Leviathan Wakes

“Cops will be here soon,” Miller said. “I need to make a call or we’re all going to jail.”

The other man — thinner, taller, East Indian by the look of him — had been hiding behind a couch. He was sitting on his haunches now, his eyes wide and panicky. Holden had some of the same look, but he was doing a better job of keeping control. The burdens, Miller thought, of leadership.

“Aren’t you the cops?”

Miller laughed.

“Nope,” he said. “Name’s Miller.”

“Okay,” the woman said. “Those people just tried to kill us. Why did they do that?”

Holden took a half step toward her voice even before he turned to look at her. Her face was flushed, full lips pressed thin and pale. Her features showed a far-flung racial mix that was unusual even in the melting pot of the Belt. Her hands weren’t shaking. The big one had the most experience, but Miller put the woman down as having the best instincts.

“Yeah,” Miller said. “I noticed.”

He pulled out his hand terminal and opened a link to Sematimba. The cop accepted a few seconds later.

“Semi,” Miller said. “I’m really sorry about this, but you know how I was going to stay low-profile?”

“Yes?” the local cop said, drawing the word out to three syllables.

“Didn’t work out. I was heading to a meeting with a friend…”

“A meeting with a friend,” Sematimba echoed. Miller could imagine the man’s crossed arms even though they didn’t show in the frame.

“And I happened to see a bunch of tourists in the wrong place at the wrong time. It got out of hand.”

“Where are you?” Sematimba asked. Miller gave him the station level and address. There was a long pause while Sematimba consulted with some internal communication software that would have been part of Miller’s tool set once. The man’s sigh was percussive. “I don’t see anything. Were there shots fired?”

Miller looked at the chaos and ruin around them. About a thousand different alerts should have gone out with the first weapon fired. Security should have been swarming toward them.

“A few,” he said.

“Strange,” Sematimba said. “Stay put. I’ll be there.”

“Will do,” Miller said, and dropped the connection.

“Okay,” Holden said. “Who was that?”

“The real cops,” Miller said. “They’ll be here soon. It’ll be fine.”

I think it’ll be fine. It occurred to him that he was treating the situation like he was still on the inside, a part of the machine. That wasn’t true anymore, and pretending it was might have consequences.

“He was following us,” the woman said to Holden. And then, to Miller, she said, “You were following us.”

“I was,” Miller said. He didn’t think he sounded rueful, but the big guy shook his head.

“It was the hat,” the big one said. “Stood out some.”

Miller swept off his porkpie and considered it. Of course the big one had been the one to make him. The other three were competent amateurs, and Miller knew that Holden had done some time in the UN Navy. But Miller gave it better than even money that the big one’s background check would be interesting reading.

“Why were you following us?” Holden asked. “I mean, I appreciate the part where you shot the people who were shooting at us, but I’d still like to know that first part.”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Miller said. “I’m looking for someone.”

There was a pause. Holden smiled.

“Anyone in particular?” he asked.

“A crew member of the Scopuli,” Miller said.

“The Scopuli?” Holden said. He started to glance at the woman and stopped himself. There was something there. The Scopuli meant something to him beyond what Miller had seen on the news.

“There was nobody on her when we got there,” the woman said.

“Holy shit,” the shaky one behind the couch said. It was the first thing he’d said since the firefight ended, and he repeated it five or six more times in quick succession.

“What about you?” Miller asked. “Donnager blew you to Tycho, and now here. What’s that about?”

“How did you know that?” Holden said.

“It’s my job,” Miller said. “Well, it used to be.”

The answer didn’t appear to satisfy the Earther. The big guy had fallen in behind Holden, his face a friendly cipher: No trouble, unless there was trouble, and then maybe a whole lot of trouble. Miller nodded, half to the big guy, half to himself.

“I had a contact in the OPA who told me you didn’t die on the Donnager,” Miller said.

“They just told you that?” the woman asked, banked outrage in her voice.

“He was making a point at the time,” Miller said. “Anyway, he said it, and I took it from there. And in about ten minutes, I’m going to make sure Eros security doesn’t throw all of you in a hole, and me with you. So if there’s anything at all you want to tell me — like what you’re doing here, for instance — this would be the right time.”