Chapter Text
“Amos, I think it’s time.”
Naomi and Amos were sitting in the galley of their second-hand freighter-tug - The Dulcinea - knees touching underneath the cramped table. Dinner was Rocinante-style lasagna. A creative abomination of layered protein paste and thick, salty starch that would have made Alex proud.
Their secondary crew - a trio of siblings they had unofficially adopted several years ago- were enjoying their shore leave as Naomi and her XO reviewed the queue of jobs available to them in the bustling Saturn airspace. It was simple safe work, guiding large and unwieldy freighters through chaotic air space, but it kept them in the green and allowed them to accept jobs on their own schedule.
Naomi and Amos had spent the early evening in companionable silence, running through the ship’s diagnostics, the same as any other day. Perhaps they were too old to be doing ship maintenance, but old habits die hard. Their meal was also spent in silence - only the gentle rumblings of the ship to listen to. Amos was letting his mind wander: revisiting old wounds … savoring happy memories … planning daily mundanities … probing the strange impenetrable corners of his mind repaired by the protomolecule. Then Naomi dropped the bomb:
“Amos, I think it’s time.”
For a moment, he didn’t even register the meanings of her words and stood to clear their plates, assuming she was done eating. Then his mind registered her tone, and t he words took on their deeper meaning. They stung like a whip, the sharp pain swelling after the momentary numbness.
“Any ideas for the party?”
“I’d like to go to Earth. The ocean.”
Amos suppressed his surprise. “I always imagined you’d want to be out here.”
“Guess you could say I have some unfinished business down there. Plus I heard it’s beautiful this time of year.”
“Ok, I’ll make the arrangements.”
*** *** ***
No more was said on the matter, and their little ship continued operations as normal. Only now, instead of accepting jobs based on money, Amos began queuing up jobs that would pull them closer and closer to the inner planets. Upon reaching Luna, he ended the crew’s contract, leaving them a hefty consolation for the premature termination in the form of ownership of the ship - less some supplies.
Amos and Naomi both packed light, anticipating temperate weather. Amos’ bag was a little heavier, his few possessions cushioning a final gift for Naomi.
They bought two tickets on a public shuttle down to Loihi - the last habitable island in an ancient archipelago, deep in the Pacific Ocean. Anticipating the exhausting effects of Terra gravity, Amos shelled out for the latest transports and rooms featuring gravity easements. Amos sometimes forgot that his protomolecule-enhanced body retained the youth and vitality of his 60s, while Naomi’s quickly deteriorated after her anti-aging treatments lost their effectiveness. Only the best for Naomi.
It had been decades since Amos had been on the Earth’s surface, but it carried little emotional weight for him now. Instead, he enjoyed seeing it through Naomi’s eyes - no amount of time spent on outer or ringside planets could ever prepare one for the ineffable spirit of antiquity and belonging of standing on humanity’s birthplace.
After nearly a century of constant companionship, the pair had moved far past the need to fill the air with conversation. Amos, uncharacteristically, felt the pressure of the unspoken intention of this trip to be suffocating but refrained from mentioning it. He had yet to experience this sort of thing, and having to do it with his friend, his compass - his soul mate - made his head spin.
And so - as with all other things - he let Naomi take the lead in creating the agenda, driving the conversations, and setting the tone for each day and each interaction. They spent several days on the island, pretending to be on a whimsical sabbatical. Until -
“Alright, Burton, let's get this party started.”
They chartered a private schooner, one with a quiet, non-invasive AI captain, and embarked. They lost sight of the land just as the sun dipped below the horizon, sending shards of red, pink, and yellow across the calm water. Naomi stood at the bow and squeezed Amos' hand.
“Mmm, it feels like we are the only people on the planet,” she remarked as the wind whipped through her hair for the first time.
Amos nodded thoughtfully. “Just the planet? You are the only person in my entire universe. Always have been.”