by Rob Boffard
“Good to know,” Holden said. “And the necrosis?”
“There’s some infection,” Shed said. “The maggots are keeping it under control, and the inflammation’s actually a good thing in this context, so we’re not fighting too hard unless it starts to spread.”
“Is he going to be ready for the next run?” Holden asked.
For the first time, Paj frowned.
“Shit yes, I’ll be ready. I’m always ready. This is what I do, sir.”
“Probably,” Shed said. “Depending on how the bond takes. If not this one, the one after.”
“Fuck that,” Paj said. “I can buck ice one-handed better than half the skags you’ve got on this bitch.”
“Again,” Holden said, suppressing a grin, “good to know. Carry on.”
Paj snorted. Shed plucked another maggot free. Holden went back to the lift, and this time he didn’t hesitate.
The navigation station of the Canterbury didn’t dress to impress. The great wall-sized displays Holden had imagined when he’d first volunteered for the navy did exist on capital ships but, even there, more as an artifact of design than need. Ade sat at a pair of screens only slightly larger than a hand terminal, graphs of the efficiency and output of the Canterbury’s reactor and engine updating in the corners, raw logs spooling on the right as the systems reported in. She wore thick headphones that covered her ears, the faint thump of the bass line barely escaping. If the Canterbury sensed an anomaly, it would alert her. If a system errored, it would alert her. If Captain McDowell left the command and control deck, it would alert her so she could turn the music off and look busy when he arrived. Her petty hedonism was only one of a thousand things that made Ade attractive to Holden. He walked up behind her, pulled the headphones gently away from her ears, and said, “Hey.”
Ade smiled, tapped her screen, and dropped the headphones to rest around her long slim neck like technical jewelry.
“Executive Officer James Holden,” she said with an exaggerated formality made even more acute by her thick Nigerian accent. “And what can I do for you?”
“You know, it’s funny you should ask that,” he said. “I was just thinking how pleasant it would be to have someone come back to my cabin when third shift takes over. Have a little romantic dinner of the same crap they’re serving in the galley. Listen to some music.”
“Drink a little wine,” she said. “Break a little protocol. Pretty to think about, but I’m not up for sex tonight.”
“I wasn’t talking about sex. A little food. Conversation.”
“I was talking about sex,” she said.
Holden knelt beside her chair. In the one-third g of their current thrust, it was perfectly comfortable. Ade’s smile softened. The log spool chimed; she glanced at it, tapped a release, and turned back to him.
“Ade, I like you. I mean, I really enjoy your company,” he said. “I don’t understand why we can’t spend some time together with our clothes on.”
“Holden. Sweetie. Stop it, okay?”
“Stop what?”
“Stop trying to turn me into your girlfriend. You’re a nice guy. You’ve got a cute butt, and you’re fun in the sack. Doesn’t mean we’re engaged.”
Holden rocked back on his heels, feeling himself frown.
“Ade. For this to work for me, it needs to be more than that.”
“But it isn’t,” she said, taking his hand. “It’s okay that it isn’t. You’re the XO here, and I’m a short-timer. Another run, maybe two, and I’m gone.”
“I’m not chained to this ship either.”
Her laughter was equal parts warmth and disbelief.
“How long have you been on the Cant?”
“Five years.”
“You’re not going anyplace,” she said. “You’re comfortable here.”
“Comfortable?” he said. “The Cant’s a century-old ice hauler. You can find a shittier flying job, but you have to try really hard. Everyone here is either wildly under-qualified or seriously screwed things up at their last gig.”
“And you’re comfortable here.” Her eyes were less kind now. She bit her lip, looked down at the screen, looked up.
“I didn’t deserve that,” he said.
“You didn’t,” she agreed. “Look, I told you I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I’m feeling cranky. I need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be nicer tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“I’ll even make you dinner. Apology accepted?”
He slipped forward, pressed his lips to hers. She kissed back, politely at first and then with more warmth. Her fingers cupped his neck for a moment, then pulled him away.
“You’re entirely too good at that. You should go now,” she said. “On duty and all.”
“Okay,” he said, and didn’t turn to go.
“Jim,” she said, and the shipwide comm system clicked on.
“Holden to the bridge,” Captain McDowell said, his voice compressed and echoing. Holden replied with something obscene. Ade laughed. He swooped in, kissed her cheek, and headed back for the central lift, quietly hoping that Captain McDowell suffered boils and public humiliation for his lousy timing.
The bridge was hardly larger than Holden’s quarters and smaller by half than the galley. Except for the slightly oversized captain’s display, required by Captain McDowell’s failing eyesight and general distrust of corrective surgery, it could have been an accounting firm’s back room. The air smelled of cleaning astringent and someone’s overly strong yerba maté tea. McDowell shifted in his seat as Holden approached. Then the captain leaned back, pointing over his shoulder at the communications station.
“Becca!” McDowell snapped. “Tell him.”
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Welcome
Dedication
Prologue
1: Riley
2: Knox
3: Riley
4: Prakesh
5: Riley
6: Prakesh
7: Riley
8: Prakesh
9: Riley
10: Riley
11: Knox
12: Riley
13: Riley
14: Knox
15: Prakesh
16: Riley
17: Riley
18: Riley
19: Knox
20: Riley
21: Riley
22: Prakesh
23: Riley
24: Prakesh
25: Knox
26: Riley
27: Riley
28: Knox
29: Riley
30: Riley
31: Riley
32: Riley
33: Knox
34: Riley
35: Riley
36: Prakesh
37: Riley
38: Prakesh
39: Riley
40: Prakesh
41: Riley
42: Riley
43: Riley
44: Prakesh
45: Riley
46: Prakesh
47: Riley
48: Riley
49: Riley
50: Knox
51: Prakesh
52: Riley
53: Riley
54: Prakesh
55: Riley
56: Riley
57: Riley
58: Knox
59: Prakesh
60: Riley
61: Riley
62: Riley
63: Riley
64: Riley
65: Riley
66: Riley
67: Riley
68: Riley
69: Prakesh
70: Riley
71: Riley
72:
Knox
73: Riley
74: Prakesh
75: Riley
76: Riley
77: Knox
78: Riley
79: Riley
80: Prakesh
81: Knox
82: Riley
83: Riley
84: Riley
85: Prakesh
86: Riley
87: Riley
88: Knox
89: Riley
90: Prakesh
91: Riley
92: Prakesh
93: Riley
94: Prakesh
95: Riley
96: Riley
97: Prakesh
98: Riley
99: Riley
100: Riley
101: Riley
102: Riley
103: Riley
104: Riley
105: Riley
Acknowledgements
Meet the Author
By Rob Boffard
A Preview of Impact
A Preview of Leviathan Wakes
Newsletter
Copyright
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Copyright © 2016 by Rob Boffard
Excerpt from Impact copyright © 2016 by Rob Boffard
Excerpt from Leviathan Wakes copyright © 2011 by Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck
Cover design by Nico Taylor – LBBG
Cover copyright © 2016 by Hachette Book Group, Inc.
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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The publisher is not responsible for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
First U.S. eBook edition: January 2016
ISBN: 978-0-316-26531-7
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