Cibola Burn by James S. A. Corey
It was astounding, Bobbie thought, how quickly humanity could go from What unimaginable intelligence fashioned these soul-wrenching wonders? to Well, since they’re not here, can I have their stuff?
"That. We’re not doing that." "Sir?" Reeve said. "The thing where we start sniping at each other. We don’t do that here." Wei and Reeve looked at each other. "I’m sorry, sir," Wei said. "I was out of line." "Not a problem, because it’s not going to happen again," Murtry said. "What action have we seen from the Barbapiccola?"
"Uh, Captain?" the huge baby-man said. "Amos?" "There’s another mess of legal crap just came through from the UN for you." Holden sighed. "Am I supposed to read it?" "Don’t see how they can make you," Amos said. "Just thought you’d want to ignore it intentionally."
Alex leaned forward, grabbing Basia’s hands in his own. "It’s still on you. I will never live down not being the person my wife needed after she spent twenty years waitin’ for me. I can never make that right. Don’t go feelin’ sorry for yourself. You fucked up. You failed the people you love. They’re payin’ the price for it right now and you demean them every second you don’t own that shit."
"Good. This is Detective Miller. He died when Eros hit Venus and now he’s a puppet of the protomolecule." "Semi-autonomous," the alien said. "Pleased to meet you." "Likewise."