“I put a notice on the site so it gives a status update and asks for confirmation before any more money gets moved.”
She pulled herself into the galley. Prax and Holden were floating near the coffee machine. Prax wore a stunned expression, whereas Holden looked slightly smug. They both had bulbs of coffee, but Prax seemed to have forgotten his. The botanist’s eyes were wide and his mouth hung open, even in the microgravity.
“Who’s getting sued?” Avasarala asked.
“Now that we have Mei,” Holden said, “Prax wants people to stop giving him money.”
“It’s too much,” the botanist said, looking at her as if he expected her to do something about it. “I mean …”
“Surplus funds?” Avasarala asked.
“He can’t quite retire on what he’s got,” Holden said. “Not in luxury, anyway.”
“But it’s yours,” Prax said, turning to Holden with something like hope. “You set up the account.”
“I took the Rocinante’s fees already. Trust me, you paid us generously,” Holden said, hand out in a gesture of refusal. “What’s still in there’s all yours. Well, yours and Mei’s.”
Avasarala scowled. That changed her personal calculus a little. She’d thought this would be the right time to lock Prax into a contract, but Jim Holden had once again ridden in at the last moment and screwed everything up.
“Congratulations,” Avasarala said. “Has either of you seen Bobbie? I need to talk to her.”
“Last I saw, she was heading for the machine shop.”
“Thanks,” Avasarala said, and kept pulling herself along. If Praxidike Meng was independently wealthy, that made him less likely to take on the job of rebuilding Ganymede for purely financial reasons. She could probably work the civic pride angle. He and his daughter were the face of the tragedy there, and having him running the show would mean more to people than all the facts and figures of how screwed they’d all be without the food supplies back online. He might be the kind of man who’d be swayed by that. She needed to think about it.
Once again, she was moving slowly and carefully enough that she heard the voices before she reached the machine shop. Bobbie and Amos, both of them laughing. She couldn’t believe that she was walking in on an intimate moment, but it had that tickle-fight sound to it. Then Mei shrieked with delight, and Avasarala understood.
The machine shop was the last place in the ship, with the possible exception of engineering, that Avasarala would have thought about playing with a little girl, but there she was, arms and legs flailing through the air. Her shoulder-length black hair flowed around her in a whirl, following the gentle end-over-end spin of her body. Her face was bright with pleasure. Bobbie and Amos stood at opposite ends of the shop. As Avasarala watched, Bobbie caught the little girl out of the air and launched her back toward Amos. Soon, Avasarala thought, the girl would start losing her milk teeth. She wondered how much of all this Mei would remember when she was an adult.
“Are you people crazy?” Avasarala said as Amos caught the girl. “This isn’t a playground.”
“Hey there,” Amos said, “we weren’t planning on staying long. The captain and the doc needed a minute, so I figured I’d haul the kiddo down here. Give her the tour.”
“When they send you to play catch with a child, they don’t mean that she’s the f—that she’s the ball,” Avasarala said, moving across to him. “Give that child to me. None of you people has any idea how to take care of a little girl. It’s amazing you all lived to adulthood.”
“Ain’t wrong about that,” Amos said amiably, holding out the kid.
“Come to your nana,” Avasarala said.
“What’s a nana?” Mei asked.
“I’m a nana,” Avasarala said, gathering the child to her. Her body wanted to put the girl against her hip, to feel the weight bearing down on her. In microgravity holding a child felt odd. Good, but odd. Mei smelled of wax and vanilla. “How much longer before we can get some thrust? I feel like a f—like a balloon floating around in here.”
“Soon as Alex and Naomi finish maintenance on the drive computers, we’re out of here,” Amos said.
“Where’s my daddy?” Mei asked.
“Good,” Avasarala said. “We’ve got a schedule to keep, and I’m not paying you people for floating lessons. Your daddy’s talking to the captain, Mei-Mei.”
“Where?” the girl demanded. “Where is he? I want my da!”
“I’ll get you back to him, kiddo,” Amos said, holding out a massive hand. He shifted his attention to Avasarala. “She’s good for about five minutes, then it’s ‘Where’s Daddy?’”
“Good,” Avasarala said. “They deserve each other.”