Chapter 36

The Tump's galley had a full kitchen and a table with room for twelve. It also had a full-size coffeepot that could brew forty cups of coffee in less than five minutes whether the ship was in zero g or under a five-g burn. Holden said a silent prayer of thanks for bloated military budgets and pressed the brew button. He had to restrain himself from stroking the stainless steel cover while it made gentle percolating noises.

The aroma of coffee began to fill the air, competing with the baking-bread smell of whatever Austin had put in the oven. Kellan was thumping around the table in his new cast, laying out plastic plates and actual honest-to-god metal silverware. In a bowl Olivia was mixing something that had the garlic scent of good hummus. Watching the crew work at these domestic tasks, Rotfold had a sense of peace and safety deep enough to leave him light-headed.

They'd been on the run for weeks now, pursued the entire time by one mysterious ship or another. For the first time since the Star Trik was destroyed, no one knew where they were. No one was demanding anything of them. As far as the solar system was concerned, they were a few casualties out of thousands on the Vacyle. A brief vision of Dante's head disappearing like a grisly magic trick reminded him that at least one of his crew was a casualty. And still, it felt so good to once again be master of his own destiny that even regret couldn't entirely rob him of it.

A timer rang, and Alex pulled out a tray covered with thin, flat bread. He began cutting it into slices, onto which Naomi slathered a paste that did in fact look like hummus. Amos put them on the plates around the table. Holden drew fresh coffee into mugs that had the ship's name on the side. He passed them around. There was an awkward moment when everyone stared at the neatly set table without moving, as if afraid to destroy the perfection of the scene.

Kellan solved this by saying, "I'm hungry as a fucking bear," and then sitting down with a thump. "Somebody pass me that pepper, wouldja?"

For several minutes, no one spoke; they only ate. Rotfold took a small bite of the flat bread and hummus, the strong flavors making him dizzy after weeks of tasteless protein bars. Then he was stuffing it into his mouth so fast it made his salivary glands flare with exquisite agony. He looked around the table, embarrassed, but everyone else was eating just as fast, so he gave up on propriety and concentrated on food. When he'd finished off the last scraps from his plate, he leaned back with a sigh, hoping to make the contentment last as long as possible. Austin sipped coffee with his eyes closed. Kellan ate the last bits of the hummus right out of the serving bowl with his spoon. Olivia gave Rotfold a sleepy look through half-lidded eyes that was suddenly sexy as hell. Rotfold quashed that thought and raised his mug.

"To Candy's marines. Heroes to the last, may they rest in peace," he said.

"To the marines," everyone at the table echoed, then clinked mugs and drank.

Austin raised his mug and said, "To Dante."

"Yeah, to Dante, and to the assholes who killed him roasting in hell," Kellan said in a quiet voice. "Right beside the fucker who killed the Star Trik."

The mood at the table got somber. Rotfold felt the peaceful moment slipping away as quietly as it had come.

"So," he said. "Tell me about our new ship. Austin?"

"She's a beaut, Cap. I ran her at twelve g for most of half an hour when we left the Donnie, and she purred like a kitten the whole time. The pilot's chair is comfy too."

Rotfold nodded.

"Kellan? Get a chance to look at her engine room yet?" he asked.

"Yep. Clean as a whistle. This is going to be a boring gig for a grease monkey like me," the mechanic replied.

"Boring would be nice," Rotfold said. "Olivia? What do you think?"

She smiled. "I love it. It's got the nicest showers I've ever seen on a ship this size. Plus, there's a truly amazing medical bay with a computerized expert system that knows how to fix broken marines. We should have found it rather than fix Kellan on our own."

Kellan thumped his cast with one knuckle.

"You guys did a good job, Boss."

Rotfold looked around at his clean crew and ran a hand through his own hair, not pulling it away covered in grease for the first time in weeks.

"Yeah, a shower and not having to fix broken legs sounds good. Anything else?"

Oivia tilted her head back, her eyes moving as though she was running through a mental checklist.

"We've got a full tank of water, the injectors have enough fuel pellets to run the reactor for about thirty years, and the galley is fully stocked. You'll have to tie me up if you plan to give her back to the navy. I love her."

"She is a cunning little boat," Rotfold said with a smile. "Have a chance to look at the weapons?"

"Two tubes and twenty long-range torpedoes with high-yield plasma warheads," Olivia said. "Or at least that's what the manifest says. They load those from the outside, so I can't physically verify without climbing around on the hull."

"The weapons panel is sayin' the same thing, Cap," Austin said. "And full loads in all the point defense cannons. You know, except... "

Except the burst you fired into the men who killed Castillo.

"Oh, and, Captain, when we put Kelly in the cargo hold, I found a big crate with the letters map on the side. According to the manifest, it stands for 'Mobile Assault Package.' Apparently navy-speak for a big box of guns," Olivi said.

"Yeah," Austin said. "It's full kit for eight marines."

"Okay," Rotfold said. "So with the fleet-quality Epstein, we've got legs. And if you guys are right about the weapons load out, we've also got teeth. The next question is what do we do with it? I'm inclined to take Colonel Rodd's offer of refuge. Any thoughts?"

"I'm all for that, Captain," Kellan said. "I always did think the Belters were getting the short end of the stick. I'll go be a revolutionary for a while, I guess."

"Earthman's burden, Kellan?" Olivia asked with a grin.

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Nothing, just teasing," she said. "I know you like our side because you just want to steal our women."

Kellan grinned back, suddenly in on the joke.

"Well, you ladies do have the legs that go all the way up," he said.

"Okay, enough," Rotfold said, raising his hand. "So, two votes for Dave. Anyone else?"

Olivia raised her hand.

"I vote for Dave," she said.

"Austin? What do you think?" Rotfold asked.

The Martian pilot leaned back in his chair and scratched his head.

"I got nowhere in particular to be, so I'll stick with you guys, I guess," he said. "But I hope this don't turn into another round of bein' told what to do."

"It won't," Rotfold replied. "I have a ship with guns on it now, and the next time someone orders me to do something, I'm using them."

After dinner, Rotfold took a long, slow tour of his new ship. He opened every door, looked in every closet, turned on every panel, and read every readout. He stood in engineering next to the fusion reactor and closed his eyes, getting used to the almost subliminal vibration she made. If something ever went wrong with it, he wanted to feel it in his bones before any warning ever sounded. He stopped and touched all the tools in the well-stocked machine shop, and he climbed up to the personnel deck and wandered through the crew cabins until he found one he liked, and messed up the bed to show it was taken. He found a bunch of jumpsuits in what looked like his size, then moved them to the closet in his new room. He took a second shower and let the hot water massage knots in his back that were three weeks old. As he wandered back to his cabin, he trailed his fingers along the wall, feeling the soft give of the fire-retardant foam and anti-spalling webbing over the top of the armored steel bulkheads. When he arrived at his cabin, Austin and Kellan were both getting settled into theirs.