Leviathan Wakes

The Tachi’s galley had a full kitchen and a table with room for twelve. It also had a full-size coffeepot that could brew forty cups of coffee in less than five minutes whether the ship was in zero g or under a five-g burn. Holden said a silent prayer of thanks for bloated military budgets and pressed the brew button. He had to restrain himself from stroking the stainless steel cover while it made gentle percolating noises.

The aroma of coffee began to fill the air, competing with the baking-bread smell of whatever Alex had put in the oven. Amos was thumping around the table in his new cast, laying out plastic plates and actual honest-to-god metal silverware. In a bowl Naomi was mixing something that had the garlic scent of good hummus. Watching the crew work at these domestic tasks, Holden had a sense of peace and safety deep enough to leave him light-headed.

They’d been on the run for weeks now, pursued the entire time by one mysterious ship or another. For the first time since the Canterbury was destroyed, no one knew where they were. No one was demanding anything of them. As far as the solar system was concerned, they were a few casualties out of thousands on the Donnager. A brief vision of Shed’s head disappearing like a grisly magic trick reminded him that at least one of his crew was a casualty. And still, it felt so good to once again be master of his own destiny that even regret couldn’t entirely rob him of it.

A timer rang, and Alex pulled out a tray covered with thin, flat bread. He began cutting it into slices, onto which Naomi slathered a paste that did in fact look like hummus. Amos put them on the plates around the table. Holden drew fresh coffee into mugs that had the ship’s name on the side. He passed them around. There was an awkward moment when everyone stared at the neatly set table without moving, as if afraid to destroy the perfection of the scene.

Amos solved this by saying, “I’m hungry as a fucking bear,” and then sitting down with a thump. “Somebody pass me that pepper, wouldja?”

For several minutes, no one spoke; they only ate. Holden took a small bite of the flat bread and hummus, the strong flavors making him dizzy after weeks of tasteless protein bars. Then he was stuffing it into his mouth so fast it made his salivary glands flare with exquisite agony. He looked around the table, embarrassed, but everyone else was eating just as fast, so he gave up on propriety and concentrated on food. When he’d finished off the last scraps from his plate, he leaned back with a sigh, hoping to make the contentment last as long as possible. Alex sipped coffee with his eyes closed. Amos ate the last bits of the hummus right out of the serving bowl with his spoon. Naomi gave Holden a sleepy look through half-lidded eyes that was suddenly sexy as hell. Holden quashed that thought and raised his mug.

“To Kelly’s marines. Heroes to the last, may they rest in peace,” he said.

“To the marines,” everyone at the table echoed, then clinked mugs and drank.

Alex raised his mug and said, “To Shed.”

“Yeah, to Shed, and to the assholes who killed him roasting in hell,” Amos said in a quiet voice. “Right beside the fucker who killed the Cant.”

The mood at the table got somber. Holden felt the peaceful moment slipping away as quietly as it had come.

“So,” he said. “Tell me about our new ship. Alex?”

“She’s a beaut, Cap. I ran her at twelve g for most of half an hour when we left the Donnie, and she purred like a kitten the whole time. The pilot’s chair is comfy too.”

Holden nodded.

“Amos? Get a chance to look at her engine room yet?” he asked.

“Yep. Clean as a whistle. This is going to be a boring gig for a grease monkey like me,” the mechanic replied.

“Boring would be nice,” Holden said. “Naomi? What do you think?”

She smiled. “I love it. It’s got the nicest showers I’ve ever seen on a ship this size. Plus, there’s a truly amazing medical bay with a computerized expert system that knows how to fix broken marines. We should have found it rather than fix Amos on our own.”

Amos thumped his cast with one knuckle.

“You guys did a good job, Boss.”

Holden looked around at his clean crew and ran a hand through his own hair, not pulling it away covered in grease for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah, a shower and not having to fix broken legs sounds good. Anything else?”

Naomi tilted her head back, her eyes moving as though she was running through a mental checklist.

“We’ve got a full tank of water, the injectors have enough fuel pellets to run the reactor for about thirty years, and the galley is fully stocked. You’ll have to tie me up if you plan to give her back to the navy. I love her.”

“She is a cunning little boat,” Holden said with a smile. “Have a chance to look at the weapons?”

“Two tubes and twenty long-range torpedoes with high-yield plasma warheads,” Naomi said. “Or at least that’s what the manifest says. They load those from the outside, so I can’t physically verify without climbing around on the hull.”