Part 22 (1/2)
She was supposed to ask what that meant. The path was laid out before her in lights. What do you mean, harm's way? she'd say, and he'd tell her. Watch her eyes go wide. See the fear in her.
f.u.c.k that.
”Didn't want me,” she said. ”Wanted the Rocinante, only that didn't work out. Was it the s.h.i.+p? Or was it Holden? You can tell me. Did you want to show off in front of my new boyfriend? Because that would be kind of sad.”
She felt her breath coming fast, adrenaline pumping through her. Marco's expression hardened, but before he could speak, the comms chimed and a voice she didn't recognize echoed on the deck.
”Hast contact,” the woman said.
”Que?”
”Little one. Pinnace out from Mars. Talking to the Andreas Hofer.”
”Scout s.h.i.+p?” Marco snapped.
The pause stretched for seconds. Then, ”Looks like just some pinche a.s.shole wrong-placing it. Seen one, seen the whole strike force, though, yeah?”
”How long before the trigger impact?”
”Twenty-seven minutes.” There had been no hesitation. Whoever was on the other end of the comms had known the question was coming. Marco scowled at the control panel.
”Couldn't have waited a little longer. Would have been prettier without. But fine. Take out the pinnace.”
”Toda?”
Marco looked over at Naomi, his dark eyes on her. A smile touched his lips. Theatrical a.s.shole that he was.
”No. No es toda. Launch the a.s.sault on the Martian prime minister's s.h.i.+p too. And tell the hunt group to get ready, so that when the duster runs, we can take him down.”
”Sabez,” the woman said. ”Orders out.”
Marco waited, hand out like a challenge. ”This is the way,” he said. ”Make it so they can't forget us. Take chains they fas.h.i.+oned to bind us and use them as whips. We won't go down to darkness. They'll respect us now.”
”And do what? Shut down the Ring?” Naomi said. ”Start making your cheap bone drugs again? What do you think shooting a Martian politician's going to do for 'our people'? How does that help anybody?”
Marco didn't laugh, but he softened. She had the sense that she'd said something stupid, and it had pleased him. Despite it all, she felt a twinge of embarra.s.sment.
”I'm sorry, Naomi. We're going to have to take this up later. But I really am glad you've come back. I know there's a lot of harsh between us, and that we don't see the world the same way. But you'll always be the mother of my son, and I will always love you for that.”
He lifted a fist to the guards. ”Make sure she's secure, then get ready for hard burn. We're heading to the fight.”
”Sir,” one guard said as the other took Naomi by the elbow. Her first instinct was to resist, pull back, but what would the point have been? She pushed off for the lift, her jaw tight, her teeth aching.
”One thing,” Marco said, and she turned, thinking he was speaking to her. He wasn't. ”When you lock her down, make sure it's someplace she can watch a newsfeed. Today everything changes. Wouldn't want her to miss it, yeah?”
Chapter Twenty-two: Amos.
Reports at this hour are that a ma.s.sive asteroid has impacted northern Africa. The Oxford Center in Rabat, five hundred kilometers west of the event, is estimating eight point seven five on the Richter scale at the epicenter.”
Amos tried again to lean back in his chair. It was an uncomfortable little piece of furniture. Just c.r.a.ppy lightweight plastic to start with, then molded in a factory by a machine that didn't have to sit in it. His first guess was that it had been designed specifically to be awkward and ineffective if you tried to hit someone with it. And then they'd bolted it to the floor. So every five minutes or so, he placed his heels on the textured concrete and pushed back without even knowing he was doing it. The chair bent a little under the pressure, but didn't get more comfortable, and when he gave up, it bounced right back into its old shape.
”- unseen since Krakatoa. Air traffic is being severely affected as the debris plume threatens both civilian and commercial craft. For further a.n.a.lysis of the situation on the ground, we are going now to Kivrin Althusser in Dakar. Kivrin?”
The screen jumped to an olive-skinned woman in a sand-colored hijab. She licked her lips, nodded, and started talking.
”The shock wave hit Dakar just under an hour ago, and authorities are still taking stock of the damage. My experience is that the city is devastated. We have reports that many, many of the local structures have not survived the initial shock. The power grid has also collapsed. The hospitals and emergency medical centers are overwhelmed. The Elkhashab Towers are being evacuated as I speak, and there are fears that the north tower may have become unstable. The sky... the sky here -”
Amos tried to lean back in his chair, sighed, and stood up. The waiting room was empty apart from him and an old woman in the far corner who kept coughing into the crook of her elbow. It wasn't what you'd call a big place. The windows looked out on an uninspiring two hundred meters of North Carolina, bare from the entrance facility to the perimeter gate. Two rows of monofilament hurricane fencing blocked the path to a two-story concrete wall. Sniper nests stood at each corner, the automatic defense and control weapons stiller than tree trunks. The building was low a single story peeking up out of the ground with administrative offices and a ma.s.sive service entrance. Most of what happened here happened underground. It was exactly the kind of place Amos had never hoped to be.
Good thing was, when he was done, he could leave again.
”In other news, a distress call from the convoy carrying the Martian prime minister appears to be genuine. A group of unidentified s.h.i.+ps -”
Behind him, the admin door swung open. The man inside looked like he was one hundred kilos of sculpted muscle and also tremendously bored. ”Clarke!”
”Here!” the coughing old woman said, rising to her feet. ”I'm Clarke!”
”This way, ma'am.”
Amos scratched his neck and went back to looking at the prison yard. The newsfeed kept on being excited about s.h.i.+tty things going on. He'd have paid more attention to it if the back of his head hadn't been planning the ways he'd have pushed to get out of here if they'd sent him, and where he'd have died trying. From the parts he caught, though, it sounded like a good day for reporters.
”Burton!”
He walked over slowly. The big guy checked his hand terminal.
”You Burton?”
”Today I am.”
”This way, sir.”
He led him to a small room with more chairs bolted to the floor and a table too. The table was solidly made, anyway.
”So. Visitation?”
”Yup,” Amos said. ”Looking for Clarissa Mao.”
The big guy looked up under his eyebrows. ”We don't have names here.”
Amos opened his hand terminal. ”I'm looking for 42-82-4131.”
”Thank you. You'll need to surrender all personal effects including any food or beverages, your hand terminal, and any clothing with more than seven grams of metal. No zippers, arch supports, anything like that. While you are inside the prison grounds, you are subject to reduced civil rights, as outlined in the Gorman code. A copy of the code will be made available to you at your request. Do you request a copy of the code?”
”That's all right.”
”I'm sorry, sir. I need a yes or no.”