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Strange Dogs, Page 10

James S. A. Corey

  “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


  Leviathan Wakes

  Caliban’s War

  Abaddon’s Gate

  Cibola Burn

  Nemesis Games

  Babylon’s Ashes


  The Butcher of Anderson Station

  Gods of Risk

  The Churn


  The Vital Abyss

  Strange Dogs

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