There were five.
He recognized all the faces that Avasarala had prepared him for. Carlos Walker, wide shoulders and face, even shorter than Clarissa, had an uncanny air of stillness. Aimee Ostman could have passed for a middle-grade science teacher, but was responsible for more attacks against inner-planet military targets than all the rest combined. Liang Goodfortune, who Fred had only managed to lure to the table by offering amnesty for their daughter, a former OPA hitter still housed in a numbers-only prison on Luna. Micah al-Dujaili, with his fat, red-veined drunkard’s nose, who’d spent half his lifetime coordinating free schools and medical clinics throughout the Belt. Whose brother had been captain of the Witch of Endor when the Free Navy destroyed it.
The fifth person had the white hair of an old man, pocked cheeks, and a deferential smile that was almost an apology, but not quite. Holden recognized him, but wasn’t sure from where. He tried to keep his poker face, but the fifth man saw through the effort without seeming to realize it was there.
“Anderson Dawes,” the man said. “I don’t think we’ve ever met person to person, but Fred talked about you often. And, of course, your reputation.”
Holden shook hands with the former governor of Ceres Station and master of Marco Inaros’ inner circle, his mind racing. “I was wondering if you’d be here,” he lied.
“I hadn’t announced myself,” Dawes said. “Tycho’s a risky place for a man in my position. I was relying on Fred to vouch for me. We worked together for many years. I was sorry to hear about him.”
“It’s a loss,” Holden said. “Fred was a good man. I’ll miss him.”
“As will we all,” Dawes said. “I hope you don’t mind my arriving unannounced. Aimee reached out to me when she knew she was coming, and I asked her to let me follow along.”
Good, great, the more the merrier, Holden thought, but the little version of Avasarala in his imagination frowned. “I’m glad you’re here, but you can’t be in this meeting.”
“I can vouch for him,” Aimee Ostman said.
Holden nodded, tried to imagine what Avasarala would say, but it was the old, almost-forgotten voice of Miller that came to him. “There’s a way we do things. This isn’t it. I hope you don’t mind waiting outside, Mr. Dawes. Naomi, could you see that our friend here finds someplace comfortable?”
Naomi stepped forward. Dawes shifted his weight to the back of his feet, surprised. This is your house, Avasarala said in Holden’s mind. If they don’t respect you here, they won’t respect you anywhere. Dawes gathered up his hand terminal and a white ceramic cup, nodding to Holden with a tight smile as he left. Holden took his seat, grateful for the solid and looming presence of Bobbie at his side. Aimee Ostman’s lips were pressed thin. If you’re looking for mutual respect, you can start by asking before you invite people to my secret meetings. It seemed like a rude thing to say out loud.
“If you’re looking for mutual respect, you can start by asking before you invite people to my secret meetings.”
Aimee Ostman cleared her throat and looked away.
“All right,” Holden said. “This was supposed to be Fred Johnson’s presentation, but he’s gone. I know you all came here on the strength of his word and his reputation. And I know you’re all concerned about Marco Inaros and the Free Navy. But I also know this is the first time any of you have met me, and I may not have your full confidence.”
“You’re James Holden,” Liang Goodfortune said in a tone that meant Of course you don’t have our full confidence.
“I took the liberty of arranging an introduction,” he said, shifting the message from his hand terminal to the monitors on the table.
Michio Pa looked out at each of them. The command deck of the Connaught glowed behind her. “Friends,” she said. “As you know, I was not long ago in the inner circle of the Free Navy, and what I saw there convinced me and many of those in my command that Marco Inaros is not the leader that the Belt needs. As the Free Navy has abandoned its original purpose of supporting and rebuilding the Belt and keeping the industry that feeds Belters from shifting out to the new colony worlds, I have stayed true. You all know this. I have lost friends to this effort. I have risked my life and the lives of those I care most deeply for. I serve with the true heroes of the Belt. My credentials are beyond reproach.”
Bobbie nudged him and nodded toward Micah al-Dujaili. Tears were shining in the man’s eyes. Holden nodded. He saw it too.
“Since my parting of ways with the Free Navy, I have been working with Fred Johnson toward a comprehensive plan that will guarantee the safety and well-being of the Belt.” Pa paused, took a deep breath. Holden wondered whether she did that every time she lied, or just when it was a whopper. “This meeting was intended to be an introduction of that plan and of Captain Holden as integral to it. Unfortunately, while Fred Johnson was able to see the path forward, he isn’t able to make that journey with us. As a dedicated citizen of the Belt and a servant of our people, I’m asking you to hear Captain Holden out and then to join with us for a living future. Thank you.”
Everything about her statement had been negotiated. He’d lost track of the number of times they’d traded back and forth, Pa asking for something, Avasarala explaining what it really meant, him running between the two of them like a messenger, but learning a little more with every pass. Pa would agree to say they’d been working toward a plan, but not that they’d been working on a plan. She would say that Holden was integral to it, but not that he was central. The whole process had been everything he hated—niggling on details and nuances, fighting over turns of phrase and the order information was presented in, fashioning something that, even where it wasn’t outright false, was tailored to be misunderstood. Politics at its most political.
He looked at the four faces sitting around the table and tried to judge whether it had worked. Aimee Ostman looked thoughtful and sour. Micah al-Dujaili was still composing himself, moved by the reminder that his brother had already sacrificed himself in the cause. Carlos Walker, still and silent and unreadable as language in an unknown alphabet. Liang Goodfortune cleared their throat.
“Looks like Inaros has a habit of losing women to you, Captain,” Goodfortune said. Walker chuckled. They’ll try embarrassing you a little to see how you react. Don’t try to one-up them, or they’ll try to escalate out of conflicts later. Stay on point. Naomi stepped back in, came to sit at his side.
“Losing Fred is hard because it’s sad,” Holden said. “He was a friend. But it doesn’t change the situation. He formed a plan, and my intention is to follow it. Fred called on each of you because he felt you had something to offer this and also something to gain by it.”
Carlos Walker’s eyes shifted, as if he’d heard something interesting for the first time. Holden nodded to him, an intentionally ambiguous gesture. Then he turned to Bobbie. Her turn to take the floor.
“There will be a military aspect to this,” she said. “We’re not getting through any of this without some risk, but we’re confident that it is more than outweighed by the rewards.”
“You say that as a representative of Mars?” Aimee Ostman asked.
“Sergeant Draper has worked as a liaison between Earth and Mars on several occasions,” Holden said. “She’s here today as a member of my crew.”