In the display, one of their escort missiles went from green to amber to flashing red.
“Shit,” Bobbie said. “Lost one.”
“It’s all right. We’ve got plenty more.”
In the past hours, the Pella and her pack had come up with the bright idea of coordinating their comm lasers to hit a particular missile and then pumping energy into it until the controls overheated. The missiles failed inert, or they would have figured the enemy strategy out when the escorting cloud had cooked off in a massive chain reaction. Instead, they’d lost four missiles in half an hour and put together what was happening. Bobbie and the Razorback’s antiquated and underpowered system had designed a rolling pattern formation for the missiles that kept any one of them from being in an uninterrupted sightline for more than a few seconds at a time. Watching it on the cameras reminded Alex of documentaries he’d seen about deep sea fish on Earth, vast schools roiling and yet staying together. Only for him, it was their little group of remaining missiles.
Ever since the announcement by the Free Navy, the prime minister had been back in the cabin, using their own tightbeam for what sounded like a hundred furious conversations that all seemed to have the same timbre. Alex couldn’t quite make out all the words and he made conscious effort not to listen in case someone asked later what he knew. But the phrases not substantiated and significant failure and still investigating all came through enough times that Alex started to recognize them, kind of like hearing a song often enough that the lyrics became clearer.
His monitor was divided between a large-scale map of the solar system highlighting the parts of it critical to him – the Razorback, the UN military escort burning out to meet them, the Rocinante, the Pella and its pack, Tycho Station, Mars, Earth, Luna – and a smaller inset that was the Razorback’s internal systems diagnostics. The little pinnace hadn’t been intended for full interplanetary travel, and with Earth and Mars where they were, they were going to be cutting it pretty close. The reactor had enough fuel pellets to burn for months, but once they ran out of ejection mass, the drive wouldn’t do them much good. So far, they were still inside the error bars. Which, for him, meant that even if they ran out, they’d be going slow enough that someone could come throw a tether on them. Rescued by professionals was still firmly in his win column.
The navigation system threw an alert to his monitor. He opened it.
“What’ve you got?” Bobbie asked.
“The Pella and her little friend there cut their drives again,” Alex said. “And… Hey! I think… Some of the ships are peeling off. I think they’re giving up!”
Bobbie whooped and Smith stopped his conversation in the back long enough to come see what was going on. By the time Alex had explained it all, the Pella had its drive on too, and was turning with the others. Not a full flip-and-burn, but a kind of fishtail slide that kept a good fraction of their momentum while still setting them on a course for the Belt and, give or take a few million kilometers, the Jovian system. The Chetzemoka peeled off in the opposite direction. Whatever mission the Pella was on, it was leaving the Razorback behind.
A tension Alex hadn’t been consciously aware of started to evaporate along with Bobbie’s occasional whoops and laughter. The UN escort force checked in. The solar flares weren’t even coming close to intersecting with their path. The Razorback’s heat sinks were coping with the radiant heat well enough. Alex let himself relax.
It lasted almost half an hour.
“This is Naomi Nagata of the Rocinante. If you get this message, please retransmit. Tell James Holden I am in distress. Comm is not responding. I have no nav control. Please retransmit…”
And then forty minutes after that:
“Alex, since you’re in the neighborhood and it went so well the last time I asked you to check out a mystery ship, I was wondering if you’d be interested in making a little detour. I’m having my temporary pilot figure out a fast burn that will get me to Naomi, but you’re closer and you’re going in nearly the same direction. There’s a chance this is the bad guys trying to trick us, so keep your eyes open. If it is Naomi, though, make sure she’s still breathing when I get there. Let me know what you think.”