Saying the words was painful, but there was a strange relief too. Dawes was staring at him, his face unreadable. Fred couldn’t meet his eyes.
Dawes nodded, seeming to come to a decision, then put a hand in his pocket and took out a utility knife. When he opened it, the blade was old and scored. Fred took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was ready. Dawes walked behind him. A fast pull across the neck, and Fred could bleed out in four minutes. A stab in the kidney could take hours. Cut the cords that were tying his arms, and it could take years.
Dawes cut the cords.
“This wasn’t a trial,” Fred said. “You’re not here to pass some kind of judgment on me.”
“I wasn’t expecting to,” Dawes said. “I mean, if it really had been just that you’d been boning one of your marines, I’d have dropped you out an airlock, wasteful or no. But I was pretty sure I was right.”
“So what happens now?”
Dawes shifted Fred forward. The pins-and-needles feeling was starting in his hands. Dawes cut the binding on his legs.
“If you want the easy way out, you go kill yourself on your own damn time and stop setting the OPA up to take the blame for it. I’ve got enough bad press without slaughtering the hero of Anderson Station.”
“And otherwise?”
Dawes sat back on his haunches and closed the blade with one hand.
“I don’t waste resources, Colonel. If you want to die, it will do that girl and her father absolutely no good. If you want to make it up to her and all the people like her, I could use your expertise. You’re a rare resource. You’ve got knowledge and training, and as the man who is famous throughout the whole system for killing Belters, you’re in a position to be our strongest advocate. All it means is walking away from everything you know and love. The life you built for yourself. The admiration of everyone who looks up to you. All the things you’d have lost anyway.”
“This was a recruitment, then.”
Dawes stood up, sliding the knife into his pocket. His smile reached his eyes this time.
“You tell me,” Dawes said. Then, to the woman, “Recanos ai postar. Asi geendig.”
“Aiis,” she said, shouldering the rifle like a professional.
The pair walked out together, leaving Fred on the deck, massaging the agony out of his legs as the feeling started to return.
Meet the Author
James S. A. Corey is the pen name of fantasy author Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck. They both live in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Find out more about this series at www.the-expanse.com.
Also by James S. A. Corey
THE EXPANSE
Leviathan Wakes
Caliban’s War