Expanse: Nemesis Games Part 46

"Is that what this is?"

"Isn't it?"

"Well. Maybe. I've been talking to Smith. I don't suppose Alex and Bobbie overheard much of what he was doing on the Razorback?"

Holden leaned forward. "I don't think they were spying on him, no. Were you thinking they would?"

"I was hoping your man might have. This Draper woman's too much the patriot. So, without outside confirmation, Smith's story is that there's a breakdown in the naval command. Might just be that someone's been selling a great chunk of their ordnance to Inaros. Might be there was another actor who was willing to swap out."

"For the protomolecule," Holden said. "That was the price of all this, wasn't it?"

"No one knows it's missing aside from you, me, Drummer's men, and whoever took it. I'll keep it quiet as long as I can, but when we get to Luna, I think I have to tell Smith and Avasarala."

"Of course you do," Holden said. "Why wouldn't you tell them?"

Fred blinked. His laugh, when it came, was deep and rolling. It came up from his belly and filled the air. "Just when I think you've changed, you come out with something that is uniquely James Holden. I don't know what to think about you. I really don't."

"Thanks?"

"Welcome," Fred said. And a moment later, "There are ships burning for the gates. Martian military ships. It would help me a great deal to know if they answered to Inaros or to someone else."

"Like the one who got the protomolecule sample?"

"Anyone, really. I want to talk to Nagata."

The atmosphere between them went cool. "You want to interrogate her."

"I do."

"And you're asking my permission?"

"It seemed polite."

"I'll talk to her about it when she's recovered a little more," Holden said.

"Couldn't ask for anything more," Fred said, heaving himself to his feet. At the edge of the ladder, he paused. Holden watched him consider sliding down the sides the way Gor had. He watched Fred decide not to. Rung by rung, Fred climbed down out of the ops deck, shutting the hatch behind him. Holden turned the feed back on, and then off again. His head felt filled with cotton.

He'd been so focused for so long on distracting himself from Naomi's absence, now she was back, he felt almost overwhelmed. Monica was right. Things had changed, and he didn't know anymore what his place was in them. Even if he turned away from Fred and Avasarala and the politics of his own minor celebrity, what could an independent ship do in this new, remade solar system? Were there banks that would be able to pay him if he took a job flying cargo to the Jovian moons? And the colonists that had already gone through the rings to new, alien worlds? Would the Free Navy really stop resupply from getting out to them, and the raw materials and discoveries they made from getting back?

More than anything, the attacks seemed inevitable and petty. If the inner planets hadn't spent generations showing the Belters that they were disposable, there might have been some way... some way to adapt their skills and lifestyles into this larger human expansion. A way to draw all humanity forward, and not just part of it.

And how long would Inaros and people like him really be able to keep the flood of colonists out? Or maybe there was still something more, some layer of the plan that they hadn't seen yet? The idea filled him with something he decided to call dread because that was a better name than fear.

The monitor chimed. Alex, requesting a connection. Holden accepted it gratefully.

"Hey there, Cap'n," Alex said through a grin. "How're you doing?"

"Fine, I think. Just killing some time away from the cabin so I don't wake Naomi up. I figure she'll be asleep for twelve, fourteen hours."

"You're a good man," Alex said.

"You?"

"I've been showin' your temporary pilot all the ways he could have beaten me to the Chetzemoka if he'd thought of them."

"Be nice," Holden said, but he didn't really mean it. "Where are you? I'll come join you."

"Engineering," Alex said. "Which was part of why I wanted to talk to you. I just got some good news from Luna."

Chapter Forty-nine: Amos.

Loading mechs moved pallets of gray or white plastic crates along the length of the Aldrin docks and drowned out the jabber of human voices with the clanks and whirring of machines. Stokes and the other refugees from Rattlesnake Island were in a huddle along one gray wall, trying to only block the cart traffic a little bit while a civil servant with an oversized terminal processed them one at a time. The security force in black armor stood arrayed before the lock to the Zhang Guo, scowling. The wall screen was set to look outside at that truck-tire gray moonscape.

Chrisjen Avasarala's red sari stood out, a vibrant spot of color, and her voice cut through the clamor like it wasn't there.

"What the f.u.c.k do you mean we can't go on the ship?" she said.

"No warrant," Amos said. "n.o.body's getting on my boat here without a warrant."

Avasarala tilted her head, then looked at the woman in charge of the security squad.

"Seeing that you and he seemed to have an understanding, ma'am," the security chief said, "I didn't want to press the point."

Avasarala waved her hand impatiently like she was fanning away smoke. "Burton, for one thing, that's not your f.u.c.king ship."

"Sure it is," Amos said. "Salvage."

"No. When you break into someone's private hangar and drive out in their ship, it's not salvage. That's still theft."

"You sure about that? Because it was looking awfully busted up down there. I'm pretty sure that was salvage."

"For another thing, we're under martial law, so I can do very nearly whatever the f.u.c.k I want. Including march through your precious little ship there towing you along behind in a ball gag and lacy underwear. So your warrant bulls.h.i.t? You can roll that up and f.u.c.k it. Now tell me why I'm here."

"You know just 'cause you can do something, it doesn't mean you should. I don't look great in frills."

She crossed her arms. "Why am I here, Amos?"

Amos scratched his cheek and looked back at the Zhang Guo. Stokes and the servants were all out, but Erich and Peaches and the crew from Baltimore were all still inside. Some of them, including Erich, were either living under fake ident.i.ties or weren't in the system at all.

"Here's the thing," Amos said. "If you did go in there, you might feel like you had to do something. And then I might feel like I had to do something. And then we'd all be doing things, and we'd all wind up having a worse day, just in general."

Avasarala's face went calm, her eyes focused a few centimeters to Amos' left. The security chief started to say something, but Avasarala put out a palm to stop her. After a few seconds, Avasarala grunted, shook her head, and turned to the security force. "You can skip this one. Go get a beer instead or something. It's all right."

"Yes, ma'am," the security chief said.

"Burton? You make G.o.dd.a.m.ned sure there isn't any trouble from this, and you get her the f.u.c.k off my moon without anyone seeing her."

"You got it, Chrissie."

"Don't f.u.c.king call me that. I'm the acting secretary-general of the United Nations, not your favorite stripper."

Amos spread his hands. "Could be room for both."

Avasarala's laughter rang out through the dock. The security force broke up, moved on. The loading mechs repositioned. The carts continued on their various paths, busy as a kicked anthill. "I'm glad you made it," she said when she regained herself. "The universe would be less interesting without you."

"Likewise. How's the recovery going?"

"It sucks donkey b.a.l.l.s," she said, shaking her head. "We're still losing thousands of people every day. Maybe tens of thousands. The food's running out down there, and even if I had enough rice to feed them all, the infrastructure's so f.u.c.ked there's no good way to distribute it. Not to mention that there could still be more of those f.u.c.king rocks dropping anytime."

"Your kid okay?"

"Ashanti and her family are fine. They're here on Luna already. Thank you for asking."

"And your guy? Arjun?"

Avasarala smiled, and it didn't reach her eyes. "I remain optimistic," she said. "The Rocinante is on its way. You'll have something to ride on that doesn't make your c.o.c.k look as small as that gaudy t.u.r.d."

"That's good to hear. This boat's not my style anyway."

Avasarala turned away, shuffling awkwardly into the crowd. The low gravity didn't seem natural to her. He figured she probably hadn't spent all that much of her life up the well. s.p.a.ce was an acquired skill. Amos stretched, rolled on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet, and waited until the last of the security force was out of sight. Chances were pretty slim they were going to press the issue once they'd been slapped down, but he still felt better watching them get gone.

While he was waiting, two Belters in Aldrin dockworker uniforms scurried by staying close together, their heads bowed. Luna was going to be a s.h.i.tty, s.h.i.tty place to be a Belter for a while, Amos thought. Still, it probably hadn't been that great before. He headed back to the Zhang Guo, and the entry lock opened as he got close to it, welcoming him back in.

The ship's interior was ugly as h.e.l.l. The anti-spalling in the corridors was deep red and fake-velvet fuzzy with gold fleur-de-lis scattered over them in a weird, non-repeating pattern. The hatchways were enameled in royal blue and gold. Oversized crash couches were all over the place in the corners of rooms, in niches in the hallways. The air recyclers added the stink of sandalwood incense without the smoke. All told, the ship was the embodiment of a stereotypical wh.o.r.ehouse done by a designer who'd never been to a real one. The security station was perfunctory, poorly designed, and barely stocked, but Erich's people were placed around it as well as they could manage. Even Butch, still in pressure bandages, had a rifle with fresh rounds trained down the hallway.

"Hey," Amos said. "We're cool. They're not coming in."

The release of tension was like a soft breeze, if soft breezes came with the sounds of magazines getting pulled from a.s.sault rifles.

"Okay," Erich said, lifting a pistol in his good hand. "Tyce. Police up all the guns. Joe and Kin, put a watch on the lock. I don't want to be surprised if anyone shows up unexpected."

"They won't," Amos said. "But hey, knock yourselves out."

"You got a minute?" Erich said, handing the pistol to a thick-necked man who Amos figured was Tyce.

"Sure," Amos said. They fell into step, ambling toward the lift.

"That was really the woman who's running Earth now?"

"Until she lets 'em have an election, I guess. I never really paid much attention to how that whole thing works."

Erich made a soft, noncommittal grunt. His bad arm was curled up against his chest, the tiny fist tight. His good hand was stuffed deep in his pocket. Both made him look like something was eating him.

"And you... You know her. Like asking-favors know her."

"Yup."

At the lift, Erich punched for the ops deck. It wasn't where Amos meant to go, but it seemed like the conversation was leading toward something, so he went with it. The lift made a stuttering start, then rose gently past the high-ceilinged decks.

"I can't tell if this thing's a ship or a f.u.c.king throw pillow," Amos said.

"Wouldn't know," Erich said. "It's the first one I've been in."

"Seriously?"

"Never been out of atmosphere before. The low-gravity thing. That's weird."

Amos bounced gently on his toes. It was only about a sixth of a g. He hadn't really thought about it much. "You get used to it."

"You did, anyway," Erich said. "So how did you meet her?"

"We got in over our heads on some s.h.i.t, and some folks she was against were trying to kill us. She came in and tried to keep us alive."

"So now you're friends."

"Friendly acquaintances," Amos said. "I don't have all that many what you'd call friends."

The lift stopped with a small lurch that it really shouldn't have had. The ops deck was all dark surfaces, the decking a deep chocolate brown, the walls an artificial wood grain, the consoles and couches lined in fake leather. Or h.e.l.l, maybe real leather. It wasn't like he knew the difference to look at. Erich lowered himself into one of the couches and ran his good hand over his scalp.

"You know," he said. "You couldn't have done this without us. Me and your prisoner friend. And now the head of the f.u.c.king government, which excuse me if that still breaks my head a little."

"Well, I -"

"No, I know you would have done something. Just not this. You couldn't have done this exact thing. This plan? For it, you needed to have us. All of us. And the only thing we had in common was you."

Amos sat across from him. Erich wouldn't meet his eyes straight on.

"Plan's kind of a strong word for it," he said. "I was just grabbing whatever I could."

"Yeah, the thing is you had things to grab. I spent a lot of years in Baltimore. Know it like the back of my hand. Knew it. Now, I've got all my best people here and no f.u.c.king clue what here looks like, you know? Who controls the drugs around here? How do you fake an ID? I mean, I figure that underlying logic's the same anywhere, but..."

Erich stared at the wall like there was something to see there. Amos craned his neck to look, just to be sure.

"I don't know what we do from here. I don't know what I do from here. I've got people counting on me to get them through the queen of all churns, and I don't know where to take them or what we're gonna do."

"Yeah, that sucks."

"You do," Erich said.

"I suck?"