He started to record a response, but the restaurant was too open and too public for the things he wanted to say, so he promised himself he’d get to it when he was back in his quarters. He finished as much of the curry as he could stomach and the restaurant light slowly shifted from yellow to gold, the colors of a false sunset on a planet many of the people there had never seen except on screens. He paid the check and the waiter came, offering a variety of after-dinner desserts or drinks. The man’s gaze lingered long enough that, while it was all within the bounds of politeness, it was pretty clear that Holden could have asked for some other things too.

Holden’s mind shifted on most of the questions. More food, more drink, more sleep, more sex. Any sex. He was aware of a deep and oceanic cavern of want in his belly. Something that was like hunger or thirst, exhaustion or lust, but that wouldn’t be satisfied. He didn’t have words for it, except that it left him quick to anger and despair. Lingering behind it all, the fear that he wouldn’t ever have his crew back on his ship made him feel gut-punched.

And then the word for it came. He was homesick, and the Rocinante, wonderful as she was, wasn’t home unless Alex and Amos and Naomi were in her. He wondered how long the feeling would last if they never came back. How long he’d wait for them, even once he knew they wouldn’t return. The waiter smiled gently down at him.

“Nothing,” Holden said. “Thanks.”

He walked out to the main corridor, mentally rehearsing what he’d say to Alex and how he’d say it. Anything he said was going to be examined by the Martian communications service, so he didn’t want to put anything in it that was open to misinterpretation. The problem with that being that he always knew what he meant by things, and didn’t see the other readings until someone made them. Maybe he could just make a few jokes and say that he was ready to have everyone back together.

When his hand terminal buzzed a connection request, he accepted it, his mind primed to expect Alex even though light delay made that impossible. Drummer scowled out at him from the screen. “Mister Holden, I was wondering if you could stop by the auxiliary security office.”

“I guess,” Holden said, suddenly wary. He still half expected Drummer to turn out to be playing some angle of her own. “Is it something I should know about now?”

A stream of cursing came from the background, growing louder. Drummer stepped aside and Fred lurched into the screen. “If we were talking about it on the network, you wouldn’t be coming in here.”

“Right,” Holden said. “On my way.”