Leviathan Wakes - James S. A. Corey [142]
“Protogen, protomolecule,” Holden said. “They had no idea what it does, but they slapped their label on it like they’d made it. They found an alien weapon, and all they could think to do was brand it.”
“There’s reason to think these boys are pretty impressed with themselves,” Miller replied with a nod.
“Now, I’m not a scientist or anything,” Holden said, “but it seems to me like taking an alien supervirus and dropping it into a space station would be a bad idea.”
“It’s been two years,” Miller said. “They’ve been doing tests. They’ve been… I don’t know what the hell they’ve been doing. But Eros is what they decided on. And everyone knows what happened on Eros. The other side did it. No research and recovery ships because they’re all fighting each other or guarding something. The war? It’s a distraction.”
“And Protogen is doing… what?”
“Seeing what their toy does when you take it out for a spin is my guess,” Miller said.
They were silent for a long moment. Holden spoke first.
“So you take a company that seems to be lacking an institutional conscience, that has enough government research contracts to almost be a privately run branch of the military. How far will they go for the holy grail?”
“First, fastest, furthest,” Miller replied.
“Yeah.”
“Guys,” Naomi said, “you should come down here. I think I’ve got something.”
Chapter Thirty-Five: Holden
I’ve found the comm logs,” Naomi said as Holden and Miller drifted into the room behind her.
Holden put a hand on her shoulder, pulled it back, and hated that he’d pulled back. A week earlier she’d have been fine with a simple gesture of affection like that, and he wouldn’t have been afraid of her reaction. He regretted the new distance between them only slightly less than he would have regretted not saying anything at all. He wanted to tell her that.
Instead, he said, “Find anything good?”
She tapped the screen and pulled up the log.
“They were hard-core about comm discipline,” she said, pointing at the long list of dates and times. “Nothing ever went out on radio, everything was tightbeam. And everything was doublespeak, lots of obvious code phrases.”
Miller’s mouth moved inside his helmet. Holden tapped on his face shield. Miller rolled his eyes in disgust and then chinned the comm link to the general channel.
“Sorry. Don’t spend a lot of time in suits,” he said. “What’ve we got that’s good?”
“Not much. But the last communication was in plain English,” she said, then tapped the last line on the list.
THOTH STATION
CREW DEGENERATING. PROJECTING 100% CASUALTIES. MATERIALS SECURED. STABILIZING COURSE AND SPEED. VECTOR DATA TO FOLLOW. EXTREME CONTAMINATION HAZARD FOR ENTRY TEAMS.
CPT. HIGGINS
Holden read it several times, imagining Captain Higgins watching the infection spread through his crew, helpless to stop it. His people vomiting all over in a vacuum-sealed metal box, even one molecule of the substance on your skin a virtual death sentence. Black filament-covered tendrils erupting from their eyes and mouths. And then that… soup that covered the reactor. He let himself shudder, grateful that Miller wouldn’t see it through the atmosphere suit.
“So this Higgins fella realizes his crew is turning into vomit zombies and sends a last message to his bosses, right?” Miller said, breaking into Holden’s reverie. “What’s this stuff about vector data?”
“He knew they’d all be dead, so he was letting his people know how to catch the ship,” Holden replied.
“But they didn’t, because it’s here, because Julie took control and flew it somewhere else,” Miller said. “Which means they’re looking for it, right?”
Holden ignored that and put his hand back on Naomi’s shoulder with what he hoped was companionable casualness.
“We have tight beam messages and the vector info,” he said. “Are they all going to the same place?”
“Sort of,” she said, nodding with her right hand. “Not the same place, but all to what appear to be points in the Belt. But based on the changes in direction and the times they were sent, to one point in the Belt that