Leviathan Wakes - James S. A. Corey [184]
“You killed Dresden,” Fred said. “That’s a problem.”
“It needed to happen.”
“I’m not sure it did,” Fred replied, but his voice was careful. Testing. Miller smiled, a little sadly.
“That’s why it needed to happen,” he said.
The small, coughing laugh told Miller that Fred understood him. When the general turned back to consider him again, his gaze was steady.
“When it comes to the negotiating table, someone’s going to have to answer for it. You killed a defenseless man.”
“I did,” Miller said.
“When the time comes, I will hand-feed you to the wolves as the first chip I offer. I won’t protect you.”
“Wouldn’t ask you to protect me,” Miller said.
“Even if it meant being a Belter ex-cop in an Earth-side prison?”
It was a euphemism, and they both knew it. You belong with me, Julie said. And so what did it matter, really, how he got there?
“I’ve got no regrets,” he said, and half a breath later was shocked to discover it was almost true. “If there’s a judge out there who wants to ask me about something, I’ll answer. I’m looking for a job here, not protection.”
Fred sat in his chair, eyes narrow and thoughtful. Miller leaned forward in his seat.
“You’ve got me in a hard position,” Fred said. “You’re saying all the right things. But I have a hard time trusting that you’d follow through. Keeping you on the books would be risky. It could undermine my position in the peace negotiations.”
“It’s a risk,” Miller said. “But I’ve been on Eros and Thoth station. I flew on the Rocinante with Holden and his crew. When it comes to analysis of the protomolecule and how we got into this mess, there isn’t anyone in a better position to give you information. You can argue I knew too much. That I was too valuable to let go.”
“Or too dangerous.”
“Sure. Or that.”
They were silent for a moment. On the Nauvoo, a bank of lights glittered in a gold-and-green test pattern and then went dark.
“Security consultant,” Fred said. “Independent. I won’t give you a rank.”
I’m too dirty for the OPA, Miller thought with a glow of amusement.
“If it comes with my own bunk, I’ll take it,” he said. It was only until the war was over. After that, he was meat for the machine. That was fine. Fred leaned back. His chair hissed softly into its new configuration.
“All right,” Fred said. “Here’s your first job. Give me your analysis. What’s my biggest problem?”
“Containment,” Miller said.
“You think I can’t keep the information about Thoth station and the protomolecule quiet?”
“Of course you can’t,” Miller said. “For one thing, too many people already know. For another thing, one of them’s Holden, and if he hasn’t already broadcast the whole thing on every empty frequency, he will soon. And besides that, you can’t make a peace deal without explaining what the hell’s going on. Sooner or later, it has to come out.”
“And what do you advise?”
For a moment, Miller was back in the darkness, listening to the gibbers of the dying station. The voices of the dead calling to him from across the vacuum.
“Defend Eros,” he said. “All sides are going to want samples of the protomolecule. Locking down access is going to be the only way you get yourself a seat at that table.”
Fred chuckled.
“Nice thought,” he said. “But how do propose we defend something the size of Eros Station if Earth and Mars bring their navies to bear?”
It was a good point. Miller felt a tug of sorrow. Even though Julie Mao—his Julie—was dead and gone, it felt like disloyalty to say it.
“Then you have to get rid of it,” he said.
“And how would I do that?” Fred said. “Even if we studded the thing with nukes, how would we be sure that no little scrap of the thing would make its way to a colony or down a well? Blowing that thing up would be like blowing dandelion fluff into the breeze.