Abaddon's Gate

Orbit

CHAPTER 1

Holden

When he'd been a boy back on Earth, living under the open blue of sky, one ofhis mothers had spent three years suffering uncontrolled migraines. Seeing herpale and sweating with pain had been hard, but the halo symptoms that led intoit had almost been worse. She'd be cleaning the house or working throughcontracts for her law practice and then her left hand would start to clench,curling against itself until the veins and tendons seemed to creak with thestrain. Next her eyes lost their focus, pupils dilating until her blue eyes hadgone black. It was like watching someone having a seizure, and he always thoughtthis time, she'd die from it.

He'd been six at the time, and he'd never told any of his parents how much themigraines unnerved him, or how much he dreaded them, even when things seemedgood. The fear had become familiar. Almost expected. It should have taken theedge off the terror, and maybe it did, but what replaced it was a sense of beingtrapped. The assault could come at any time, and it could not be avoided.

It poisoned everything, even if it was only a little bit.

It felt like being haunted.

"The house always wins," Holden shouted.

He and the crew—Alex, Amos, Naomi—sat at a private table in the VIP lounge ofCeres' most expensive hotel. Even there, the bells, whistles, and digitizedvoices of the slot machines were loud enough to drown out most casualconversation. The few frequencies they weren't dominating were neatly filled inby the high-pitched clatter of the pachinko machines and the low bass rumble ofa band playing on one of the casino's three stages. All of it added up to a wallof sound that left Holden's guts vibrating and his ears ringing.

"What?" Amos yelled back at him.

"In the end, the house always wins!"

Amos stared down at an enormous pile of chips in front of him. He and Alex werecounting and dividing them in preparation for their next foray out to the gamingtables. At a glance, Holden guessed they'd won something like fifteen thousandCeres new yen in just the last hour. It made an impressive stack. If they couldquit now, they'd be ahead. But, of course, they wouldn't quit now.

"Okay," Amos said. "What?"

Holden smiled and shrugged. "Nothing."

If his crew wanted to lose a few thousand bucks blowing off steam at theblackjack tables, who was he to interfere? The truth was it wouldn't even put adent in the payout from their most recent contract, and that was only one ofthree contracts they'd completed in the last four months. It was going to be avery flush year.

Holden had made a lot of mistakes over the last three years. Deciding to quithis job as the OPA's bagman and become an independent contractor wasn't one ofthem. In the months since he'd put up his shingle as a freelance courier andescort ship, the Rocinante had taken seven jobs, and all of them hadbeen profitable. They'd spent money refitting the ship bow to stern. She'd had atough couple of years, and she'd needed some love.

When that was done and they still had more money in their general account thanthey knew what to do with, Holden had asked for a crew wish list. Naomi had paidto have a bulkhead in their quarters cut out to join the two rooms. They now hada bed large enough for two people and plenty of room to walk around it. Alex hadpointed out the difficulty in buying new military-grade torpedoes for the ship,and had requested a keel-mounted rail gun for the Roci. It would givethem more punch than the point defense cannons, and its only ammunitionrequirements were two-pound tungsten slugs. Amos had spent thirty grand during astopover on Callisto, buying them some after-market engine upgrades. When Holdenpointed out that the Roci was already capable of accelerating fastenough to kill her crew and asked why they'd need to upgrade her, Amos hadreplied, "Because this shit is awesome." Holden had just nodded and smiled andpaid the bill.

Even after the initial giddy rush of spending, they had enough to pay themselvessalaries that were five times what they'd made on the Canterbury andkeep the ship in water, air, and fuel pellets for the next decade.

Probably, it was temporary. There would be dry times too when no work came theirway and they'd have to economize and make do. That just wasn't today.

Amos and Alex had finished counting their chips and were shouting to Naomi aboutthe finer points of blackjack, trying to get her to join them at the tables.Holden waved at the waiter, who darted over to take his order. No ordering froma table screen here in the VIP lounge.

"What do you have in a scotch that came from actual grain?" Holden asked.

"We have several Ganymede distillations," the waiter said. He'd learned thetrick of being heard over the racket without straining. He smiled at Holden."But for the discriminating gentleman from Earth, we also have a few bottles ofsixteen-year Lagavulin we keep aside."

"You mean, like, actual scotch from Scotland?"

"From the island of Islay, to be precise," the waiter replied. "It's twelvehundred a bottle."

"I want that."

"Yes sir, and four glasses." The waiter tipped his head and headed off to thebar.

"We're going to play blackjack now," Naomi said, laughing. Amos was pulling astack of chips out of his tray and pushing them across the table to her. "Wantto come?"

The band in the next room stopped playing, and the background noise dropped toan almost tolerable level for a few seconds before someone started piping Muzakacross the casino PA.

"Guys, wait a few minutes," Holden said. "I've bought a bottle of somethingnice, and I want to have one last toast before we go our separate ways for thenight."

Amos looked impatient right up until the bottle arrived, and then spent severalseconds cooing over the label. "Yeah, okay, this was worth waiting for."

Holden poured out a shot for each of them, then held his glass up. "To the bestship and crew anyone has ever had the privilege of serving with, and to gettingpaid."

"To getting paid!" Amos echoed, and then the shots disappeared.

"God damn, Cap," Alex said, then picked up the bottle to look it over. "Can weput some of this on the Roci? You can take it out of my salary."

"Seconded," Naomi said, then took the bottle and poured out four more shots.

For a few minutes, the stacks of chips and the lure of the card tables wereforgotten. Which was all Holden had wanted. Just to keep these people togetherfor a few moments longer. On every other ship he'd ever served on, hitting portwas a chance to get away from the same faces for a few days. Not anymore. Notwith this crew. He stifled an urge to say a maudlin, I love you guys! bydrinking another shot of scotch.

"One last hit for the road," Amos said, picking up the bottle.

"Gonna hit the head," Holden replied, and pushed away from the table. He weaveda bit more than he expected on his walk to the restroom. The scotch had gone tohis brain fast.

The restrooms in the VIP lounge were lush. No rows of urinals and sinks here.Instead, half a dozen doors that led to private facilities with their own toiletand sink. Holden pushed his way into one and latched it behind him. The noiselevel dropped almost to nothing as soon as the door closed. A little likestepping outside the world. It was probably designed that way. He was gladwhoever built the casino had allowed for a place of relative calm. He wouldn'thave been shocked to see a slot machine over the sink.

He put one hand on the wall to steady himself while he did his business. He wasmid-stream when the room brightened for a moment and the chrome handle on thetoilet reflected a faint blue light. The fear hit him in the gut.

Again.

"I swear to God," Holden said, pausing to finish and then zip up. "Miller, youbetter not be there when I turn around."

He turned around.

Miller was there.

"Hey," the dead man started.

"'We need to talk,'" Holden finished for him, then walked to the sink to washhis hands. A tiny blue firefly followed him and landed on the counter. Holdensmashed it with his palm, but when he lifted his hand nothing was there.

In the mirror, Miller's reflection shrugged. When he moved, it was with asickening jerkiness, like a clockwork ticking through its motions. Human andinhuman both.

"Everyone's here at once," the dead man said. "I don't want to talk about whathappened to Julie."

Holden pulled a towel out of the basket next to the sink, then leaned againstthe counter facing Miller and slowly dried his hands. He was trembling, the sameas he always did. The sense of threat and evil was crawling up his spine, justthe same way it always did. Holden hated it.

Detective Miller smiled, distracted by something Holden couldn't see.

The man had worked security on Ceres, been fired, and gone off hunting on hisown, searching for a missing girl. He'd saved Holden's life once. Holden hadwatched when the asteroid station Miller and thousands of victims of the alienprotomolecule had been trapped on crashed into Venus. Including Julie Mao, thegirl Miller had searched for and then found too late. For a year, the alienartifact had suffered and worked its incomprehensible design under the clouds ofVenus. When it rose, hauling massive structures up from the depths and flyingout past the orbit of Neptune like some titanic sea creature translated to thevoid, Miller rose with it.

And now everything he said was madness.

"Holden," Miller said, not talking to him. Describing him. "Yeah, that makessense. You're not one of them. Hey, you have to listen to me."

"Then you have to say something. This shit is out of hand. You've been doingyour random appearing act for almost a year now, and you've never said even onething that made sense. Not one."

Miller waved the comment away. The old man was starting to breathe faster,panting like he'd run a race. Beads of sweat glistened on his pale, gray-tingedskin.

"So there was this unlicensed brothel down in sector eighteen. We went inthinking we'd have fifteen, twenty in the box. More, maybe. Got there, and theplace was stripped to the stone. I'm supposed to think about that. It meanssomething."

"What do you want from me?" Holden said. "Just tell me what you want,all right?"

"I'm not crazy," Miller said. "When I'm crazy, they kill me. God, did they killme?" Miller's mouth formed a small O, and he began to suck air in. His lips weredarkening, the blood under the skin turning black. He put a hand on Holden'sshoulder, and it felt too heavy. Too solid. Like Miller had been remade withiron instead of bones. "It's all gone pear-shaped. We got there, but it's empty.The whole sky's empty."

"I don't know what that means."

Miller leaned close. His breath smelled like acetate fumes. His eyes locked onHolden, eyebrows raised, asking him if he understood.

"You've got to help me," Miller said. The blood vessels in his eyes were almostblack. "They know I find things. They know you help me."

"You're dead," Holden said, the words coming out of him without consideration orplanning.

"Everyone's dead," Miller said. He took his hand from Holden's shoulder andturned away. Confusion troubled his brow. "Almost. Almost."

Holden's terminal buzzed at him, and he took it out of his pocket. Naomi hadsent DID YOU FALL IN? Holden began typing out a reply, then stopped when herealized he'd have no idea what to say.

When Miller spoke, his voice was small, almost childlike with wonder andamazement.

"Fuck. It happened," Miller said.

"What happened?" Holden said.

A door banged as someone else went into a neighboring stall, and Miller wasgone. The smell of ozone and some rich organic volatiles like a spice shop gonerancid were all the evidence that he had been there. And that might only havebeen in Holden's imagination.

Holden stood for a moment, waiting for the coppery taste to leave his mouth.Waiting for his heartbeat to slow back down to normal. Doing what he always didin the aftermath. When the worst had passed, he rinsed his face with cold waterand dried it with a soft towel. The distant, muffled sound of the gambling decksrose to a frenzy. A jackpot.

He wouldn't tell them. Naomi, Alex, Amos. They deserved to have their pleasurewithout the thing that had been Miller intruding on it. Holden recognized thatthe impulse to keep it from them was irrational, but it felt so powerfully likeprotecting them that he didn't question it much. Whatever Miller had become,Holden was going to stand between it and the Roci.

He studied his reflection until it was perfect. The carefree, slightly drunkcaptain of a successful independent ship on shore leave. Easy. Happy. He wentback out to the pandemonium of the casino.

For a moment, it was like stepping back in time. The casinos on Eros. The deathbox. The lights felt a little too bright, the noises sounded a little too loud.Holden made his way back to the table and poured himself another shot. He couldnurse this one for a while. He'd enjoy the flavor and the night. Someone behindhim shrieked their laughter. Only laughter.

A few minutes later, Naomi appeared, stepping out of the bustle and chaos likeserenity in a female form. The half-drunken, expansive love he'd felt earliercame back as he watched her make her way toward him. They'd shipped together onthe Canterbury for years before he'd found himself falling in love withher. Looking back, every morning he'd woken up with someone else had been a lostopportunity to breathe Naomi's air. He couldn't imagine what he'd been thinking.He shifted to the side, making room for her.

"They cleaned you out?" he asked.

"Alex," she said. "They cleaned Alex out. I gave him my chips."

"You are a woman of tremendous generosity," he said with a grin.

Naomi's dark eyes softened into a sympathetic expression.

"Miller showed up again?" she asked, leaning close to be heard over the noise.

"It's a little unsettling how easily you see through me."

"You're pretty legible. And this wouldn't be Miller's first bathroom ambush. Didhe make any more sense this time?"

"No," Holden said. "He's like talking to an electrical problem. Half the timeI'm not sure he even knows I'm there."

"It can't really be Miller, can it?"

"If it's the protomolecule wearing a Miller suit, I think that's actuallycreepier."

"Fair point," Naomi said. "Did he say anything new, at least?"

"A little bit, maybe. He said something happened."

"What?"

"I don't know. He just said, 'It happened,' and blinked out."

They sat together for a few minutes, a private silence within the riot, herfingers interlaced with his. She leaned over, kissing his right eyebrow, andthen pulled him up off the chair.

"Come on," she said.

"Where are we going?"

"I'm going to teach you how to play poker," she said.

"I know how to play poker."

"You think you do," she said.

"Are you calling me a fish?"

She smiled and tugged at him.

Holden shook his head. "If you want to, let's go back to the ship. We can get afew people together and have a private game. It doesn't make sense to do ithere. The house always wins."

"We aren't here to win," Naomi said, and the seriousness in her voice made thewords carry more than the obvious meaning. "We're here to play."

The news came two days later.

Holden was in the galley, eating takeout from one of the dockside restaurants:garlic sauce over rice, three kinds of legumes, and something so similar tochicken, it might as well have been the real thing. Amos and Naomi wereoverseeing the loading of nutrients and filters for the air recycling systems.Alex, in the pilot's seat, was asleep. On the other ships Holden had servedaboard, having the full crew back on ship before departure required it wasalmost unheard of, and they'd all spent a couple of nights in dockside hotelsbefore they'd come home. But they were home now.

Holden ran through the local feeds on his hand terminal, sipping news andentertainment from throughout the system. A security flaw in the new BandaoSolice game meant that financial and personal information from six millionpeople had been captured on a pirate server orbiting Titan. Martian militaryexperts were calling for increased spending to address the losses suffered inthe battle around Ganymede. On Earth, an African farming coalition was defyingthe ban on a nitrogen-fixing strain of bacteria. Protesters on both sides of theissue were taking to the streets in Cairo.

Holden was flipping back and forth, letting his mind float on the surface of theinformation, when a red band appeared on one of the newsfeeds. And then another.And then another. The image above the article chilled his blood. The Ring, theycalled it. The gigantic alien structure that had left Venus and traveled to apoint a little less than 2 AU outside Uranus' orbit, then stopped and assembleditself.

Holden read the news carefully as dread pulled at his gut. When he looked up,Naomi and Amos were in the doorway. Amos had his own hand terminal out. Holdensaw the same red bands on that display.
(Continues...)Excerpted from Abaddon's Gate by James S.A. Corey. Copyright © 2013 James S.A. Corey. Excerpted by permission of Orbit.
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