Abaddon's Gate

A group of maybe two dozen extricated themselves from the general crowd and moved over to Amos. A

A

“Assault team,” Holden called out, “to me.”

Soon he had a group of two dozen around him, including Naomi and Alex from the Rocinante, the four Martian marines, a bunch of Bull’s security people, and Bull himself. The only people in the group without obvious physical injuries were the four marines. Alex and Naomi looked especially bad. Naomi’s shoulder was bound tight in a harness that immobilized it and her arm, and she winced every time she took a step. Alex’s face was swollen so badly that his left eye was almost completely closed. Blood spotted the bandages around his head.

These are the people who helped stop Protogen, who fought the monsters around Ganymede, she told herself. They’re tough, they’ll make it.It sounded thin even in her own head.

“Well,” Bull said. The crowd seemed to be waiting for last words from him. “I guess this is it. Good hunting, everyone.”

A few people clapped or called out to him. Most didn’t. Across the room Monica was talking to her camera people. A

“Better go, Red,” Amos whispered to her.

“What if they’re all too scared to shut down their ships?” she replied. “We’re in the haunted house, and I’m about to tell everyone that the way to escape is to turn out all the lights. I would find that unconvincing in their shoes.”

Amos nodded thoughtfully. A

“Yeah,” he finally said. “That’ll be a bitch. My job’s a lot easier. Good luck.”

Somehow, the honesty in not even trying to sugarcoat it cracked the last of A

“Again,” she said, letting him go after a few seconds, “thank you. I was being a big scaredy-cat. You’re a good person, Amos.”

“Nah, I’m not. I just hang with good company. Get going, Red. I gotta get my game face on.”

The assault team was heading for the door, and A

Amos shook his hand and slapped him on the back once. Holden’s face was filled with worry. A

“Keep Naomi and Alex safe,” Amos said, pushing Holden toward the door. From A

Holden’s face seemed to be saying they hadn’t.

A

“Time to start working,” she said. She deposited A

“Welcome,” she said, her face and voice shifting into cheery video host mode. “I’m Monica Stuart in the offices of Radio Free Slow Zone. I’ve got some exciting guests today, including Doctor A

“Today, we’ll tell you how to go home.”

Chapter Forty-Five: Bull

Bull felt the time moving past like it was something physical, like he was falling through it and couldn’t catch himself. Anamarie Ruiz had an hour left before she had to decide whether to do what Ashford wanted or get killed. If she didn’t have to choose, she wouldn’t choose wrong, and every minute that he wasn’t in the engineering deck took them closer to where they couldn’t get back.

They’d left the colonial administration offices in a small convoy. Six electric carts with twenty-five people, including Jim Holden and three-quarters of his crew, the four Martian marines, an even dozen of the Behemoth’s crew who’d stayed loyal to Pa, and five Earth soldiers whom Corin had found in the drum and brought along. They had some riot armor that hadn’t been taken out of the armory before Ashford’s forces occupied it. They had an ugly collection of slug-throwing pistols and shotguns loaded with ballistic gel rounds; a mix of weapons designed to subdue without permanent injury and those meant to assure the enemy’s death. The four Martian marines had the four best guns they’d been able to scrounge up, but there were too few of both. The whole thing stank of improvisation.

He couldn’t sit down, so he’d taken the canopy off the electric cart and wedged his mech in the back. He sailed through the hot, close air of the drum like a figurehead on the prow of some doomed pirate ship. Corin was at the wheel, hunched over it like she could make it go faster by the raw act of will. The Martian sergeant Verbinski who’d brought Jim Holden to the Behemothin restraints sat at her side looking focused and bemused at the same time.

They passed through the main corridors heading south. The tires made a loud ripping sound against the decking. High above, the long, thin strip of blinding white illuminated the curve of the drum. The southern transfer point loomed ahead of them like a ceramic steel cliff face.

People parted before them, making a path. Bull watched them as he passed. Anger and fear and curiosity. These were his people. They hadn’t all been to start with, but he’d brought them here to the Behemoth. He’d made the ship important and the OPA’s role in the exploration beyond the Ring central. Earthers and Martians and Belters. The ones who’d lived. As the faces turned toward him, watching the convoy pass like flowers back on Earth tracking the arc of the sun, he wondered what Fred Johnson would have thought of all this. It was a clusterfuck from start to finish, no question about that. He hoped that when it came time to settle up accounts, he’d done more good than harm.

“We’re a pretty compromised force,” Verbinski said, craning his neck back and up to look at Bull. “How many people you think we’re going up against?”

“Not sure,” Bull said. “Probably a little more than we got, but they’re divided between engineering and command.”