Cibola Burn (The Expanse) by James S. A. Corey

mind for a second, and he said, “Wait. UN charter? When did the UN get to be in charge of the thousand worlds?”
    Fred smiled without humor. “The situation is complex. We have the UN making a power grab to administrate all these new worlds. We have OPA citizens settling one without permission. We have an energy company getting the exploration contract on a world that also just happens to have the richest lithium deposits we’ve ever seen.”
    “And we have you,” Holden said, “setting up to run the turnpike everyone has to take to get there.”
    “I think it’s safe to say the OPA has fundamental disagreements with the idea that the UN is unilaterally in charge of handing out those contracts.”
    “So you and Avasarala are back-channeling this to keep it from turning into something bigger.”
    “There are about five more variables than that, but as a start, yes. Which is where you come in,” Fred said, pointing at Holden with his coffee mug. Printed on the side of the mug were the words THE BOSS. Holden stifled a laugh. “Nobody owns you, but Avasarala and I have both worked with you, and think we can do it again.”
    “That’s a really stupid reason.”
    Fred’s smile gave away nothing. “It doesn’t hurt that you have an atmosphere-rated ship.”
    “You know we’ve never actually used it, though, right? I’m not keen on the first in-atmosphere maneuver happening a million kilometers from the closest repair bay.”
    “The Rocinante is also a military design, and —”
    “Forget it. No matter what your coffee cup says, I’m not going to be the boot on the colonists’ neck. I won’t do that.”
    Fred sighed, sitting forward. When he spoke, his voice was soft and warm as flannel. But it didn’t hide the steel underneath it.
    “The rules governing how a thousand planets are run are about to be made. This is the test case. You’ll be going in as an impartial observer and mediator.”
    “Me? As a mediator?”
    “The irony’s not lost on me. But things have already started to go bad there, and we need someone keeping it from getting worse while three governments decide how the next one will work.”
    “You mean you want me to make it look like you’re doing something while you figure out what to do,” Holden said. “And going bad how?”
    “The colonists blew up an RCE heavy lift shuttle. The provisional governor was on it. He’s dead, along with a few scientists and RCE employees. It won’t help our negotiations if Ilus turns into a full-blown war between Belters and a UN corporation.”
    “So I keep the peace?”
    “You get them talking, and you keep them talking. And you do what you always do, you maintain absolute transparency. This is one time secrets won’t help anyone. Should be right up your alley.”
    “I thought I was the galaxy’s biggest loose cannon to you guys. Is Avasarala sending the match in to meet the powder keg because she wants this to fail?”
    Fred shrugged. “I care less what she wants you for than what I do. Maybe the old lady likes you. Don’t ask me to explain it.”
    ~
    Miller was waiting for Holden outside Fred’s office.
    “There are three thousand people on Medina Station right now,” Holden said. “How is it that not one of them is here to keep you from bugging me?”
    “You going to take the job?” Miller said.
    “I haven’t decided,” Holden said. “Which, since you are running a simulation of my brain, you already know. So you asking is really you telling me to take it. Stop me when I’m wrong.”
    Holden headed off down the corridor, hoping to run into another human and make the Miller ghost go away. Miller followed, his footsteps echoing on the ceramic floor. The fact that those echoes existed only inside Holden’s mind made the whole thing even creepier.
    “You’re not wrong. You should take it,” Miller said. “The man’s right. It’s important. Something like that goes from a few pissed-off locals to a meat grinder without