Chapter Four: Holden

Holden buzzed the door to request entry. It hissed open to reveal Fred Johnson, former U.N. Marine turned OPA leader. He beckoned Holden to come in. The captain took a seat in front of the thin, glass desk.

"Reporting as ordered," Holden said.

"Forgive me if we skip the pleasantries, time is of the essence."

"What's the situation?"

Fred leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands on the desktop. "First, let me suppose something to you. You're fighting an enemy of equivalent strength. One day, you notice their ships take more damage than usual. Their Epstein drives are more efficient. Repairs happen faster. Pilots tolerate high G maneuvers that would hospitalize or kill most. Lastly, their weapons are more lethal than before. What do you infer from this?"

The wheels turned in Holden's mind, but the answer came quickly to the former naval intel officer. "They've researched better weapons, juice, armor, optimized drives, maybe better tools. A war often leads to improved tech in order to gain an advantage."

"Precisely."

Fred slid an over sized personal terminal, designed for presentations, across the desktop. The computerized glass panel was barely visible against the surface, except for a metal rim around the screen. With some hand motions, Fred brought up a 3D map of Belt space. He zoomed in on a particular sector. When he raised his hands, the sector projected itself as hologram over the terminal.

"The Triton sector of Neptune," Fred explained. "Little is known about it, even today. Makes an ideal hiding spot. OPA pickets traced single use rockets on an unusual trajectory to the sector."

"Like the unmanned rockets that drop supplies to outposts on Pluto?"

"Yes, but these had no transponders. Their heat signatures also disappeared from deep scans after entering the sector. These rockets were being received by an undisclosed location."

Fred brought up another display; a diagram of Neptune and its natural satellites.

"Neptune has fourteen moons," he said. "I ordered a reconnaissance-in-force to survey each one, and what they could be hiding. A small fleet of my toughest OPA ships went in. Don't be offended. I thought to call on the Rocinante, but you were assigned elsewhere at the time."

"None taken."

Fred's eyes went downcast, and was silent for a beat. "Of all the ships I sent, one made it back," he continued. "But it was all we needed. It revealed a complicated network of heat signature masks, ECM devices and transmitters that broadcast misleading information to throw us off. In effect, it created a massive smoke screen to hide this..."

Another series of gestures centered the display on an irregularly shaped moon. Instead of having the usual sphere, it took on a cylindrical form. Attached to its surface, was a metallic dome. Large metal support beams protruded from the dome and clawed into the rock.

"This moon is Galatea. My best analysts confirm that the man-made structure here is a research and development lab. Its configuration is consistent with other R&D facilities through the system. Those superior ships I wanted you to imagine fighting? They're possible, and this lab wants to make them a reality."

Holden pondered the implications. "Who's backing this? Earth, Mars, an OPA faction?"

"I pulled all the strings to find out. Called in favors...made bribes, even threats. Every known OPA faction denies involvement. Moreover, nothing indicates a Terran or Martian presence. Believe me, if anyone from Earth or Mars went near the sector, we'd know. The construction, concealment and operation are all textbook Belter."

Holden mulled over the news. He opened his mouth to speak, when Fred held up a hand.

"Hold that thought, there's more. The recon group's hackers skimmed some data from the lab computers. All those improvements I described to you? They came at a cost. Better juice caused debilitating side effects. The new torpedoes can be flawed, exploding in their tubes. Improved Epstein drives get sudden magnetic bottle failures. The thicker armor may have structural problems, actually increasing vulnerability to enemy fire. What does all this suggest?"

Holden scratched his chin in thought. "That they're prototypes. Works in progress, not ready for mass production."

"Yes, that's my conclusion as well. This is a highly advanced research lab, creating military grade weapons, engines, alloys, juice and repair tools. We believe the lab is going to sell these things to the highest bidder. This has to be stopped soon. Once the technology is perfected, they'll be nothing keeping them from selling their secrets and opening a Pandora's box the world doesn't need now."

"This could lead to a new arms race," Holden said. "It would topple the balance of power, possibly leading to a system wide war..."

"That's exactly why this operation must be thwarted, and its data retrieved. It represents untold sums of credits, spent lives, scientific talent and Belt resources. It is key to countless civilian applications. Better juice, faster drives, mining explosives, better armor for ships and astronauts. The list could go on."

Holden's interest piqued. Ever the idealist, his mind raced with the implications of the new technology's potential. He leaned forward, determined expression on his face.

"Okay, what can these guys throw at us?"

"That's the good news. I said one only of ours made it back. But we hit them almost as hard. Unless something changed, the lab is down to a single warship. We've code named it the Faust."

Fred manipulated the terminal again, bringing up a schematic of the enemy ship. Holden recognized the design. Nevertheless, Fred explained it as the holographic model rotated on its axis.

"Standard medium freighter configuration," he said. "Minimum sixty-four crew capacity, two hundred-fifty meters long, Epstein drive equipped. You'll notice the usual cargo spheres were stripped. Note the thick cylinder of reinforced armor where they used to be. Additionally, the cylinder has enough hard points for a battery of PDC cannons and torpedo banks. A couple of well placed high yield missiles should be able to smash apart the hull. The trick is getting past its offensive weapons to deliver the killing blow."

Holden crossed his arms, sizing up the ship and analyzing how best to approach it. "No reinforcements on this one?"

"Afraid not," Fred replied. "I'm stretched thin, and we lost too many already. The surviving ship's damage was too extensive. Its going to be scrapped. Most of its crew is in intensive care. The Rocinante is the only asset I have left with the firepower to do this. Can I count on you?"

Holden sucked in a breath and let it out through his teeth. "Hate being this guy, but we've got to talk pay."

"Fair enough. The station's resources took some unexpected hits. Your pay for the last mission may not be coming right away."

"Fred..."

The OPA leader held up a hand. "I know, not what you want to hear. Complete the mission, and you'll be paid for the last job, plus twice the usual amount. I'll also have my best technicians keep the Rocinante equipped and repaired at the station's expense."

Holden did some quick calculations in his head. That would be the best payday the crew ever had in Fred's service. Not enough to retire on, but enough to live comfortably for some time. The only catch was they had to survive the job.

"It's a deal. Couple of questions."

"Shoot."

"The lab's cloaking network. We need to take it out?"

"Better to leave it intact. It provides cover not just for the lab, but for us as well. We don't want to draw attention to what's happening at Galatea. Far as anyone's concerned, nothing will have occurred there. When its all over, I'll have a clean-up crew take care of it. Next question?"

"The data. What happens if it's destroyed?"

"That's a good point. Its possible the researchers will purge it, if they think they'll lose it to someone else. However, they may not to that if they think they can win. If you find the research data in one piece, you know what to do."

"I'll brief my people first thing tomorrow."

"Sounds good. In short, destroy the Faust, infiltrate the lab, eliminate or capture the personnel, and bring back the data."

Holden got up from his seat. "Understood. We'll keep you posted."

"Until then," Fred said, returning to his tasks.

• • •

The next day, Holden explained everything he learned from Fred to the crew. Holden made the final checks on his suit, weapons and gear. He picked up his bag and left his quarters.

"Jim!" Alex called, from behind.

Holden turned to see the pilot running down the corridor toward him. "Alex," he replied. Eager to begin the mission, Holden didn't stop for small talk. The pilot sided up to him and spoke as they strode to the repair bay.

"Met this gorgeous girl the other night, cap," Alex gushed. "You've got to see her. She's smart, funny, charming. But she forgot this."

Holden paused to see what Alex referred to. He produced the challenge coin. Holden held it in the palm of his hand and studied it for a second, noting the notch in the otherwise perfect circle. "Left you a souvenir or something?"

"No, she forgot it," Alex replied, taking the coin back. "But we're going to run into each other again, I have a feeling. And when we do, I'm gonna return it to her."

"Happy for you Alex, she'll appreciate that. So let's get back to Tycho alive, right?"

Alex beamed ear to ear. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

The two entered the bay. They could see mechanics in spacesuits making the final repairs on the Rocinante through the viewing window. Samara spoke animatedly with two other technicians, keying a hand terminal as she did. She noticed Holden enter and gave him a reassuring nod and smile. Holden returned the gesture. He and Alex came up to Naomi and Amos, already prepared to embark.

"Okay people, we've been in worse. We know what to do. Ready?" Holden asked.

"Yes sir," Naomi said.

"Let's give 'em Hell, cap," Amos replied.

The four walked one by one through the air tube and into the frigate...