Cibola Burn (Page 115)
“They’re shootin’ at you,” Alex said, and suddenly Basia’s HUD had red lines across it. “Got the Roci trackin’ bullet paths.”
The knowledge that there were silent, invisible, and potentially deadly projectiles flying past him made Basia’s scalp tingle. The red lines on the display apparently meant more to Havelock, because the Earther said, “They’re nowhere near us. They haven’t got HUD-integrated targeting, so they’re just spraying and praying right now. There’s no reason to return fire.”
“XO?” Alex said. It took Basia a second to realize he was talking to Naomi.
“Havelock’s calling this one,” she replied. “They’re his people.”
“Okay,” Alex said doubtfully.
The Rocinante continued to grow minute by minute until Basia could see the tiny ring of lights around its airlock. He’d only been on the ship a short time, but it felt like coming home. His EVA pack fired off a quick series of blasts and spun him around to face the Israel, then began braking. Almost there.
“Guys,” Havelock said. “Recoilless is an exaggeration. It doesn’t mean there’s no recoil at all.”
It sounded like more nonsense talk to Basia until he looked at the Rocinante’s video of the pursuing team and saw one of the four men spinning and rotating in space, frantically firing his EVA pack to get under control. It only seemed to make it worse, as every blast of gas from the pack just added a new axis to the rotation.
“Then that’s an inaccurate name for the weapons,” the man called Kemp replied.
“And if we’d gotten to more advanced zero-g tactics, I would have explained that,” Havelock said. “I also would have taught you to use the integrated compensation software to have the EVA pack do stabilizing bursts every time you fire the gun.”
“Seems to me there’s a lot you didn’t show us,” Kemp replied.
“Yeah, and now that you’re shooting at me, I’m just sick about that. In the meantime, please stop. Drake is way out of control and drifting away from you guys. Someone needs to go get him before he gets too far.”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the one Havelock had called Koenen said. “Get us to call off the chase.”
“I’d like,” Havelock said, his voice sad, “to keep Drake from falling out of space and dying. Also, I’m arguing with the pilot of the gunship behind me so that he doesn’t need to turn you into a cloud of red mist with his point defense cannons. But you guys are making it harder and harder to be convincing.”
“Don’t threaten —”
“Go get Drake. Get back in the ship. Stop shooting. If one of those shots you’re spraying around accidentally hits, I’m taking the gunship off the leash.”
There was a long silence. The red lines on Basia’s HUD began disappearing one by one until none were left. The EVA pack fired off one long, final burst, then spun him around. The outer airlock door of the Rocinante was already open, waiting for them. Naomi drifted inside, grabbed a handhold, and waited for them to follow. Shaded from Ilus’ star the polarization of her faceplate faded, and the blue glow of the airlock’s LED lights illuminated the inside of her helmet. Her wide smile was clearly visible.
“Home again, home again,” she said. Basia drifted in next to her and she caught his arm to stop him. “Thank you for coming for me.”
Basia blushed and raised his palms in a Belter shrug. “I didn’t do much but get shot at.”
“Sometimes just showing up is a lot.”
Havelock caught the edge of the airlock entrance and stopped, looking back toward the Israel. “Hey, you got Drake? He okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Kemp replied. “We caught him.”
“Havelock,” the older, angrier voice said. “You won’t get away with this. RCE will burn you to the ground when we get back. And I’ll be there to see it happen.”
Havelock laughed. “Chief? I hope we both live so long. Havelock out.” He backed into the airlock and slapped the wall panel to start the cycle.
“We made it,” Basia said. He felt a brief moment of euphoria, followed by a sudden release of pants-shitting terror he hadn’t even known he’d been repressing. If he’d been standing in gravity, he would have collapsed. Naomi and Havelock began stripping off their EVA packs while the airlock ran through the pressurization cycle. Basia fumbled at the straps of his own, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t manage it. After a few moments, Naomi helped him pull it off.
The pack drifted across the compartment and hit the bulkhead with a dull thud. Basia had just enough time to realize he’d actually heard something other than his own breathing when the inner airlock door slid open. Alex floated, framed by the airlock entrance, a goofy grin on his broad dark face.
“XO,” he said, “good to have you back on the ship.”
Naomi pulled her helmet off and tossed it to him. “Good to be back, Mister Kamal.”
There was a short pause while they grinned at each other, then Naomi pushed off toward him and Alex grabbed her in a hug.
“They treat you okay?” Alex asked.
“Kept me locked in a kennel like a dog,” Naomi replied, jerking her head toward Havelock. The squat Earthman had removed his own helmet, and it floated in the air next to him. He was wearing a sheepish half smile. Without his helmet on, Basia saw his short, light-colored hair, a square jaw, and dark eyes. A sort of generic rugged handsomeness. Like a video star playing a cop in an action movie. It made Basia want to dislike him.
“It was policy,” Havelock said. “I’m – I was chief of ship security on the Edward Israel. I think I may have just resigned that position. I was the one that took your XO captive. I hope you won’t hold that against me.”
“Okay,” Alex said, then turned back to Naomi as if Havelock weren’t even there. “What now?”
“Status report,” Naomi replied. “What’s the latest on the degrading orbit?”
“Barbapiccola’s going down first, then the Israel, then we get to pick between dying in orbit when the batties run out, burning in the atmosphere, or getting shot by aliens,” Alex said with a humorless laugh. “We’re all fucked six ways from Sunday. But it’s nice to have you back on board.”
Chapter Forty-Four: Holden
Holden shuffled his way around the tower again.