Chapter Text
Josep and Michio walk ahead of Camina, talking fast, laughing and joking on their way back to the Tynan. As far as she can gather the two of them had taken a thorough tour of the ship, consumed their weight in red kibble, then spent a few hours drinking and playing cards with Holden, Bobbie, and Monica Stuart, of all people. It sounds like torture to Drummer, but they’d clearly enjoyed themselves. She’d underestimated how much it would help them to spend time with other people, to take their minds off the too-empty ship they’re returning to. It won’t last, she knows, but it’s something.
Michio turns around, giving her a mischievous look. “Still think you should have asked Naomi to come with us.”
Naomi had asked Camina if they’d come with her, actually. “It would be safer if we all stayed together,” she’d said.
“Where you going next?”
She’d hesitated. “We have to go to Luna to—”
“No.”
“I know. But – you wouldn’t have to land.”
“You think they’re going to let a Belter ship anywhere near Earth right now?”
“Holden could talk to Avasarala…”
Fuck’s sake. “No, Naomi,” she’d said flatly, and that had been the end of it.
As for everything else, they’d agreed to talk about it later. After. If they were ever going to find a way to be something, there was a lot they needed to sort through – with their partners, with one another. Not that anyone was going to be particularly surprised; despite how long it had taken them to get here, their families knew how they felt about one another. Still, everyone would need to agree. And even then there would be specifics to work out, schedules and flight paths and meeting points to consider. Nothing that made any sense here, now, on the brink of war.
For now, knowing they loved one another would have to be enough.
“Holden’s going wherever Naomi goes,” Camina says to Michio as they arrive back on the Tynan’s main deck. “You want him here too?”
Josep starts rummaging through a locker, voice muffled. “Are we voting, ke? I vote yes.”
“Ooh, and Bobbie too, yeah?” Michio says.
Camina rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that just what we need. A ship full of Inners.”
“Come on,” Michio says, wrapping her arms around Camina’s neck and raising a teasing eyebrow. “Watching you boss around all those inyalowda? Would be very sexy.”
Camina shakes her head, but she can’t help smiling a little. “Have to settle for watching me boss around the two of you. We leave in ten minutes. Be ready.”
Michio grins and leans in, giving Camina a long kiss. This won’t last either, Camina thinks; eventually they’re all going to have to face the choices she made on their behalf, the betrayal that drove Oksana and Bertold to leave. That Michio and Josep agreed with her decision to turn on Marco doesn’t mean they won’t, in the end, blame her for Serge’s death.
But for now she pulls Michio in, kissing her back, trying to savor this moment. The whiskey on her lips; the small, contented sounds she makes in the back of her throat.
“Ten minutes,” Camina says, finally pulling away.
Josep grabs Michio around the waist, making her laugh, and the two of them head off to prep for departure. Camina’s turning toward her own long list of tasks – not the least of which is figuring out where the fuck to go from here – when her hand terminal chimes.
Probably tempting fate to send this, but I’d like you to have it.
It’s Naomi’s just-in-case message. Camina sits down in the captain’s chair and pulls it up, staring at the play button.
“You’re going after him,” Naomi had said to her.
It wasn’t a question, but Camina had nodded.
“Filip is with him.”
“I know.”
“He’ll use him as a shield.”
“He will,” she’d agreed.
Naomi had leaned back on the crash couch, staring up at the ceiling. “Marco had me twisted up for years. Filip’s never known anything else. He never had a chance.”
“You na have to convince me not to kill your son, Naomi.”
She meant it. She wanted to mean it, anyway. She was going to hunt Marco down and kill him no matter what; they both knew there might not be a way to spare Filip. But they knew, too, that Naomi would never be able to forgive Camina if she had anything to do with his death. There would be no coming back from that.
Naomi managed to muster up a sad smile. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”
Camina had gazed at her: covered in bruises and burns, eyelids heavy with fatigue. Strong, and kind, and good, even after everything she’d been through. Naomi had always deserved a gentler life than this one. And maybe – when all of this was over—
“Going give us something to look forward to, yeah?”
She swipes at her screen now, closing Naomi’s message without playing it. She can imagine what it says – she doesn’t need Naomi’s final goodbye echoing through her head as she turns toward what comes next.
She runs through the list again.
Michio and Josep, preparing for departure, the sound of their voices echoing through the ship like music.
Oksana and Bertold, together, at least, and hopefully keeping one another safe.
Ashford, like a father. Dead.
Fred, like a brother. Dead.
Serge, her family, his blood on her hands, face etched into her memory.
And Naomi. Naomi who – somehow, despite everything – loves her.
She spins her captain's chair around, pulling up a map of the system, the rough sketch of a plan starting to form in the back of her mind.
She will get her family back. She will make Marco pay for the lives he’s taken, the war he’s dragged them into. She will protect the Belt and the people she loves.
She wants more than this.
And she’s going to get it.