“There’s nothing human left on that station. What’s your part in all of this? You armchair quarterbacking now?”
It came out nastier than he’d intended, but Miller didn’t appear offended.
“I’ll be coordinating security.”
“Security? Why will they need security?”
Miller smiled. All his smiles looked like he was hearing a good joke at a funeral.
“In case something crawls out of an airlock, tries to thumb a ride,” he said.
Holden frowned. “I don’t like to think those things can get around in vacuum. I don’t like that idea at all.”
“Once we bring the surface temp of Eros up to a nice balmy ten thousand degrees, I’m thinking it won’t matter much,” Miller replied. “Until then, best be safe.”
Holden found himself wishing he shared the detective’s confidence.
“What are the odds the impact and detonations just break Eros into a million pieces and scatter them all over the solar system?” Naomi asked.
“Fred’s got some of his best engineers calculating everything to the last decimal to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Miller replied. “Tycho helped build Eros in the first place. They’ve got the blueprints.”
“So,” said Fred. “Let’s deal with the last bit of business.”
Holden waited.
“You still have the protomolecule,” Fred said.
Holden nodded again. “And?”
“And,” replied Fred. “And the last time we sent you out, your ship was almost wrecked. Once Eros has been nuked, it will be the only confirmed sample around, outside of what might still be on Phoebe. I can’t find any reason to let you keep it. I want it to remain here on Tycho when you go.”
Holden stood up, shaking his head.
“I like you, Fred, but I’m not handing that stuff over to anyone who might see it as a bargaining chip.”
“I don’t think you have a lot of—” Fred started, but Holden held up a finger and cut him off. While Fred stared at him in surprise, he grabbed his terminal and opened the crew channel.
“Alex, Amos, either of you on the ship?”
“I’m here,” Amos said a second later. “Finishing up some—”
“Lock it down,” Holden said over him. “Right now. Seal it up. If I don’t call you in an hour, or if anyone other than me tries to board, leave the dock and fly away from Tycho at best possible speed. Direction is your choice. Shoot your way free if you have to. Read me?”
“Loud and clear, Cap,” Amos said. If Holden had asked him to get a cup of coffee, Amos would have sounded exactly the same.
Fred was still staring at him incredulously.
“Don’t force this issue, Fred,” Holden said.
“If you think you can threaten me, you’re mistaken,” Fred said, his voice flat and frightening.
Miller laughed.
“Something funny?” Fred said.
“That wasn’t a threat,” Miller replied.
“No? What would you call it?”
“An accurate report of the world,” Miller said. He stretched slowly as he talked. “If it was Alex on board, he might think the captain was trying to intimidate someone, maybe back down at the last minute. Amos, though? Amos will absolutely shoot his way free, even if it means he goes down with the ship.”
Fred scowled, and Miller shook his head.
“It’s not a bluff,” Miller said. “Don’t call it.”
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 thought it was a good idea. It shook Holden’s confidence in Fred that Miller was even here.
Which made it a little more surprising when Miller saved him.
“Look,” the detective said. “Fact is, Holden is the best person to carry that shit around until you decide what to do with it.”
“Talk me into it,” Fred said, his voice still tight with anger.
“Once Eros goes up, he and the Roci are going to have their asses hanging in the breeze. Someone might be angry enough to nuke him just on general principles.”
“And how does that make the sample safer with him?” Fred asked, but Holden had understood Miller’s point.
“They might be less inclined to blow me up if I let them know that I’ve got the sample and all the Protogen notes,” he said.
“Won’t make the sample safer,” Miller said. “But it makes the mission more likely to work. And that’s the point, right? Also, he’s an idealist,” Miller continued. “Offer Holden his weight in gold and he’ll just be offended you tried to bribe him.”
Naomi laughed. Miller glanced at her, a small shared smile at the corner of his mouth, then turned back to Fred.
“Are you saying he can be trusted and I can’t?” Fred said.
“I was thinking more about the crew,” Miller said. “Holden’s got a small bunch, and they do what he says. They think he’s righteous, so they are too.”
“My people follow me,” Fred said.
Miller’s grin was weary and unassailable.
“There’s a lot of people in the OPA,” he said.
“The stakes are too high,” Fred said.
“You’re kind of in the wrong career for safe,” Miller said. “I’m not saying it’s a great plan. Just you won’t get a better one.”
Fred’s slitted eyes glittered with equal parts frustration and rage. His jaw worked silently for a moment before he spoke.
“Captain Holden? I’m disappointed with your lack of trust after all I’ve done for you and yours.”
“If the human race still exists a month from now, I’ll apologize,” Holden said.
“Get your crew out to Eros before I change my mind.”
Holden rose, nodded to Fred, and left. Naomi walked at his side.
“Wow, that was close,” she said under her breath.
Once they’d left the office, Holden said, “I think Fred was half a second from ordering Miller to shoot me.”
“Miller’s on our side. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
Chapter Forty-Six: Miller
Miller had known when he’d taken Holden’s side against his new boss that there were going to be 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’t the thing you did when you were kissing up. That it was the truth only made it worse.
He’d expected some kind of payback. He would have been naive not to.
“Rise up, O men of God, in one united throng,” the resisters sang. “Bring in the days of bro-ther-hood, and end the night of wrong…”
Miller took off his hat and ran fingers through his thinning hair. It wasn’t going to be a good day.
The interior of the Nauvoo showed more patchwork and process than its hull suggested. Two kilometers long, its designers had built it as more than a huge ship. The great levels stacked one atop 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, but Miller could see where it was all heading.
A generation ship was a statement of overarching ambition and utter faith. The Mormons had known that. They’d embraced it. They’d constructed a ship that was prayer and piety and celebration 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 reaching the stars.