crap. I was eight years in the orbitals and on Mars before I ever shipped out here. I worked on Earth maybe six months total."
"Earth. Mars. They're not that different," Miller said.
"Try telling that to a Martian," Havelock said with a bitter laugh. "They'll kick your ass for you."
"I didn't mean... Look, I'm sure there are all kinds of differences. Earth hates Mars for having a better fleet. Mars hates Earth for having a bigger one. Maybe soccer's better in full g; maybe it's worse. I don't know. I'm just saying anyone this far out from the sun? They don't care. From this distance, you can cover Earth and Mars with one thumb. And... "
"And I don't belong," Havelock said.
The door of the noodle bar behind them opened and four Belters in gray-green uniforms came out. One of them wore the split circle of the OPA on his sleeve. Miller tensed, but the Belters didn't come toward them, and Havelock didn't notice them. Near miss.
"I knew," Havelock said. "When I took the Star Helix contract, I knew I'd have to work to fit in. I thought it'd be the same as anywhere, you know? You go, you get your chops busted for a while. Then, when they see you can take it, they treat you like one of the team. It's not like that here."
"It's not," Miller said.
Havelock shook his head, spat, and stared at the fluted glass in his hand.
"I think we just stole some glasses from the Blue Frog," Havelock said.
"We're also in a public corridor with unsealed alcohol," Miller said. "Well, you are, anyway. Mine's soda water."
Havelock chuckled, but there was despair in the sound. When Havelock spoke again, his voice was only rueful.
"You think I'm coming down here, picking fights with people from the inner planets so that Shaddid and Ramachandra and all the rest of them will think better of me."
"It occurred to me."
"You're wrong," Havelock said.
"Okay," Miller said. He knew he wasn't.
Havelock raised his fluted glass. "Take these back?" he asked.
"How about Distinguished Hyacinth?" Miller countered. "I'll buy."
The Distinguished Hyacinth Lounge was up three levels, far enough that foot traffic from the port levels was minimal. And it was a cop bar. Mostly Star Helix Security, but some of the minor corporate forces - Protogen, Pinkwater, Al Abbiq - hung out there too. Miller was more than half certain that his partner's latest breakdown had been averted, but if he was wrong, better to keep it in the family.
The decor was pure Belt - old-style ships' folding tables and chairs set into the wall and ceiling as if the gravity might shut off at any moment. Snake plant and devil's ivy - staples of first-generation air recycling - decorated the wall and freestanding columns. The music was soft enough to talk over, loud enough to keep private conversations private. The first owner, Javier Liu, was a structural engineer from Tycho who'd come out during the big spin and liked Ceres enough to stay. His grandchildren ran it now. Javier the Third was standing behind the bar, talking with half of the vice and exploitation team. Miller led the way to a back table, nodding to the men and women he knew as he passed. While he'd been careful and diplomatic at the Blue Frog, he chose a bluff masculinity here. It was just as much a pose.
"So," Havelock said as Javier's daughter Kate - a fourth generation for the same bar - left the table, Blue Frog glasses on her tray, "what is this supersecret private investigation Shaddid put you on? Or is the lowly Earther not supposed to know?"
"Is that what got to you?" Miller asked. "It's nothing. Some shareholders misplaced their daughter and want me to track her down, ship her home. It's a bullshit case."
"Sounds more like their backyard," Havelock said, nodding toward the V and E crowd.
"Kid's not a minor," Miller said. "It's a kidnap job."
"And you're good with that?"
Miller sat back. The ivy above them waved. Havelock waited, and Miller had the uncomfortable sense that a table had just been turned.
"It's my job," Miller said.
"Yeah, but we're talking about an adult here, right? It's not like she couldn't go back home if she wanted to be there. But instead her parents get security to take her home whether she wants to go or not. That's not law enforcement anymore. It's not even station security. It's just dysfunctional families playing power games."
Miller remembered the thin girl beside her racing pinnace.