Leviathan Wakes Read Free

said with a wicked grin. Shed blushed.
    “I’ve, ah, heard from other guys who’ve gotten them,” Shed said, not meeting Holden’s eyes. “Apparently there’s a period while you’re still building identification with the prosthetic when whacking off feels just like getting a hand job.”
    Holden let the comment hang in the air for a second while Shed’s ears turned crimson.
    “Good to know,” Holden said. “And the necrosis?”
    “There’s some infection,” Shed said. “The maggots are keeping it under control, and the inflammation’s actually a good thing in this context, so we’re not fighting too hard unless it starts to spread.”
    “Is he going to be ready for the next run?” Holden asked.
    For the first time, Paj frowned.
    “Shit yes, I’ll be ready. I’m always ready. This is what I
do,
sir.”
    “Probably,” Shed said. “Depending on how the bond takes. If not this one, the one after.”
    “Fuck that,” Paj said. “I can buck ice one-handed better than half the skags you’ve got on this bitch.”
    “Again,” Holden said, suppressing a grin, “good to know. Carry on.”
    Paj snorted. Shed plucked another maggot free. Holden went back to the lift, and this time he didn’t hesitate.
    The navigation station of the
Canterbury
didn’t dress to impress. The great wall-sized displays Holden had imagined when he’d first volunteered for the navy did exist on capital ships but, even there, more as an artifact of design than need. Ade sat at a pair of screens only slightly larger than a hand terminal, graphs of the efficiency and output of the
Canterbury
’s reactor and engine updating in the corners, raw logs spooling on the right as the systems reported in. She wore thick headphones that covered her ears, the faint thump of the bass line barely escaping. If the
Canterbury
sensed an anomaly, it would alert her. If a system errored, it would alert her. If Captain McDowell left the command and control deck, it would alert her so she could turn the music off and look busy when he arrived. Her petty hedonism was only one of a thousand things that made Ade attractive to Holden. He walked up behind her, pulled the headphones gently away from her ears, and said, “Hey.”
    Ade smiled, tapped her screen, and dropped the headphones to rest around her long slim neck like technical jewelry.
    “Executive Officer James Holden,” she said with an exaggerated formality made even more acute by her thick Nigerian accent. “And what can I do for you?”
    “You know, it’s funny you should ask that,” he said. “I was just thinking how pleasant it would be to have someone come back to my cabin when third shift takes over. Have a little romantic dinner of the same crap they’re serving in the galley. Listen to some music.”
    “Drink a little wine,” she said. “Break a little protocol. Pretty to think about, but I’m not up for sex tonight.”
    “I wasn’t talking about sex. A little food. Conversation.”
    “I was talking about sex,” she said.
    Holden knelt beside her chair. In the one-third g of their current thrust, it was perfectly comfortable. Ade’s smile softened. The logspool chimed; she glanced at it, tapped a release, and turned back to him.
    “Ade, I like you. I mean, I really enjoy your company,” he said. “I don’t understand why we can’t spend some time together with our clothes on.”
    “Holden. Sweetie. Stop it, okay?”
    “Stop what?”
    “Stop trying to turn me into your girlfriend. You’re a nice guy. You’ve got a cute butt, and you’re fun in the sack. Doesn’t mean we’re engaged.”
    Holden rocked back on his heels, feeling himself frown.
    “Ade. For this to work for me, it needs to be more than that.”
    “But it isn’t,” she said, taking his hand. “It’s okay that it isn’t. You’re the XO here, and I’m a short-timer. Another run, maybe two, and I’m gone.”
    “I’m not chained to this ship either.”
    Her laughter was equal parts warmth