“Ouch,” Holden replied and she laughed.
They drifted together in companionable silence for a few minutes. “Speaking of which, I should probably go see our prisoner,” Holden finally said.
“To gloat?” Naomi said, poking him in the ribs. “You love that thing at the end where you gloat.”
“It’s what makes this all worth doing.”
“Go,” she said, putting her feet against the bulkhead and then pushing him toward the closet with her hands. “Get dressed. And comb your hair.”
“I’ll be back soon,” he agreed, pulling clothes out of the drawers. “I have another thing I want you to show me.”
“Making up for lost time.”
“Damn straight.”
~
Holden stopped off at the head to brush his teeth and wash his face before visiting Murtry in the med bay. While he worked to get the knots and tangles out of his hair, Amos drifted in and then just waited.
“Am I in the way or something?” Holden asked. “Do you need privacy?” Amos had never been shy with his toilet usage before.
“Naomi says you’re going to see Murtry,” Amos said, keeping his tone carefully neutral.
“Yep.”
“You told me I wasn’t allowed to go see him.”
“Nope.”
“Can I go with you, then?” Amos asked.
Holden almost said no, then thought about it for a minute and shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
Murtry’s leg wound hadn’t been particularly serious, but Holden’s bullet had shattered his right humerus, so they were keeping him locked up in the medical bay while the expert system tracked the bone regrowth. The RCE security chief had his left arm handcuffed to the crash couch. When the arm was better healed, they’d move him to one of the crew cabins where Amos had added exterior locks.
“Captain Holden,” Murtry said when they entered. “Mister Burton.”
“So,” Holden said as though picking up a conversation they’d started earlier. Which, in a way, they had. “Got a message from my pal at the UN a few hours ago. She can’t wait to meet you. We’ll be dropping you at the UN complex in Lovell city on Luna. I took another prisoner there once, and that person has since ceased to exist as far as the rest of the solar system knows. Hey, maybe they can get you two adjoining cells.”
“You keep talking like I’ve broken the law. I haven’t,” Murtry said.
“There’s a really smart legal team on Earth right now trying to think of some. They have almost two years to work it out. Enjoy the trip back.”
“And I,” Amos said, “am here to tell you why you won’t.”
“I can’t hear this,” Holden said. “He’s my prisoner.”
“Maybe you should leave, then,” Amos said.
Holden stared at Murtry, and the man stared back. “Okay, Amos. Meet me in the galley in a minute.”
“Roger that, Cap,” Amos said, smiling at the prisoner as he said it.
Worried that he might have just killed the man, Holden waited around the corner outside the med bay door.
“Going to beat a helpless man in his hospital bed just because I got the better of you?” Murtry asked, trying to hide his unease with contempt.
“Oh, goodness no,” Amos said, mock hurt in his tone. “That’s all good. Smart move taking me from behind. I don’t hate the game. I appreciate a good player.”
“Then —” Murtry started, but Amos kept speaking.
“But you made me kill Wei. I liked Wei.”
The silence between the two men stretched, and Holden almost went back into the room, expecting to find Amos choking the man to death. Then Amos spoke again.
“And when I do finally beat you, you won’t be helpless. Think that’ll matter?”
Holden didn’t wait to hear the rest of what was said.
Epilogue: Avasarala
Vyakislav Pratkanis, the Martian congressional Speaker of the House, had an excellent poker face. Over three days of meetings and meals and evenings at the theater and cocktails, he’d never registered more than a milquetoast kind of surprise. Either he was panicking on the inside, or he simply didn’t understand the situation. Avasarala’s guess was the latter.
I’m sorry I can’t come with you this evening,” he said, his hand shaking hers with a crisp, dry efficiency.
“You’re a good liar,” she said with a smile. “Most men who’ve spent so much time with me seem convinced their cocks will fall off if they can’t get away from me.”
His eyes widened with a gentle laughter that he’d almost certainly practiced in a mirror. She responded in kind. The government houses were in Aterpol, the highest-status of the buried neighborhoods of Londres Nova. Six more communities were scattered under the soil of Mars’ Aurorae Sinus. She had to admit, the Martians had done a respectable job recreating the world here underground. The false dome of Aterpol was high above her and lit with a carefully balanced spectrum that managed to convince her lizard brain that she was in the open air of Earth. The government buildings were designed with a light airiness that almost forgave the fact that the entire city – the entire planetary network – was built like a fucking tomb. The absence of a magnetosphere had made Mars’ first priority protection from the radiation. Between that and the low gravity that left her unintentionally skipping down the corridors like a schoolgirl, she hadn’t fallen in love with the planet.
“It has been an honor to share perspectives with you,” he said.
She bowed her head. “Really, Vyakislav. We’re off the clock now. You can stop blowing smoke up my ass.”
“As you say,” the man said, his expression not changing at all. “As you say.”
In the corridor down to the atrium, she tugged at her sari, pulling the cloth back into place. Not that it had particularly been out, but the weight was wrong and the back of her head kept wanting to pull on it until it was right. Soft lights nestled in stone sconces along the walls. The air smelled of sandalwood and vanilla and chimed with gentle, soothing music. It was like the government was a middle-grade day spa.
“Chrisjen!” a man called out as she reached the high-vaulted atrium. She turned back. He was a large man with skin several shades darker than her own and hair only a little whiter than her steel gray. He held out his arms as he walked forward and she embraced him. No one would have guessed, seeing them, that they ran the governments of two of the three great political organizations of humanity. Earth might fear the Belt, and the Belt might resent Earth, but the OPA and the United Nations had diplomatic decorum to maintain, and in truth, she halfway liked the old bastard.