Part 19 (1/2)
”Hey, hey, hey,” Holden said. ”Come on, you two. We're all on the same side here, right?”
”Not without terms,” Monica said.
Fred's jaw went tight. ”We just saved your life.”
”Thanks for that,” Monica said. ”I'm included in the investigation. All of it. Exclusive interviews with both of you. I'll give you everything I have about the colony s.h.i.+ps and my abduction. Even the parts I didn't tell Holden. And fair warning before I go public with any of this.”
”Wait a minute,” Holden said. ”There were parts you didn't tell me?”
”Final approval before anything sees air,” Fred said.
”Not a chance,” Monica said. ”And you need me.”
”Final approval exclusively for issues of security and safety,” Fred said. ”And two weeks lead time.”
Monica's eyes were bright and hungry. Holden had traveled with her for weeks going out to the Ring the first time, and he felt like he knew her. The ruthlessness in her expression was surprising. Fred only seemed amused by it.
”One week lead time, and nothing unreasonably withheld,” she said and pointed an accusing finger at Fred. ”I'm trusting you on that.”
Fred looked to Holden, his smile thin and unamused. ”Well, now I've got two people I know aren't working for the other side.”
The thing Holden hadn't known- No, that wasn't true. The thing Holden had known, but hadn't appreciated, was the number of s.h.i.+ps moving through the rings and out to the vast spread of new planets. Monica's full logs tracked the almost five hundred s.h.i.+ps that had made the transit. Many were smaller even than the Rocinante, traveling together in groups to make a claim on a new and unknown world or else to join newly founded steadings on places with names like Paris and New Mars and Firdaws. Other s.h.i.+ps were larger true colony s.h.i.+ps loaded with the same kinds of supplies that, generations before, humanity had taken out to Luna, Mars, and the Jovian moons.
The first one to vanish had been the Sigyn. She'd been a converted water hauler a little newer than the Canterbury. Then the Highland Swing, a tiny rock hopper that had been nearly gutted to put in an Epstein drive with three times the power a s.h.i.+p like that could ever have used. The Rabia Balkhi that she'd shown him had the best footage of its transit, but it wasn't the first or the last to disappear. As he went through, he made note of the types and profiles of all the missing s.h.i.+ps to forward on to Alex. The Pau Kant could be any of them.
There was another pattern to the vanis.h.i.+ng too. The s.h.i.+ps that went missing did so during times of high traffic when Medina Station's attention was stretched between five or six different s.h.i.+ps. And afterward this was interesting the ring through which the missing s.h.i.+p had pa.s.sed showed not a spike in radiation but a discontinuity a moment when the background levels changed suddenly. It wasn't something that other transits seemed to have. Monica had interpreted it as evidence of alien technology doing something inscrutable and eerie. Knowing what they did now, it looked to Holden more like a glitch left over where the data had been doctored. Like switching the crate that Monica had been taken away in or vanis.h.i.+ng into a men's room and never coming out, someone would have had to hide the ”missing” s.h.i.+ps coming back through the ring. If there was a similar glitch in the sensor data of the ring that led back to humanity's home system - ”Holden?”
The security office around him was empty. Fred had cleared it for his ”personal use” meaning as the center for his private investigation of how deeply he had been compromised. The security personnel Holden had walked past coming in seemed nonplussed to be turned out of their own offices, but no one had raised any objection. Or at least none that he'd heard.
Fred stood in the archway of the short hall that led to the interrogation rooms. He was in civilian clothes, well tailored. A scattering of white stubble dusted his chin and cheeks, and his eyes were bloodshot and the yellow of old ivory. His spine was stiff though, and his demeanor sharp enough to cut.
”Did you hear something?” Holden asked.
”I've had a conversation with an a.s.sociate of mine who I've known for a long time. Light delay always makes these things painfully slow, but... I have a better idea what I'm looking at. A start, anyway.”
”Can you trust them?”
Fred's smile was weary. ”If Anderson Dawes is against me, I'm screwed whatever I do.”
”All right,” Holden said. ”So where do we start?”
”If I could borrow you for a few minutes,” Fred said, nodding back toward the interrogation rooms.
”You want to question me?”
”More use you as a prop in a little play I'm putting on.”
”Seriously?”
”If it works, it'll save us time.”
Holden stood. ”And if it doesn't?”
”Then it won't.”
”Good enough.”
The interrogation room was bare, cold, and unfriendly. A steel table bolted to the floor separated the single backless stool from three gel-cus.h.i.+oned chairs. Monica was already sitting in one. The cut on her face was looking much better little more than a long red welt. Without makeup, she looked harder. Older. It suited her. Fred gestured to the seat at the other side for Holden, then sat in the middle.
”Just look serious and let me do the talking,” he said.
Holden caught Monica's gaze and lifted his eyebrows. What is this? She cracked a thin smile. Guess we'll find out.
The door opened, and Drummer walked in. Sakai followed her. The chief engineer's gaze flickered from Holden to Monica and back. Drummer guided him to a stool.
”Thank you,” Fred said. Drummer nodded and walked tightly out of the room. She might have been p.i.s.sed at being kept out of the proceedings. Or maybe it was something else. Holden could see how something like this could lead to crippling paranoia pretty quickly.
Fred sighed. When he spoke, his voice was soft and warm as flannel. ”So. I think you know what this is about.”
Sakai opened his mouth, shut it. And then it was like watching a mask fall away. His features settled into an image of perfect, burning hatred.
”You know what?” Sakai said. ”f.u.c.k you.”
Fred sat still, his expression set. It was like he hadn't heard the words at all. Sakai clenched his jaw and scowled at the silence until the pressure built up and it became too much to bear.
”You arrogant f.u.c.king Earthers. All of you. Out here in the Belt leading the poor skinnies to salvation? Is that who you think you are? Do you have any idea how f.u.c.king patronizing you are? All of you. All of you. The Belt doesn't need Earther b.i.t.c.hes like you to save us. We save ourselves, and you a.s.sholes can pay for it, yeah?”
Holden felt a flush of anger rising in his chest, but Fred's voice was calm and soft.
”I'm hearing you say you resent me for being from Earth. Am I getting that right?”
Sakai leaned back on the stool, caught his balance, then turned and spat on the decking. Fred waited again, but this time Sakai let the silence stretch. After a few moments Fred shrugged, then sighed and stood up. When he leaned forward and hit Sakai it was such a simple, pedestrian movement, Holden wasn't even shocked until Sakai fell over. Blood poured down the engineer's lip.
”I have given up my life and the lives of people I care for a h.e.l.l of a lot more than you to protect and defend the Belt,” Fred growled. ”And I am not in the mood to have some jumped-up terrorist piece of s.h.i.+t tell me different.”
”I'm not scared of you,” Sakai said in a voice that made it very clear to Holden he was desperately scared. Holden was a little unnerved himself. He'd seen Fred Johnson angry before, but the white-hot rage radiating from the man now was another thing entirely. Fred's eyes didn't flicker. This was the man who had led armies and ma.s.sacred thousands. The killer. Sakai shrank from his pitiless regard like it was a physical blow.
”Drummer!”
The head of security opened the door and stepped in. If she was surprised, it didn't show in her face. Fred didn't look at her.
”Mister Drummer, take this piece of s.h.i.+t to the brig. Put him in an isolation cell, and be sure he gets enough kibble and water that he doesn't die. No one in, no one out. And I want a complete audit of his station presence. Who he's talked to. Who he's traded messages with. How often he's taken a s.h.i.+t. Everything goes through code a.n.a.lysis.”
”Yes, sir,” Drummer said, paused. And then, ”Should I take the station off lockdown?”
”No,” Fred said.