“Amos,” Holden said.
“Sorry, Holden. Captain,” Amos said. “But Jesus wept. We’re getting f**ked here and not the nice way. We’re not gonna do this, are we?”
“I don’t want to disappear into some Martian prison ship forever,” Holden said. “The way I see it, we have two options. Either we go along with this, which is basically throwing ourselves on their mercy. Or we run, try to make it to the Belt and hide.”
“I’m voting for the Belt,” Naomi said, her arms crossed. Amos raised a hand, seconding the motion. Shed slowly raised his own.
Alex shook his head.
“I know the Donnager,” he said. “She’s not some rock hopper. She’s the flagship for the MCRN’s Jupiter fleet. Battleship. Quarter million tons of bad news. You ever serve on a ship that size?”
“No. I wasn’t on anything bigger than a destroyer,” Holden replied.
“I served on the Bandon, with the home fleet. We can’t go anywhere that a ship like that can’t find us. She’s got four main engines, each one bigger than our whole ship. She’s designed for long periods at high g with every sailor on board juiced to the gills. We can’t run, sir, and even if we did, her sensor package could track a golf ball and hit it with a torpedo from half the solar system away.”
“Oh, f**k that, sir,” Amos said, standing up. “These Martian needle dicks blew up the Cant! I say run. At least make it hard for them.”
Naomi put one hand on Amos’ forearm, and the big mechanic paused, shook his head, and sat down. The galley was silent. Holden wondered if McDowell had ever had to make a call like this, and what the old man would have done.
“Jim, this is your decision,” she said, but her eyes were hard. No, what you are going to do is get the remaining four members of your crew to safety. And that’s all.
Holden nodded and tapped his fingers against his lips.
“P and K doesn’t have our back on this one. We probably can’t get away, but I don’t want to disappear either,” Holden said. And then: “I think we go, but we don’t go quietly. Why don’t we go disobey the spirit of an order?”
Naomi finished working on the comm panel, her hair now floating around her like a black cloud in the zero g.
“Okay, Jim, I’m dumping every watt into the comm array. They’ll be getting this loud and clear all the way out to Titania,” she said.
Holden reached up to run one hand through his sweat-plastered hair. In the null gravity, that just made it stick straight out in every direction. He zipped up his flight suit and pressed the record button.
“This is James Holden, formerly of the Canterbury, now on the shuttle Knight. We are cooperating with an investigation into who destroyed the Canterbury and, as part of that cooperation, are agreeing to be taken aboard your ship, the MCRN Donnager. We hope that this cooperation means that we will not be held prisoner or harmed. Any such action would only serve to reinforce the idea that the Canterbury was destroyed by a Martian vessel. James Holden out.”
Holden leaned back. “Naomi, send that out broadband.”
“That’s a dirty trick, Boss,” said Alex. “Pretty hard to disappear us now.”
“I believe in the ideal of the transparent society, Mr. Kamal,” said Holden. Alex grinned, pushed off, and floated down the gangway. Naomi tapped the comm panel, making a small, satisfied sound in the back of her throat.
“Naomi,” Holden said. She turned, her hair waving lazily, like they were both drowning. “If this goes badly, I need you… I need you to… ”
“Throw you to the wolves,” she said. “Blame everything on you and get the others back to Saturn Station safely.”
“Yeah,” Holden said. “Don’t play the hero.”
She let the words hang in the air until the last of the irony leeched out of them.
“Hadn’t crossed my mind, sir,” she said.
“Knight, this is Captain Theresa Yao of the MCRN Donnager,” said the severe-looking woman on the comm screen. “Message received. Please refrain from further general broadcasts. My navigator will be sending course information shortly. Follow that course exactly. Yao out.”
Alex laughed.
“I think you pissed her off,” he said. “Got the course info. They’ll be picking us up in thirteen days. Give her time to really stew on it.”
“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. You may lock in the transmitted course, Mr. Kamal.”
“Roger that, Cap—Huh,” said Alex.
“A problem?”
“Well, the Knight just did her pre-burn sweep for collision objects,” Alex said. “And we have six Belt objects on an intercept course.”
“Belt objects?”
“Fast contacts with no transponder signal,” Alex replied. “Ships, but flyin’ dark. They’ll catch us just about two days before the Donnager does.”
Holden pulled up the display. Six small signatures, yellow-orange shifting toward red. Heavy burn.
“Well,” Holden said to the screen. “And who the hell are you?”
Chapter Eight: Miller
Aggression against the Belt is what Earth and Mars survive on. Our weakness is their strength,” the masked woman said from Miller’s terminal screen. The split circle of the OPA draped behind her, like something painted on a sheet. “Don’t be afraid of them. Their only power is your fear.”
“Well, that and a hundred or so gunships,” Havelock said.
“From what I hear,” Miller said, “if you clap your hands and say you believe, they can’t shoot you.”
“Have to try that sometime.”
“We must rise up!” the woman said, her voice growing shrill. “We have to take our destiny before it is taken from us! Remember the Canterbury!”
Miller shut the viewer down and leaned back in his chair. The station was at its change-of-shift surge, voices raised one over the other as the previous round of cops brought the incoming ones up to speed. The smell of fresh coffee competed with cigarette smoke.
“There’s maybe a dozen like her,” Havelock said, nodding toward the dead terminal screen. “She’s my favorite, though. There’re times I swear she’s actually foaming at the mouth.”