“You’d better get down here and skin up,” Zero said, nodding at the simulator behind her. “Don’t want to be late.” Added: “Again …”
“I’m on it,” I said, planting my feet in my boots. “Hold the fort.”
Zero started to say something else, but before she could question me any further I terminated the communication.
“Game time, Corporal,” I said to Riggs. “Look alive.”
Dressed now, Riggs nodded and made for the hatch. We had this down to a T: if we left my quarters separately, it minimised the prospect of anyone realising what was happening between us.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “You do know that, right?”
“You know that was the last time,” I said, firmly.
“You said that last time …”
“Well this time I mean it, kemo sabe.”
Riggs nodded, but that idiot grin remained plastered across his face. “See you down there, Jenkins,” he said.
Here we go again, I thought. New team. New threat. Same shit.
By James S. A. Corey
THE EXPANSE
Leviathan Wakes
Caliban’s War
Abaddon’s Gate
Cibola Burn
Nemesis Games
Babylon’s Ashes
THE EXPANSE SHORT FICTION
The Butcher of Anderson Station
Gods of Risk
The Churn
Drive
The Vital Abyss
Strange Dogs
About Orbit Short Fiction
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