatedshort-livedlakes.Neitherthinghappenedallthat
often.AthomeonMars,windanddustchangedthelandscapehourly.Here,shewaswalkingthrough
thefootstepsofthedaybeforeandthedaybeforeandthedaybefore.Andifshenevercameback,
thosefootprintswouldoutliveher.Privately,shethoughtitwassortofcreepy.
A rhythmic squeaking started to cut through the normally smooth hiss and thump sounds her
poweredarmormade.Sheusuallykeptthesuit’sHUDminimized.Itgotsocrowdedwithinformation
thatamarinekneweverythingexceptwhatwasactuallyinfrontofher.Nowshepulleditup,using
blinksandeyemovementstopageovertothesuit’sdiagnosticscreen.Ayellowtelltalewarnedher
thatthesuit’sleftkneeactuatorwaslowonhydraulicfluid.Mustbealeaksomewhere,butaslowone,
becausethesuitcouldn’tfindit.
“Hey, guys, hold up a minute,” Bobbie said. “Hilly, you have any extra hydraulic fluid in your
pack?”
“Yep,”saidHillman,alreadypullingitout.
“Givemyleftkneeasquirt,wouldyou?”
While Hillman crouched in front of her, working on her suit, Gourab and Travis began an
argumentthatseemedtobeaboutsports.Bobbietuneditout.
“Thissuitisancient,”Hillmansaid.“Youreallyoughtaupgrade.Thissortofthingisjustgoingto
happenmoreandmoreoften,youknow.”
“Yeah,Ishould,”Bobbiesaid.Butthetruthwasthatwaseasiersaidthandone.Bobbiewasnotthe
rightshapetofitintooneofthestandardsuits,andthemarinesmadeherjumpthroughaseriesof
flaminghoopseverytimesherequisitionedanewcustomone.Attwometerstall,shewasonlyabit
aboveaverageheightforaMartianmale,butthanksinparttoherPolynesianancestry,sheweighedin
at more than 140 kilos at one g. It wasn’t fat, but her muscles seemed to get bigger every time she
evenwalkedthroughaweightroom,andasamarine,shetrainedallthetime.
The suit she had now was the first one in twelve years of active duty that actually seemed to fit
well.Andeventhoughitwasbeginningtoshowitsage,itwasjusteasiertotrytokeepitrunningthan
begandpleadforanewone.
HillmanwasjuststartingtoputhistoolsawaywhenBobbie’sradiocrackledtolife.
“Outpostfourtostickman.Comein,stickman.”
“Rogerfour,”Bobbiereplied.“Thisisstickmanone.Goahead.”
“Stickmanone,whereareyouguys?You’rehalfanhourlateandsomeshitisgoingdownover
here.”
“Sorry four, some equipment trouble here,” Bobbie said, wondering what sort of shit might be
goingdown,butnotenoughtoaskaboutitoveranopenfrequency.
“Return to the outpost immediately. We have shots fired at the UN outpost. We’re going into
lockdown.”
IttookBobbieamomenttoparsethat.Shecouldseehermenstaringather,theirfacesamixof
puzzlementandfear.
“Uh,theEarthguysareshootingatyou?”shefinallyasked.
“Notyet,butthey’reshooting.Getyourassesbackhere.”
Hillman jumped to his feet. Bobbie flexed her knee once and got greens on her diagnostic. She
gaveHillyanodofthanks,thensaid,“Double-timeitbacktotheoutpost.Go.”
Bobbieandhersquadwerestillhalfakilometerfromtheoutpostwhenthegeneralalertwentout.Her
suit’sHUDcameuponitsown,switchingtocombatmode.Thesensorpackagewenttoworklooking
for hostiles and linked up to one of the satellites for a top-down view. She felt the click as the gun
builtintothesuit’srightarmswitchedtofree-firemode.
Athousandalarmswouldbesoundingifanorbitalbombardmenthadbegun,butshecouldn’thelp
lookingupattheskyanyway.Noflashesormissiletrails.NothingbutJupiter ’sbulk.
Bobbietookofffortheoutpostatadeadrun.Hersquadfollowedwithoutaword.Apersontrained
intheuseofastrength-augmentingsuitrunninginlowgravitycouldcoveralotofgroundquickly.
Theoutpostcameintoviewaroundthecurveofthedomeinjustafewseconds,andafewseconds
afterthat,thecauseofthealarm.
UN marines were charging at the Martian outpost. The yearlong cold war was going hot.
Somewhere deep behind the cool mental habits of training and discipline, she was surprised. She
hadn’treallythoughtthisdaywouldcome.
The rest of her platoon were out of the outpost and arranged in a firing line facing the UN
position.SomeonehaddrivenYojimbooutontotheline,andthefour-meter-tallcombatmechtowered
over the other marines, looking like a headless giant in power armor, his massive cannon moving
slowly as it tracked the incoming Earth troops. The UN soldiers were covering the 2,500 meters
betweenthetwooutpostsatfullspeed.
Whyisn’tanyonetalking?shewondered.Thesilencecomingfromherplatoonwaseerie.
Andthen,justashersquadgottothefiringline,hersuitsquealedajammingwarningather.The
top-down vanished as she lost contact with the satellite. Her team’s life signs and equipment status
reports went dead as her link to their suits was cut off. The faint static of the open comm channel
disappeared,leavinganevenmoreunsettlingsilence.
She used hand motions to place her team at the right flank, then moved up the line to find
LieutenantGivens,herCO.Shespottedhissuitrightatthecenteroftheline,almostdirectlyunder
Yojimbo.Sheranupandplacedherhelmetagainsthis.
“Whatthefuckisgoingon,ElTee?”sheshouted.
He gave her an irritated look and yelled, “Your guess is as good as mine. We can’t tell them to
backoffbecauseofthejamming,andvisualwarningsarebeingignored.Beforetheradiocutout,I
gotauthorizationtofireiftheycomewithinhalfaklickofourposition.”
Bobbie had a couple hundred more questions, but the UN troops would cross the five-hundredmeter mark in just a few more seconds, so she ran back to anchor the right flank with her squad.
Along the way, she had her suit count the incoming forces and mark them all as hostiles. The suit
reportedseventargets.LessthanathirdoftheUNtroopsattheiroutpost.
Thismakesnosense.
ShehadhersuitdrawalineontheHUDatthefive-hundred-metermark.Shedidn’ttellherboys
thatwasthefree-firezone.Shedidn’tneedto.They’dopenfirewhenshedidwithoutneedingtoknow
why.
The UN soldiers had crossed the one-kilometer mark, still without firing a shot. They were
coming in a scattered formation, with six out front in a ragged line, and a seventh bringing up the
rearaboutseventymetersbehind.HersuitHUDselectedthefigureonthefarleftoftheenemylineas
hertarget,pickingtheoneclosesttoherbydefault.Somethingitchedatthebackofherbrainandshe
overrodethesuitandselectedthetargetattherearandtoldittomagnify.
Thesmallfiguresuddenlyenlargedinhertargetingreticule.Shefeltachillmovedownherback
andmagnifiedagain.
The figure chasing the six UN marines wasn’t wearing a suit. Nor was it, properly speaking,
human.Itsskinwascoveredinchitinousplates,likelargeblackscales.Itsheadwasamassivehorror,
easilytwiceaslargeasitshouldbeandcoveredinstrangeprotrudinggrowths.
Butmostdisturbingofallwereitshands.Fartoolargeforitsbody,andtoolongfortheirwidth,
theywereachildhood-nightmareversionofhands.Thehandsofthetrollunderthebedorthewitch
sneakinginthroughthewindow.Theyflexedandgraspedatnothingwithaconstantmanicenergy.
TheEarthforcesweren’tattacking.Theywereretreating.
“Shootthethingchasingthem,”Bobbieyelledtonoone.
BeforetheUNsoldierscouldcrossthehalfkilometerthatwouldcausetheMartianstoopenfire,
thethingcaughtthem.
“Oh,holyshit,”Bobbiewhispered.“Holyshit.”
It grabbed one UN marine in its huge hands and tore the man in half like paper. Titanium and
ceramic armor tore as easily as the flesh inside, spilling broken bits of technology and wet human
viscera indiscriminately onto the ice. The remaining five soldiers ran even harder, but the monster
chasingthembarelyslowedasitkilled.
“Shoot it shoot it shoot it,” Bobbie screamed and opened fire. Bobbie’s training and the
technologyofhercombatsuitcombinedtomakeheranextremelyefficientkillingmachine.Assoon
asherfingerpulledthetriggeronhersuit’sgun,astreamoftwo-millimeterarmor-piercingrounds
streakedoutatthecreatureatathousandmeterspersecond.Injustunderonesecond,shefirednearly
fiftyroundsatit.Itwasarelativelyslow-movinghuman-sizedtarget,runninginastraightline.Her
targetingcomputercoulddoballisticcorrectionsthatwouldletherhitasoftball-sizedobjectmoving
atsupersonicspeeds.Everybulletshefiredatthemonsterhit.
Itdidn’tmatter.
Theroundswentthroughit,probablynotslowingappreciablybeforetheyexited.Eachexitwound
sproutedasprayofblackfilamentsthatfellontothesnowinsteadofblood.Itwaslikeshootingwater.
Thewoundsclosedalmostfasterthantheywerecreated;theonlysignthethinghadevenbeenhitwas
thetrailofblackfibersinitswake.
AndthenitcaughtasecondUNmarine.Insteadoftearinghimtopieceslikeithadthelastone,it
spunandhurledthefullyarmoredEarther—probablymassingmorethanfivehundredkilostotal—
towardBobbie.HerHUDtrackedtheUNsoldieronhisupwardarcandhelpfullyinformedherthat
themonsterhadthrownhimnottowardher,butather.Inaveryflattrajectory.Whichmeantfast.
Shedovetothesideasquicklyashersuitwouldlether.ThehaplessUNmarineswipedHillman,
who’dbeenstandingnexttoher,andthenbothofthemweregone,bouncingdowntheiceatlethal
speeds.
Bythetimesheturnedbacktothemonster,ithadkilledtwomoreUNsoldiers.
The entire Martian line opened fire on it, including Yojimbo’s big cannon. The two remaining
Earth soldiers diverged and ran at angles away from the thing, trying to give their Martian
counterpartsanopenfiringlane.Thecreaturewashithundreds,thousandsoftimes.Itstitcheditself
backtogetherwhileremainingatafullrun,nevermorethanslowingwhenoneofYojimbo’scannon
shotsdetonatednearby.
Bobbie, back on her feet, joined in the barrage but it didn’t make any difference. The creature
slammedintotheMartianline,killingtwomarinesfasterthantheeyecouldfollow.Yojimbo slid to
oneside,farmorenimblethanamachineofitssizeshouldbe.BobbiethoughSa’idmustbedriving
it. He swore he could make the big mech dance the tango when he wanted to. It didn’t matter. Even
beforeSa’idcouldbringthemech’scannonaroundforapoint-blankshot,thecreatureranrightup
itsside,grippedthepilothatch,andtorethedooroffitshinges.Sa’idwassnatchedfromhiscockpit
harnessandhurledsixtymetersstraightup.
Theothermarineshadbeguntofallback,firingastheywent.Withoutradio,therewasnowayto
coordinate the retreat. Bobbie found herself running toward the dome with the rest. The small and
distantpartofhermindthatwasn’tpanickingknewthatthedome’sglassandmetalwouldofferno
protection against something that could tear an armored man in half and rip a nine-ton mech to
pieces.Thatpartofhermindrecognizedthefutilityinattemptingtooverrideherterror.
Bythetimeshefoundtheexternaldoortothedome,therewasonlyoneothermarineleftwithher.
Gourab.Upclose,shecouldseehisfacethroughthearmoredglassofhishelmet.Hewasscreaming
something at her she couldn’t hear. She started to lean forward to touch helmets with him when he
shovedherbackwardontotheice.Hewashammeringonthedoorcontrolswithonemetalfist,trying
tosmashhiswayininhismindlesspanic,whenthecreaturecaughthimandpeeledthehelmetoffhis
suit. Gourab stood for one moment, face in vacuum, eyes blinking and mouth open in a soundless
scream;thenthecreaturetoreoffhisheadaseasilyasithadhishelmet.
ItturnedandlookedatBobbie,stillflatonherback.
Upclose,shecouldseethatithadbrightblueeyes.Aglowing,electricblue.Theywerebeautiful.
Sheraisedhergunandhelddownthetriggerforhalfasecondbeforesherealizedshe’drunoutof
ammo long before. The creature looked at her gun with what she would have sworn was curiosity,
thenlookedintohereyesandcockeditsheadtooneside.
Thisisit,shethought.ThisishowIgoout,andI’mnotgoingtoknowwhatdidit,orwhy. Dying
shecouldhandle.Dyingwithoutanyanswersseemedterriblycruel.
Thecreaturetookonesteptowardher,thenstoppedandshuddered.Anewpairoflimbsburstout
ofitsmidsectionandwrithedintheairliketentacles.Itshead,alreadygrotesque,seemedtoswellup.
Theblueeyesflashedasbrightasthelightsinthedomes.
Andthenitexplodedinaballoffirethathurledherawayacrosstheiceandslammedherintoa
lowridgehardenoughfortheimpact-absorbinggelinhersuittogorigid,freezingherinplace.
Shelayonherback,fadingtowardunconsciousness.Thenightskyaboveherbegantoflashwith
light.Theshipsinorbit,shooting.
Cease fire, she thought, pressing the thought out into the blackness. They were retreating. Cease
fire.Herradiowasstillout.Shecouldn’ttellanyonethattheUNmarineshadn’tbeenattacking.
Orthatsomethingelsehad.