them, the hotel restaurant was busy. Last shift's prostitutes mixed with the next shift's tourists and businessmen at the cheap pink-lit buffet. The pilot and the big guy - Alex and Amos - were vying for the last bagel. Naomi sat at Holden's side, her arms crossed, a cup of bad coffee cooling before her.
"We did kill some people," Miller said gently.
"I thought you got us out of that with your secret police handshake," Holden said. "So why's my ship in lockdown?"
"You remember when Sematimba said we shouldn't leave the station without telling him?" Miller said.
"I remember you making some kind of deal," Holden said. "I don't remember agreeing to it."
"Look, he's going to keep us here until he's sure he won't get fired for letting us go. Once he knows his ass is covered, the lock goes down. So let's talk about the part where I rent a berth on your ship."
Jim Holden and his XO exchanged a glance, one of those tiny human burst communications that said more than words could have. Miller didn't know either of them well enough to decode all of it, but he guessed they were skeptical.
They had reason to be. Miller had checked his credit balance before he'd called them. He had enough left for another night in the hotel or a good dinner, but not both. He was spending it on a cheap breakfast that Holden and his crew didn't need and probably wouldn't enjoy, buying good will.
"I need to make very, very sure I understand what you're saying," Holden said as the big one - Amos - returned and sat at his other side holding the bagel. "Are you saying that unless I let you on my ship, your friend is going to keep us here? Because that's blackmail."
"Extortion," Amos said.
"What?" Holden said.
"It's not blackmail," Naomi said. "That would be if he threatened to expose information we didn't want known. If it's just a threat, that's extortion."
"And it's not what I'm talking about," Miller said. "Freedom of the station while the investigation rolls? That's no trouble. Leaving jurisdiction's another thing. I can't hold you here any more than I can cut you loose. I'm just looking for a ride when you go."
"Why?" Holden said.
"Because you're going to Julie's asteroid," Miller said.
"I'm willing to bet there's no port there," Holden said. "Did you plan on going anyplace after that?"
"I'm kind of low on solid plans. Haven't had one yet that actually happened."
"I hear that," Amos said. "We've been fucked eighteen different ways since we got into this."
Holden folded his hands on the table, one finger tapping a complicated rhythm on the wood-textured concrete top. It wasn't a good sign.
"You seem like a... well, like an angry, bitter old man, actually. But I've been working water haulers for the past five years. That just means you'd fit in."
"But," Miller said, and let the word hang there.
"But I've been shot at a lot recently, and the machine guns yesterday were the least lethal thing I've had to deal with," Holden said. "I'm not letting anyone on my ship that I wouldn't trust with my life, and I don't actually know you."
"I can get the money," Miller said, his belly sinking. "If it's money, I can cover it."
"It's not about negotiating a price," Holden said.
"Get the money?" Naomi said, her eyes narrowing. " 'Get the money,' as in you don't have it now?"
"I'm a little short," Miller said. "It's temporary."
"You have an income?" Naomi said.
"More like a strategy," Miller said. "There's some independent rackets down on the docks. There always are at any port. Side games. Fights. Things like that. Most of them, the fix is in. It's how you bribe cops without actually bribing cops."
"That's your plan?" Holden said, incredulity in his voice. "Go collect some police bribes?"
Across the restaurant, a prostitute in a red nightgown yawned prodigiously; the john across the table from her frowned.
"No," Miller said reluctantly. "I play the side bets. A cop goes in, I make a side bet that he's going to win. I know who the cops are mostly. The house, they know because they're bribing them. The side bets are with fish looking to feel edgy because they're playing unlicensed."
Even as he said it, Miller knew how weak it sounded. Alex, the pilot, came and sat beside Miller. His coffee smelled bright and acidic.
"What's the deal?" Alex asked.
"There isn't one," Holden said. "There wasn't one before and there still isn't."
"It works better than you'd think," Miller said