acres of decent farmland. There are over thirty billion people on Earth. Twenty-two acres is a national park," Holden said. "Also, the DNA mix is legit. They aren't parents in name only."
"How did they decide who carried you?"
"Mother Elise had the widest hips."
Lopez popped the second lozenge into his mouth and sucked on it a few moments. Before he could speak again, the deck shook. The video recorder jiggled on its arm.
"Torpedo launches?" Holden said. "Guess those Belt ships didn't change course."
"Any thoughts about that, Mr. Holden?"
"Just that you seem pretty willing to kill Belt ships."
"You've put us in a position where we can't afford to seem weak. After your accusations, there are a lot of people who don't think much of us."
Holden shrugged. If the man was watching for guilt or remorse from Holden, he was out of luck. The Belt ships had known what they were going toward. They hadn't turned away. But still, something bothered him.
"They might hate your living guts," Holden said. "But it's hard to find enough suicidal people to crew six ships. Maybe they think they can outrun torpedoes."
Lopez didn't move, his whole body preternaturally still with the focus drugs pouring through him.
"We - " Lopez began, and the general quarters Klaxon sounded. It was deafening in the small metal compartment.
"Holy shit, did they shoot back?" Holden asked.
Lopez shook himself, like a man waking up from a daydream. He got up and hit the comm button by the door. A marine came through seconds later.
"Take Mr. Holden back to his quarters," Lopez said, then left the room at a run.
The marine gestured at the corridor with the barrel of his rifle. His expression was hard.
It's all fun and games till someone shoots back, Holden thought.
Naomi patted the empty couch next to her and smiled.
"Did they put slivers under your fingernails?" she asked.
"No, actually, he was surprisingly human for a naval intelligence wonk," Holden replied. "Of course, he was just getting warmed up. Have you guys heard anything about the other ships?"
Alex said, "Nope. But that alarm means they're takin' them seriously all of a sudden."
"It's insane," Shed said quietly. "Flying around in these metal bubbles, and then trying to poke holes in each other. You ever seen what long-term decompression and cold exposure does? Breaks all the capillaries in your eyes and skin. Tissue damage to the lungs can cause massive pneumonia followed by emphysema-like scarring. I mean, if you don't just die."
"Well, that's awful fucking cheerful, Doc. Thanks for that," Amos said.
The ship suddenly vibrated in a syncopated but ultra-high-speed rhythm. Alex looked at Holden, his eyes wide.
"That's the point defense network openin' up. That means incoming torpedoes," he said. "Better strap in tight, kids. The ship might start doin' some violent maneuvering."
Everyone but Holden was already belted into the couches. He fastened his restraints too.
"This sucks. All the real action is happenin' thousands of klicks from here, and we got no instruments to look at," Alex said. "We won't know if somethin' slipped through the flack screen till it rips the hull open."
"Boy, everybody is just a fucking pile of fun right now," Amos said loudly.
Shed's eyes were wide, his face too pale. Holden shook his head.
"Not going to happen," he said. "This thing is unkillable. Whoever those ships are, they can put on a good show, but that's it."
"All respect, Captain," Naomi said. "But whoever those ships are, they should be dead already, and they aren't."
The distant noises of faraway combat kept up. The occasional rumble of a torpedo firing. The near-constant vibration of the high-speed point defense guns. Holden didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until he was jerked awake by an earsplitting roar. Amos and Alex were yelling. Shed was screaming.
"What happened?" Holden yelled over the noise.
"We're hit, Cap!" Alex said. "That was a torpedo hit!"
The gravity suddenly dropped away. The Donnager had stopped its engines. Or they'd been destroyed.
Amos was still yelling, "Shit shit shit," over everything. But at least Shed had stopped screaming. He was staring wide eyed out of his couch, his face white. Holden unbuckled his straps and pushed off toward the comm panel.
"Jim!" Naomi called out. "What are you doing?"
"We need to find out what's going on," Holden said over his shoulder.
When he reached the bulkhead by the hatch, he punched the comm panel call button. There was no reply. He hit it again, then started pounding on the hatch. No one came.
"Where are our damn marines?" he said.
The lights dimmed, came back up. Then