“We didn’t know we were inconveniencing you, or we’d have scheduled things differently,” Jim said. Despite the casualness of his words, his voice was like a wire under so much tension it was about to snap.
“In your position, I would have made getting her to safety a much higher priority. You can’t imagine what a relief it is to discover I didn’t waste my time coming out.”
“You sure about that?” Jim said.
“Wouldn’t play with this one, Cap,” Amos said softly. There was a dangerous buzz in his voice Teresa had only heard once before. Close your eyes, Tiny. You don’t want to watch this. The last thing he’d said to her before he’d been killed.
“This isn’t a fight either of us need to have,” Tanaka said, taking a few slow steps forward. Her arms were still out to her sides, fingers splayed to emphasize the emptiness of her hands. “I’m not looking to arrest you, Captain Holden. Or your crew. Or your ship. You’re free to go. My mandate at present is very narrow.”
Teresa glanced over at Jim, and he looked back. While their gazes were still locked, he shouted, “How do I know you won’t open fire as soon as we don’t have her?”
There was no reason for her to believe that Jim was bluffing. In the moment, Teresa was certain he would leave her with Tanaka, and relief complicated her fear. They didn’t want to see her die. She understood that better now. She didn’t want to see them die either.
“You have my word,” Tanaka said.
“I was looking for something a little more solid.”
“I don’t have a habit of breaking faith. That’s going to have to be enough.”
Jim looked away from Teresa, back to the woman. Amos had started humming softly and tunelessly. The shadows on the canopy were larger now, and more clearly shaped like Laconian power armor.
“Not sure that it is going to be enough,” Jim said, “but I’m willing to discuss other ways to make a handoff. You let us go back to our ship. Once we’re in the airlock, we’ll let the girl walk back by herself.”
Tanaka’s smile was hard. “Let me make a counteroffer. How about you do what I said, and no one dies?”
Jim tensed. He was on the edge of doing something stupid out of fear, and Tanaka was starting to escalate. Teresa had been trained in negotiation strategies, up to and including hostage situations. Jim was going to fuck this up. She had to take control. “I’m a little tired of being talked about like I was luggage. This isn’t a conversation between him and you. This is a conversation with me. I decide what ship I leave this place on. Not him.”
Muskrat, sensing the tension, started barking and hopping on her front legs. Tanaka smiled, and it was cold.
“All right,” Tanaka said. “Please come with me. Do it now, and in return I won’t kill your friends.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Jim said, quietly enough that it was just for her to hear it.
Whatever happened, she would know that even now, having landed on this planet to get rid of her, he was still willing to die to protect her. The knot in her stomach was replaced by something warm and comforting. It had to be enough.
“I’ll go,” Teresa said, but no one heard her. Her voice was suddenly drowned out as the static hiss of the tree-sized grasses took on a deafening rumble. For a second, she thought of earthquakes or stampedes of cattle. Tanaka’s neck worked. She was subvocalizing to someone.
“You have to the count of three,” Tanaka shouted. “One—”
Amos said Fuck it, stepped in front of Teresa, and drew his gun.
Chapter Twelve: Tanaka
The girl was staring at her, arms crossed defiantly, so certain of her place in the natural order. Comfortable with the absolute necessity of her existence. Tanaka had seen that attitude before in other people, many times. She’d also seen the surprise and hurt in their eyes as they died.
Tanaka had no such illusions.
Anyone could die at any time, and the universe didn’t give a shit. So while the girl stood in front of her shielded by nothing but the accident of having a powerful daddy, Tanaka wore an armored suit of woven carbon-silicate lace that would stop anything short of a rocket launcher under her clothes.
“I’m a little tired of being talked about like I was luggage. This isn’t a conversation between him and you. This is a conversation with me. I decide what ship I leave this place on. Not him.”
Oh, little girl, Tanaka thought, you have no idea. It made her hands itch to have Duarte’s daughter so close and not just grab her. A dozen quick steps and she’d have the girl, the escaped prisoner, and the terrorist who was apparently not dead despite having been shot in the head back on Laconia. But killing the kid had a lot of downside, and the risk wasn’t zero. So instead, she smiled and spread her hands a little wider, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible. James Holden might be rounding the corner from middle-aged into old, but he was still dangerous. And the lump of gristle next to him that went by Amos Burton had more than one question mark next to him in her book. Tanaka didn’t under-estimate either of them. The dog started barking and bouncing up and down on its front paws. It wasn’t a trained attack animal, just an old pet. She knew from the file that the girl would be easier to control if they didn’t kill it.