we go question all the stealth ships about their whereabouts, double-check their alibis?"
Fred held up a hand.
"Stop thinking of the Canterbury's destruction as an act of war," he said. "It was a crime. Right now, people are overreacting, but once the situation sinks in, heads will cool. People on both sides will see where this road goes and look for another way out. There is a window where the saner elements can investigate events, negotiate jurisdiction, and assign blame to some party or parties that both sides can agree to. A trial. It's the only outcome that doesn't involve millions of deaths and the collapse of human infrastucture."
Holden shrugged, a gesture barely visible in his heavy environment suit.
"So it goes to a trial. You still aren't answering my question."
Fred pointed at Holden, then at each of the crew in turn.
"You're the ace in the hole. You four people are the only eyewitnesses to the destruction of both ships. When the trial comes, I need you and your depositions. I have influence already through our political contacts, but you can buy me a seat at the table. It will be a whole new set of treaties between the Belt and the inner planets. We can do in months what I'd dreamed of doing in decades."
"And you want to use our value as witnesses to force your way into the process so you can make those treaties look the way you want them to," Holden said.
"Yes. And I'm willing to give you protection, shelter, and run of my station for as long as it takes to get there."
Holden took a long, deep breath, got up, and started unzipping his suit.
"Yeah, okay. That's just self-serving enough I believe it," he said. "Let's get settled in."
Naomi was singing karaoke. Just thinking about it made Holden's head spin. Naomi. Karaoke. Even considering everything that had happened to them over the past month, Naomi up onstage with a mic in one hand and some sort of fuchsia martini in the other, screaming out an angry Belt-punk anthem by the Moldy Filters, was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. She finished to scattered applause and a few catcalls, then staggered off the stage and collapsed across from him in the booth.
She held up her drink, sloshing a good half of it onto the table, then threw the other half back all at once.
"Whadja think?" Naomi asked, waving at the bartender for another.
"It was terrible," Holden replied.
"No, really."
"It was truly one of the most awful renditions of one of the most awful songs I've ever heard."
Naomi shook her head, blowing an exasperated raspberry at him. Her dark hair fell across her face and, when the bartender brought her a second brightly colored martini, foiled all her attempts at drinking. She finally grabbed her hair and held it above her head in a clump while she drank.
"You don't get it," she said. "It's supposed to be awful. That's the point."
"Then it was the best version of that song I've ever heard," Holden said.
"Damn straight." Naomi looked around the bar. "Where're Amos and Alex?"
"Amos found what I'm pretty sure was the most expensive hooker I've ever seen. Alex is in the back playing darts. He made some claims about the superiority of Martian darts players. I assume they're going to kill him and throw him out an airlock."
A second singer was onstage, crooning out some sort of Vietnamese power ballad. Naomi watched the singer for a while, sipping her drink, then said, "Maybe we should go save him."
"Which one?"
"Alex. Why would Amos need saving?"
"Because I'm pretty sure he told the expensive hooker he was on Fred's expense account."
"Let's mount a rescue mission; we can save them both," Naomi said, then drank the rest of her cocktail. "I need more rescue fuel, though."
She started waving at the bartender again, but Holden reached out and grabbed her hand and held it on the table.
"Maybe we should take a breather instead," he said.
A flush of anger as intense as it was brief lit her face. She pulled back her hand.
"You take a breather. I've just had two ships and a bunch of friends shot out from underneath me, and spent three weeks of dead time flying to get here. So, no. I'm getting another drink, and then doing another set. The crowd loves me," Naomi said.
"What about our rescue mission?"
"Lost cause. Amos will be murdered by space hookers, but at least he'll die the way he lived."
Naomi pushed her way up from the