I’m sorry, Filip, she thought.
She turned her head toward the approaching Rocinante. It was closer.
Chapter Forty-eight: Holden
If the medical bay could have raised its eyebrows and made judgmental little tsk-tsk sounds, it would have. Instead, the readout threw a list of amber-colored alerts so long that the first few scrolled off the screen before Holden could read them. Naomi grunted when the needle poked into her vein and the medical expert system’s custom cocktail started flowing into her. Holden sat beside her, holding her other hand.
The transfer from the Razorback had been easy enough. Once they’d matched course, Alex snugged the pinnace up against the airlock, and all four of them had come over together. Holden had been waiting on the other side of the lock, not quite willing to believe that they were really back. Fred Johnson was there too in his greeting-a-political-grandee outfit. It was strange to see Fred visibly change roles, holding his body differently, his expression changing so subtly and profoundly it seemed like the shape of his skull had shifted. It left Holden a little curious about how much the old man presented to him was also tailored to the situation. Chances were, he’d never know.
When the inner door cycled open, he’d forgotten about Fred and the prime minister of Mars and the destruction of Earth and pretty much everything that wasn’t Naomi. Her skin was ashen where it didn’t look slick and swollen from radiation burns. Her eyes were bloodshot and bleary with a profound exhaustion. Moving into the room, she was careful, like any unexpected bump would hurt. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen in years. He felt like he was the one returning home now that she was here. When she saw him, she smiled, and he grinned back. Somewhere a few feet away or a few miles, Fred Johnson and Nathan Smith were making some kind of formal greeting. It didn’t matter at all.
“Hey,” he’d said.
“Hey. You take care of the place while I was out?”
“Had some trouble with the contractor, but I think we got it straightened out,” Holden said. Then Bobbie had put a wide, strong hand on his shoulder, shaken him slightly, and said, “Med bay.” And then Naomi headed for the lift, leaning against Alex for support. She looked wounded, exhausted, halfway to dead. But she’d seen him, and she’d smiled, and it had dropped the bottom out of his heart.
The alert sounded, counted down, and gravity came back. Naomi coughed. It was a wet, painful sound, but the medical bay didn’t seem concerned. The machine had a shitty bedside manner.
“Do you think we should get a medic?” Holden said. “Maybe we should get a medic.”
“Right now?” Naomi asked.
“Or later. For your birthday. Whenever.” The words tumbled out of his mouth without stopping by his brain once, and he didn’t care enough to rein them in. Naomi was back. She was here. A vast fear he’d been carefully not noticing washed over him and started to dissipate.
This was how she felt, he thought. With the Agatha King and when he’d headed off to the station in the slow zone. When he’d gone down to the surface of Ilus. All the times he’d thought he was protecting her from his risks, this was what he’d been doing to her. “Wow,” he said. “I’m kind of an asshole.”
She opened her eyes in two bright slits and made a small smile. “Did I miss something?”
“Sort of. I just went someplace for a minute, and I’m back now. And so are you, which is really, really good.”
“Nice to be home.”
“But while you were… I mean while we were… Look, when I was back on Tycho, I was talking with Monica. And Fred. I mean I was talking to Fred about you and us and what I was entitled to know and why I thought all that. And Monica was talking about why I lied and whether what she did had any power and how it was ethical and responsible to use it. And I was thinking—”
Naomi raised her hand, palm out. Her forehead creased. “If you’re about to tell me you had an affair with Monica Stuart, this may not be the best time.”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“Good.”
“It’s just I’ve been thinking. About a lot of different things, really. And I wanted you to know that whatever you were doing and going through that you didn’t want me to be a part of? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’m really curious, and I want to know. But whatever it was, it’s only my business if you want it to be my business.”
“All right,” she said, and closed her eyes again.
Holden stroked her hand. The knuckles were raw, and there was a bruise on her wrist.
“So when you say ‘all right’—”
“I mean I missed you too, and I’m glad I’m back, and could you go get me a bulb of green tea or something?”
“Yes,” Holden said. “Yes, I can.”
“Don’t hurry,” she said. “I may just take a little nap.”
Holden paused at the hatch, looking back. Naomi was watching him go. Her eyes were tired, her body stilled by exhaustion, but she was smiling a little. It helped to see that she was glad to be back.
In the galley, a half-dozen voices were in competition, gabbling one above the other toward a kind of symphonic shared excitement. It sounded like he felt. Holden ducked in. Alex was sitting on one of the tables with his feet on the bench, talking to Chava Lombaugh and Sun-yi Steinberg, describing something about fast-cycling targeting stutter and acceleration. Chava was talking at the same time, her hands in motion, presenting some physical description of whatever they were on about. Sun-yi was just looking from one to the other, amused. At the next table over, Bobbie Draper was sitting down, but still looming over Sandra Ip and Maura Patel. Bobbie had swapped her powered armor for a slightly-too-small jumpsuit with TACHI stenciled on the back. She caught his eye, smiled, and waved. He waved back, but Sandra Ip had already recaptured her attention, and Bobbie was shaking her head and answering a question he hadn’t heard.
Holden had the sudden, visceral memory of being at home with his family, eight parents sitting down to dinner together with their one son, having half a dozen conversations with and past each other. Even though he recognized he was already primed for it, the sense of peace and well-being that washed over him was profound. This was what family looked like, sounded like, how they acted. Even the new crew who he’d been trying not to resent felt more like distant cousins who’d come for a long visit than interlopers.
Alex hopped down and came over to him, grinning. They stood for a long, awkward moment before they gave in and embraced, clapping each other on the back and laughing.
“No more leave,” Holden said.
“Holy shit. Right?” Alex said. “I take off for a few weeks, and everything turns into chaos.”
“It really, really does.” Holden went to the coffee maker and Alex followed at his elbow. “I think this has to qualify for the worst vacation ever.”
“How’s Naomi doing?”
Holden picked out the tea that Naomi liked best. The machine chimed calmly. “Getting hydrated mostly. She sent me off to get her a drink, but I think she actually wanted me to stop hovering over her, trying to start a conversation.”
“She may take a little time getting back to full power.”
“Intellectually, I know that,” Holden said, picking up the bulb of tea. It smelled of lemongrass and mint even though there was nothing anywhere on the ship that was remotely like either one. Holden grinned. “Chemistry is amazing, you know? It’s really, really amazing.”
“Any word from Amos?” Alex said, and his smile dimmed at the answer in Holden’s eyes. He tried to force the carefree tone back into his voice when he spoke, but Holden wasn’t fooled. “Well, that doesn’t mean much. It won’t be the first time a planet’s blown up on him.”