“Muskrat!” she shouted, but the dog was onto something and wouldn’t be turned away. The thick, wagging tail disappeared behind a hedge of lilacs imported from Earth, and Teresa trotted after.
She half expected to find Muskrat worrying a skitter or ash-cat or other local animal that had wandered onto the grounds. The dog did that sometimes, even though the local animals made her sick when she ate them. Teresa always worried that one of the larger native predators would sneak in someday. But when she made her way around the hedge, the only thing besides Muskrat was a human figure, sitting on the grass and looking out toward the horizon. Graying, close-cropped hair. Laconian uniform without an insignia of rank. An amiable, empty smile.
James Holden, and Muskrat sprawling on the grass beside him, wriggling to scratch her back. Teresa stopped short. Holden reached out idly and rubbed her dog’s belly. Muskrat hopped to her feet and barked to Teresa. Come on! Almost against her will, Teresa found herself walking toward the most famous prisoner in the empire.
She didn’t like Holden. Didn’t trust him. But whenever they spoke, he was polite and unthreatening. Even a little amused by everything in a vague, philosophical kind of way that made it easy to be polite back.
“Hey,” he said, not looking up at her.
“Hello.”
“You know what’s weird?” he said. “The rain smells the same, but the wet ground doesn’t.”
Teresa didn’t say anything. Muskrat looked from the prisoner to her and back again, as if she expected something she was looking forward to. After a moment, Holden went on.
“I grew up on Earth. When I was your age—you’re fourteen, right? When I was your age, I was living on a ranch in Montana with eight parents and a lot of animals. Rain smelled like this. I think it’s the ozone. You know, from the electrical charges? But the ground after a storm had this deep smell. It was like . . . I don’t know. It smelled good. Here, it smells minty. It’s weird.”
“I’ve been around wet soil before,” she said, almost defensive. “That smell’s called petrichor. It’s actinomycete spores.”
“I didn’t know that,” Holden said. “It’s a good smell. I miss it.”
“That’s my dog.” The implied so get away from her was lost on him.
“Muskrat,” Holden said, and Muskrat thumped her tail, pleased to be included in the conversation. “That’s an interesting name. Did you pick it?”
“Yes,” Teresa said.
“Ever seen a real muskrat?”
“Of course not.”
“So why the name?” The way he asked seemed weirdly open. Almost innocent. Like she was the grown-up and he was the kid.
“There was a character named that in a picture book my father used to read to me.”
“And was the character a muskrat?”
“I guess so,” Teresa said.
“Well, there you have it,” Holden said. “Mystery solved. You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know. She’s not.”
Teresa shifted her weight. The ground under her was still soft from the rain, and he was right. It smelled like mint. A half dozen possible responses came to mind, from turning and walking away to telling him that she wasn’t scared of him and he was stupid to think she was. If she hadn’t already been feeling humiliated and angry, she probably would have laughed it off. But it turned out she was spoiling for a fight, and he’d handed her one. He was one of the few people it was perfectly safe to bite at.
“You’re a terrorist,” she said. “You killed people.”
An expression crossed his face almost too quickly to see, then he smiled again. “I guess I was. But I’m not anymore.”
“I don’t know why my father doesn’t keep you in prison,” she said.
“Oh, I know the answer to that one. I’m his dancing bear,” Holden said, and lay back on the grass and looked up at the sky. High white clouds against the blue, and the glittering lights of the construction platforms beyond them. Teresa understood the game. He was pulling her into conversation. The thing about the rain and the soil. How Muskrat got her name. Now this mysterious dancing bear comment. All of them were invitations, but it was up to her whether to play along.
“Dancing bear?” she said.
“Old kings used to have dangerous animals in their courts. Lions. Panthers. Bears. They’d teach them to do tricks or at least not to eat too many of the guests. It’s a way to show power. Everyone knows a bear is a killer, but the king is so powerful that a bear’s just a plaything for him. If Duarte kept me in a cell, people might think he was afraid of me. Or that I might be a threat if I got out. If he lets me out, lets me roam around with what sort of looks like freedom, it tells everyone that comes to the palace that he’s cut my nuts off.” He didn’t sound angry at all. Or resigned. If anything, he was almost amused by it.
“You’re getting your back wet, lying down like that.”
“I know.”
The moment stretched, and she felt the silence pushing at her. “How many people did you kill?”
“Depends on how you count it. I tried not to get anyone killed when I could help it. The thing is? I am in prison. Right now, I’m pretty sure there are at least two very well-trained snipers ready to open up my brainpan if I try to hurt you. So not only am I not inclined to hurt you, I literally couldn’t, even if I thought it was a good idea. That’s the point of a dancing bear. It’s the least dangerous thing at the court, because everyone’s aware of it. The ones you trust are always the most dangerous. A lot more kings and princesses got poisoned by their friends than eaten by bears.”
Her handheld chimed. Colonel Ilich asking to speak with her. She sent an acknowledgment, but didn’t open a connection. Holden grinned up at her.
“Duty calls?” he asked.
Teresa didn’t answer him except to tap her leg. Muskrat hauled herself up to her feet and trundled over, as pleased to leave as to stay. Teresa turned back toward the State Building. When Holden called back after her, there was a buzz in his voice. Like he was trying to fit more meaning into the words than the syllables could hold.
“If you’re worried, you should keep an eye on me.”
She looked back. He was sitting up. As she’d warned, his back was dark with wet, but he didn’t seem to care.
“They’re watching me all the time,” he said. “Even when it seems like they aren’t. You should keep an eye on me.”
She frowned. “All right,” she said, then walked away.
As she headed back toward her rooms and the colonel, Muskrat huffing contentedly at her side, Teresa tried to decide what she was feeling. The sting of Connor and Muriel was still there, and the shame at feeling stung. But they weren’t as immediate as they had been. And along with them was an uneasiness she couldn’t quite fit her mind around, only that it had to do with the fact that Muskrat liked stumbling across James Holden and she didn’t.
She found Colonel Ilich in the common area. The couches and sofas felt very different with all the other students gone. The walls themselves felt like they’d taken a step back and left a fraction more room for the emptiness. Her footsteps echoed, and so did Muskrat’s claws tapping against the tile. Ilich was going through something on his handheld, but he stood up as soon as she came near.
“Thank you,” he said. “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?”
“Nothing important,” she said. “I was just walking.”
“That’s excellent. Your father asked me to see whether you were available.”
“An incident?”
“Piracy in Sol system,” Ilich said. Then, a moment later, “Piracy with some unfortunate security implications. There may need to be an escalated response.”
“Did something important go missing?”
“Yes. But before we go to your father?” Ilich’s expression softened. For a moment, he had the same expression she’d just seen on James Holden. It was eerie. “I don’t want to intrude, but I had the feeling that there was something bothering you at the peer seminar today.”
This was her moment. All she had to say was that she didn’t feel comfortable with Muriel anymore, and the girl would never be welcome at the State Building again. Or that she wanted to go on the next camping overnight that the school took. Then she could sneak out at night and kiss a boy down by the water. She could feel the words in her mouth, solid and hard as candy. But then Ilich would know. He knew already.
The ones you trust are always the most dangerous.
“Teresa?” Ilich said. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” she said. “Everything’s fine.”
Chapter Ten: Elvi
Something was wrong. She didn’t know what it was, only that she had an overwhelming sense of threat and dislocation. She was coughing and vomiting breathable liquid, and Fayez was already gone. His couch looked empty and dry. He’d been out of it awhile. Her mind slowly came back. She was on the Falcon. They’d been burning hard to the Tecoma system. She’d been in a high-g crash couch. And something had gone wrong.