Naomi sat in the chair beside Holden. He took her hand, and she allowed it, but her attention was on Avasarala. Alex wasn’t sure why that bothered him so much. The meeting wasn’t an invitation for the two of them to work out their relationship status. And still, if she’d been just a little less guarded with him…
“Yes,” Naomi said. “He would have. He likes to brag.” The intimacy of that one piece of information filled Alex’s chest with a sense of deep foreboding. Holden’s face was calm. Unreadable.
“Good,” Avasarala said, a sharpness in her voice. “That’s very good to know.” She considered Naomi silently. “You look like you’re feeling better. You heard some of what I was saying?”
“Enough of it,” Naomi said.
“Are you going to be able to help us?”
The question hung in the air, rich with nuance and complicated importance. Not Why were you on his ship. Not How do you know him. Not Who are you to him that he brags about his plans to you. Just, Are you going to be able to help?
“You okay?” Amos murmured.
“What? I’m fine,” she replied.
“Because you’re kinda fidgeting,” Amos said at the same time Naomi said, “I want immunity from prosecution.”
The air seemed to go out of the room. It wasn’t a confession, but it painted a picture that none of them had wanted to admit might be possible. To ask for immunity was an admission of guilt, even if they didn’t know what she was guilty of.
Avasarala’s smile was indulgent and friendly and, he was almost certain, deceptive. “Blanket immunity?”
“For all of us.”
“Who is ‘all of us’?” Avasarala said, forming the words carefully as she said them. “Your friends in the Free Navy?”
“The crew of the Rocinante,” Naomi said, and then stuttered. Paused. “And maybe one other person.”
Alex shot a look at Amos. Did she know about Clarissa? Was that who she meant? Amos’ smile was amiable and empty. Avasarala tapped her fingernails against the table.
“Not for Earth,” Avasarala said. “Dropping the rocks? No one gets immunity for that.”
Alex saw it hit. Tears appeared in Naomi’s eyes, brimming silver and bright. “The crew of the Rocinante,” she said. “The other one… I may ask for clemency and consideration later on. If the occasion arises.”
“For Inaros?”
“No,” Naomi said. “Him, you can fucking burn.”
“I need to understand this fully,” Avasarala said. “You, as a former member of Inaros’ group, are willing to exchange complete and accurate information about his activities both before and after the bombardment of Earth in exchange for blanket immunity for the crew of the Rocinante on any matter not related to the present attacks?” That there had been no profanity in the statement gave it a solidity that unnerved Alex.
“Yes,” Naomi said. “That’s right.”
The relief on Avasarala’s face was hard as flint. “Glad to hear you say that, dear. I was worried I’d misjudged you.” She rose to her feet, then grabbed at the table, cursing under her breath. “I miss weighing something. Half the time, I feel like I’m on a fucking trampoline. I’m going to go lie down and take a sleeping pill before I have a psychotic break, but the debriefing? It starts in the morning.”
“We’ll be wherever you want us to be,” Holden said. “We’re not going to hide anything.” He was still holding Naomi’s hand, and her fingers had curled around his. So maybe that was hopeful after all. As to not hiding anything… Well, Amos still didn’t say anything.
The meeting broke up, except that it also didn’t. Avasarala left, but the rest of them, including Bobbie, went to the security lobby, through the checkpoint, and out to the public lobby together. The sober silence gave way slowly to more mundane conversation: whether there was anyplace with food better than the mess on the Roci. Or if not better, at least different. Whether Naomi was up to drinking alcohol, because there was a little pub on one of the lower levels that was supposed to have some pretty good beers on offer. No one asked whether Bobbie was joining them. It was just assumed. As they shuffled and bounced in the thin gravity, Naomi and Holden kept hold of each other’s hands. Amos and Bobbie traded dirty jokes. It was the powerfully ordinary talk that gave Alex hope. For everything that had happened, that was happening, that was still looming in the unseen and uncertain future, there were still moments like these. And so maybe it would be all right despite it all.
At the wide slope of Chandrayaan Plaza, where the traffic of carts and mechs and half-skipping people turned down a wide ramp deeper into the body of the moon, Amos cleared his throat.
“So that immunity for the crew thing?”
“It wasn’t just for you,” Naomi said, making it a joke, and also not one.