again, and again, in a slow cadence.
"Gauss turrets firing. Shit. It's CQB," Alex said in awe.
In the history of the Coalition, no capital ship had ever gotten into a close-quarters battle. But here they were, firing the ship's big cannons, which meant that the range was sufficiently short that a nonguided weapon was viable. Hundreds or even dozens of kilometers, not thousands. Somehow the Belt ships had survived Donnager's torpedo barrage.
"Anyone else think this is desperate fucking queer?" Amos asked, a touch of panic in his voice.
The Donnager began to ring like a gong struck over and over again by a massive hammer. Return fire.
The gauss round that killed Shed didn't even make a noise. Like a magic trick, two perfectly round holes appeared on either side of the room in a line that intersected Shed's couch. One moment, the medic was there; the next, his head was gone from the Adam's apple up. Arterial blood pumped out in a red cloud, pulled into two thin lines, and whirled to the holes in the walls of the room as the air rushed out.
Chapter Twelve: Miller
For twelve years, Miller had worked security. Violence and death were familiar companions to him. Men, women. Animals. Kids. Once he'd held a woman's hand while she bled to death. He'd killed two people, could still see them die if he closed his eyes and thought about it. If anyone had asked him, he'd have said there wasn't much left that would shake him.
But he'd never watched a war start before.
The Distinguished Hyacinth Lounge was in the shift-change rush. Men and women in security uniforms - mostly from Star Helix, but a few smaller companies too - were either drinking their after-work liquor and winding down or making trips to the breakfast buffet for coffee, textured fungi in sugar sauce, sausage with meat maybe one part in a thousand. Miller chewed the sausage and watched the display monitor on the wall. A Star Helix external relations head looked sincerely out, his demeanor radiating calm and certainty as he explained how everything was going to hell.
"Preliminary scans suggest that the explosion was the result of a failed attempt to connect a nuclear device to the docking station. Officials from the Martian government have referred to the incident only as an 'alleged terrorist action' and refused comment pending further investigation."
"Another one," Havelock said from behind him. "You know, eventually, one of those assholes is going to get it right."
Miller turned in his seat, then nodded to the chair beside him. Havelock sat.
"That'll be an interesting day," Miller said. "I was about to call you."
"Yeah, sorry," his partner said. "I was up kind of late."
"Any word on the transfer?"
"No," Havelock said. "Figure my paperwork's hung on a desk someplace in Olympus. What about you? Any word on your special-project girl?"
"Not yet," Miller said. "Look, the reason I wanted to meet up before we went in... I need to take a couple days, try to run down some leads on Julie. With all this other shit going on, Shaddid doesn't want me doing much more than phoning this one in."
"But you're ignoring that," Havelock said. It wasn't a question.
"I've got a feeling about this one."
"So how can I help?"
"I need you to cover for me."
"How am I going to do that?" Havelock asked. "It's not like I can tell them you're sick. They've got access to your medical records same as everyone else's."
"Tell 'em I've been getting drunk a lot," Miller said. "That Candace came by. She's my ex-wife."
Havelock chewed his sausage, brow furrowed. The Earther shook his head slowly - not a refusal, but the prelude to a question. Miller waited.
"You're telling me you'd rather have the boss think you're missing work because you're on a dysfunctional, heartbroken bender than that you're doing the work she assigned you? I don't get it."
Miller licked his lips and leaned forward, elbows on the smooth off-white table. Someone had scratched a design into the plastic. A split circle. And this was a cop bar.
"I don't know what I'm looking at," Miller said. "There's a bunch of things that belong together somehow, and I'm not sure yet what it is. Until I know more, I need to stay low. A guy has a fling with his ex, hits the bottle for a few days? That's not going to light up anyone's panels."
Havelock shook his head again, this time in mild disbelief. If he'd been a Belter, he'd have made the gesture with his