“When we have enough money to do that for another three decades. “But I did like the idea of living in exuberant decadence on Titan.” “Not a bad thing,” he agreed, and handed his filled-out screen back to the puffer. “And it’s all very far from this,” she said, pointing at her screen. “True.” His parents were all pushing the centenarian mark, and while he’d been lucky and they were all in pretty good shape, he didn’t want them doing orbital launches to visit him if they could avoid it. And you could pop down the well whenever you wanted to visit your parents.” It’ll be easy to find consulting gigs, what with all the work going on down on Earth.” He only caught about every third word, but the hot topic of conversation was definitely the approaching Laconian ships. “Mmhmm,” Puffer said, making it a sound of deep skepticism.Īs Holden filled out the next of the endless forms, he listened to the small voices coming from Naomi’s terminal. “Our next stop is the bank, where we’ll be finalizing the loan to sell the ship.”
“You do know,” the puffer fish said, “that this is a temporary change of status, pending the legal change-of-ownership registration?” Holden thought she looked like a disgruntled puffer fish, but recognized his unflattering opinion was at least partly a reaction to the mountain of forms she’d made him fill out. She had a pinched face, deep frown lines on her forehead and around her mouth, and wore her hair in short spikes dyed flaming red. The Transport Union representative who was processing their paperwork handed Holden an oversized terminal covered in legalese. Draper, and states that she is now the legal captain of the Rocinante, and president of Rocicorp, a Ceres-registered corporate entity.”
“Form 4011-D transfers your retainer and future contracts to Roberta W. The Rocinante was doing a mandatory security contract.
Naomi sat beside him, watching the newsfeeds on her hand terminal, unaffected by the grim locale. Holden couldn’t say for sure why it felt more depressing than sitting in the metal cubes of a spaceship compartment, but it was. It made the Coriolis slightly less noticeable than inside the drum, but also meant that they were inside gray metal cubes with desks in them and no screens to even give the illusion of a window. The Transport Union comptroller’s offices were buried three levels deep in the thick walls of Medina Station’s rotating drum.
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