[SEMI-OPEN]

[acreage]

WHO: Amos Burton, James Holden, Wysteria, Ellis, and YOU
WHAT: Two spacemen fall out of a rift, later explore scenic Kirkwall
WHEN: Nnnnowish? Waves hands
WHERE: The Wounded Coast, then Kirkwall
NOTES: A closed arrival thread, plus open individual threads for meeting Amos and/or Jim after their quarantine period.

Comments

[innerharbor]

"Me neither," Amos says without hesitation. He knows a liar. These people are too fucking honest when they explain this shit.

"Just 'cause they believe it, don't make it true."

[acreage]

"No, it doesn't," he sighs. "Which means we're gonna have to find out for ourselves."

[innerharbor]

Something about that rankles. Amos follows the feeling until it leads to a thought. "Remember when Eros changed direction?"

[acreage]

That's enough to get him to turn back around. It's because this is Amos that his voice isn't sharp, though it is a little harder than a moment ago.

"Well, I'm not about to forget it."

[innerharbor]

"Was that magic?"

Amos isn't the best at semantic arguments, but he's trying, for Holden's sake. There's a certain point where they risk getting in the weeds, here.

[acreage]

He nods, raises a hand to his mouth briefly before letting it drop, the comparison coalescing.

"We might've thought so, if Naomi weren't there."

It crossed everyone's mind for a second there, before she did some quick thermodynamic calculations. And it's a little bit a reminder to himself, too: Naomi isn't here, so he should try to be his own voice of reason.

"But this isn't the protomolecule."

[innerharbor]

"In that moment," Amos asks, "what was the difference?"

They can't investigate everything, especially with the limited tech they have here. They'll go insane.

[acreage]

Chasing Eros down hadn't done anything. Target-locking the asteroid, sending missiles, none of it had worked. The only thing that had was letting Miller talk to whatever was left of Julie in the protomolecule.

In other words, playing by their own rules had failed spectacularly. Only in working from its playbook had Miller and Julie saved Earth.

"So, what. We don't investigate? Fine. But we still have to get out of here, and get these goddamn things," holding a palm up towards Amos "off our bodies."

[innerharbor]

"Yeah," Amos says, agreeing without any apparent enthusiasm. Holden knows an agreement from Amos is a binding contract, though. That's what matters. "They got stuff that's worked out for them, though, the guys down here. They ain't rubes like on Ilus."

If you ask Amos? Everyone was an idiot on Ilus, which was the problem with Ilus.

[acreage]

It's high praise from Amos, this taken together with his assessment of their honesty. It's enough to make Holden take a breath and think, at least.

"You want to work with them?"

[innerharbor]

"Not if you don't," obviously, "but if we do, there's no point in barking about science or magic."

They have what they have, and it works. Amos thinks it's more likely they managed to commune with some kind of alien architecture, sure, but does it really matter?

[acreage]

It matters to him, or it feels like it does, should. What if this is another remnant of the protomolecule builders? Or another alien civilization, maybe just as advanced, maybe the aliens that destroyed them? What if they wake up one of these days and the green crystal has spread, scabbed, become something worse, something else? What if they wake up tomorrow and a fucking moon melts?

Too many what ifs, not enough answers; which is Amos's point.

(Still going to keep him up at night tonight.)

"No, we should. You're right, they know what they're doing. They've been at this a while. We should learn from them."

The easier answer to give.

[innerharbor]

Yeah, that's not an agreement. But Amos will take what he gets. He's pretty good at making do.

"What's your read on this dump?"

Amos knows, or thinks he does, but hearing it... will help. He doesn't know how, or why, yet, but it will.

[acreage]

He crosses his arms, sighs. Since they just got done talking about the people — and the concept of magic — , he asks,

"Which part?"

[innerharbor]

"The people," Amos says. "There's like... eight fuckin' wars, but these guys aren't like the settlers on Ilus. They're not itchin' to die."

[acreage]

"They're not settlers at all."

That's what keeps hitting him, the more he hears from these people.

"This isn't like Ilus, it's like Earth. A fully inhabited planet no one knew about."

He thinks of when the Ring gates first opened, 1,300 habitable worlds. The math suggested they should expect to find other life out there, but experience said otherwise. Someone built the protomolecule, but they're gone now, and there's no way to know if their destroyers are too.

[innerharbor]

Amos squints. There are a few questions he could ask, but... the best one by far is more simple. "What's Miller say?"

[acreage]

There's a twitch of his mouth, like he can't quite manage shaping it into anything.

"We're on our own."

No sign of him here, and none to be expected after that final goodbye at Ilus. Which isn't to say Holden hasn't looked, half on instinct and half wishful thinking.

[innerharbor]

"Sure, but... did he say that?"

Help a crewmate out, here.

[acreage]

You came here to die.

If you can call this livin', pal...And maybe a hundred thousand screaming souls finally get some rest.

"We're on our own."

[innerharbor]

Once is a question, twice is a promise.

"Then I still wanna know," Amos says, "what you think about the people. Not their history, fuck that. That's not our problem."

[acreage]

"I trust them," he says finally, slowly but not unwillingly. "For now. They've been straight with us so far, and people risked their own lives to help us. They didn't have to; so that's not nothing. I'm not saying this organization is going to be any better than RCE, or the OPA, or Earth, or Mars, so we'll have to keep our eyes open. But there are some decent people around here, and we do need the help."

[innerharbor]

Amos nods, slowly taking it in. All he needs is a plan, instructions, even if it's 'hurry up and wait'. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly. His expression is the blank sort he gets when he's thinking and forgets to put on the fake smile.

"We'll both figure out who they are in enough time." A yawn, a stretch, Amos lays back on his cot. "I'll figure out how to live without 'em, if they're bad news."

Money, fighting, killing. That's the same everywhere.

Hopefully.

[acreage]

To both things, he says, "We'll do it together."

As crew; friends; family.