it there. Then, a bunch of mystery ships kill the Donnager, which Mars blames on the Belt, only, dammit, the Belt didn't even know it was capable of killing a Martian battle cruiser."
Holden opened his mouth, but Miller grabbed a bulb of coffee Amos had left behind on the console and threw it at his head.
"Let me finish! And now you find some data that implicates Earth. First thing you do is blab it to the universe, so that Mars and the Belt drag Earth into this thing, making the largest war of all time even bigger. Are you seeing a pattern here?"
"Yes," Naomi said.
"So what do you think's going to happen?" Miller said. "This is how these people work! They made the Canterbury look like Mars. It wasn't. They made the Donnager look like the Belt. It wasn't. Now it looks like the whole damn thing's Earth? Follow the pattern. It probably isn't! You never, never put that kind of accusation out there until you know the score. You look. You listen. You're quiet, fercrissakes, and when you know, then you can make your case."
The detective sat back, clearly exhausted. He was sweating. The deck was silent.
"You done?" Holden said.
Miller nodded, breathing heavily. "Think I might have strained something."
"I haven't accused anyone of doing anything," Holden said. "I'm not building a case. I just put the data out there. Now it's not a secret. They're doing something on Eros. They don't want it interrupted. With Mars and the Belt shooting at each other, everyone with the resources to help is busy elsewhere."
"And you just dragged Earth into it," Miller said.
"Maybe," Holden said. "But the killers did use ships that were built, at least in part, at Earth's orbital shipyards. Maybe someone will look into that. And that's the point. If everyone knows everything, nothing stays secret."
"Yeah, well," Miller said. Holden ignored him
"Eventually, someone'll figure out the big picture. This kind of thing requires secrecy to function, so exposing all the secrets hurts them in the end. It's the only way this really, permanently stops."
Miller sighed, nodded to himself, took off his hat, and scratched his scalp.
"I was just going to put 'em out an airlock," Miller said.
BA834024112 wasn't much of an asteroid. Barely thirty meters across, it had long ago been surveyed and found completely devoid of useful or valuable minerals. It existed in the registry only to warn ships not to run into it. Julie had left it tethered to wealth measured in the billions when she flew her small shuttle to Eros.
Up close, the ship that had killed the Scopuli and stolen its crew looked like a shark. It was long and lean and utterly black, almost impossible to see against the backdrop of space with the naked eye. Its radar-deflecting curves gave it an aerodynamic look almost always lacking in space-going vessels. It made Holden's skin crawl, but it was beautiful.
"Motherfucker," Amos said under his breath as the crew clustered in the cockpit of the Rocinante to look at it.
"The Roci doesn't even see it, Cap," Alex said. "I'm pourin' ladar into it, and all we see is a slightly warmer spot on the asteroid."
"Like Becca saw just before the Cant died," Naomi said.
"Her shuttle's been launched, so I'm guessin' this is the right stealth ship someone left tied to a rock," Alex added. "Case there's more than one."
Holden tapped his fingers on the back of Alex's chair for a moment as he floated over the pilot's head.
"It's probably full of vomit zombies," Holden finally said.
"Want to go see?" said Miller.
"Oh yeah," Holden said.
Chapter Thirty-Four: Miller
The environment suit was better than Miller was used to. He'd only done a couple walks outside during his years on Ceres, and the Star Helix equipment had been old back then: thick corrugated joints, separable air-supply unit, gloves that left his hands thirty degrees colder than the rest of his body. The Rocinante's suits were military and recent, no bulkier than standard riot gear, with integrated life support that could probably keep fingers warm after a hand got shot off. Miller floated, one hand on a strap in the airlock, and flexed his fingers, watching the sharkskin pattern of the knuckle joints.
It didn't feel like enough.
"All right, Alex," Holden said. "We're in place. Have the Roci knock for us."
A deep, rumbling vibration shook them. Naomi put a hand against the airlock's curved wall to steady herself. Amos shifted forward to take point, a reactionless automatic rifle in his hands. When