Oksana opened the comms, grunted at some small error, and passed the feed to Michio’s station. Holden was looking anxiously into the camera. The years had been kind to him. His face had a more comfortable look, and a touch of sorrow and humor that he wore well. She wondered if the others of his crew were still on the Rocinante with him or if he’d left Naomi Nagata someplace safely out of Marco’s reach.
“Rocinante, this is Michio Pa of the Connaught. Weird to see you again, Captain Holden.”
His lips widened into a boyish grin, and to her surprise, she found herself smiling back. It wasn’t pleasure, but the giddiness of fear. Her heart tapped at her ribs like it was impatient. Trying to get her attention. I could kill him. He could kill me. Either decision would be justified. The Rocinante had a rail gun. By the time she knew he’d fired, she’d already be dead. But he probably wouldn’t. And she probably wouldn’t either.
“Weird to see you too, Captain Pa. Strange times.”
She laughed, and it sounded like someone else. Evans looked at her, concern in his eyes. She ignored him.
“Couldn’t help noticing that you’ve got some ships pointing their guns at me,” she said lightly.
“People are nervous,” Holden said.
“Was sending you supposed to be symbolic of something?”
“Nope. We just drew the short straw.”
It was eerie, speaking to someone on the other side of the fight without so much as a stutter of light delay. She wanted to flip and burn hard, get out. Every second on the float brought her closer to Ceres and the consolidated fleet and Fred fucking Johnson. Every dot on the tactical display made her itch. They were the enemy as much as Marco. But the enemy of her enemy was at least playing nice right now.
No sudden moves. Nothing without warning. They could do this.
“We’re ready to transfer control of the Minsky to you,” she said. “Her passengers are all on board confined to their quarters. I’ll send along a manifest with what supplies she’s carrying.”
Holden nodded. “So. Nothing’s going to blow up when we do this, is it? No booby traps? Because there are some smart people who think I’m pretty stupid for trusting you.”
“Plenty on my side saying the same of me. Nothing either of us can say right now’s going to change their minds. We’ll just have to try this. See what happens.”
Oksana’s voice cut through the air like a wire. “I’ve got fast-movers coming in from Ceres! Six torpedoes. Fifty seconds to impact.”
The breath left Michio’s lungs, pushed out by fear so profound it felt like calm. Open fire, all guns. Get us out of here. Whatever they were going to do, she had to order it now.
Except she was looking at Holden, and he was surprised too. Shocked, even.
Angry.
She had to give the order. She had to fire. Her family was going to die. If she fired, they’d all fire back. She had to run. Burn hard. Melt everything behind her to slag.
Stop, she thought. If we die, we die, but right now, stop.
Why was Holden angry?
“Holden?” she said, her voice trembling. “Do we have a problem?”
“Fuck yes, you have my permission,” Holden snapped, and it took her a fraction of a second to realize he wasn’t speaking to her.
“The Rocinante’s firing its PDCs,” Oksana said, her voice high and sharp. Fear was a resonance tone, and the deck rang with it.
“Lighting up our PDCs,” Evans said.
“Don’t,” Michio shouted before she knew she was going to say it. Then, in the stunned silence, “Touch those fire controls, and you will kill us all. Do you understand, Mr. Evans? Everyone you love will die, and it will be your fault.” Her husband looked at her, confusion in his eyes. His fingers hovered over the controls, twitching toward them. If she’d shot him, he couldn’t have looked more betrayed. “Oksana, what is the Rocinante firing on?”
“No no no,” Holden said. “We’re getting them. Not you. You don’t think we’re—”
“They’re targeting the missiles from Ceres. Impact in … They’re done, sir. The Rocinante shot down the attack.”
Michio nodded. Her blood rattled in her veins. Her hands shook. She was aware of the panic in her mind like listening to voices in a nearby room, but she didn’t feel it. She didn’t feel anything.
“Evans,” she said. “Put your hands down.”