Earth

The cell door clangs shut behind his interrogator, the woman in vibrant robes with the husky voice who had demanded everything he knows about the OPA's movements. Miller hung from hooks drilled into the walls, gravity dragging at the elongated bone and sinew of a Belter body. He felt as if the fused vertebrae in his spine would crack under the strain, and that was just the first few hours. His blood is flowing straight downward, veins straining to circulate, and his feet ache at the mere brush of concrete against his toes. He would have begged, screamed, told them anything they wanted but as he had shouted at that witch over and over he can't give up information he doesn't have.

Fucking wrong place, wrong time, wasn't that the story of his life? Catching Diogo setting charges on Ceres just as UN forces broke through the walls. He'd expected a bullet to the brain, not a black bag over his eye and waking up on Earth in time to be dragged out of the water tank and hung out to dry.

Miller's head lolls and his vision darkens. Funny how after a certain point, pain just becomes a background hum. He'll probably die in this place, mistaken for someone else, some OPA smuggler with information about the stealth technology the UN so desperately wants. Instead they got a dumb grunt like him, dumb enough to leave a cushy cop job on Ceres for some cause like Belter independence. What the fuck had he been thinking?

He drifts, somewhere on the edge between sleep and passing out from the pain, nightmares flitting behind his eyelids throughout his fitful rest. He needs to shore up strength, if for nothing else than to tell that bitch one more time that he doesn't know jackshit about the stealth technology, and not every damn Belter knows each other. Sure he's OPA, sure he'd had dreams of that meaning something, but he had soon learned that the OPA was an organization like any other. You have your superstars and you have your janitors, and Miller ended up somewhere in the middle, just another enforcer.

The door screeches open on rusted hinges and he'd smile, if didn't hurt so much. Telling that politician to fuck off at least distracts from the boredom and the pain.

He's not expecting cool fingers at his throat checking his pulse. Especially not when that touch is lifting Miller's chin and he's face to face with the most beautiful woman he's ever laid eyes on, and not just because she isn't his torturer. She has dark, intelligent eyes and a pale face marred only by a scar on her chin. Her black hair is swept up into a bun, her expression one of anguished concern. She wears a crisp, white suit that glows under the harsh fluorescent lights, yet she seems to think nothing of it as she moves in close, grabbing him around the waist and hoisting him off the hooks with a grunt of effort.

He'd been spitting blood as Earth's gravity crushed his organs and it had dribbled down his chest, mixed with spit and sick. It must be all over her blouse, mingled with his sweat as she takes him into her arms. She stumbles, struggling keeping them both from from falling into a graceless heap. She then lowers them both to the ground, holding Miller like the Pietà, and for a dazed moment he looks up into her face, past the brown and red stains on her blouse. She looks like an angel, and like an angel the sight of her expression shifting from concern to rage is terrifying. At least it's not directed at him. She's shouting, Miller can hear her words as if he's underwater, but he's too busy gazing at her face to make them out, bleary eyes tracing the scar on her chin as she snaps orders.

"Yes, get the tank over here, dammit! His condition is critical, we're not dragging him down the halls. Oh, who the fuck do you think he's going to hurt? He can barely move thanks to that bitch." She snarls under her breath, loud enough for only him to hear, and her expression gentles once again as she looks back to him. She strokes the back of her hand across his forehead, wiping away the sweat that bathes his skin. "I'm here to help. My name is Julie Mao."

"Who?" he mumbles.

"The legal representative of the Far Horizons Foundation," Julie Mao says. "Your imprisonment here is a violation of interplanetary law, we've been lobbying to free you since we learned of your presence here on Earth."

But Miller was only listening with half an ear after the first part. "Mao? The poor little rich girl, helping a guy like me?"

Her jaw tightens. "I would have helped anyone in your position."

He would have made another smart-ass remark, probably gotten himself killed and not even cared because he's delirious and aching, and having an angel to lash out at is good as anyone else. But a heavy tank of transparent glass wheels into the room, slopping water over the sides. He's lifted, at first he thinks it's just Julie until he sees the tech at his feet, raising him by the ankles. This is just a basic carrier tank, no breathing apparatus. The relief on his aching sinews is instantaneous, the lack of pain a drug of its own. He's not sure he has the strength to keep from drowning, but the water must have a high saline content because he floats effortlessly and there are handles along the edges that he holds onto to steady himself as the tank is wheeled from the torture room into the white halls of the facility, and out into the open air.

Miller closes his eyes against the sky, unsure his heart can take the sight of so much empty space, nothing keeping the air close and tight around them. He must have passed out again as they load him into their vehicle, eyes shut tight against the light, bone and muscle relaxing in the weightlessness of water.


They get him off world, to the Far Horizon's private shuttle hanging in low orbit around Earth. In his room there's soap, shampoo and a trimmer to cut the hair and the beginnings of beard he had grown in captivity. They've left a folded charcoal gray shirt and slacks folded on the bed, only a little too large but at least the sleeves are long enough. The lower gravity environment is an instant relief, and Miller moves about with weightless ease. The cuts on his face from the fight and from being smacked around by the UN soldiers during transport are healing, down to scabs he has to remind himself not to scratch. He's battered and bruised all to hell, but even without vanity he can be glad of a shower and a shave, at feeling human again.

Food would be good. Miller's buttoning his shirt cuffs when the door whisks open and she's there in the doorway, Julie Mao, leaning against the frame. Miller grimaces and slicks his hair back as he turned back to face her. She isn't wearing the white suit anymore. In its place is a simple, red jumpsuit. She crossed her arms at the sight of him, raising her chin in challenge. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, a shower does wonders after you've been sitting in a saltwater tank all day," Miller said, gesturing vaguely behind him at the wash room. There had been an air of desperation on Earth when she busted into his cell, but now she's all business. "So, how the hell did you get me out of there? I thought the UN was usually better at hiding its black sites from activists."

Julie sighs and steps into the narrow quarters without invitation, taking a seat on the cot. She folds her hands in her lap as she looked up at him. "My father. He has connections high in the government. I haven't spoken to him in years, but I pulled a favor on my organization's behalf to get you free. We were hoping you could help us."

Miller barks a laugh. "Jesus, you too? Look, I don't know anything about the stealth tech. I was an enforcer, got it? Hired muscle, that's it. Couple years ago I just… looked around and realized I couldn't think of a damn reason I was working with an Earther security force against other Belters. So I jumped ship and joined the OPA. Turns out, they've got a lot of guys like me, thousands, all dumb as rocks and looking for something to die for. So they put me in enforcement, pretty much the same damn gig I had with Star Helix. And the guy they were looking for?" he whistles, flicking his hand towards the walls. "Long gone before the UN bagged me."

Concern flickers over Julie's face at his tirade, deep and somehow personal, for all that she was some rich kid activist playing at OPA support. Maybe didn't even know she was working for the OPA, who knows what the official story was for Far Horizons recruits on Earth. Or maybe she isn't dumb, and really does care that much about Belter freedom. Hell, she had pulled a favor with her old man to get him out of a black site, he's probably being too hard on her. After all, Miller owes Julie Mao his life.

"We don't want the stealth tech," Julie says. "We want you to testify in court about your treatment. The way you were captured and interrogated was frankly illegal even if we were at war, which we are not. We want to force a case to ensure that Belters have the same rights as everyone else. But for that, we need your help."

"And if I say no?" Miller retorts. "If I just want to get the hell out of here and go back to my shitty job on Ceres, what then?"

"We have video of your rescue," Julie says. "Far Horizons can take this case to the highest court even without your involvement, if that's what you want. But your testimony would go a long way to strengthening our case. We won't force you, Mr. Miller. We're not the UN."

Miller stops, stunned at her answer. A legal challenge based on what had happened to him? If they could pull it off, it would be a clever strategy. Shit, it might even work...

"Mr. Miller," Julie Mao says, leaning in, "you joined the OPA to make a difference. Right now, we have a chance to make that difference. This trial could set a precedent that would protect millions of Belters without a single shot fired."

She shifts, rising to her feet. "Or you can return to Ceres and your job as a hired thug, making as much difference there for Belters as you think you can. God knows I wish that could be me some days. But I figured out long ago that the world isn't going to get better with more thugs. Oh, they'll make their impact, they'll bleed and die and set precedent for the law to build on. But this war will end in a courthouse, among civilized men and women, as these wars always do."

"So you're saying everything I've done is pointless?" Miller says. He looks away, biting his tongue to keep from saying more, from screaming in this woman's face all the disappointments his life has been.

She moves a step closer, and he doesn't resist as she takes his hands and he feels the calluses on her palms as they close around his long Belter fingers.

"I'm saying it doesn't have to be," Julie Mao said. Miller looked up at her face, the angel that had rescued him from gravity's torture. Julie Mao looks him straight in the eye as she says in a low, fierce whisper, "Come fight with us."

And damn him, if he wasn't in love before, he's long, long gone now.


Author Note: Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd dearly love to hear from you!