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Amos was in a good mood. His good mood wasn’t immediately obvious to most, but Alex hadn’t spent the better part of the last few years sleeping with the man and not learned a thing or two about reading him. It wasn’t always easy, and Amos still had moments of unpredictability that left Alex baffled and wondering why he was the way he was. Still, while it was strange, it was nice to see Amos smiling freely and moving about the Roci with a lighter pep in his step.
“What’s that look about?” Amos rolled onto his side to face Alex. He had a hand still resting on Alex’s hip and was absently making small circles with his thumb as they wound down in the post coital bliss together. He was careful not to press too deep into the bruises that suspiciously lined up perfectly with his fingers on Alex’s skin.
Alex was still flat on his back, trying to catch his breath. He raised an eyebrow. “What look?”
“The look you and the others have been giving me the past week. Like I’ve got something on my face,” Amos answered with his head propped up by one bent arm, settling in for a talk. Years of familiarity had not quite sanded off all of Amos’ rough edges. They usually fucked to take the edge off a stressful week or just for fun when the mood (or alcohol) struck. Then there were these small, quiet moments that Alex wondered whether or not were reserved just for him. He liked to think that they were.
“Don’t know what you mean, partner,” Alex answered evasively. At Amos’ skeptical look, he relented. “It’s just nice, is all.”
“What is?”
“You look like a cat whose about to catch a prized canary. Ain’t a common sight,” Alex remarked. His knuckles brushed Amos’ chest lazily, aimlessly. The bunk was entirely too small for two grown men, but the closeness had never been a problem. The air cycler had turned on to clear out the heady scent of sweat and sex from Amos’ cabin. Alex could feel the ever present hum of the Roci’s engine against his back where it was pressed into Amos’ couch. Not for the first time, a distant thought occurred that this would be a lot easier if they just shared a cabin.
Amos’ brows furrowed, and he tilted his head quizzically at Alex. “Aren’t we all excited to visit Ganymede?”
Not as much as you are. Alex thought, wanting to laugh at how endearing the look on Amos’ face was. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah, of course. It’s been long enough.”
Alex estimated that they were a little under two days away from reaching Jupiter’s orbit at the current burn. It had been a long time since the crew of the Rocinante had set foot on the moon. The last time it had been a hasty visit during a time of war, and Ganymede had been in shambles. From pictures and video feeds that had come out in the years since then, it was remarkable how much progress had been made in rebuilding all that had been lost on Ganymede. The surge in research on how to better clean and recycle air as well as more efficient food production had given Ganymede an even more crucial standing in the system. Much of it was thanks to the efforts of one funny little botanist named Praxidike Meng, an unlikely hero who’d help spearhead Ganymede’s reconstruction. He was also, as Alex strongly suspected, the reason for the extra bounce in Amos’ step.
“You warn Prax that we’re showing up a little earlier than scheduled?” Alex asked, dropping his eyes to the tight, flat plane of Amos’ stomach. The Earther was ridiculously chiseled, and seeing that washboard pressed against Alex’s softer pudge always made him a little self-conscious even after all this time. He rested his hand onto his own stomach and left it there.
“Nah. I figure he could use a surprise. He’s been busting his ass with some new air filtration project. The new corp sponsoring the research ain’t making it easy,” Amos answered. He covered Alex’s hand with his own and threaded his fingers in between Alex’s splayed ones and squeezed. His lips brushed Alex’s temple. “I’m getting up.”
Alex turned his head and stole a quick kiss before letting him go. He admired the view as Amos padded around the tiny cabin and threw on a shirt and his boxers. While Amos dipped out to shower, he must have dozed off. A light tap on his cheek roused him. Amos was dressed in a fresh jumpsuit and looked like he was ready to head out to start the day.
“Cap’n will be looking for you in about an hour,” Amos stated. “I’ll see you at chow time. Make something good for a change, will you?”
“Like you ain’t going to eat whatever I put in front of you, you fucking vacuum,” Alex chuckled and gingerly sat up. Immediately, a spike of pain shot up from his lower back. He was sticky and felt a dull soreness, but the lingering satisfaction and looseness in his limbs was well worth the mild pain. His body just like to remind him that he wasn’t a spry chicken anymore.
Amos watched him carefully hunt for his clothing with a slight leer, like a kid marveling at some mischief he’d proudly done. Alex held up a finger as he left Amos’ cabin and made for the communal bathroom. “Not a damn word.”
Forty-five minutes later, Alex was showered, dressed, and fed as he blearily climbed the ladder leading to the flight deck. Holden glanced up from the copilot couch and gave him an amused one over. “You going to make it?”
Alex muttered something passable for an acknowledgement and settled into his couch. Immediately, his girl greeted him with status updates and a (thankfully) quiet log of events that had been catalogued during the autopilot’s leg of their journey to Ganymede. The captain clapped him on the shoulder as he left to join Naomi for breakfast. Alex yawned and scrolled through the event log, waiting for the coffee to kick in.
They spent most of their trip catching up on a long list of minor repairs and much needed calibrations. The Roci had taken her beatings throughout the years without much fuss and continued to run with few to no problems. Of course, it helped that her crew was attentive to her and rarely left any damage unrepaired for long. It never failed to impress Alex on how good of a ship she still was even after all that they’d been through.
When lunch time rolled around, he made the appropriate course corrections and set the autopilot to take over so that he could prepare food for the crew. He opened the cooler and thoughtfully rubbed at his beard, trying to figure out what he could make. It was a good thing they were heading to Ganymede when they were; their stock of fresh and dehydrated ingredients had dwindled down to the last few meals. There was enough for a classic family meal at least.
“Stroganoff?” Amos asked the moment he entered the galley a while later and smelled the familiar aroma. He took advantage of being the first to arrive by invading Alex’s personal space from behind. Alex was busy plating and had no free hands even if he had wanted to defend himself. Amos just held him in place by his hips and nuzzled the back of his ear, his beard tickling Alex’s neck. “Still sore?”
Alex tried to shrug him off, but it was a halfhearted attempt. “You’re going to make me drop it. It’s all we got until Ganymede.”
But he rewarded the bad behavior with a subtle movement that pressed his ass into Amos’ groin. He felt the slight twitch of interest in reply. They heard footsteps approaching and reluctantly separated. Alex turned to presse two bowls into Amos’ hands and said cheerfully to Naomi and Holden. “Right on time. Eat up, folks. We got a long way to go.”
Lunch was normally a time to shoot the shit, which they did over the duration of the meal. However, the moment they were done, it was back to business. Naomi updated them on the status of repairs. They looked good for this trip, but one of their drives needed a new coupling, and the main reactor was running at two point four percent less efficiency than she liked.
“There’s a parts depot we can stop by on the other side of Ganymede we can hit up,” Holden suggested as he tapped at his terminal to find out the closest options available to them.
Alex balked. “That junk yard that scam artist is trying to pass for a respectable parts depot? You want to get parts for the Roci from there ?”
“We’ll just pick up some spare parts just in case we need them, Alex. Once we get to Tycho, we can find better replacements,” Holden said with an air of mollification, like a pediatrician trying to soothe an upset parent about their child’s medical procedure. Amos and Naomi exchanged amused looks; they knew better than to interrupt when the ‘parents’ were fussing about their precious Rocinante .
Alex’s scowl deepened, but he had to reluctantly agree. He just didn’t want that junk anywhere near his baby. The Roci deserved better than some third rate parts from some barely registered junk yard trying to pass for a parts depot. He tried to make himself feel better by telling himself that it wouldn’t be permanent. Beside him, Amos subtly moved his leg so that his knee touched Alex’s thigh.
The rest of the trip to Ganymede was uneventful. Alex watched with rising amusement as Amos seemed to grow more and more eager, coming up to the flight deck more often than usual. He didn’t admit it out loud, but Alex could see it in his body language. He found it adorable to see Amos so excited to see his best friend, but Alex still gave him shit for it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stop for some flowers?” Alex asked after his suggestions of chocolate and/or a heartfelt serenade were rejected.
Amos quirked an eyebrow at him. “You make it sound like I’m going on a date.”
“Aren’t you? I mean the rest of us will be working while you get to walk through a garden sniffing flowers and getting an exclusive tour from the lead botanist of Ganymede,” Alex said, laying on the cheese thick. “It sounds like a date to me, cowboy.”
“Huh. When you put it that way maybe it is. Try not to be too jealous,” Amos remarked and turned to leave the flight deck, his good mood in tact. Alex watched him go, his slight smile fading as he turned back to the screen in front of him. Ganymede had appeared, signifying their approach.
Alex announced their arrival and intent to the dock controller, who verified their arrival and directed them on where to land. He gave the rest of the crew a warning to strap in and prepare for landing. The landing pads were new and a part of an impressive dock complex that had certainly not been there the last time the Rocinante had. There were several new domes and all of them encased under a canopy of reinforced metallic mesh. The Ganymede Incident, when the destroyed orbital mirrors had rained death upon the domes, had left their mark, and the surviving colonists that rebuilt the habitats on the Jovian moon had not forgotten.
“Alright, everyone,” Holden said as soon as the four of them convened at the cargo bay. He and Amos had already loaded the supplies that they were dropping off from Dionysus Station onto the small rover they’d recently added to their arsenal. “We’re going to drop these off at the medical dome first. Then we split up and go do the rest.”
It was one of the more relaxing contracts that they’d had in months. Aside from the cargo drop that they’d been hired to deliver, they were mostly spending time replenishing their supplies. Alex knew it was intended to be a breather, a small break from being shot at or taking the Roci into a battle (and then days of repairing her afterwards). He eyed Amos, who was looking around distractedly, and knew Holden had spread out their meager resupply run to give their mechanic a few extra rare days to catch up with Prax and Mei.
“Naomi and I will head over to Tucker’s to get the parts we need,” Holden went on after a quick run down of their official itinerary.
At Alex’s look, Naomi smiled at him reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Alex. I’ll make sure it’s not just any junk we’re putting into the Roci . I’ll inspect every part myself.”
He cracked a smile at her. “You’re the angel every ship needs, darling.”
“He says that to everyone,” Amos chimed up. Holden shook his head at their back and forth and led the way off of the ship. The rover’s wheels crunched over the pristine Ganymede gravel as it dutifully followed them down the ramp. It was tethered to the captain’s terminal so it shadowed Holden all the way through the corridors and lush green hallways.
“It smells like a real garden,” Holden remarked, taking in a deep breath of the rich, fresh air with a blissful smile. If any place would have the cleanest and purest air, it would be Ganymede’s domes. Alex eyed the distinct panels they passed, each teaming with vegetation and a complicated system of tubes for water and minerals. The Roci had a few Prax Panels of her own now.
The med tech that greeted them was a stout woman with graying hair and kind, green eyes. She cheerfully led them into the heart of the newly built medical facility and gushed about how much these supplies would help. Even with hundreds of new worlds opened up to humanity, Ganymede still served as an invaluable stopping point for any ship this far out in the Sol System.
“We can finish up here if you two want to head out,” Holden said to Alex and Amos. “Alex, have you heard from Hopp about our shipment?”
Alex nodded. “He said there was a minor delay on the way here, but he said it would be waiting for us. Guess I’ll find out in a bit. I’ll let you know if there’s trouble, Hoss.”
Holden left them to join Naomi and the med tech across the room. Alex turned to say something to Amos but then noted his antsy body language and the way he was still distracted. It made him smile, but he couldn’t help but to feel a tiny hint of reluctance as the next words left his mouth. “Amos, if you want to head out and find Prax, I got this.”
Amos looked at him for a long moment. “You sure?”
“It’s just food and supplies. I’ll take the rover as soon as they clear off the cargo. Nothing I can’t handle on my own, partner. I can let you know when I’m done,” Alex assured him. He even offered a cheeky smile, but it felt strained. “Go have fun on your date.”
Amos looked as if he thought about arguing for a second, but then shrugged and turned away. Alex’s eyes dropped to his terminal with a soft sigh. He reached out to the rover to find where it had been led to. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up curiously to see that Amos hadn’t left. Instead, he was right in front of him. His expression was strange, and the large hand that curled around Alex’s was warm even through his glove. He wasn’t expecting the soft kiss Amos gave him nor the murmur that followed. “It’s not a date. You are my date, Martian.”
**********
The flustered look on Alex’s face stayed with Amos long after they parted ways in the medical dome. Alex hadn’t said much, but Amos had sensed his apprehension the closer they got to Ganymede. Then came all the passive-aggressive remarks and jokes, and Amos knew exactly what was going on. He sighed, thinking about the little downcast expressions he’d caught when Alex thought no one was looking.
Such a drama queen. Amos thought in an exasperated, but fond, huff.
It was a little absurd to him that Alex was even thinking that anything had or would ever happen between him and Prax. It just wasn’t like that. Then again, just a few years ago Amos wouldn’t have thought that he would be sleeping regularly and exclusively with a crewmate. A younger him had been determined to avoid the drama that inevitably came with shitting where one ate, preferring to stick to paid professionals if he could. The older him liked getting laid regularly and waking up to a sleepy smile and “Howdy, partner” in that ridiculous Mariner Valley drawl. They didn’t label their arrangement, but the thought that Alex was worried at all was silly to Amos.
As he made his way through the winding hallways connecting the domes, Amos marvelled at how much Ganymede had grown and changed. It hadn’t just changed; it was flourishing. Amos had caught snatches of the growth through the video messages he and Prax exchanged and through news feeds that bothered to spread positive updates within the system. Mei endlessly gushed about her new school, her new friends, and how the apartment she and Prax shared that was WAY bigger than their last one. Through their correspondences, Amos had a vague familiarity with the ongoing projects of Ganymede and even recognized some of them as he passed by.
The main botany lab wasn’t hard to find. It was the largest section in the agricultural domes. The gigantic greenhouse was a sea of colorful plants of seemingly endless varieties and so warm that Amos felt the change in the air even before he found it. He recognized some of the plants but still couldn’t put a name to them no matter how many times Prax tried to teach him. The man in question was nowhere to be found in the lab.
Should’ve known. Amos found him huddled over a plant in the soy section. He watched Prax work, grinning to himself at the careful, almost reverent, way that the man cupped a bundle of soy pods in one hand. Prax muttered softly to himself, lost in his own world of modified plant genomes and water to mineral ratios.
“Don’t you got underlings to do these little things for you now, hot shot?” Amos asked. He enjoyed the way Prax jumped so violently that he fell backwards.
“Amos!” Prax blinked up at him, wide-eyed, his mouth in a comical O of surprise. “What are you doing here? You’re early!”
Amos hauled him to his feet by one hand. “We finished our last contract early. You been waiting?”
Prax looked him up and down, blinking several times as if to confirm what his eyes were feeding him. “Well, yeah.” The initial surprise faded, and Prax’s face broke into a warm smile. “It’s good to see you. Where’s the crew?”
“Working. You’ll probably see them later.”
This elicited a raised eyebrow and a sardonic smile. “They’re out working and you’re, what, slacking off?”
Amos held up a hand to defend himself. “Hey, Alex let me go from our assignment. I’m not going to argue if he’s offering.”
Prax shook his head ruefully. “He’s a good boyfriend. Too good.”
“Guess I’m lucky,” Amos replied vaguely, wondering only for a second if that was the right term to refer Alex as. It didn’t quite fit, feeling somehow too juvenile, but he figured it was close enough. Alex’s flustered face popped into his mind again for a moment. He shook it off and held up the package he’d been holding. “I got something for Mei’s birthday. I just missed it, right?”
“A week ago. My little girl’s growing up,” Prax’s tone was a mixture of sadness and relief, and he looked back towards the vast field of neatly planted rows of green in the glass dome. Amos knew that look. That harrowing time when Mei had been missing was never far from her father’s mind. After a heartbeat, Prax spoke. “Thank you. You didn’t have to, but I know she’ll love whatever it is. Let’s get out of the heat and catch up. I want to hear about your latest adventures.”
As a Team Lead and lead botanist on Ganymede, Prax had an office that could have comfortably fit twenty people. Of course, he had a lab attached to it that was filled with experiments and projects in varying stages. Amos was extremely impressed when Prax showed him an industrial grade refrigerator that had three entire shelves filled with growlers. The brown glass jars were unmarked except for a simple outline of a soybean sapling (which Amos did recognized as Glycine kenon , one of Prax’s most prized projects) and a discrete ‘PM’ that were stamped on the front face of each one.
“Prax,” Amos said slowly, looking from the open refrigerator and then to his friend in absolute wonder. “ Are you brewing your own beer? ”
Prax’s face broke into the proudest grin. He hooked a finger into a handle of the nearest growler and pulled it free. “I figured why not? We have the equipment, space, and more than enough surplus crops that would go bad if not put to some other practical use. I’m experimenting with some new flavors, but so far this is the winner. It’s no Ganymede Gin, but I like it. It tastes pretty damn good if I say so myself. Want a taste?”
“Fuck yes I do!”
Prax’s pride was well-founded. It wasn’t the tastiest or smoothest that Amos had ever tried but had a nice craft-beer taste that made him smack his lips in appreciation. With some refinement, Amos could see himself happily drinking this as his brew of choice. He said as much to Prax and was rewarded with a pleased grin. “Challenge accepted.”
They caught up on the past months since their last message exchange over their beers. Prax gave him the succinct version of the projects that he was involved in and what he had to look forward to hearing about in more vivid detail whenever Mei as released from school. Amos regaled him with stories from the Roci in return. He didn’t start off with any embellishments, but Prax listened with an invested, wide-eyed look that made Amos spin simple exploratory missions into dashing adventures into the unknown. Half way through a tale about a particularly exciting visit to Titan, a gasp and then an excited squeal cut him off.
“Uncle Amos?!” Mei’s backpack hit the floor with a thunk, and she shot across the room, arms outstretched. Even for all his bulk and being in a sitting position, he was almost knocked sideways by the little girl. She giggled madly as he rose and easily lifted her to twirl around. Her laughter was the purest and most contagious sound that he’d ever heard.
“You’re getting big, supergirl. Oh my back,” Amos said, feigning a groan as he put her down. She’d grown quite a bit and had begun to fill out.
Mei’s nose scrunched up adorably. “I’m not that big! Maybe you’re just getting weaker!”
Amos made a shocked face and flexed both of his arms, looking back and forth between them as if he were distraught. “You think? Here. You tell me if they’ve gotten smaller.”
Mei nodded seriously and reached out to the flexed bicep Amos offered. When she was within range, he seized her and began to mercilessly tickle her. The wild peals of shrieking laughter filled his chest with warmth and fierce protectiveness. He knew that he would have done anything to make sure that Mei lived a long life if he could hear more of this pure, joyous sound that didn’t seem to exist anywhere else in the endless universe. His eyes met Prax’s, and he saw the same look of relief and sadness even as Prax was smiling so wide that it must have hurt.
“I want to show you my school project. It’s at home. Daddy, can we leave now?” Mei asked in a breathless voice, her face bright with excitement. Prax, of course, couldn’t say no to a face like that.
Mei led the way to the residence dome where most of the scientists lived. She happily talked about everything from what she ate for lunch to who she thought her best friend Kelly had a crush on. Amos listened without making a sound, figuring that it was a fruitless gesture to interject any commentary. It was nice to see her happy and healthy. Flourishing as much as the recovered Ganymede was.
“You’re staying for dinner, right, Uncle Amos? Daddy, can he stay for dinner?” Mei asked as they stepped through the door to the small two bedroom apartment that she and her father shared.
Prax smiled amicably at Amos. “We’d be happy to have you and the others, of course. Unless you have somewhere to be?”
“Ain’t it too last minute?”
“No, not at all. It’s no trouble. I insist. It’s the least we can do for everything you all have done for us,” Prax replied, already turning towards what appeared to be a small, disorderly kitchen. Alex would have a fit if he saw the galley in this state.
Speaking of which. Amos reached for his terminal and sent a message out to the crew when Prax came up with a time for dinner. He’d barely hit send when Mei grabbed his hand and dragged him off to show him something.
**********
“You know,” Alex started with a long, slow sigh. The world was upside down and swayed slowly from side to side. Wait, no. He was upside and swaying slowly. His mind made the distinction as the throb in the back of his head became a dull, steady pounding. He heard the drip drip drip of his blood hitting the ground below. “This can’t happen every time we pick up supplies from you, Hopp.”
“Sorry, bosmang,” came the petulant reply from behind him, from the other person tied upside down.
Hopp was a twitchy, nervous man who oversaw the supplies that came in and out of Ganymede. He coordinated all special purchases and made it easy for ships to purchase and pick up their supplies in one place. Unfortunately, his side wheelings and dealings often land him in hot water with the wrong sort of people. Sometimes these people came looking for him. Alex had been in what was the very definition of the wrong place at the wrong time.
“What I don’t get,” Alex spoke just to keep his mind engaged. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been hanging upside down, but the feeling of the blood pounding between his ears and the amount that he saw pooled just below him couldn’t have been good signs. “--is why these yahoos think hanging us upside down will somehow make you remember where you put their package.”
“Dunno, bosmang,” Hopp answered in a thick slur. Alex couldn’t see him, but he imagined the entire right side of the Belter’s face must have been puffing up at this point. The thugs that had been interrogating him had spent more time punching than they had actually asking questions.
“Hopp, where did you put their package?” Alex asked as his patience began to wear thin. They did another slow three-sixty spin.
Hopp hesitated, which Alex knew immediately was the man gearing up for a lie. He closed his eyes to deal with the headache and irritation while he waited. Finally, Hopp answered. “Not sure which package they looking for.”
Alex heard a beep and glanced longingly in the direction where he knew his terminal lay. He saw it half peeking out from behind one of the large supply crates. It must have flown there when he’d been ambushed and knocked out from behind. He didn’t even need to look at the empty thigh holster to confirm that this sidearm was gone. Luckily, Amos had rubbed off on him (in more ways than one ahem ) over the years.
“We need to get down before they decide to come back and kill us. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not die hanging upside down like a pig in a slaughterhouse,” Alex said as he weighed their options. They were hanging by one ankle each and manacled together. Their captors were inside Hopp’s main shop, noisily tearing it apart. Alex had some choice words about why a supply depot would have this kind of restraining technology sitting around, but he chose to turn his attention on getting them down instead.
“What are you doing?” Hopp asked in mild alarm when he felt them sway deliberately.
Ignoring him, Alex sucked in a breath and concentrated on pulling himself up. His abs, hidden under the layer of padding he was still working on, burned for his efforts. Alex persevered, ignoring the small voice that sounded suspiciously like Bobbie in the back of his mind that told him to work harder next workout (if he made it to the next workout). His fingers brushed the top of his ankle, just above the cuff of the manacle. The leather was folded down and snugly tucked against his leg, but with some effort he managed to get his finger under it.
“Bosmang, what are you doing?” Hopp repeated with a rising panic as Alex’s movements sent them spinning wildly.
Alex willed himself to focus on dislodging the tiny chip that was hidden in his boot instead of the wild spinning or Hopp’s increasingly frantic voice. He wiggled his finger until the chip popped free and into his palm. Alex gritted his teeth, fighting through the painful cramping in his midsection and lower back, and pressed the chip against the electronic cuff. He pressed down on the chip between his thumb and forefinger. There was a slight buzz as it activated and sent a signal out. A second later, the cuff around his ankle popped open, and Alex was dumped into the ground with a painful thud. Hopp hit the ground hard beside him.
“What…” Hopp groaned and gingerly turned to look at him, face pinched with pain, “what did you do?”
“Get out of jail free card. Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars,” Alex explained through a groan as he held up the tiny, now defunct chip. It was a little genius invention Naomi and Amos had spun up for the crew. The words he spoke were Amos’ description of what the chip was intended for (though Alex didn’t quite get whatever it was supposed to reference). He insisted Alex always have his somewhere on him if they were to go off ship. He might have called Amos overprotective at the time, but now Alex fully planned on kissing Amos on the mouth the next time he saw him for inventing the genius little contraption.
Alex discarded it as he stood. At Hopp’s look, he explained. “One time use. It just looks like a harmless SIM card for a remote inventory scanner again. Come on, cowboy. We gotta’ move before they come back.”
He helped Hopp to his feet. The fingers he used to carefully probe the back of his head came away red and sticky with blood. His knees felt wobbly, and he had to close his eyes for a second as the room spun. Hopp’s hand closed around his elbow. “Yo. You okay?”
Alex shook off the dizzy spell. He hurried to the crate where he’d spotted his terminal. “Yeah. Got another way out of here?”
Hopp wordlessly nodded. Alex scooped up his terminal and noted a string of messages from his crew. Before he could even tap the screen, the door flew open and in stormed two of the thugs. They immediately began shouting for the others when they saw that their prisoners were missing. Alex threw himself behind the crate and dragged Hopp with him, clapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the Belter’s startled shout.
Adrenaline and a healthy dose of fear shot through Alex as he peeked around the side of the crate and saw two men bearing light armor and guns. They bore identical tattoos, but Alex didn’t recognize them as any of the OPA tribes he was familiar with. However, the lanky bodies stretched from a lifetime in zero g and the thick Belter accent one barked a command to find them in was unmistakable. Alex controlled his breathing, trying to work through the panic, and looked at Hopp expectantly.
The exit? He mouthed and skirted around the crate beside them to avoid the heavy footfalls that were stomping by. Thankfully, Hopp only gave a terse nod before he took the lead. Alex’s hand shook as he frantically tapped at his terminal. To his dismay, there was no reaction from the hand terminal at all. Upon closer inspection, he saw a single, large crack running diagonally down the center and small microfractures that webbed out in various directions from it. Fuck . Just my damn luck .
Hopp motioned him to stay close. They darted from box to box while dodging the two thugs that were tearing through the warehouse looking for them. Two more joined them, shouting loudly for them to come out. Alex flinched when he heard a pile of crates get kicked over, spilling whatever contents were in them loudly across the warehouse floor. The clattering of metal hitting concrete sent a spike of pain through his already aching head.
“Come out, come out wherever you are. We just here for business, sa-sa?” a sing-song voice called out. Another huge pile of boxes came crashing down somewhere. Alex grabbed Hopp by his collar and yanked him back just in time to avoid one of the Belters that had made an unexpected turn last minute.
Weapons? Alex mouthed. Hopp gave him a bewildered shake of his head. Alex cursed to himself and gestured sharply for Hopp to continue. Where the hell is this other exit? On Jupiter?
“I found them!” Boots came thundering towards them, followed by more shouting.
“Goddamnit! Hopp, go! ”
There was no use sneaking any more. Hopp darted forward with Alex close on his heels. Alex heard gunfire pepper the wall just over them and nick some of the containers that were way closer than he would have liked. When he heard two of the thugs get near them, just on the other side of a pillar of containers that he and Hopp were using for cover, Alex threw himself at the pile with one shoulder. Pain rocketed through his shoulder and up his neck, but his efforts were rewarded by the pillar toppling. He heard a startled shout as one man disappeared under falling crates and their contents. He heard the other curse, and advance on them, his face ablaze in fury.
There was no escape. With no other choice available, Alex turned to confront the distracted thug. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second before Alex threw a punch at his face. It felt like hitting a wall, but he managed to throw the man off his game long enough to grab his rifle and aim it away from him. The thug instinctively tightened his hold and began to yank the gun back. Alex lashed out with his foot, planting the flat of his foot into the man’s thigh with as much weight as he could put into it.
“Pashangwala!” snarled the Belter as he stumbled. A powerful jerk freed the gun from Alex’s clumsy grip, and he swung it around, finger about to squeeze the trigger. Alex tackled him and continued to wrestle with him, wondering why the fuck he was about to die for Hopp and whatever foolish deal gone wrong clusterfuck this apparently was. Other footsteps were closing in, louder as they neared.
He saw stars as an elbow struck his temple with the force of a sledgehammer. His momentary daze was all the thug needed to regain the upper hand. The fist that struck Alex over and over again made the world disappear into a shaking burst of pain and light. He fell back, his already aching head cracking against the side of one of the metal containers. Distantly, he heard Hopp screaming and the scuttling of several new sets of feet.
I’m going to die here. Fuck. I didn’t want to die here. Alex’s mind babbled hazily as his vision wavered and a red and black haze seemed to close in on him. As the blackness encased him, he thought he heard Amos’ voice, but it was probably his self-preservation was trying to comfort him before he died
**********
It had been only a few hours at the Mengs’ apartment, and Amos already felt a little tired from Mei’s unending enthusiasm and energy. He patiently listened to her stories and was a vigilant attendee of her very detailed guided tour of the small two bedroom apartment. By the time Prax took pity on him and sent Mei off to finish her homework before dinner, Amos needed to sit down and catch his breath.
“How do you do it, man? I’m tired,” Amos sighed. He gratefully sank into the couch with a fresh beer in hand.
Prax smirked at him as he mixed something in a large bowl tucked against his chest. “Chronic tiredness, my friend. You get used to it. You just have to get to a functional chronic tiredness, and it’s not so bad.”
Amos made a non-committal sound, not quite believing him. He whipped out his terminal and saw that Holden and Naomi had replied, both agreeing to join them for dinner. There was no response from Alex, though. Amos frowned. That was unusual.
“Are the others on their way? It shouldn’t be too much longer,” Prax asked. He had an array of raw ingredients spread out in front of him that he’d left out at Amos’ request so Alex could get a look at them. The vegetables were an array of colors that were pleasing enough to the eye. The inclusion of tank-grown meat and freshly made pasta that Prax had purchased from another Ganymede local was what really made Amos look forward to dinner. Alex was going to be over the moon when he saw all of this.
“Yeah, I think so,” Amos answered and then, after a moment of deliberating with himself, stepped out to call Alex. No answer. Maybe he was still busy with their new supplies? Amos peeked at the time, which his hand terminal had helpfully adapted to Ganymede time. They’d parted ways nearly six hours ago. Even with a full load to bring back to the Roci , Alex should have been done hours ago.
Is he ignoring my message? Is he that threatened by Prax? Amos wondered, thinking back on Alex’s poorly hidden insecurities over the last few days when they’d been on their way to Ganymede. He mulled on this for a moment but disregarded it. No, it just didn’t seem right. Alex wasn’t that petty. The sweet fool would have just suffered in silence for Amos’ sake if that were the case rather than straight up ghost him. Something prickled uncomfortably in the back of Amos’ mind. He didn’t ignore his instincts. They were rarely wrong, even when he wanted them to be.
He tried to call Alex again. Then he tried calling the Roci directly and still got nothing. His free hand automatically rested on the hood of his holster, finger twitching against the cool handle of the sidearm he had hoped he wouldn’t need for this trip. It could have been nothing. Maybe Alex had left his terminal somewhere or was too busy to reach it. But busy doing what? When he heard his name, he glanced up and found Naomi and Holden walking down the hallway towards him.
“Hey,” Holden greeted.
“Have either of you heard from Alex?” Amos asked without any preamble.
Naomi frowned. “Not since we went our separate ways when we arrived. Why? What’s wrong?”
Amos looked down at his hand terminal. “It’s probably nothing. I just can’t reach him. Prax says we’re almost ready to eat.” He paused and then added. “I’m gonna’ go find him.”
“Hold on, Amos. He’s probably back at the ship unloading the supplies. He mentioned Hopp said there was a delay, remember? Maybe it was later than they expected,” Holden said even as he started calling Alex. No reply. Naomi tried with the same result. Well, at least he wasn’t ignoring Amos specifically. It didn’t ease the unsettled feeling stirring in Amos’ gut any.
“Tell Prax I won’t be long,” Amos was already turning away.
Naomi’s small hand briefly touched his arm. “Amos…”
“It’s probably nothing, boss. I just want to make sure he’s not holed up in some bar assuming anything crazy about me and Prax,” Amos said with a fixed look at her.
He knew that would get her and Holden to stand down. They danced around the topic of his and Alex’s relationship, not quite acknowledging it but not quite ignoring it. Maybe, like Amos, they felt that to talk about something that was going unusually well would somehow ruin it. It made things awkward sometimes, but it was how things were. The image of Alex’s soft, sad expression when he thought eyes were turned away popped into his head again; Amos wondered if they had it all wrong.
“Call us if you need us,” Holden spoke up with a nod that was all the approval Amos needed. Amos hurried away without replying.
His first stop was to the ship, but it didn’t look like Alex had returned. The main cargo hold was empty, and the rover that should have been there with their supplies was nowhere to be seen. He retraced their steps towards the medical dome, where the same medical tech that had greeted them apologetically told him that she hadn’t seen Alex after he’d left with the rover. She offered to call the supply depot as a consolation prize.
“Hmm. That’s strange. Hopp should be there,” she commented when her call went unanswered. She tapped on her console terminal for a moment and then tilted her head at it. “His comm must have just went down. I saw your pilot talking to him right here this morning before he headed that way.”
Outwardly Amos just nodded, but the feeling in his gut began to churn into a storm. “Where do I go to find him?”
The winding corridors seemed to twist and tangle on forever. Ganymede’s hasty initial phase of reconstruction had obviously not included improved layout planning. Amos carefully followed the map the med tech had helpfully uploaded to his terminal until he found the large supply depot way on the other side of the complex. He’d barely even completed turning down the hallway when the first gunshots rang out. Amos would know that sound anywhere.
Alex . He charged forward, his gun in his hand before he was fully conscious of it.
He pressed himself against the side of the doorframe and peeked in. It took a minute to orient himself to the gigantic half bubble of metal that made up the supply depot. He spotted several men rushing to some point that was hidden behind lines and lines of packed supply crates. There was shouting and another burst of gunfire. Amos’ eyes narrowed when he saw the rover waiting quietly by the door for cargo, confirming the fear that had been swirling in his gut.
Amos didn’t leave time to think that Alex might already be dead. Instead, he surveyed the room, clearing the corners in his direct line of sight. He hurried inside, hunched along the line of crates. They made for poor cover, but it was better than nothing. When he reached the end of one stack, he paused long enough to get a better read on what he was stepping into. He tagged two men saw holding someone up and talking in loud, angry Belter.
There was a third guy clearly hitting something that was obscured behind a pillar of crates. No. He was hitting someone . The hairs on the back of Amos’ neck rose when he heard a familiar pained yelp that the angry Belter voices couldn’t quite drown out. He changed directions, following the line of crates along the wall parallel to them. The closer he got, the louder the sound of someone hitting something became, like someone striking a punching bag over and over. The yelping had abruptly and ominously stopped, and Amos could hear the roar of his own heartbeat in his ears as he rounded the corner of the crates.
The Belter that had been kicking Alex was dead before recognition of Amos’ presence fully filled his eyes. He slumped halfway onto Alex’s still body, the gaping hole in his head spurting blood outward from both the entrance and exit wounds. The other two barely had time to react before Amos dropped them both in a flash of gunfire. One went down with a heavy string of cursing, which Amos ended with an additional shot to the head.
“Friendly, bosmang! Friendly!” The man they’d been beating up shouted as he frantically scrambled away on his back, hands held outward in surrender. Hopp’s face was a purple and red mangled mess, but his eyes were wide and bright with terror. Hopefully not all the blood that Amos saw on him was his own.
“Any more?” Amos demanded, gun still at the ready as he scanned the warehouse. The massive gray dome suddenly felt like a tomb and the lines of crates like a dangerous, trap-filled maze.
“I--I don’t--” Hopp stammered uselessly, shaking his head wildly.
“Get up. Take one of their guns. You shoot anything that comes through that door ready to shoot us, understand?” Amos growled. His senses were hyper alert to every noise, every movement. He was very aware of the lack of movement coming from Alex’s direction, and it distracted him more than anything else. Hopp took too fucking long to get to his feet and get a gun out of the hands of one of the guys Amos had killed. When he was finally standing and armed, Amos backed up, gun still ready at a moment’s notice, and kicked the dead Belter’s body off of Alex with more force than was necessary.
“Alex?” he asked. When there was no response, he knelt and reached out to turn Alex’s head. Immediately, his hand was wet with warm, red blood. “ Alex. Hey. Shit.”
He took a moment to toss his hand terminal to Hopp. Luckily, the useless bastard caught it with one trembling hand. Amos barked for him to call for help and didn’t wait for affirmation before he turned his attention back to his unnaturally still and quiet lover. He couldn’t be dead.
The knot of tension in his chest only slightly uncoiled when he felt a thready pulse in Alex’s neck. He gingerly felt for the source of all the blood that had soaked the back of Alex’s head and pooled underneath him. His fingers brushed a swollen area around a large gash just at the base of Alex’s head and found another higher up. It must have been painful, but Alex didn’t respond to his probing fingers at all. Nor when he shook him a little and said his name again.
“Alright, Martian. We got things to talk about, you and me. You always want to talk about feelings. Don’t you die now and miss the chance,” Amos urged in a low voice as he carefully sat Alex up. He let him lean against his chest for a moment and then maneuvered Alex’s limp body into a better position to should they need to move quickly. Alex felt limp like a ragdoll, one that was all but deadweight and bleeding heavily from the head.
Amos glanced up at Hopp, who was anxiously crouched at a crate with a gun and eyes fixed on the entrance. He must have felt Amos’ eyes on him and glanced over. “Help’s coming.”
Amos followed the nod he gave upward and saw several discreet looking LED lights flashing in unison. Silent alarms. In a place like Ganymede, where they’d already been destroyed and rebuilt once, any alarm triggered would bring a cascade of security in any minute. Amos was tense, warily watching around the corner of the crate with his gun ready. He calculated the ammo he had left and instinctively played through possible battles scenarios until the first gray and black armored body burst through the door, rifle raised. Amos’ finger was a twitch away from squeezing the trigger.
“It’s security,” Hopp sighed and placed his gun down. He stood with his hands raised over his head. “Oy! Zack! It’s Hopp! We glad to see you, beratnas!”
“Hopp? What happened now ?” demanded the first man who’d appeared. Zack was a tall, muscular Belter with a smooth, shiny head and coal-dark eyes. Three more uniformed security guys piled in after him. As they neared, Amos saw the Ganymede Station Security logo on their uniforms and the disapproving looks that they were giving Hopp. The leader took in the scene and scowled harshly. “You bringing your dirty business here again?! Getting shot not teach you a lesson?”
Hopp tried to defend himself with some half-assed sputtering, but it only made Zack even more disgusted. Amos lowered his gun only when he was sure it was safe. When those dark eyes fell onto him, Amos, stood, holstered his weapon, and gestured to Alex. “He needs a doctor.”
Zack glanced from him to the dead bodies at their feet and then back up at him again. Whatever he saw on Amos’ expression made him swallow convulsively. “Then let’s get him one.”
**********
Consciousness came back to Alex one sense at a time.
He was swimming in a sea of inky blackness that he didn’t understand. Where was he? How had he gotten there? The first thing he became aware of was a steady, rhythmic beeping. He tried to find the source, but it eluded him in the empty darkness. He tried to call out, but his mouth felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Beginning to panic, he instinctively tried to move, only for something to clamp down on his wrist and stop him, but he couldn’t see what it was.
“- -s okay. It’s okay, Alex! You’re safe. ”
Naomi? Alex frantically glanced around for her. There was nothing, though. Nothing but the deep, endless void that he was lost in. He tried to call out again, but it was like he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. He just floated aimlessly, like he was on the Roci when the drive wasn’t on.
"--back under--"
"Wait, doc--that--sary?"
The words were around him, drifting in from the darkness from a direction he couldn't follow. He had no anchor to moor him, nothing to keep him from floating further into the darkness. Then all at once, he felt heavy and tired. Alex tried to fight it, but he knew it was a losing battle. The all encompassing blackness seemed to close in all around him, squeezing in tighter and tighter. He flailed in a weak, fruitless attempt to keep it at bay, but it kept coming.
The pressure on his wrist moved to his hand, and Alex’s confused mind managed to identify the vice-like grip as another hand. He stopped struggling, recognizing the large, callused hand that curled around his own. A thumb that ran across his knuckles, and the voice that followed was soft and firm but warm. “ Relax, Martian. We got you. Go to sleep. ”
Alex instinctively turned his head towards the voice, towards safety, and did just that.
When he woke again--actually woke--he found himself in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar medical bay instead of that strange dark space. The room was dimly lit, which his aching head appreciated. He still groaned and blinked against the sudden onslaught of light into the perpetual darkness he’d been under. He closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly, allowing himself to adjust as his body came back to life. As his mind, muddled by whatever good shit they had him on, did a self-check, he was pleased to discover that he had all limbs intact despite the dull throbbing in his head. His throat was dry as a desert, though.
“Here.” A straw was gently pressed to his lips, and Alex gratefully drank. The water revitalized him a little. When he found the strength to open his eyes again, the world came into sharper focus. The large figure sitting in a chair beside the bed he was laying on drew all of his attention.
Amos’ eyes were a strange gray-blue in the low light. He looked tired, and his clothes were rumpled as if he had slept in them. There was several days’ worth of beard growth that added to Amos’ ragged appearance and some unreadable emotion on his face.
Seeing him in this state, Alex automatically reached out in concern, his hazy mind wanting to comfort despite his confusion over his own condition. His voice came out as a wet croak. “You okay, Amos?”
His question elicited a bark of humorless laughter. Amos put the cup of water aside. “Yeah. How about you?”
“My head hurts,” Alex admitted loftily. He felt as if he could float away. His blinked hard several times and let his eyes wander away from Amos and to their surroundings. “What happened?”
“You got beat up,” Amos explained with a shrug as if details weren’t important. Then he added in a voice that was too cool and controlled for it not to mean more than what he was saying. “I took care of it.”
“Oh. Okay,” Alex answered, too woozy and confused to think too much about it at that moment. He gingerly felt the bandage that was wrapped around his head. “Did I hit my head?”
“You have a pretty nasty fracture. And a concussion. Doc thinks you’re going to be okay, though. They just want to keep you here for a few more days to keep an eye on you.”
“Here?” Alex looked around again. It wasn’t the Roci’s med bay. It was colder and smelled faintly of fresh plants. His eyes fell on a basket filled with various herbs and plants sitting on a table against the far wall. Taped to it was a hand drawn picture in crayon with the happy words ‘Get well, Uncle Alex!’ scrawled across the top.
Amos followed his eyes and nodded at the basket. “We’re still on Ganymede. Prax said those should help alleviate headaches. He recommended tea, but he said just breathing in the combination of smells can do the trick sometimes. Mei just wanted to cheer you up since you weren’t feeling well. I think that black penis-looking thing is supposed to be the Roci .”
Alex smiled at the gift, touched. His memory came back in slow snippets with Amos’ words as their guide. Ganymede. They’d come there to resupply and to visit Prax and Mei. Then he remembered Hopp and the thugs and the doomed fight he’d put up. When he asked about Hopp, Amos assured him he was alive and well, but he didn’t sound as if he cared much either way. The Captain was particularly furious with Hopp. The man at least had the decency to return their payment and had paid for and personally delivered their supplies himself. Alex was content just to listen to Amos catch him up on what he had missed.
“Have you been here the whole time?” Alex finally asked when Amos paused to catch a breath.
Amos gave him a strange look, as if his question had been absurd. “Mostly. The others come by too. Why?”
Guilt welled up in Alex’s chest. This trip had been mostly for Amos to get a break and to catch up with Prax and Mei. Alex had ruined it, hadn’t he? They didn’t have time to stay for long. It could be years before they returned to Ganymede, and Amos was wasting this precious time baby-sitting him?
He flushed and began to shake his head, ignoring the small spikes of pain that the medication couldn’t quite dull completely. “Amos, you don’t have to stay. I mean I’m grateful for it, but you don’t have to for my sake.”
Amos frowned at him, puzzled. “I know I don’t.”
“Good. Stop wasting time here and go spend time with Prax then, partner. Tell him and Mei thank you. For the basket and picture, I mean,” Alex insisted and stopped shaking his head. It left him light-headed so he sank back into the pillow with his eyes closed to let it pass. They popped back open when he felt Amos move to sit on the bed, his hip touching Alex’s.
The look Amos gave him was a mix of affection and exasperation. It was so unexpected that Alex was sure that it had to be a hallucinogenic side effect of whatever drug they had pumping through his system. The hand Amos cupped the side of his face with felt very real, though. Alex leaned into the touch, blinking slowly at Amos in anticipation.
“I know you’re high as shit right now, and we have a lot to talk about later when your pupils aren’t as big as your head. But I need you to listen to me. Because I need you to understand some things,” Amos’ tone was uncharacteristically gentle but emphatic. “Prax is my friend. My best friend. I’ve never had one, you know? Not really. Naomi comes close, but Prax is something different. He’s also nothing for you to worry about.”
Alex felt his face grow warm. Had he been that obvious? “Amos, you don’t need to--”
Amos stroked his face with his thumb and went on as if Alex hadn’t spoken. “He’s just a friend. But you and me? This? There ain’t no comparison. I thought you knew that.”
“We’ve never talked about what this is,” Alex said quietly after a moment. He was half convinced that this was a dream. He’d been chasing Amos trying to get the man to talk about feelings for years.
“And I’d rather we never did, honestly. In my experience, you label something, you cheapen it. I don’t want that with us. Because it matters,” Amos moved closer, leaning in so that their foreheads touched. His hand still cradled the side of Alex’s face like he was some fragile, precious thing. Alex’s heart raced, and he heard the monitor that he was hooked up to give a sharp beep indicating the change.
Amos' lips brushed his for a brief moment. The kiss wasn't much more than light pressure, but it left Alex reeling, yearning for more. Amos murmured in soft puffs of breath against Alex's skin. " This matters to me, and it bothers me that you almost died thinking that it didn't."
They kissed with a more desperate note behind it this time. Alex tilted his head to allow Amos to deepen the kiss. His hands came up to grip Amos’s forearms and pull him closer. Amos’ kiss was possessive and all consuming, like a fire that swept over Alex and held him captive while it burned away all of his fears and inhibitions. He could feel the things Amos didn’t say in his actions. Even now, as swept up in this frantic kiss as they were, Amos was careful not to press against him too heavily and met Alex’s needy sounds with careful, deliberate reactions. He was always ready to protect and care for Alex, even if he didn’t voice his thoughts and feelings.
By the time they broke apart, Alex was panting a little. Amos pulled him close and just held him. Alex rested his head against Amos’ broad shoulder and muttered in a daze, half-jokingly. “So you do like me.”
He felt Amos’ jaw move. Alex knew he was smiling. “Yeah, well don’t tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to get jealous.”
They sat like that until Alex began to drift off again. He roused long enough to convince Amos to take a break. Maybe take a shower and shave and go have dinner with the Mengs. Alex talked him into it eventually, gently insisting that he was just going to sleep anyway. Amos finally agreed, but there was a clear reluctance in his body language to leave. Alex would have been lying if he’d said that it didn’t make him feel slightly giddy to see this. Nothing had changed between them, but it still felt like they’d just turned a corner into some new territory.
Amos pressed a kiss on his forehead and then stood. “I’ll be back. I’ll bring you some real food.”
“Something good,” Alex requested with a yawn, already settling back into the bed.
“Fucking demanding ball and chain…” Amos muttered good-naturedly, shaking his head as he left.
Alex smiled long after his departure and closed his eyes.
~FIN~