“Don’t do it,” Fayez said.
“Don’t do what?”
“Fall in love with Holden.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped.
“In that case, really don’t do it,” Fayez said with a cynical laugh, and turned away.
Chapter Fourteen: Holden
“This is the first colonial arbitration meeting,” Holden said, looking into the camera at the end of the table. “My name is James Holden. Representing the colony of New Terra—”
“Ilus,” Carol said.
“—is Carol Chiwewe, colony administrator. Representing Royal Charter Energy is chief of security, Adolphus Murtry.”
“How exactly did that happen?” Carol said. She stared at Murtry when she said it, her expression unreadable. Holden had a feeling Carol might be a very good poker player.
Murtry smiled back at her. His face was equally unreadable. “What’s that?”
“You know exactly what I mean,” Carol snapped back. “What are you doing here? You’re hired security. You have no authority to—”
“You put me in this room,” Murtry said, “when you killed the colonial governor. You do remember that? Big explosion? Crashing ship? It would have been hard to miss.”
Holden sighed and leaned back in his uncomfortable chair. He would let the two of them bicker a bit, release some of the venom they’d been storing up, then put his foot down and drag the discussions back on topic.
RCE had offered to host the talks on their shuttle or the Edward Israel, which would have been a lot more comfortable. But the colony had demanded that the meeting be held in First Landing. Which meant that instead of contour-fitted gel filled chairs, they were sitting on whatever metal and plastic monstrosities the colony had lying around. The table was a sheet of epoxied carbon weave sitting on four metal legs, and the room they were using was barely large enough for the table and three chairs. A small shelf on one wall held a coffee pot that was hissing to itself and throwing a bitter scorched smell into the air. Amos leaned against the room’s one door, arms crossed, and with an expression so far beyond bored that he might actually have been asleep.
“—endless accusations without evidence to bolster your own criminal claims of property rights—” Carol was saying.
“Enough,” Holden cut in. “No more outbursts from either of you. I’m here at the request of the UN and OPA to broker some sort of agreement that can let RCE do the scientific work they’re authorized to do, and to keep the people already living on New Terra—”
“Ilus.”
“—Ilus from being harmed in the process.”
“What about RCE employees?” Murtry asked softly. “Are they allowed to be harmed?”
“No,” Holden said. “No, they are not. And so the mandate of these meetings has changed somewhat in light of recent events.”
“I’ve only seen one person murdered since Holden arrived, and that one is on you,” Carol said to Murtry.
“Madam coordinator,” Holden continued, “there can be no further attacks on the RCE personnel. That’s non-negotiable. We can’t work out any sort of deal here unless everyone knows they’re safe.”
“But he—”
“And you,” Holden continued, pointing at Murtry, “are a murderer, and one I intend to see prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law—”
“You have no—”
“—once we return to a region of space that actually has laws,” Holden said. “Which brings us to our first real discussion point. There are two competing claims regarding who has the right to administrate this expedition. We have to establish who makes the laws here.”
Murtry said nothing, but pulled a flexible display out of his coat and unrolled it on the table. It began slowly scrolling through the text of the UN charter giving RCE the scientific mission on New Terra. Carol snorted and pushed it back across the table at him.
“Yes,” Holden said. “RCE has a legal mandate from the UN placing them in control of this planet for the duration of their scientific mission. But we can’t ignore the fact that people had been living on New Terra, or Ilus, for months before that charter was drafted.”
“No, we can’t,” Carol said.
“So we work out a compromise,” Holden said, “that allows RCE to do the work they came here to do. Work which will, we hope, benefit everyone, including the colonists. This is a new world. There may be any number of dangers here we are unaware of. But this compromise must also allow for the possibility that the final decision of the home governments will be to grant Ilus self-governing status.”
Amos snorted and his head jerked up, eyes wide open for a moment and then slowly narrowing back toward closed.
“Yeah, so,” Holden said, “that’s the long boring explanation. The short version is, I want RCE to move forward with doing the science, and I want the colonists to continue living their lives, and I don’t want anyone getting killed. How do we make that happen?”
Murtry tilted his chair back on two legs and stretched out with his hands behind his head. “Well,” he said, “you make a big point of telling me you plan to arrest me once we get back in civilized space.”
“Yes.”
“But by my count the colonists”—he sneered the word—“have racked up about two dozen kills.”
“And when we figure out who the perpetrators are,” Holden said, “they too will go back to Sol system to face trials.”
“You’re a detective now?” Murtry snorted. Holden felt a weird chill run down his spine and looked around as if Miller might somehow have appeared.
“I think that the RCE security force, working in conjunction with Mister Burton and myself, should continue its investigation of those crimes.”
“Wait,” Carol said, leaning forward suddenly in her chair, “I won’t let him—”
“Investigation only. No trials can be held here, so no penalties can be meted out beyond protective detention, and that only with my express consent.”
“Your express consent?” Murtry said, speaking slowly, like he was tasting the words. He smiled. “If they’ll let my team keep looking into the killings while we continue the negotiations here, permit us the right to protect ourselves, and guarantee that anyone with strong evidence against them will be held against future trial, I’m fine with that.”
“Of course he is!” Carol said. “Delay is all he needs to kill us.”
Holden frowned at that. “Explain.”
“We’re not self-supporting yet,” Carol said. “We’ve got the Barb up in orbit. She can bring us fuel cells charged from her drive, and she dropped us with all the food and seeds she had, but we can’t really plant here yet. Soil has the wrong microorganisms in it. We desperately need food stores, soil enrichments, medical supplies.”
“All of which RCE is happy to—” Murtry started.
“But what we do have is the richest lithium vein any of us have ever seen. And with that ore, we can buy everything else we need. The Israel is keeping the Barbapiccola from sending down her shuttle to pick up the rest, and she’s threatened to stop the Barb if she tries to leave orbit.”
“The mineral rights on New Terra are not yours,” Murtry said. “Not until the UN says they are.”
Carol slapped the table with her palm; it was as loud as a gunshot in the small room. “See? It’s a waiting game. If he can just block us from taking our ore up to the ship long enough, then it won’t matter who gets those rights. Even if they’re awarded to us, we’ll be so behind in moving the ore to the ship that we’ll all starve to death before we ever get to market.”