“One or the other.”
Bobbie took a last mouthful of her breakfast, chewed, and swallowed. “Understood,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Clarissa and Alex stood when she did. Part of her wanted to order them to stay back. If things went south, they’d be safe. As if anywhere was safe. She didn’t say anything.
The old Belter led them to an access corridor with a ramp that sank down, out toward the skin of the drum and the emptiness beyond it, the void always just underfoot. They passed two different concealed guard posts that she saw, and while she didn’t think there were any others that had escaped her notice, she couldn’t be sure. The old Belter didn’t say anything, and Amos didn’t try to strike up a conversation.
The warehouse they ended up in was half filled with storage boxes fixed to the deck with maglocks. The lighting was harsh, restricted-wavelength worklights with a flicker that made her feel like her vision was strobing if she moved her hand too quickly. Three men leaned on the crates, their arms loose at their sides so they wouldn’t have to spend the quarter second uncrossing them if things came to violence. Bobbie felt a warmth in her gut, a presentiment of trouble that was almost welcome. Invading ships with unimaginable weapons, protomolecule technology that could rip atoms apart, sudden empires imposed without warning or precedent. She’d grit her teeth and move forward because there wasn’t another option. But thugs in warehouses was territory she understood.
The man in the middle of the three was a Belter, tall and muscular. His skin was the same brown as his hair and eyes. Even if he hadn’t been pretty, he’d have been striking. And he was pretty.
“Heard you wanted to talk,” he said.
Amos looked back at her, and pointed to the pretty man with his chin. He’d gotten them this far, but she was the boss. This was hers now.
“Who’d you hear we wanted to talk to?” Bobbie asked, stepping forward. Clarissa shifted out to her side. As weak and compromised as she looked, they’d underestimate her. Bobbie didn’t know what using the implants would do to Clarissa, but by the time it took its toll, all three of the men would be incapacitated or dead. And that was without her and Amos weighing in.
The pretty man tilted his head.
“Names are dangerous, coyo,” he said.
Bobbie pointed a thumb to herself. “Captain Bobbie Draper.” She turned to the others. “Alex Kamal. Clarissa Mao. Amos Burton. Now, who the fuck are you?”
The pretty man scowled, tilting his head like he was trying to recall a song that was just at the edge of memory. It was a look she’d seen before, and she didn’t feel like helping him place her. Not yet, anyway.
“Saba,” the man said at last, “and that’s enough for you right now.”
“You’re playing this all pretty close to the chest, Saba,” Bobbie said.
“Not interested in being under the authority of the authorities,” he said. “I’ve got reasons for that.”
“Well, I’m not working for Laconia, so we can stop the bullshit, right?”
“Not sure we can,” Saba said. His hand terminal chimed—a sound Bobbie didn’t remember hearing since the crackdown—but he ignored it. Interesting that he had a working hand terminal, though. The chances that he was the real deal went up in her estimation.
“Heard you were looking to get in touch with the underground,” Saba said. “Leaves a man wondering why. You looking to trade with the new boss?”
“Nope,” Bobbie said.
“Then you thinking you’re going to come tell us what to do?”
Bobbie smiled. She could feel her teeth against her lips. Either they were going to back each other down, or this was going to end in blood. She hoped it was the former, but it wasn’t her call. “We were there when that fucking idiot tried to kill the governor. If that’s the level you people are working at, then yes, I’d be happy to help organize. Someone ought to.”
Saba’s face was cool. “Belters been standing under the oppressors’ boot for generations. You think you’ve got something to teach us?”
“Apparently so,” Bobbie said. “Seems like some of you assholes have gotten pretty rusty.”
A little darkness came to Saba’s olive cheeks. He stood up, stepped forward. Bobbie took her own step in to meet him. If she showed weakness now, they’d never take her seriously again. The chirp of his hand terminal seemed to come from another universe.
“What?” Bobbie said, not giving him the tempo. “You planning to do this without any allies? Without any support? You against the Laconian Empire? I’ve seen how that went up to now, and—”
“Saba!”
The new voice came from behind her. She didn’t want to turn her back on the three Belters, but she didn’t want someone unknown at her back eith
er.
“Saba!” the voice said again. It sounded young. Excited. Bobbie threw a glance over her shoulder. A young woman in a green jumpsuit, grinning like someone had just given her a present.