James Corey - Babylon's Ashes

On the newsfeed, The Hague looked like a battered, sepia-soaked version of itself. The sky above the UN building was white with haze, but it wasn’t dark. And Avasarala stood without a podium. Her bright-orange sari looked like a victory banner.

“The liberation of Medina means more than freeing one station from violent tyranny,” she said, reaching the crescendo of the half-hour-long speech. “It means the reopening of the path to all the colonies and all the worlds that the Free Navy tried to lock away. It means the reconnection to the motive force of history, and proof that the spirit of humanity will never bow to fear and cruelty. And yes, since you’ve all behaved so nicely, I’ll take some questions. Takeshi?”

A thin reporter in a gray suit stood up, a reed among the ranks of his professional fraternity.

“Shit,” Alex said from the doorway. “Are there reporters anywhere else, or does she have all of them?”

“Shh,” Bobbie said.

“Madam Secretary-General, you said that the attack on Earth was not an act of war but the lashing out of a criminal conspiracy. Now that you have captured prisoners, how will they be handled?”

“The conspirators will be brought to Luna and introduced to their lawyers,” Avasarala said. “Next quest—”

“Just the ones from Medina? Or Pallas and Europa too? Won’t that create a burden on the court system?” the gray man pressed.

Avasarala’s smile was sweet. “Oh, that guy’s fucked,” Bobbie said.

“Oh yeah,” Holden agreed.

“It will take some time to process everyone,” Avasarala said. “But I have to put some blame for the delay on the Free Navy itself. If they wanted a faster trial, they shouldn’t have leveled so many courthouses. Next question. Lindsey?”

“She shouldn’t be milking this so much,” Bobbie said while a blond woman stood in the gray man’s place and asked something about reconstruction and the role of the OPA. “It’s going to bite her.”

“It’s the biggest unambiguous victory we’ve had against Inaros,” Holden said. “Everything else, he stripped to the studs and walked away from. Or left for us to crawl over, disarming his booby traps. Even the thing at Titan looks like it cost us as much as it got back. Earth needs a win. Hell, Mars needs a win. I’m just glad it’s one that had Belters fighting on our side too.”

“But if she builds it up too much, it’s just going to be worse when we lose Medina again.”

Holden looked over. “Why do you think we’re going to lose it?”

“Because I had to kill the rail guns,” Bobbie said. “Holding on to this place assumed we could take over the defenses. We didn’t. We broke them. If we can get a dozen ships in here with guns like the Roci or maybe a pair of Donnager -class battleships, we can hold it. But that means getting them here, and we have to assume Inaros is throwing every spare grenade and bullet into whatever ships he has to burn here and kick our asses. And that’s if his patron out past the Laconia gate isn’t already sending the MCRN ships he stole to clear us out.”

The knot in Holden’s gut that had loosened a couple notches since he’d stepped onto Medina tightened back up. “Oh,” he said. “So. Do we have a plan to address that?”

“Fight like hell and hope the bad guys spend so much time killing us they can’t finish rebuilding before whoever Avasarala and Richards send next gets here.”

“Ah.”

“We’ve been screwed since the minute I blew up that reactor. Doesn’t take away from the essential dignity of the situation. And this is a fine hill.”

“A what?”

Bobbie looked over, surprised he hadn’t followed the idiom. “Fine hill to die on.”

Chapter Forty-Seven: Filip

What was it like?” Filip asked, trying to sound casual.

Her name was Marta. She had a wide face with a scattering of moles along her jawline like she’d been splatted by something. Her hair was lighter than her skin. Of all the people in the club, she was the one who seemed to have the most patience with the new guy. When the karaoke was going, she’d offered him the mic, even though he hadn’t taken it. When the club had gotten crowded, she’d let him sit at the end of her table. Not with her, but not not with her either. She’d grown up in Callisto, born here. Worked for one of the warehouses doing compliance checks. She was about a year older than him. She’d been sixteen when it happened.

She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “What was the attack like? For for?”

“Wondered,” he said with a shrug. The club was dark enough she probably wouldn’t see him blushing. “Heard about it since I came.”

Marta shook her head, looked away. Someone jostled against Filip’s back on their way toward the bar. He was about to apologize—was finding the words for it—when she spoke.

“Was eine day, yeah? Woke up in the morning, same same. Got ready for school. Mom made hash and coffee for breakfast. Just eine day, same like otra. Was talking with some friends in the common room and everything shakes, yeah? Just once. Just a little bit, but everyone feels it. We all ask each other, and everyone feels it. Then the teacher come in all rapiutamine and says we have to get to the hard shelters. Something going on over à los Martian yards. Figured a reactor blew. Knew it was bad though. We’re hardly in when the next one comes, and it’s worse. Lot worse.”

“All the hits were on the Martian yard, though,” Filip said.

“Same rock,” Marta said with a shrug and a laugh. “Not like you can kick half a ball. Anyway, alarms are going off y everyone’s crying. And then when they let us back out, it’s just gone. Martian yard’s delenda, and half of ours too. It was just … no sé. It was just everything before and then everything after.”

“But you were okay,” Filip said.

Marta shook her head, just a little. “My mom died,” she said with a fake lightness. “Shelter she was in cracked.”

Filip felt the words in his sternum. “Sorry.”

“They said it was fast. She wouldn’t have known even.”

“Yeah,” Filip said. His hand terminal chimed for the fourth time in the hour.

“You sure you don’t want to answer those?” Marta said. “Your girlfriend’s wanting you pretty solid.”

“No. It’s all right,” he said. And then, “I don’t have a mother either.”

“What happened to yours?”

“Broke up with my dad when I was a baby. Dad always said he hid me away because she was crazy. But I don’t know. I met her first time a few months ago, but she’s gone again.”

“Did she seem crazy to you?”

“Yeah,” Filip said. Then, “No. Seemed like she didn’t want to be there.”

“Harsh.”

“She told me that the only right you have with anyone in life is the right to walk away.”

Marta coughed out a disbelieving laugh. “Kind of bitch says that to her kid?”

The doors to the club were built like an airlock with inner and outer doors either side of a short hall, but to keep the brightness of the common corridor out. A bright streak and a few silhouetted bodies showed both sets of doors opened at once. Filip wondered whether he should tell the girl more. I thought I watched her kill herself, only it turns out she didn’t die. She was only leaving again. It was true, but it wouldn’t seem like it. Some things you couldn’t talk about except with people who’d been there. His hand terminal chimed again.

Someone shoved him, hard. Filip’s stool tilted, and he grabbed the table to stop his fall. Marta yelped and stood up, shouting as she did. “Berman! Que sa?”

Filip turned slowly. The man who’d shoved him was his own age plus maybe a year or two. Deep-green jumpsuit with the logo of a shipping company on the sleeve. His chin jutted. His chest was pushed forward, his arms pulled back. Everything about him said he was looking for violence except that he wasn’t hitting Filip.