He just had this one last thing he needed to do.
Twenty minutes later, the Klaxon sounded. Thirty minutes later, the engines kicked on, pressing him into the acceleration gel at a joint-crushing high-g burn for thirteen days, with one-g breaks for biological function every four hours. And when they were done, the half-trained jack-of-all-trades crew would be handling nuclear mines capable of annihilating them if they screwed it up.
But at least Julie would be there. Not really, but still.
It didn’t hurt to dream.
Chapter Forty-Seven: Holden
Even the wet cellulose taste of reconstituted artificial scrambled eggs was not enough to ruin Holden’s warm, self-satisfied glow. He shoveled the faux eggs into his mouth, trying not to grin. Sitting at his left around the galley table, Amos ate with lip-smacking enthusiasm. To Holden’s right, Alex pushed the limp eggs around on his plate with a piece of equally fake toast. Across the table, Naomi sipped a cup of tea and looked at him from under her hair. He stifled the urge to wink at her.
They’d talked about how to break the news to the crew but hadn’t come to any consensus. Holden hated to hide anything. Keeping it secret made it seem dirty or shameful. His parents had raised him to believe that sex was something you did in private not because it was embarrassing, but because it was intimate. With five fathers and three mothers, the sleeping arrangements were always complex at his house, but the discussions about who was bedding with whom were never hidden from him. It left him with a strong aversion to hiding his own activities.
Naomi, on the other hand, thought they shouldn’t do anything to upset the fragile equilibrium they’d found, and Holden trusted her instincts. She had an insight into group dynamics that he often lacked. So, for now, he was following her lead.
Besides, it would have felt like boasting, and that would have been rude.
Keeping his voice neutral and professional, he said, “Naomi, can you pass the pepper?”
Amos’ head snapped up, and he dropped his fork on the table with a loud clatter.
“Holy shit, you guys are doing it!”
“Um,” Holden said. “What?”
“Something’s been screwy ever since we got back on the Roci, but I couldn’t figure. But that’s it! You guys are finally playing hide the weasel.”
Holden blinked twice at the big mechanic, unsure of what to say. He glanced at Naomi for support, but her head was down, and her hair completely covered her face. Her shoulders were shaking in silent laughter.
“Jesus, Cap,” Amos said, a grin on his wide face. “It fucking took you long enough. If she’d been throwing herself at me like that, I’d have been neck deep in that shit.”
“Uh,” Alex said, looking shocked enough that it was clear he hadn’t shared Amos’ insights. “Wow.”
Naomi stopped laughing and wiped tears away from the corners of her eyes.
“Busted,” she said.
“Look. Guys, it’s important that you know this doesn’t affect our—” Holden said, but Amos cut him off with a snort.
“Hey, Alex,” Amos said.
“Yo,” Alex replied.
“XO boning the captain going to make you a really shitty pilot?”
“Don’t believe it will,” Alex said with a grin, exaggerating his drawl.
“And, oddly enough, I don’t feel the need to be a lousy mechanic.”
Holden tried again. “I think it’s important that—”
“Cap’n?” Amos continued, ignoring him. “Consider that no one gives a fuck, it won’t stop us from doing our jobs, and just enjoy it, since we’ll probably all be dead in a few days anyway.”
Naomi started laughing again.
“Fine,” she said. “I mean, everyone knows I’m only doing it to get a promotion. Oh, wait, right. Already the second-in-command. Hey, can I be captain now?”
“No,” Holden said, laughing. “It’s a shit job. I’d never ask you to do it.”
Naomi grinned and shrugged. See? I’m not always right. Holden glanced at Alex, who was looking at him with genuine affection, clearly happy about the idea of him and Naomi together. Everything seemed right.
Eros spun like a potato-shaped top, its thick skin of rock hiding the horrors inside. Alex brought them in close to do a thorough scan of the station. The asteroid swelled on Holden’s screen until it looked close enough to touch. At the other ops station, Naomi swept the surface with ladar, looking for anything that might pose a danger to the Tycho freighter crews, still a few days behind. On Holden’s tactical display, the UNN science ship continued to flare in a braking maneuver toward Eros, its escort right beside it.
“Still not talking, huh?” Holden asked.
Naomi shook her head, then tapped on her screen and sent the comm’s monitoring information to his workstation.
“Nope,” she said. “But they see us. They’ve been bouncing radar off of us for a couple hours now.”
Holden tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and thought about the choices. It was possible that the hull modifications Tycho had made to the Roci were fooling the Earth corvette’s recognition software. They might just ignore the Roci, thinking she was a Belter gas runner that happened to be hanging around. But the Roci was running without a transponder, which made her illegal no matter what hull configuration she was showing. That the corvette wasn’t trying to warn off a ship that was running dark made him nervous. The Belt and the inner planets were in a shooting war. A Belter ship with no identification was hanging around Eros while two Earth ships flew toward it. No way any captain with half a brain would just ignore them.
The corvette’s silence meant something else.
“Naomi, I have a feeling that corvette is going to try and blow us up,” Holden said with a sigh.
“It’s what I’d do,” she replied.
Holden tapped one last complicated rhythm on his chair, then put his headset on.
“All right, I guess I make the first overture, then,” he said.
Not wishing to make their conversation public, Holden targeted the Earther corvette with the Rocinante’s laser array and signaled a generic linkup request. After a few seconds, the link established light went green, and his earplugs began to hiss with faint background static. Holden waited, but the UN ship offered no greeting. They wanted him to speak first.
He flicked off his mic, switching to the shipwide comm.
“Alex, get us moving. One g for now. If I can’t bluff this guy, it’ll be a shooting match. Be ready to open her up.”
“Roger,” drawled Alex. “Goin’ on the juice, just in case.”
Holden glanced over at Naomi’s station, but she’d already switched to her tactical screen and had the Roci plotting firing solutions and jamming tactics on the two approaching ships. Naomi had been in only one battle, but she was reacting now like a seasoned veteran. He smiled at her back, then turned around before she had time to realize he was staring.
“Amos?” he said.
“Locked down and shipshape down here, Cap. The Roci’s pawing at the turf. Let’s go kick some ass.”
Let’s hope we don’t have to, Holden thought.
He turned his mic back on.
“This is Captain James Holden of the Rocinante, calling the captain of the approaching United Nations Navy corvette, call sign unknown. Please respond.”
There was a static-filled pause, followed by “Rocinante. Leave our flight path immediately. If you do not begin moving away from Eros at best possible speed, you will be fired upon.”