Cibola Burn

by James S. A. Corey

  “I’m sending a message up to the Roci right now to bounce it on to the UN and the OPA council,” Holden continued. “My recommendation is that everyone get into orbit as soon as possible. I’m asking for emergency command of the Israel and the Barbapiccola to facilitate that.”

  “That isn’t going to happen,” Basia said, his voice soft.

  “It’s not an easy sell,” Holden said, “but I can be persuasive. And once I have command —”

  “They won’t go,” Basia said. “People already bled for this land. Died for it. We’re willing to kill each other to stay here, we’ll sure as hell stay and fight whatever else wants us gone.”

  “Providing there’s anyone left,” Amos said.

  “Well, sure,” Basia agreed. “Providing that.”

  Chapter Eighteen: Holden

  M

  urtry and his security team had converted the small prefab security outpost into a fortress. The inner walls had been sprayed with energy-absorbing foam that looked like whipped cream but formed a ballistic barrier that could stop small-arms fire and light explosives. A large gun cage sat against one wall, secured with a biometric lock. It had only a few guns in it. Since Holden didn’t know exactly how many the security team had brought with them, that was either a good thing or a bad thing.

  Murtry sat behind a small desk with a hand terminal lying on it. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, a vague smile on his face. He looked like a man with all the time in the world.

  “Did you hear me when I said that people are planning to murder your team?” Holden asked.

  “I wish you’d stop using that word,” Carol Chiwewe said. She insisted on being present at any meeting between Holden and the RCE people, and it had seemed like a reasonable request. Now, with her own people plotting an attack, it felt like a security risk.

  “ ‘Murder’?” Murtry said. “ ‘Terrorism’ has a nice ring to it. ‘Homicide’ always sounded a bit legalistic to me. Pretentious.”

  “Wait,” Holden cut in before Carol could respond to Murtry’s baiting. “Cut that out right now. My capacity for giving a shit about your little tiff down here has hit its limit. This is no longer a negotiation of rights or a discussion of who attacked who first.”

  “No?” Murtry said. “And what is it, then?”

  “It’s about me telling you what’s going to happen.”

  “Telling,” Murtry said.

  “You’re not in charge here,” Carol added. Holden squashed the irritation he felt at their only taking sides to make his life harder.

  “Two things have changed recently, and one hasn’t,” he said, working to keep his tone pleasant. “The violence is about to escalate, with us teetering on the edge of an all-out shooting war between the colony and RCE. And, probably more importantly, the alien stuff left on this planet is waking up.”

  “What’s the one that didn’t?” Murtry asked.

  “What?”

  “The one thing that didn’t change.”

  “Right,” Holden said, leaning across the desk toward him. “I’m still the only guy in the system with a warship in orbit. So with those three things in mind, we’re leaving this planet before you idiots can kill any more of each other, or before the aliens kill all of us.”

  “Threats now?” Carol said behind him.

  Without looking away from Murtry, Holden said, “You bet, if that’s what it takes. Start getting your people ready for evac. Get the Israel’s shuttles down here. Do it now. The Israel is leaving with me in thirty hours, and you’ll want to be on it when we go.”

  “You can’t,” Carol said, and Holden spun around to face her.

  “I can. We’ll get the Barb’s shuttle back down here, and I suggest you have your people pack up everything they care about and start getting on it. Because the Barb is leaving.”

  Carol’s mouth went tight and her hands curled into fists.

  “You done?” Murtry asked, his voice light. “May I present my rebuttal?”

  “There isn’t one,” Holden said, pulling a chair up to the desk and sitting down. Showing he didn’t care about the trappings of control the security office gave Murtry.

  “So, here’s the price of fame,” Murtry continued. “You are one of the most recognized people in the solar system. It’s why they sent you. Fame gives you the illusion of power. But it’s all just a façade.”

  “No, the fact that I own the Rocinante —”

  Murtry patted the air again in the same condescending gesture he’d used on Carol. “You’re famous for being the man who tries to save everyone. For being the solar system’s white knight. Tilting at giants like Protogen and Mao-Kwik. Your ship’s got the right name.”

  Murtry laughed at Holden’s frown.

  “Yeah, I’ve read a book,” Murtry went on. “So that’s why they send you here. No one will expect the great James Holden to take sides. Of secretly backing either the colonists or one of those nasty Earth corporations. You’re the man without an agenda or subtext.”

  “Great,” Holden said. “Thanks for the insight. Now call your people and —”

  “But we’re eighteen months from the closest legal remedy, and the only real power you have out here is violence.”

  “You’re the violent man here,” Carol said, making it an accusation.

  “I am,” Murtry agreed. “I understand its uses better than most. And the thing I know about you, Captain Holden, is that you are not. Now, if that brute you brought with you were in here making these threats, well, I’d have to take that seriously. But not from you. You’ve got a warship in orbit right now that could blow the Israel and the Barbapiccola into glowing slag, then rain down destruction on this planet that would wipe out every shred of human life in this solar system. But you’re not the man to pull that trigger, and we both know it. So save your threats. They’re embarrassing.”

  “You’re out of control,” Holden replied. “You’re insane, and as soon as RCE finds out —”

  “Finds out what? That the UN mediator got spooked because there was an alien artifact on an alien planet, and I didn’t?” Murtry interrupted. “Send in a full report. I’m sure that with your reputation and the backing of the UN and OPA, your words will be given serious consideration. And maybe, maybe three years from now a replacement will arrive to relieve me of duty.”

  Holden stood up, dropping his hand to the butt of his gun. “Or maybe I relieve you right now.”

  The room went silent for a moment. Carol seemed to be holding her breath. Murtry frowned up at Holden, seemingly taken off guard for the first time. Holden waited, not breaking eye contact, angry enough to draw on Murtry and furious with himself for letting it get to that point.

  Murtry smiled. It did nothing to break the tension. “If you’d brought the other one with you, that threat might have some weight. We both know who the killer on your crew is.”

  “If you think I wouldn’t blow you out of that chair right this second to save everyone else on this planet, then you don’t know me at all.”

  There were scratching sounds on the floor as Carol shuffled back toward the door and out of the potential firing line. Holden kept his eyes on Murtry. The man frowned up at him for several seconds, then shifted back to the vague smile. Here we go, Holden thought, and tried not to let the rush of adrenaline make his hand shake.

  When the hand terminal on the desk squawked a connection request, Holden was so startled that he half drew his gun before he could stop himself. Murtry didn’t move. The terminal screeched again.

  “May I answer that?” Murtry asked.

  Holden just nodded at him, dropping his gun back into its holster. Murtry picked up the terminal and opened the connection.

  “Wei here,” a voice said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Team in position. Birds are all in the nest and tooling up. Are we a go?”

  “Hold,” Murtry said, then put the terminal down and looked back up and Holden. “You’re still twitching over w
hat happened on Eros. I get that. You’re not rational about all this alien shit, and honestly, who would be? I forgive you for the threats. And I appreciate that your initial purpose in coming here was to warn me about the danger to my team. It says something to me that in spite of our differences, you’re still trying to save my people.”

  “No one needs to die here,” Holden said, hoping against hope that Murtry was backing down.

  “Well, that’s not strictly speaking true,” Murtry replied. “I’m good at this job. Did you think I didn’t know about this little uprising? I knew before you did.”

  The security teams constantly patrolling the town would never have gotten close enough to listen in. “You’ve been bugging the town.”

  “Every building in it,” Murtry agreed. “So while I appreciate you coming here, I think I’ve got the situation handled.”

  “You bugged my town?” Carol asked, anger seeming to win out over her fear.

  “What are you doing?” Holden said. “Don’t do something stupid.”

  Murtry just smiled again, picked up his hand terminal, and said, “Strike team is go.”

  The gunshots outside were softened by the foam covering the walls, and sounded like a rapid string of faint pops. Like distant fireworks, or a bad hydraulic seal finally letting go.

  “Oh no,” Carol said, and rushed to the door. Holden followed her, fumbling with his hand terminal to call Amos.

  Outside, the sound was much louder. The staccato reports of gunfire splitting the peaceful night air, the flashes a distant strobe lighting up the far edge of the town. Holden ran toward the shots, shouting into his terminal for Amos to come. He stumbled in the dark, dropping it, but didn’t stop to pick it up.

  At the northern edge of town, he found the rest of Murtry’s security team firing on one of the houses. Shots were coming back at them from inside. The security people were shouting at the people in the house to surrender, the people inside cursing and firing in answer. Smoke poured out one of the house’s broken windows, something inside burning.

  “Stop it!” Holden yelled as he ran toward the RCE people. They ignored him and continued to pour fire into the house. Answering bullets hit one of the RCE people in the chest, the body armor making a dull thud as it stopped the round. The security woman fell on her back, yelling in pain and surprise. The rest of the team opened up on the window the shot had come from, blasting the frame and inside wall behind it into splinters.

  The blaze inside the house spread suddenly with a wave of heat and a whooshing sound. Someone inside screamed in panic or pain. The front door, already just a mass of carbon fiber splinters from gunfire, swung open. A woman rushed out, a rifle in her hands. The security team shot her into a splatter of blood, and she collapsed at the bottom of the steps, twitching.

  “They’re burning!” Holden yelled, grabbing the nearest RCE person by the arms and shaking him. “We have to get them out!”

  The man responded by shoving him away. “Stay back until the area is cleared, sir!”

  Holden shoved back, hard enough to put the RCE man on his ass in the dirt, and ran toward the fallen woman at the front of the house. Someone inside must have thought he was attacking, because a shotgun blast rang out and the ground a meter behind him flew up in a miniature explosion of dust. The RCE people opened up, and Holden found himself between two different firing lines.

  Again, some distant and still calm part of his brain thought, marveling at how often this sort of thing seemed to happen.

  He dove to the ground and rolled his body on top of the fallen woman, screaming for everyone to stop. No one listened. The fire in the house billowed out with another loud whump, and the heat scorched the exposed skin on Holden’s face and hands. The gunshots from inside the house cut off all at once, and the RCE return fire soon after. Holden grabbed the fallen woman by the arms and dragged her away from the flames. He stumbled when he reached the RCE people, falling down at their feet.

  “Help her,” he croaked at the woman who reached down to help him up. He pushed himself up to his hands and knees, but stopped there, too dizzy to stand.

  Another member of the security team was already bending over her. “This one’s dead.”

  Holden collapsed back to the ground, suddenly robbed of strength. Too late. The big meat grinder he was trying to save these people from just kept chewing away relentlessly, and they kept lining up to throw themselves inside. The RCE people were helping up their fallen comrade, and she was insisting that she was fine, that the armor had stopped the round, that she’d just have a big bruise. Someone joked about idiots bringing slingshots to a gunfight, followed by laughter. All the while, the house burned, filling the air with acrid black smoke and the smell of hot epoxy and cooking pork.

  The RCE people seemed to remember he was there, and several came over to look down at him. “Secure him,” one said. Wei. The one who’d come out to look at the alien robot with them. The one who’d shot it. She stared down, nothing like compassion in her eyes.

  “Fuck you,” Holden said, trying to push himself back up to his feet. “You aren’t securing shit.”

  Wei smashed him in the chest with her rifle butt, knocking him back to the ground. One of the other security people pointed his rifle at Holden. He found himself thinking it was very likely he was about to be shot.

  “Hold on, now,” a calm voice said. Murtry strode into view out of the darkness. “No one’s shooting Captain Holden.”

  “He tried to help the terrorists,” Wei said.

  “Did he?” Murtry feigned shock. “You didn’t, did you? That would be a violation of the neutrality of your position here, wouldn’t it?”

  “I tried to help a woman who’d been shot,” Holden replied, slowly climbing to his feet. His sternum felt bruised. That was all right. It would only hurt when he breathed.

  “That sounds reasonable,” Murtry said. “Is that the extent of his aid to the terrorists?”

  Wei nodded, then looked away, annoyed.

  “Then there’s no reason to detain you,” Murtry continued, his voice full of good cheer. He’s insane, Holden thought. He’s gone completely over the edge. I could kill him right now and end this. In his mind, he could picture Miller nodding in approval at the thought.

  “Sir,” Wei said, bringing her rifle up to her shoulder and aiming into the darkness beyond the firelight. “Incoming.”

  “Hold your panties,” Amos said from the dark and stepped into the light. He had Basia Merton and Carol Chiwewe and a number of other colonists with him.

  “My God,” Carol said, looking at the fire. “Did anyone get out?”

  One of the security people pointed his rifle at the body lying on the ground. “She did.”

  “Zadie,” Basia said. “They killed her.”

  Murtry stepped forward and cleared his throat. When everyone was looking at him, he said, “My team surrounded the house where a cell of known terrorists were actively preparing to murder myself, the entire RCE security detachment, and Captain Holden. They had firearms and possibly explosives. When the RCE security team demanded that they exit the building unarmed and with their hands up, they opened fire. All of the terrorists were killed by the return fire. It’s possible that explosives the terrorists were planning to use acted as an accelerant when the house started burning. Everything done here was by the book and appropriate for protecting RCE personnel and the UN/OPA mediator from harm.”

  Carol looked at blazing house with a stunned expression. “Appropriate…”

  “Mister Merton,” Murtry continued. “So glad you could join us. Sergeant Wei, take Basia Merton into custody.”

  “What?” Basia said, raising his hands and backing up. “Why me?”

  “No,” Holden said, stepping in front of Wei and planting his hand on the breastplate of her armor. “Not happening.”

  “Mister Merton was a party to this conspiracy,” Murtry said, speaking loud enough for the gathering crowd of colonists to hear. “He attended
the secret meeting at which the attack was planned, and there is significant evidence that he was a participant in the attack which killed five of my people. Might have something to say about what happened to Governor Trying too.” Lowering his voice, he said, “Out of the way, Holden, or we’ll just go through you.” Wei smiled at him without humor. One of the other RCE people walked around them toward Basia, a plastic wrist restraint in his hands.

  Amos stepped in front of Basia and punched the RCE man in the face. It sounded like a hammer hitting a side of beef. The security man fell to the ground, a puppet whose strings had been cut.

  “Nope,” Amos said, then shook his right hand with a grimace and added, “Ouch.”