James Corey - Abaddon's Gate

“Yeah,” Chris said. “If we fight out here, we’ll all die. No support, no reinforcements, nothing to hide behind. Three armed fleets and nothing bigger than a stray hydrogen atom for cover. This is what we call the kill box.”

The silence stretched for a moment, then the Australian sighed and said, “Yeah.”

“And something may come out of the Ring.”

Saying the thing out loud and then acknowledging it drained the tension out of the air. With everyone floating in microgravity, no one could slump. But shoulders and foreheads relaxed. There were a few sad smiles. Even her angry young marine ran a hand through her blond crew cut and nodded without looking at anyone.

“Let’s do this again next week,” Anna said while she still had them. “We can celebrate communion, then maybe just chat for a while. And in the meantime, my door is always open. Please call me if you need to talk.”

The group began to break up, heading for the door. Anna kept hold of Chris’ hand. “Could you wait a moment? I need to ask you about something.”

“Chris,” the marine said with a mocking singsong voice. “Gonna get a little preacher action.”

“That’s not funny,” Anna said, using the full weight of her teacher voice. The marine had the grace to blush.

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“You may leave,” Anna said, and her marine did. “Chris, do you remember the young woman who was in the officers’ mess that first time we met?”

He shrugged. “There were lots of people coming and going.”

“This one had long dark hair. She looked very sad. She was wearing civilian clothes.”

“Oh,” Chris said with a grin. “The cute one. Yeah, I remember her.”

“Do you know her?”

“No. Just a civvy contractor fixing the plumbing, I’d guess. We have a couple ships full of them in the fleet. Why?”

That was a good question. She honestly wasn’t sure why the angry young woman weighed on her mind so much over the last few days. But something about her stuck in Anna’s memory like a burr in her clothing. She’d feel irritated and antsy and suddenly the girl’s face would pop into her mind. The anger, the sense of threat she’d radiated. The proximity of that encounter to the sudden hostilities and damaged ships and people shooting at each other. There was nothing that tied them all together, but Anna couldn’t shake the feeling that they were connected.

“I’m worried about her?” Anna finally said. At least it wasn’t a lie.

Chris was tinkering with his hand terminal. After a few seconds, he said, “Melba Koh. Electrochemical engineer. She’ll probably be on and off the ship here and all the way home. Maybe you’ll run into her.”

“Great,” Anna said, wondering if she actually wanted that to happen.

“You know what sucks?” Tilly asked. Before Anna could say anything, Tilly said, “ This sucks.”

She didn’t have to elaborate. They were floating together near a table in the civilian commissary. A small plastic box was attached to the table with magnetic feet. Inside it was a variety of tubes filled with protein and carbohydrate pastes in an array of colors and flavors. Next to the box sat two bulbs. Anna’s held tea. Tilly’s coffee. The officers’ mess, with its polite waiters, custom-cooked meals, and open bar, was a distant memory. Tilly hadn’t had an alcoholic drink in several days. Neither of them had eaten anything that required chewing in as long.

“The oat and raisin isn’t bad. I think it might actually have real honey in it,” Anna said, holding up one of the white plastic squeeze packs. Tilly was no stranger to space travel. Her husband owned estates on every major rock in the solar system. But Anna suspected she’d never eaten food out of a plastic tube in her entire life before this. Any pilot who had the poor planning to put Tilly’s ship at null g during one of her meals was probably fired at the next port.

Tilly picked up a packet of the oat mush, wrinkled her lip at it, and flicked it away with her fingers. It sat spinning next to her head like a miniature helicopter.

“Annie,” Tilly said. “If I wanted to suck vile fluids out of a flaccid and indifferent tube, I’d have stayed on Earth with my husband.”

At some point Anna had become Annie to Tilly, and her objection to this nickname hadn’t fazed Tilly at all. “You have to eat, eventually. Who knows how long we’ll be out here.”

“Not much longer, if I have anything to say about it,” said a booming voice from behind Anna.

If she’d been touching the floor, she would have jumped. But floating in the air, all she managed was an undignified jerk and squeak.

“Sorry to startle you,” Cortez continued, sliding into her field of view. “But I had hoped we might speak.”

He was scuffing across the floor wearing the magnetic booties the navy had handed out. Anna had tried them, but drifting free while your feet remained pinned to the floor had given her an uncomfortable underwater sensation that made her even sicker than just floating around did. She never used them.

Cortez nodded to Tilly, his too-white smile beaming at her in his nut-brown face. Without asking if he could join them, he used the menu screen on the table to order himself a soda water. Tilly smiled back. It was the fake I don’t really see you smile she used on people who carried her luggage or waited on her table. Their mutual contempt established, Tilly sipped her coffee and ignored his presence. Cortez placed one large hand on Anna’s shoulder and said, “Doctor Volovodov, I am putting together a coalition of the important civilian counselors on this ship to make a request of the captain, and I’d like your support.”

Anna admired the absolute sincerity Cortez managed to pack into a sentence that was almost entirely composed of flattery. Cortez was here because he was the spiritual advisor to the UN secretary-general. Anna was here because the United Methodist Council could spare her, and her home happened to be on the way. If she was on any list of important counselors, then the bar was set pretty low.

“I’m happy to talk about it, Doctor Cortez,” Anna said, then reached for her tea bulb. It gave her an excuse to extricate her arm from his grip. “How can I help?”

“First, I have to commend you on your initiative in arranging worship services for the women and men on the ship. I’m ashamed I didn’t think of it first, but I’m happy to follow your lead. We’re already arranging for similar meetings with leaders of the various faiths on board.”

Anna felt a blush come up, even though she suspected that everything Cortez said was manipulative. He was so good, he could get the response he wanted even when you knew exactly what he was up to. Anna couldn’t help but admire it a little.

“I’m sure the sailors appreciate it.”

“But there is other work we can be doing,” Cortez said. “Greater work. And that’s what I came to ask you about.”

Tilly turned back to the table and gave Cortez a sharp look. “What are you up to, Hank?”

Cortez ignored her. “Anna, may I call you Anna?”

“Here it comes, Annie,” Tilly said.

“Annie?”

“No,” Anna cut in. “Anna is fine. Please call me Anna.”

Cortez nodded his big white-and-brown head at her, blinding her with his smile. “Thank you, Anna. What I want to ask you to do is sign a petition I’m circulating, and add your voice to ours.”

“Ours?”

“You know that the Behemoth has begun to burn toward the Ring?”

“I’d heard.”

“We’re asking the captain to accompany it.”

Anna blinked twice, then opened her mouth to speak and found nothing to say. She closed it with a snap when she realized both Cortez and Tilly were staring at her. Go into the Ring? Holden had made it inside, and it looked like he was still alive. But actually entering the Ring had never been part of the mission plan, at least not for the civilian contingent.