Archive of Our Own

Wei didn’t always agree with what Murtry did, but she did trust him.

Not like a friend trusted a friend, but like a soldier trusted a general: stuck in the trenches, bullets ripping through the air around them, trusting that every order he gave was to get them out alive. New Terra wasn’t a battlefield and Murtry wasn’t a general, but the war they fought was the same. If they wanted to survive, a few lines would have to be crossed, a few eggs broken. She didn’t always like his plans, but she didn’t have to; Murtry had pulled her out of the mud enough times for her to trust his judgement, to know that his priority was and would always be the preservation of his team.

Was he a good person? Probably not. He could be brutal and standoffish, prickly even when their lives weren’t on the line. Most of the crew on the Edward Israel thought he was an asshole, and Wei didn’t always disagree. But good people didn’t make good soldiers, and Murtry had never shied away from what needed to be done. He depended on her to do the same, and so she did; she would not be the obstacle in his path, the reason everything fell apart.

Amos had never understood that. He constantly questioned her loyalty to her boss, poked holes in his character, criticized Murtry’s decisions and Wei’s willingness to go along with them. And Wei got it, she did; she saw the kind of captain Holden was. He spoke to Amos like they were friends, listened to his opinions no matter how insignificant, spent what seemed to be all his spare time agonizing over how to be fair to everyone. Holden was, first and foremost, kind. He smiled at pups, listened to the townsfolk’s concerns, let the RCE scientists ramble on about their latest discoveries and nodded along even when he had no idea what they were talking about. And that was great, it really was, except for the part where Amos seemed to think it made Holden’s judgement infallible.

Personally, Wei found it naïve. Anyone could see that there was no way for them all to come out of this conflict satisfied, and yet Holden kept searching for the impossible solution, as if he could pick apart the whole convoluted mess and find the single thing that would give everyone what they wanted. He spent so much time looking for the perfect answer that nothing else got done, so concerned with doing the right thing that any progress he made was incremental. And though Wei seriously doubted Amos held the same idealist views, he followed in Holden’s footsteps like he was the sun, never straying far from his orbit.

Wei didn’t have the luxury of worrying about doing the ‘right’ thing. There was only what needed to be done, what her responsibilities required of her, what Murtry needed her to do. She didn’t need Murtry to be her friend; she needed him to be the boss, to formulate the plans and dish out the orders so she could put them into motion. Her priority had to be keeping their people safe, not empathizing with the Belters that had swooped in to snatch up resources RCE had the rights to. They’d seen something ripe for the taking and they’d taken it, without regard to who it belonged to, and when the consequences came knocking, they played the victim. Just like Belters always did.

When Wei was a teenager, her grandparents from out of state had passed, leaving her father to manage the affairs surrounding their home. It had taken years to sort out all the paperwork. By the time they got a realtor out there to inspect the house and prepare it for the market, a band of homeless had moved in, making themselves at home on her father’s property. The legal battle that followed had given her father grey hairs; the squatters dug in their heels and refused to leave, forcing her family to jump through all kinds of bureaucratic hoops to remove them. When they were finally dragged out by the police, they’d screamed and cried about how they had nowhere else to go, had cursed their names just like the Belters did now.

Instead of trash on the floor and roaches in the walls, it was a contaminated biosphere and ransacked ore veins. Instead of a house out in the country, it was a planet with the richest lithium deposit humanity had ever seen. But at its core, the battle was the same.

Wei knew Amos didn’t see it that way. He and Holden had spent far too much time in OPA circles not to be sympathetic to the Belters’ plight, and Wei wouldn’t have minded all that much if it hadn’t made her job twice as hard. With Holden backing their demands, the Belters had become increasingly bold; she’d seen how some of them eyed the gun at her hip, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they tried something. She’d been trying to open Amos’s eyes to the danger hanging on the horizon, but he was annoyingly steadfast in his support of Holden.

And that, well… that was a whole other issue. Loyalty to his captain, she’d expected, but Amos’s behavior towards Holden ran closer to devotion. She saw how he followed Holden around like a satellite caught in his orbit—perhaps not unusual for a bodyguard, but the crinkling in the corners of his eyes certainly was—how he brought Holden drinks during their downtime in the commissary, hung out with him, chased off colonists and RCE alike when Holden was too tired to deal with them. When town hall meetings got tense, as they invariably did, Amos loomed behind Holden like a big, threatening shadow, a silent promise of violence towards anyone who dared to mess with his captain.

Holden wasn’t exempt from the oddness either. He always stood closer to Amos than he needed to, leaning towards him at the end of a long day like a sunflower seeking the sun. The two of them were always finding reasons to touch each other: back pats and bumping shoulders, a hand on the other’s arm to garner attention when a simple word would suffice. Even more damningly, Wei had seen Holden stop himself from reaching for Amos’s wrist on multiple occasions, like he wanted to scent him or hold his hand. The reflexiveness of the movement told her it was something he did often.

Wei knew about the rumors floating around camp. Many of the Belters, and even some of the RCE personnel, thought that Holden and Amos were mates, and Wei had to admit it would explain some things. However, she was fairly sure Holden was involved with that Belter woman on his crew, and Amos’s… extracurriculars with her didn’t seem like the actions of a mated man. But she digressed; whatever they had going on was too familiar for crewmates and unusual even for friends. Wei had never seen a captain act so familiar with his mechanic, nor a mechanic so devoted to his captain. And though she stayed firm in her resolve that it was none of her business, she couldn’t help but wonder what had brought the two of them so close, the thought sparking an odd, sickly feeling in her gut that she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—put a name to.

~ ~ ~

“So,” Fayez said, hopping up onto the counter to sit by her shoulder. “Holden and Amos, huh?”

Wei, seated in a chair by the open door, barely managed to hold back her sigh. “I’m working, Dr. Sarkis.”

“Well, so am I, but these samples are going to take another 15 minutes to process and I’m running a bit low on conversation partners.” Wei shot him an irritated look; he didn’t so much as blink. “Come on, I know you’re bored shitless. No one’s breaking in here to steal some rocks. Let loose a little, I won’t tell anyone.”

Wei glanced back at the camp once more, then sighed. “What’s going on with Amos and Holden?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Fayez said, swinging his feet idly under the counter. It made him seem much younger than he was. “People around town keep saying they’re mates. I heard the Belters even gave them conjoined rooms.”

“They’re not mates,” Wei said.

“You would say that, with what you and Amos have been up to.” Wei glared at him; he shrugged. “What? Everyone knows.”

“You’re bold today.”

“I’m bored,” Fayez corrected. “Elvi’s out in the desert sacrificing some poor creatures in the name of science, and Sudayam’s out doing whatever soil scientists do. Eating dirt, probably. My fear of you beating the shit out of me isn’t as strong as my fear of boredom, so… Holden and Amos. What do you think?”

“They’re not mates,” Wei repeated. “Amos doesn’t have a bond mark.”

“See, I’m not even going to ask how you know that. That only tells us they’re not reciprocally bonded, though. I wouldn’t be surprised if Amos has a bite on Holden, with how protective he is.”

Wei scoffed. “Doubt it. Holden doesn’t seem the type to take a claim without leaving one of his own.”

Fayez raised his eyebrows. “You think so?”

“I’ve talked to Amos about it. Trust me, Holden’s just as territorial as him.”

“Huh,” Fayez said. “So, what? You think they’re not romantically involved at all?”

“Don’t know and don’t care,” Wei deadpanned. She paused to squint at Fayez. “Why do you?”

“Normally I wouldn’t, but their weird homoerotic friendship is making my coworker insane, so it’s kind of become my problem.”

“Sudayam?”

Fayez laughed. “No. Elvi.”

That caught Wei’s attention, turning to face him fully. “Really?”

“Yep. She keeps flipping back and forth between thinking they must be a couple and desperately searching for any reason they might not be.” At Wei’s raised eyebrows: “She’s got a little crush on Holden. It’s insufferable.”

“My condolences,” Wei said dryly. Fayez chuckled, but she heard the bitterness underlying his voice.

“We should start a club, the three of us,” he said. “’People aggrieved by Amos and Holden’s ambiguous relationship status.’ We could have snacks.”

“They wouldn’t be very good,” Wei replied, wrinkling her nose at the thought of the bland ration bars the Edward Israel had sent down. “So, which one are you angling for?” At Fayez’s confused look, she clarified: “Holden or Amos? Probably Holden, right? Amos is a bit of an acquired taste.”

Fayez flushed so red she was surprised steam didn’t come out of his ears. “What? Oh, no, I’m not—it’s not like—I mean—”

Oh, Wei thought, recalling the bitterness in his voice when he spoke about Elvi’s crush. He wasn’t attracted to Holden; he was jealous of him.

Guess that makes two of us, whispered a little part of her she’d been trying to ignore.

~ ~ ~

Amos jerked into consciousness while Wei was cleaning a cut on his chest, the motion rattling the handcuff tethering him to the cot. His eyes snapped to it, brows furrowing, and he tugged to no avail.

“What the fuck,” he said.

“Don’t know what you expected, coming out fists swinging like that,” Wei said, dabbing at a cut on his temple. “You’re lucky you didn’t get shot.”

His head whipped around like he’d only just noticed she was there. She didn’t recognize the look he fixed her with, eyes wide and steely, jaw clenched, all the anger that didn’t show on his face spilling out into his scent. He yanked at the cuff again.

“You need to take this off right now,” he said, a dangerous undertone to his voice. Wei’s lips thinned and her eyebrows knit, struggling to think of a response that wouldn’t send him flying off the handle. Amos didn’t give her the chance, surging right into her space, the cuff halting him only a hair’s breadth away. “I will tear this fucking bed apart!”

“You want to stay alive?” Wei hissed, refusing to back down even an inch. She’d taken down bigger guys than Amos; he’d have to try harder than that to scare her. “You need to shut the fuck up and pray Murtry forgets about you! The only reason you’re not dead already is because he decided it wouldn’t be worth the hassle. Don’t make him change his mind.”

Amos grabbed a fistful of her lapel. That made her think twice, the soldier in her running the numbers, reassessing the risk.

“He’s going after my people,” Amos said, his voice so low it was nearly a growl. His eyes bored into her like hot irons. “You do not want to be the one between us.”

Wei took a beat too long to respond, cursing the slip-up as she forced her voice into something level. “He’s just going after the ones who crashed the shuttle and were about to kill the rest of us.”

“He’s going after Naomi,” Amos snarled. “You think he’s gonna let her go just ‘cause she wasn’t the one to plant those bombs? I’ve known men like him. He’ll kill her just because she’s in his way, just because he wants to. And whatever he does to her, I’ll do to him.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Wei snapped, ripping her jacket out of his grasp and moving to stand. “Loyalty to your crew, I get. But Naomi’s aiding a terrorist, and if she didn’t want to be in the line of fire—”

Amos shot to his feet and roared right in her face, the cot scraping against the floor. Adrenaline screaming through her blood, Wei planted her boot on the edge of the cot and kicked it back hard, the cuff on Amos’s wrist jerking him back with it. He stumbled, his eyes widening as she roared right back at him with all the pent-up anger in her chest.

One of her guards, a man named Mason with a grey-speckled beard and hair so short he almost looked bald, slammed the door open and trained his rifle on Amos.

“Hey, Chandra,” he said, voice a touch too sharp to be casual. “Murtry wants to see you. They still haven’t found the fugitives.” Wei almost wanted to chew him out for giving away information to a prisoner, but she held back, not wanting to foul the situation further. Mason glared at Amos and gestured to the cot with the end of his rifle. “Why don’t you sit the fuck down?”

Amos’s answering glower promised violence deeper than anything Mason could imagine, his scent and expression dark with it. It was the look of a seasoned killer, someone who could snap this nobody’s neck without losing a wink of sleep. For a moment, Wei thought he might actually do it, handcuff be damned. But he just kept Mason pinned under that soul-withering glare a little longer, then finally sat down, slamming the cot back those last few inches and dropping onto it. The bare muscles of his back and shoulders rippled under his skin, tense and ready for a fight. Even seated, the venomous look he fixed Wei with nearly had her reaching for her gun.

“Thanks,” Wei said to Mason, never taking her eyes off Amos. He could snarl and posture all he wanted; she wouldn’t give him an inch. He was loyal, but so was she. “Really didn’t want to have to shoot him.”

Amos’s eyes burned into her back as she left, seething with rage, and she pretended it didn’t tear a gaping hole in her heart to have him look at her with such hate.

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“—they’ve got this grilled corn with garlic butter, you know?”

“I do not,” Amos said, his voice dripping with boredom. Wei caught a glimpse of him laying flat on his back, his free hand rubbing circles in his temples. Mason didn’t seem to notice, rambling on.

“Yeah, garlic butter. And it came with this side of greens, I’m not sure what they were, but they kind of looked like—”

“Wait outside until you’re relieved,” Wei interrupted. “I’ll watch this one.” Mason scrambled to attention, slipping outside without a word. Amos sat up, slowly and stiffly, and swung his legs over the side of the cot, Wei coming to stand in front of him.

“That guy talks,” he said, an edge of mild horror in his voice, “a lot.”

Wei couldn’t help the quirk of her lips. “Mason’s an idiot.”

Amos’s eyes met hers. “Lot of those on your team.”

She was standing so close she was nearly between his legs, yet despite their earlier scuffle, he didn’t seem to mind, posture relaxed and scent absent of threat. It emboldened her enough to grab his chin and tilt his head up towards her, running her nails through his beard. Amos gave her a flat look, not quite a glare, but didn’t pull away.

“You know,” she ventured, letting her voice drop into something sultry, “in a different context, this could be kind of fun.”

Amos’s expression darkened and he jerked his chin out of her grasp.

“Come on,” she drawled playfully. “Don’t be mad.”

He surprised her by grabbing her ass and pulling her in, her legs bracketing his thigh. His face barely changed, but the look in his eyes spelled hunger and animosity in equal measures, his earlier anger still lingering.

“Trade places with me, and then we’ll talk about it,” he said.

“Don’t be an asshole, I saved your life out there.”

Amos shrugged, the slightest shift of his shoulders. “Maybe.”

“Oh, really?” Wei asked, a smile tugging at her lips. “You think you can take on all my men by yourself?”

“I had a shot.”

She stared at him, then shook her head fondly. “You are so fucking weird.”

Something sparked in Amos’s eyes, interest or desire or perhaps a fondness of his own. Wei’s gaze dropped to his lips, slow and purposeful.

That was, of course, the exact moment Holden’s voice rang out through the camp, calling Amos’s name. Amos’s attention snapped instantly in the direction it came, shouting his reply. Wei silently cursed her luck; of course Holden would show up right when things were getting good. Then she remembered that Murtry had gone out to meet him earlier, and her stomach dropped, the reality of their situation flooding back to the forefront of her mind.

“Shit,” she hissed, pulling away from Amos and fishing out her hand terminal. Amos glanced back at her distractedly, almost like an afterthought—and didn’t that fucking sting, knowing she was only an afterthought compared to Holden—and his shoulders tensed. Her hand terminal beeped as Murtry failed to accept her connection request.

“Wei,” Amos warned. Wei glanced up at him, startled to find something resembling concern in his eyes. “He’s gonna be on a warpath. Don’t get in his way.”

At the mention of Holden, her face darkened, resolve crystallizing in her chest.

“I’m gonna do my fucking job,” she snapped. “And if Holden has a problem with that, he can take it up with the business end of my gun.”

Amos bristled, but before he could make a move, Holden slammed the door open, rifle in hand and radiating threat. Amos’s scent immediately dropped into something softer, as if trying to placate him. The effort proved fruitless when Holden’s eyes caught on the cuff around Amos’s wrist and the rage in his scent boiled over. Apprehension flickered in the back of Wei’s mind; alphas may be better known for it, but omegas could be just as protective, vicious even in their defense of their pack. If Wei didn’t plan her moves carefully, she could very easily end up with Holden’s teeth in her throat.

“Unlock him,” Holden growled. He held the rifle in front of his body, not yet pointed at her, but it wouldn’t take much for that to change. The time it would take to draw her own gun might be cutting it close.

“Not gonna happen,” Wei said curtly. “Put the gun down.”

“Don’t kill her,” Amos interjected. “She just hasn’t figured out her boss is a dick yet.”

“You stay out of it,” Wei snapped.

“Watch it,” Holden snarled. The acid in his voice startled her. “I’ve already gone through Murtry. Cut him loose, or I’ll go through you too.”

Wei narrowed her eyes. “’Gone through him?’”

“Clocked him pretty good on my way here. Keep this up, and you won’t be as lucky.”

“Shoulda shot him,” Amos muttered.

“There’s still time.”

“You assaulted my superior officer,” Wei said, “aided a terrorist, and now you expect me to cooperate with you?”

Holden shrugged, his expression never losing its edge. “If you like living, then yeah.”

“Cap—” Amos protested.

“Quiet, Amos.”

Holden didn’t speak loudly, but Amos’s jaw snapped shut like he’d just been shouted at. Wei had never seen him shut up so quickly.

“Last chance,” Holden said, his voice colder than ice. “Let him go. Now.”

Wei said nothing, jaw clenched, every muscle in her body drawn tight. Silence hung in the air like gas waiting for a spark.

“Wei,” Amos said quietly. A muscle in Holden’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t take his eyes off her. “Give me the key, walk away. There’s no need to die over this shit.”

Rage snapped in Wei’s chest.

“Fuck that,” she said and drew her gun. Holden raised his rifle, Amos shot to his feet—

“Captain Holden,” Murtry’s voice broke in, stopping them all in their tracks. He stepped inside, dirt clinging to his uniform, a bruise darkening along his jaw. His gun was missing, but he didn’t look too worse for wear; Wei couldn’t help the bolt of relief that ran through her system. “You left before we could finish our conversation.”

“Trust me,” Holden said, not sparing him so much as a glance, “you don’t want me to finish that conversation.”

“Oh, I disagree. We have quite a lot to discuss.”

“We’re not discussing shit until you let my crewman go,” Holden said. “We don’t have time for your vendetta.”

“Vendetta,” Murtry repeated, eyebrows raised and tone dripping skepticism.

“You’ve targeted two members of my crew,” Holden snarled, finally tearing his eyes away from Wei. “The only reason I haven’t killed you yet is because we have bigger problems.”

“And what would those be?”

“The artifacts on this planet are waking up,” Holden snapped. “The device my ship blew up would have wiped this settlement off the map. We need to get everyone off the surface before something even worse shows up.”

“You’re saying we need to evacuate?” Murtry asked.

“Yes! Immediately!”

The silence that followed seemed to last hours, Holden and Murtry locked in a vicious staring contest, Holden’s scent sharp with rage, Murtry’s brow furrowed in thought. Finally, Murtry waved a hand at Wei. “Unlock him.”

The gears in Wei’s brain ground to a halt. “Sir?”

“You heard him,” Holden said. Wei resisted the urge to bare her teeth at him. She settled for stepping in closer than necessary to swipe her hand terminal over the cuff on Amos’s wrist, only a few inches left between them. She could practically feel Holden bristle; from the look Amos gave her, half amusement and half disapproval, she failed to fully suppress her smirk.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured, close enough for her to feel his breath.

Wei rolled her eyes. “I don’t give a fuck. Holden can bite me.”

“Don’t tempt him, he might actually do it.” The cuff clicked open. Amos waited just long enough for her to step out of his way, then made a beeline for Holden. Holden reached for his arm and pulled him halfway behind him; Amos went without complaint.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’re sheltering a murderer,” Murtry said, “but if you intend to evacuate everyone into orbit, RCE will do everything in its power to help. It would be best for everyone involved if we work together.”

“He’ll only help as long as evacuating the Belters is easier than shooting them,” Amos said.

“I know,” Holden growled, dark eyes fixed on Murtry.

“You people act like I’m the bad guy here,” Murtry said. He sounded offended by the very notion, but Wei had never known him to be offended by anything; the disconnect made unease crawl up her spine. “I came here on a peaceful mission; these squatters drew first blood.”

“And you used it to justify slaughtering them in the streets,” Holden spat.

“I acted against terrorists who killed innocent people and were planning further acts of violence, but I’m the bad guy,” Murtry scoffed. “You and your friend here assault me and my people, but I’m the bad guy?” He huffed a bitter laugh, lips twisting into an insincere smile. “Maybe I’ve just got that kind of face.”

Holden stepped towards him, eyes narrowed, lip curling up to show his teeth. “I’ll make sure you get to tell your story in court, at a murder trial.”

Murtry regarded him coldly. “One way or another, we all answer for what we’ve done.”

He turned and left without another word. After a moment’s hesitation, Wei followed, sparing one last glance at Amos. She wasn’t sure what she hoped to see in his eyes; maybe forgiveness, maybe understanding, some indication that things were alright between them. He gave her nothing, face as blank as ever. She viciously tamped down the despair rising in her gut and hurried to catch up with Murtry.

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The evacuation arrangements turned out to be such a fucking mess that, for a few blessed hours, Wei forgot all about Amos and Holden. The Belters planted their heels and refused to move, determined to cling to the planet until their last breath. They watched the RCE personnel pack with looks of suspicion and disdain, making no move to do the same. The tension between the two groups steadily climbed, and Wei scrambled to prepare for the inevitable fallout, Murtry’s words ringing in the back of her mind: this evacuation is real, but you and I better be the last two people on those shuttles.

Around hour 3, a small group of Belters accumulated in front of the trading post, the scrutinous flick of their eyes between the groups of RCE personnel belying their casual stances. Wei stood in the doorway of one of their modules, arms crossed and eyes fixed on the Belters as they leaned in close to exchange whispered words.

“Trouble?” Amos asked, squeezing past her into the module with a crate in hand.

“Looks like it,” she said. Amos dropped off his crate and returned to stand by her shoulder, giving the Belters a cursory look. Holden’s scent hung off him like a shroud, fierce and possessive; Wei tried not to wrinkle her nose.

“You need to do anything about it?” he asked.

“Not yet. No orders, just staying ready.”

“Watching your ass is always a good idea.”

“Oh, you hitting on me?” Wei asked lightly, her attention still on the Belters.

She could feel Amos’s eyes on the side of her face. “Not right now.”

Wei hummed, a crease forming between her eyebrows as the pair of RCE guards on rotation circled towards the trading post, the Belters snapping to attention. “Disappointing.” She strode out into the square, Amos trailing behind her.

The Belters circled around the two guards like vultures, first just two following them at a distance, then more breaking off to join them, making no effort to look inconspicuous. Wei could practically smell the tension rising, her men shooting glares at the Belters, the Belters not backing down in the slightest. Finally, a Belter Wei recognized stepped out of the trading post, a man with dark longish hair and prominent OPA facial tattoos. His name was Angelotti, she was pretty sure. He blocked the guards’ path, stance loose and relaxed, arms spread wide as if in welcome. Wei couldn’t hear what he said, but her men had their hands on their weapons, bristling. Then the Belters lingering on the sidelines lunged.

“Shit!” Wei swore, drawing her pistol and rushing forward. Her men were better trained, but the Belters had the advantage of numbers; in a matter of moments, her men were disarmed and held at gunpoint. Wei trained her pistol on Angelotti, dimly aware of the remainder of her men forming a line on either side of her. “Let them go, right now!”

“Fuck these assholes!” shouted one of the hostages, a guard named Liam. “Just shoot them!”

“Na wanya do that,” Angelotti drawled. He pressed the barrel of Liam’s own rifle against his temple. “Unless you wanya see the inside of his head.”

“Don’t make me ask again,” Wei snapped.

Angelotti held her gaze, eyes narrowed, lips pressed into something that almost resembled a smile. Then he fired a spray of shots at their feet, his compatriots dragging their hostages into the trading post. Wei swore and scrambled back, firing off a few shots of her own, but evidently the Belters she’d seen weren’t the only members of this new cohort, shots raining down on the square from all angles. Bullets peppered the street, kicking up sprays of dirt.

“Fall back!” Wei shouted, retreating behind a line of crates. Amos joined her as the gunshots died down, the tightness around his eyes the only indication of unease.

Holden emerged from one of the research modules, rifle in hand, and bolted across the square to join them, dropping down on Wei’s other side.

“What the hell happened?” he hissed.

“Fucking Belters grabbed two of my people,” Wei said. “They’re holding them in the trading post. Half a dozen more are armed and in cover outside.”

“Any demands?” Holden asked. Wei’s hand terminal chirped; she dug it out of her pocket one-handed. “What are they hoping to accomplish here?”

“Probably this.” Wei passed Holden her hand terminal. On the screen, a recording of Carol Chiwewe played, her face stony and shoulders squared.

“Our people have been locked in their quarters by corporate soldiers,” she said. “They have been executed without trial, and now we are being ordered to evacuate. We won’t stop anyone else from leaving; they can go in peace. But we will not be forced from our homes again.”

“’Go in peace,’ my ass,” Wei spat. “They kidnapped two of my men!”

“Is this just us, or is she broadcasting this?” Holden asked, his eyes wide.

“Don’t see why she wouldn’t,” Amos said. “Chances are, tomorrow it’ll be all over the newsfeeds back home.”

Holden’s sigh came out taut with frustration. “Fantastic.”

Murtry crossed the town square, rifle in hand, pace even and confident despite the brace on his leg. Holden shot him a half-hearted glare as he joined them behind the crates, crouching on Holden’s other side.

“You look like you’re having a good time,” Holden said dryly.

“I do enjoy the clarity of these moments,” Murtry replied, not batting an eye at his tone. “Now you see what I’ve been working with: professional victims and martyrs. But not a word about the bombs they’ve thrown, the bodies they’ve stacked up.” Holden’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t interrupt. Murtry turned to scan the trading post, more of a performative gesture than one with any real value. “I’ve scouted their position. They’re dug in tight, but we can root them out.”

“Who’s ‘we?’” Amos muttered.

“I feel like this is exactly what you wanted to happen,” Holden said.

“I’d love to have come to a peaceful resolution,” Murtry said, voice dripping patronization, “but then they took two RCE employees hostage, and keeping them alive is my job.”

“We’ll get your people back,” Holden insisted. “Without any more bloodshed. I don’t care what you want, you’re not going in there guns blazing.”

“No,” Murtry agreed. Holden blinked, scent spiking with surprise at the lack of resistance. “But I am going to gas every Belter in the camp, anyone I find with a gun is going to be disarmed and restrained, and the rest will be kept sedated until they can be taken up to their ship and sent on their way.”

Wei stared at him, barely keeping the shock off her face. Partially at the plan itself, but she pushed down her distaste; this could very well be the only way to get their people out safe, and that had to be the priority, no matter her personal opinions. But the casual air with which Murtry said it, like they were simply talking about the weather rather than drugging an entire town, that was the part that really got under her skin. 

Holden and Amos both bristled. Murtry didn’t so much as blink; she had a feeling it was exactly the reaction he’d been angling for.

“I’d ask if you have any objections,” he said, regarding Holden with disinterest, “but I honestly don’t give a fuck now.” With that, he stood and hobbled off to the administrative module. Holden and Amos exchanged glances, Holden’s horrified, Amos’s grim. Caught in the middle, Wei didn’t know what to think. She knew the kind of man Murtry was, but even this seemed extreme. She trusted he knew what he was doing, she had to, and yet a part of her kept reaching for another solution, praying for an answer to appear out of thin air.

She shook herself hard. God, what was wrong with her? Two of her men were being held hostage; this wasn’t the time to start doubting Murtry’s orders. Keeping their people safe had to come first. She could worry about the rest later.

If there was a later.

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.

.

“They got a solid position,” Amos said. Holden and Murtry had long since disappeared, night falling over the camp, and yet not a single person had exited the trading post. “Good cover, overlapping fire. That’s a meat grinder.” He met Wei’s eyes. “If Murtry orders you to go in, don’t go.”

“Comes to that, I guarantee they’ll bleed more than we do,” Wei replied, eyes fixed on the building in question.

Amos sighed. “If you say so.”

They sat in silence, only the distant rustle of tarp in the wind breaking the air. Wei’s legs ached from crouching so long. She dared to shift her weight, settling into a more comfortable position.

“Nice working on the same side for once,” she ventured.

“Fuck that,” Amos scoffed. Wei refused to acknowledge her own disappointment. “I ain’t gassing anybody on Murtry’s orders. Just don’t want to see you get shot over this.”

Wei’s gaze snapped to his face, despite the soldier in her screaming to keep her eyes on the target. Amos looked back at her with the same blank expression as ever. Briefly, Wei wondered how the hell a man like this had managed to worm his way into her heart, before shoving the thought to the back of her mind and promptly denying it had ever existed.

The crunch of gravel under boots drew their attention back to the square. Holden approached the trading post, his hands up and rifle nowhere to be seen.

“I’m unarmed!” he shouted. “I just want to talk!”

“Oh, shit,” Amos said, voice a strange mix of dread and exasperation.

“What the hell’s he doing?” Wei hissed.

“Being him,” Amos sighed, getting to his feet.

.

.

.

In the end, all it took was the threat of a biblical flood to bring them all together.

“Move it, people!” Wei shouted, a case of equipment in each hand. “Priority one gear goes here, priority two there, and I don’t give a shit about priority three. Pick up the fucking pace!” She stacked the cases onto a cart, packing them in as tight as they would go. Amos appeared at her side as if he’d melted out of the darkness.

“You gonna be ready to go?” he asked.

“Worried about me?” Wei shot back, in a tone that would have been playful if she hadn’t been so exhausted.

“Only if I have to be.”

He really had a way with words, Wei thought.

“Would’ve been a shit ton easier if we had the heavy shuttle, but we’ll make it,” she said. Amos nodded and turned to leave; she surprised herself by reaching out to stop him. “Hey.”

Amos looked back at her, something almost earnest peeking through the blank mask of his face. Wei forced the words out of her throat before she could lose the nerve. “Thanks. For giving a shit.”

Amos’s eyes flicked down, then back to her face. He gave her the smallest nod and set off across the town square.

The minutes passed by in a frantic blur of motion. Wei caught a glimpse of Holden and Murtry engrossed in conversation—not a friendly one, if the tense line of Holden’s shoulders was any indication—before Holden stormed off towards the Belter side of camp. Amos shot him a curious look as he passed; Holden swiped a wrist over his shoulder, pace unfaltering. Wei looked away.

Not long after, Murtry approached her.

“Light shuttle’s coming down,” he said. “I don’t want a single Belter getting on board. Time frame’s changed, we’re getting our people out first.”

“Changed how?” Wei asked, frowning.

“Reactors on all the ships in orbit have failed. The shuttles are our only viable option at present.”

“Shit,” Wei breathed.

Murtry grunted his agreement, then glanced skyward. “We should be seeing it any moment now.”

Sure enough, the pinprick glow of the shuttle’s thruster blinked to life in the black of night, drifting away from the distant shape of the Edward Israel. Then that little white light faded into a smear of orange like a falling star, and dread crept up Wei’s spine.

“Huh,” said Amos from somewhere nearby. “That ain’t supposed to happen.”

Murtry whipped out his hand terminal. “This is Murtry. Is there a problem with the shuttle?”

“We just lost contact with it, chief,” a technician’s voice crackled through. “Standby.”

The smear of orange faded into blackness. The camp grew quiet, conversations dying out as eyes turned skyward, to the glowing red spot spreading across one of New Terra’s 13 moons.

“The shuttle is… gone, sir,” said the technician from the Edward Israel. “All we’re picking up are high energy particles in the vicinity.”

“What’s going on with the moon?” Murtry demanded.

“Science team is looking into it. They think it might be melting.”

“Shit,” Holden breathed. Wei found herself in agreement, anything else she could think to say dying in her throat.

“Nothing else leaves the ship until you hear otherwise from me,” Murtry said, then cut the connection. His eyes fell from the melting moon, lips pressed into a thin line. “So, what’s plan C?”

His thousand-yard stare wasn’t fixed on her, but Wei answered anyway, reaching for the first thing she could think of. “We make the town into a reinforced shelter that can handle 200 kilometer-per-hour winds and massive flooding.”

“Plan C sounds like everybody dies,” Amos said. He was right, of course; Wei had known the moment it came out of her mouth that it wasn’t possible, just spitballing and hoping an answer would appear from thin air.

“We’ll go to the ruins,” Holden said, like God’s most ironic answer to her silent prayer. “Those structures have been here for over a billion years. If anything can survive what’s coming, it’s that.”

“There’s no way in,” said Carol.

“I’ve been inside.”

“What?” Elvi interjected. “That’s impossible.”

“That man inside my head opened a door and then closed it again,” Holden said. “We’ll have to make our own way in.”

Not this shit again, Wei thought. She hadn’t believed him the first time he mentioned this ghost, and she didn’t believe him now.

“We have mining charges,” Carol said. “We’ll blast it open.”

Oh, so they were going with it. Fuck it, Wei supposed. Not like she had a better idea.

“Assuming that works, we’ll still have to seal it behind us,” Murtry said.

“We’ll figure it out,” Amos replied, as if it wasn’t a problem at all.

Wei frowned. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

“Then we’ll figure it out fast.”

That sounded like a fucking terrible idea, Wei thought. But as their eyes turned back to the sky, to the red-tinted moon hanging over them like an omen, Wei had to admit Amos’s take-it-as-it-comes mentality had its appeal.

~ ~ ~

Morning had come and gone by the time they made it out to the ruins, lugging as many supplies as they could carry on their backs. In a long-overdue stroke of luck, a gap of a few inches ran between the massive walls of the structure. Wei hoped that meant Holden’s ghost had left the door cracked, and not that the earthquake shook it loose like Amos suggested. It would suck to have gone through all this effort just to have the damn thing collapse on top of them.

Murtry pulled her aside as the Belters set up their mining charges, lips pressed into a thin line.

“If I tell you I need something done…” he said.

“Then it happens,” Wei finished. “What do you have in mind?”

“It’s going to take a few weeks, minimum, for a relief ship to get here, maybe months. The difference between us all starving to death and some of us surviving may be how many mouths we’re trying to feed.”

Wei frowned. “There’s a lot of people.”

“There’s a lot of Belters,” Murtry corrected. “If it comes down to them or us, it’s us. Now, Holden and your new boyfriend may have a problem with that harsh reality. Is it a problem for you?”

Wei met his eyes, unflinching. “If that’s the case, I’ll do what needs to be done.”

Murtry held her gaze a moment longer, then gave a curt nod and turned away. His momentary doubt in her stung, but Wei understood; it was a tense situation, and this mission had hardly been a normal one. When it came down to it, Wei would always put their people first, and she knew Murtry would do the same. It was the only reason they’d survived this long.

Mining charges placed, the Belters blasted a hole in the tower walls just big enough for a person to crawl through. A mining net staked to the ground served as their makeshift ladder into the depths of the structure. Amos sat down and shuffled feet-first into the hole; Wei grabbed his shoulder before he could disappear into the dark.

“You’re sure it's safe down there?” she asked.

“Nope,” Amos said breezily, turning back to the entrance. Fear leapt up in Wei’s chest; before she could think better of it, she grabbed Amos by the jacket and dragged him into a hard kiss, uncaring of the people around them. When they finally broke apart, he stared up at her, eyebrows raised and lips slightly parted.

“What was that for?” he asked.

Wei shrugged with an ease that didn’t reach her eyes. “In case.”

Amos still looked puzzled, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. Then he scooted through the hole and disappeared into the ruins, leaving Wei to stare after him, anxiety crackling up and down her spine. For a terrifying few moments, the only indication that Amos hadn’t disappeared into the aether was the mining net pulled taut by his weight. Then the netting went slack, and Wei leaned as far forward as she dared, struggling to peer through the darkness. She couldn’t see Amos, but she could see the beam of his flashlight sweeping over the walls. So focused on that little light, waiting in dread for some alien creature to emerge from the darkness and snuff it out, the ringing of Wei’s hand terminal startled her so badly she nearly tipped headfirst into the ruins. She caught herself and hurried to answer the call.

“We’re good,” said Amos’s voice. The raging ball of nerves in her chest calmed into something more manageable. “Start sending them down.”

“Copy that,” Wei replied, thanking God her voice didn’t shake, and waved the first colonist forward.

~ ~ ~

Wei was pretty sure she saw the exact moment Amos’s soul left his body, and it happened right as Holden climbed back outside the ruins to close their makeshift door from the outside. She saw Amos’s eyes widen and his face pale, anxiety spiking so sharply she could smell it past his blockers and the cacophony of other scents in the room. She felt his hesitance as Holden shouted at them to pull, survival instinct warring with his drive to protect his pack. She’d never known Amos to show fear, not even with bullets flying through the air or a gun to his head, but looking at his face as his captain remained outside with the tsunami on the horizon, Wei didn't know what else to call it.

The pulley rope cut into her hands. The sliver of cloudy grey light peeking through the entrance narrowed. The distant crash of waves grew louder. Amos’s anxiety spiked impossibly higher.

Holden dove back into the ruins half a second before the flood hit.

The entire room descended into pandemonium as a thousand tons of seawater came crashing down upon them. The makeshift door slammed shut, water spraying around its edges. Wei clung to the pulley rope for dear life, boots slipping on the wet stone. Amos shouted something she couldn’t make out over the roar of water and the groaning of the tower walls.

When the noise finally died down enough for the panicked shouts of the colonists to become audible again, Wei swiped her dripping hair out of her eyes and did a quick check of her surroundings. Water trickled down the sharp geometric angles of the tower walls, dripping onto the floor in a thousand tiny streams. The crates they’d stacked lay strewn over the floor, though none appeared to have burst open. Everyone was soaked to the bone, some sporting cuts or bruises, others picking themselves up to help their neighbors and friends. Murtry’s thin hair was plastered to his face; Elvi hurriedly swiped water off a case of electronics; Fayez clung to the wall for balance, unable to gain traction on the slick floor. Amos, wild-eyed and tense as a bowstring, scanned the wall they’d entered through like a man possessed. Wei followed his gaze.

And there was Holden, clinging to the top of the mining net like a sopping wet cat, curled into a tight little ball against the last dribbles of water. He uncurled slowly and stiffly, seeming to realize it was over, shoulders still high and hands tangled so tightly in the netting it had to hurt.

“Cap!” Amos shouted, pushing forward. Holden’s head jerked towards the sound of his voice, the whites of his eyes flashing. “You alright?”

“Y-yeah,” Holden said. For a long, awkward moment, only the colonists’ hushed conversation and Fayez’s muttered swears broke the silence. 

“You coming down?” Amos asked finally.

“…Yeah.” Holden unknotted his hands from the netting and began his shaky descent, struggling to catch a foothold on the net swinging freely under him. With how badly his arms trembled, Wei was astonished he didn’t fall. As it were, Amos had just managed to reach up and steady him with a hand on his back when Holden’s arms gave out and he dropped like a rock. He would have cracked his head open on the floor had Amos not been ready to catch him. Holden clung to him like a lifeline, legs shaking too badly to hold his own weight, fists knotted in the back of Amos’s jacket.

“Easy,” Amos murmured, clutching him just as tight. “Easy. I gotcha.”

“Fuck,” Holden gasped. “Fuck. I almost—”

“I know. Breathe, Cap. You’re fine.”

Holden dropped his head onto Amos’s shoulder, breaths rocketing in and out of his chest. Amos pressed his cheek against Holden’s temple and rubbed his back, murmuring soft words into his hair. Feeling like she was intruding on something deeply personal, Wei turned away and joined the others in setting up camp.

By the time she tuned in again, Holden was standing on his own two feet, but he and Amos had yet to break apart.

“—was real fuckin’ stupid, you know,” Amos was saying.

Holden lifted his head to shoot him an indignant look. “You’re welcome for saving everybody.”

“That hero complex is gonna get you killed one of these days.”

“Not dead yet, am I?”

Amos snapped his teeth by Holden’s ear in a gentle admonishment. Holden did it right back, then butted up under his chin. Amos ran a hand through his wet hair and scented him. Wei looked away, an emotion she didn’t want to name churning in her gut.

She’d never deluded herself into thinking what she and Amos had was romance; she didn’t want it to be. But a part of her still wilted at the realization that nothing she ever did could compete with a love like that.