“That sounds like a threat, Anderson.”
“It’s an explanation. It’s why you need to take your boy off my station, and never bring him back to it. I’m doing this as a favor. Anyone else, and things would just take their course.”
Marco drew in a long, slow breath and let it out between his teeth. “I see.”
“He shot a security agent. He may have killed him.”
“We’ve killed a world,” Marco said, waving the words away. But then he seemed to remember something, nodding as much to himself as to Dawes or Shaddid. “But I appreciate your bending the rules for me. And for him. I won’t let this go by. He and I will have a serious conversation.”
“All right,” Dawes said. “Captain Shaddid will release him to you. If you want to bring some of your people down before she does—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Marco said. No bodyguards were called for. None of the security force would dare face down Marco Inaros of the Free Navy. And what was worse, Dawes believed Marco was right. “We’ll have a meeting tomorrow. About the Azure Dragon and Earth. Next steps.”
“Next steps,” Dawes agreed, and stood. “You know this isn’t temporary. Filip can never set foot on Ceres again.”
Marco’s smile was unexpected and deep. His dark eyes flashed. “
Don’t worry, old friend. If you don’t want him here, he won’t be here. That’s a promise.”
Chapter Nine: Holden
The sound reached all the way to the galley: a deep thud, then a pause, then another thud. Each time it came, Holden felt himself flinch a little. Naomi and Alex sat with him, trying to ignore it, but whatever they started a conversation about—the state of the ship, the success of their mission, the question of whether to give in to fate and convert a section of the crew quarters into a brig—it died out under the slow, unending beat.
“Maybe I should talk to her,” Holden said. “I think I should.”
“Don’t know why you think that,” Alex said.
Naomi shrugged, abstaining. Holden took one last bite of his fake lamb, wiped his mouth with the napkin, and dropped everything into the recycler. Part of him hoped that one of them would stop him. They didn’t.
The Rocinante’s gym showed its age. No two resistance bands were quite the same color, the green-gray mats had white lines where the fabric had worn thin, and the smell of old sweat softened the air. Bobbie had strung a heavy bag on a tight line between the ceiling and the deck. Her exercise outfit was tight and gray and soaked with sweat. Her hair was tied back, and her eyes were locked on the bag as she shifted on the balls of her feet. As Holden stepped into the room, she turned to the left, putting her weight into a roundhouse kick. This close, the thud sounded like something heavy being dropped. The system reported a little under ninety-five kilograms per square centimeter. Bobbie danced back, her focus locked on the bag. She shifted to the right, and kicked with her other leg. The thud was a little softer, but the reading went up by three kilos. She danced back, reset. Her shins were red and raw-looking.
“Hey,” she said, not looking at him. Thud. Reset.
“Hey,” Holden said. “How’re you doing?”
“Fine.” Thud. Reset.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
Thud. Reset. “Nope.”
“Okay. Well. If you ah”—Thud. Reset.—“change your mind.”
“I’ll track you down.” Thud. Reset. Thud.
“Great,” Holden said, and stepped back out of the room. Bobbie hadn’t looked at him once.
In the galley, Naomi had a bulb of coffee waiting for him. He sat across from her while Alex dropped the last of his food into the recycler. Holden drank. The Roci’s processors were calibrated once a week, and they’d stocked up before leaving Luna, so it was almost certainly his imagination that made the coffee more bitter than usual. He put a pinch of salt in it anyway, swirling the bulb to stir it.
“You knew that wasn’t going to work,” he said.
“I expected it wasn’t,” Naomi said. “I didn’t know.”
“Just suspected.”
“Strongly suspected,” she said. It was almost an apology. “I could have been surprised.”
“You got to give Bobbie her room, Cap,” Alex said. “She’ll come out the other side of it.”