Arms Race
Chapter One: Holden
Captain James Holden of the Rocinante stared into his command console. It displayed the outline of a Belter gunship; a patchwork of salvaged parts and weapons. He tried reasoning with the pirates to no avail. Each craft had traded blows, but the gunship couldn't compete with the Martian torpedo bomber.
Naomi Nagata, Holden's executive officer, operated the sensor station on his left. Her Belter accent came through his helmet's earpiece, between bursts of static. "They're dumpin' core Jim, your orders?"
So the Rocinante's PDC rounds crippled them, Holden mused. He pictured the deep gashes running down the frigate's starboard side; courtesy of the last salvo. The criminals had their chance to stand down and refused. There was one thing left to do.
"Take them out," Holden said.
"Sure 'bout that hoss?" Alex asked. "If they're dumpin' core, it's over."
Holden began speaking. The ship's engineer, seated at the comms console behind him, interrupted. "It's the captain's call, sounded pretty sure to me."
"Thank you Amos," Holden replied.
He turned to Naomi. Her bright brown eyes pleaded with him. He swallowed hard, turned back to the screen, and keyed a few buttons. The schematic transitioned to a grid. The crippled gunship appeared on it as a red blip. "Fire one torpedo."
"Torpedo away," Alex reported.
The ship lurched, hurling the missile to its destination. Holden watched the torpedo icon streak across the screen with grim satisfaction. In seconds, the icon pierced the blip, erasing it from sight.
"Target destroyed," Alex declared somberly.
Holden closed his console's interface and leaned back in his seat. He detached his helmet with a click, letting it float free in the micro-gravity. The ship's oxygen rich atmosphere refreshed his lungs. He unclasped his seat straps and faced Naomi's console. Her chair was empty, she was nowhere in sight.
Mag-boots clanked above him. Holden's gaze followed the ladder leading up to the flight deck. Alex stared back at him, gloved hands gripping the railing.
"Gonna check the damage outside skipper," Amos said, behind his usual blank smile.
Holden nodded his assent. He pushed himself off the deck and floated upward to where Alex stood.
"What did I say about questioning me during a fight?" Holden asked. He grabbed the rails and swung himself onto the deck, activating his own mag-boots as he did.
The Martian pilot raised his hands defensively. "We're supposed to be the good guys here, Cap. Didn't see the point in kickin' 'em while they were down."
Holden shook his head. "You realize if they'd been a little more accurate, you'd be a bloodstain in your chair right now?"
Alex shrugged off the question. "Well, thanks to my flying they weren't."
"No one threatens me, my crew or this ship. We tried talking them down; they opened fire. We are the good guys. The Belt has one less pirate in it because of us."
"As you say, captain," Alex replied, unconvincingly.
"I welcome debate. But in the middle of a fire fight, don't second guess me. Are we clear?"
"Quite sir," Alex replied, eyes narrowing slightly.
"Good. You're one of the best pilots in the 'verse Alex. But I need everyone on the same page. Now, I'm going to the galley. And there better be some coffee when I get there."
Holden stomped down the ladder and trudged his way out of the deck.
Alex stood where Holden left him. The captain's helmet drifted into the pilot's line of sight. He caught it in mid-air.
"Forgot your— "
The hatch shut loudly behind Holden.
"Okay then," Alex finished, spinning the helmet in his hands.
• • •
Holden entered the galley to the calming sight of the coffee maker, situated between the circular planters. Naomi leaned against the table, back turned. Without a helmet, her shock of black hair floated freely. She held a bulb of coffee in her hands, its rich aroma drawing Holden to her.
"We could have arrested them. They didn't have to die," she said.
Holden sided up to the brewer, designed to work in zero-G when needed. He detached a bulb from a nearby rack and locked it into place. The machine purred to life.
"They didn't have to choose piracy either."
A light flickered on the machine, indicating the bulb had been filled. Holden held the cup, letting it warm his palms. He brought it up to his nose, inhaled the coffee's earthy scent and closed his eyes.
"Ever since working for Fred, you've changed Jim. We've changed."
Holden turned to face Naomi, eyes cast upward at her. Having been born in micro-gravity, she was a head taller than him, with the elongated bones and thin frame of a Belter. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, as if remembering something.
"We're getting paid to keep the Belt safe. They got what they deserved."
"Do you remind yourself of someone?" Naomi asked.
She meant Miller, Holden thought. The detective that shot Dresden, leader of Protogen, in cold blood.
Holden brooded over the question, taking a sip of the coffee and letting it linger on his tongue.
Naomi stuck her mug to the magnetic table and folded her arms. "They were kids, James! They were my people. Just desperate..."
"Yeah, well so are we. We're lucky to have Fred's support. I don't like being his enforcer any more than you do. But what choice do we have? Mars wants the Roci back; there's nothing for us on Earth, and the Belt's been in disarray since the Eros incident."
Naomi shook her head, locks of hair swaying with her movement. "We have an entire system to ourselves. There's plenty of work out there. We don't have to serve Fred's whims. We don't have to compromise our values. I don't want you to become someone you're not. Someone I can't love..."
Something stirred in Holden. His lover's words began to effect him. He attached his bulb to the counter top and strode up to her. He wrapped his hands around the small of her back, losing himself in her soothing gaze. "Maybe you're right Naomi. Feels like we haven't had a chance to breathe since Eros. The pressure's gotten to us."
Naomi laid her palms on Holden's shoulders. "We have a chance now..."
The galley's ship wide comms panel spoiled the moment. It chimed incessantly, waiting for someone to answer it. Holden sighed in exasperation. He stomped to the wall mounted console and pushed the answer button.
"This is Holden."
"The bandits dinged her up something good, cap," Amos replied, voice tinny through the speaker. "Not much I can do till we get back to Tycho."
"That's fine Amos, come on back."
"Copy that."
Holden released his finger from the button and turned his attention to Naomi. "Now, where were we?"
Naomi smiled warmly. "I believe we were just about to go to my bunk."
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
"Damn it!" Holden yelled.
Naomi swore under her breath in Belter Creole, the unique patois spoken among most Belters.
Holden stomped back to the comms panel. "What now?"
"Coded tightbeam in from Tycho, Jim," Alex replied. "Sounds like Fred wants us home."
"Copy. Set a course for Tycho."
"You got it."
Holden smiled apologetically. "No rest for the weary."
Naomi returned the smile with a shrug. Holden left the galley and headed for the bridge. Thoughts ran through his mind, wondering what the boss had in store...