found the reactor and punched a hole in it.
There was also a huge dent in the false superstructure that made the ship look like a compressed gas freighter. Holden knew it would match an equally ugly wound in the armored outer hull. The damage hadn’t extended to the inner hull, or the ship would have cracked in two.
With the damage to the airlock, and the total loss of their oxygen storage tanks and recycling systems, there would be millions of dollars in damage and weeks in dry dock, assuming they could make it to a dry dock somewhere.
Maybe the
Amos flashed the EVA pack’s yellow warning lights three times, and the station’s emergency airlock door cycled open. He flew them inside, where four Belters in combat armor waited.
As soon as the airlock finished cycling, Holden pulled his helmet off and touched his nose. It felt twice its normal size and throbbed with every heartbeat.
Naomi reached out and held his face still, her thumbs on either side of his nose, her touch surprisingly gentle. She turned his head from side to side, examining the injury, then let go.
“It’ll be crooked without some cosmetic surgery,” she said. “But you were too pretty before anyway. It’ll give your face character.”
Holden felt a slow grin coming on, but before he could reply, one of the OPA troops started talking.
“Watched the fight, hermano. You guys really kicked some ass.”
“Thanks,” said Alex. “How’s it goin’ in here?”
The soldier with the most stars on his OPA insignia said, “Less resistance than expected, but the Protogen security’s been fighting for every foot of real estate. Even some of the egg-heads have been coming at us. We’ve had to shoot a few.”
He pointed at the inner airlock door.
“Fred’s heading up to ops. Wants you people up there, pronto.”
“Lead the way,” Holden replied, his nose turning it into
“How’s that leg, Cap?” Amos asked as they walked along the station corridor. Holden realized he’d forgotten about the limp his gunshot to the calf had left him.
“Doesn’t hurt, but the muscle doesn’t flex as much,” he replied. “Yours?”
Amos grinned and glanced down at the leg that still limped from the fracture he’d suffered on the
“No biggie,” he said. “The ones that don’t kill you don’t count.”
Holden started to reply, then stopped when the group rounded a corner into a slaughterhouse. They were clearly coming up behind the assault team, because now the corridor floor was littered with bodies, the walls with bullet holes and scorch marks. To his relief, Holden saw a lot more bodies in Protogen security armor than in OPA gear. But there were enough dead Belters on the floor to make his stomach twist. When he passed a dead man in a lab coat, he had to stop himself from spitting on the floor. The security guys had maybe made a bad decision in going to work for the wrong team, but the scientists on this station had killed a million and a half people just to see what would happen. They couldn’t be dead enough for Holden’s comfort.
Something tugged at him, and he paused. Lying next to the dead scientist was what looked like a kitchen knife.
“Huh,” Holden said. “He didn’t come at you guys with that, did he?”
“Yeah, crazy, no?” said one of their escorts. “I heard of bringing a knife to a gunfight, but… ”
“Ops is up ahead,” said the ranking trooper. “General’s waiting.”
Holden entered the stations’ ops center and saw Fred, Miller, a bunch of OPA troops, and one stranger in an expensive-looking suit. A line of technicians and operations staff in Protogen uniform had their wrists cuffed and were being led away. The room was covered deck to ceiling in screens and monitors, most of which were spooling text data too fast to read.
“Let me get this straight,” Fred was saying. “You’ll give me all the kingdoms of the Earth if I just bow down and do one act of worship for you?”
“I don’t know the reference,” the stranger said.
Whatever else they were about to say stopped when Miller noticed Holden and tapped Fred on the shoulder. Holden could swear that the detective gave him a warm smile, though on his dour face it was hard to tell.
“Jim,” Fred said, then gestured for him to come closer. He was reading a matte black business card. “Meet Antony Dresden, executive VP of bio research for Protogen, and the architect of the Eros project.”
The asshole in the suit actually reached out like he was going to shake hands. Holden ignored him.
“Fred,” he said. “Casualties?”
“Shockingly low.”
“Half their security had non-lethals,” Miller said. “Riot control. Sticky rounds. Like that.”
Holden nodded and then shook his head and frowned.
“I saw a lot of Protogen security bodies out there in the corridor. Why have so many guys and then give them weapons that can’t repel boarders?”
“Good question,” Miller agreed.
Dresden chuckled.
“This is what I mean, Mr. Johnson,” Dresden said. He turned to Holden. “Jim? Well then, Jim. The fact that you don’t understand this station’s security needs tells me that you have no idea what you’ve become involved with. And I think you know that as well as I do. As I was saying to Fred here-”
“Antony, you need to shut the fuck up,” Holden said, surprised by the sudden flush of anger. Dresden looked disappointed.
The bastard had no right to be comfortable. Condescending. Holden wanted the man terrified, begging for his life, not sneering behind his cultured accent.
“Amos, if he talks to me again without being told to, break his jaw.”
“My pleasure, Captain,” Amos said, and took half a step forward.
Dresden smirked at the ham-fisted threat but kept his mouth shut.
“What do we know?” Holden asked, aiming the question at Fred.
“We know the Eros data is coming here, and we know this piece of shit is in charge. We’ll know more once we’ve taken the place apart.”
Holden turned to look at Dresden again, taking in the blue blood European good looks, the gym-sculpted physique, the expensive haircut. Even now, surrounded by men with guns, Dresden managed to look like he was in charge. Holden could imagine him glancing down at his watch and wondering how much more of his expensive time this boarding party was going to take.
Holden said, “I need to ask him something.”
Fred nodded. “You earned it.”
“Why?” Holden asked. “I want to know why.”
Dresden’s smile was almost pitying, and he stuck his hands into his pockets as casually as a man talking sports at a dockside bar.
“ ‘Why’ is a very big question,” Dresden said. “Because God wanted it that way? Or perhaps you want to narrow it for me.”
“Why Eros?”
“Well, Jim-”
“You can call me Captain Holden. I’m the guy that found your lost ship, so I’ve seen the video from Phoebe. I know what the protomolecule is.”
“Really!” Dresden said, his smile becoming half a degree more genuine. “I have you to thank for turning the viral agent over to us on Eros. Losing the
