“But they’re crazy mass murderers.”
“Yes,” Fred said. “And we don’t know who they are. Dawes does. I don’t.”
“Wait a minute,” Holden said. “Hold on. Are you about to propose that you trade Sakai to this Dawes guy so that you can feed the names of whoever’s behind dropping rocks on Earth to Avasarala? How many times are you looking to change sides in one career?”
“I never changed sides,” Fred said. “The sides keep changing around me. I was always the one who wanted order. Peace. Justice, even. What happened at Anderson Station opened my eyes to things I hadn’t seen. Or had chosen not to see. Now this…”
“It’s done the same thing again.”
“I don’t know what it’s done. That’s what I’m trying to decide. There have always been radicals within the OPA. The Voltaire Collective. Marco Inaros. Cassandra Lec. But they were on the margins, where we thought we could control them. Keep them in line, or if not always that, use their excesses to make the mainstream places like Ceres and Tycho seem the least of the available evils. Now, they’re in charge. I don’t know if the best thing is to declare against them or stand beside them and try to control the fall.” He shook his head.
“Your friend Dawes seems to be in bed with them already.”
“His loyalty’s to the Belt. When the best thing was to find a way to be respected as an equal by the inner planets, that was what he aimed for. My loyalty is to… everyone. There was a long time that meant speaking for the people who had the least voice. Then the protomolecule came and changed the game, and now, if riding beside the radicals gives me the most influence… As long as my people hold Medina, no one can ignore me. I can throw in on whichever side I think it will do the most good to be on, in the long-term.”
“That sounds like post hoc realpolitik rationalizing bullshit,” Holden said. And then a moment later, “Sir.”
“It is,” Fred said. “But it’s what I’ve got to work with. If I commission the Rocinante to take me to Luna and the meeting with Avasarala, will you accept the job?”
“If we finish checking all of Sakai’s work and you bring your own crew, sure. Or, better, we go pick up mine from wherever they’ve gotten to.”
“And if I hire you to take me and the prisoner to Pallas?”
“Then you can go fuck yourself.”
Fred chuckled and stood up, checking his sidearm. “I do always enjoy our little chats, Captain. Take the day off. I’ll get back to you when I’ve made a decision. Either way.”
“Where are you going now?”
“To talk with Sakai,” Fred said. “See if there’s anything abou
t this I can glean from him. The prospect of not getting thrown out one of my airlocks might make him more willing to talk with me.” He looked at Holden, and his expression shifted to a strange place at the friction point between pitying and pleading. “I try to do the right thing, Holden. But there are times when it’s not obvious what that is.”
“I agree with you,” Holden said. “Right up to the part where you tell me this is one of those times.”
Holden was in a Thai restaurant eating peanut curry that was, as far as he could remember from his childhood on Earth, totally unlike anything served on a planet’s surface. A piece of not-chicken floated on top of the not-curry, and Holden was pushing it under with a chopstick and watching it pop back to the surface when two messages came through. The first was from Mother Elise. The family was all right so far. They were under an environmental watch, but no evacuation orders had come. Not, she said with one lifted eyebrow, that there was anyplace to evacuate to better prepared and equipped than the ranch. They were sending the spare reactor down to help with the local grid at Three Forks, and waiting to hear from the Jacksons to see if they needed anything. He knew her well enough to see the depth of anxiety in all the things she didn’t say. But when she said goodbye, she promised to be in touch. It was thin comfort, but it was something.
The second message was from Alex.
Bobbie Draper and he were on the prime minister’s ship and burning for Luna with the escort fleet watching their backs. Everyone was pretty freaked-out, but he thought they were okay for the time being. The relief ships were on their way and due in a day or two. He hadn’t had any word from Naomi, wherever she was. Or, more to the point, from Amos. He made a joke about Amos surviving anything, and how this wasn’t the first planet that had blown up on him, but the humor carried the same dread and fear that Holden felt. When Alex signed off, he replayed the whole message from the start three more times, just to hear the familiar voice.
He started to record a response, but the restaurant was too open and too public for the things he wanted to say, so he promised himself he’d get to it when he was back in his quarters. He finished as much of the curry as he could stomach and the restaurant light slowly shifted from yellow to gold, the colors of a false sunset on a planet many of the people there had never seen except on screens. He paid the check and the waiter came, offering a variety of after-dinner desserts or drinks. The man’s gaze lingered long enough that, while it was all within the bounds of politeness, it was pretty clear that Holden could have asked for some other things too.
Holden’s mind shifted on most of the questions. More food, more drink, more sleep, more sex. Any sex. He was aware of a deep and oceanic cavern of want in his belly. Something that was like hunger or thirst, exhaustion or lust, but that wouldn’t be satisfied. He didn’t have words for it, except that it left him quick to anger and despair. Lingering behind it all, the fear that he wouldn’t ever have his crew back on his ship made him feel gut-punched.
And then the word for it came. He was homesick, and the Rocinante, wonderful as she was, wasn’t home unless Alex and Amos and Naomi were in her. He wondered how long the feeling would last if they never came back. How long he’d wait for them, even once he knew they wouldn’t return. The waiter smiled gently down at him.
“Nothing,” Holden said. “Thanks.”
He walked out to the main corridor, mentally rehearsing what he’d say to Alex and how he’d say it. Anything he said was going to be examined by the Martian communications service, so he didn’t want to put anything in it that was open to misinterpretation. The problem with that being that he always knew what he meant by things, and didn’t see the other readings until someone made them. Maybe he could just make a few jokes and say that he was ready to have everyone back together.
When his hand terminal buzzed a connection request, he accepted it, his mind primed to expect Alex even though light delay made that impossible. Drummer scowled out at him from the screen. “Mister Holden, I was wondering if you could stop by the auxiliary security office.”
“I guess,” Holden said, suddenly wary. He still half expected Drummer to turn out to be playing some angle of her own. “Is it something I should know about now?”
A stream of cursing came from the background, growing louder. Drummer stepped aside and Fred lurched into the screen. “If we were talking about it on the network, you wouldn’t be coming in here.”
“Right,” Holden said. “On my way.”