Free Expanse 03 - Abaddon’s Gate by James S. A. Corey

white beard and Casimir said something that made them both chuckle. Corin lifted her chin to Serge as he stepped out. The door closed behind him. When he was sure he was alone, Bull pulled up the operational plan and started hunting. He didn’t have authority to change it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t change anything.
    Two hours later, when he was done, he turned off the screen and stood. The office was dark and colder than he liked it. The hum of the ventilation system comforted him. If it were ever completely silent, that would be the time to worry. He stretched, the vertebrae between his shoulder blades crunching like gravel.
    They would still be in the bar, most likely. Serge and Corin and Casimir. Macondo and Garza, so similar they could have been brothers. Jojo. His people, to the degree that they were his. He should go. Be with them. Make friends.
    He should go to his bunk.
    “Come on, old man,” he said. “Time to get some rest.”
    He had closed and locked the office door before Sam’s voice came to him in his memory.
Even if everyone’s sober and working balls-out, my crew can’t get it done faster than that.
He hesitated, his wide fingers over the keypad. It was late. He needed food and sleep and an hour or so checking in with the family aggregator his cousin had set up three years before to help everyone keep track of who was living where. He had a container of flash-frozen green chile from Hatch, back on Earth, waiting for him. It was all going to be there in the morning, and more besides. He didn’t need to make more work for himself. No one was going to thank him for it.
    He went back in, turned his desk back on, and reread the injury report.
     

     
    Sam had a good laugh. One that came from the gut. It filled the machining bay, echoing off ceiling and walls until it sounded like there was a crowd of her. Two of the techs on the far side turned to look toward her, smiling without knowing what they were smiling about.
    “Technical support?” she said. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    “Rail gun’s a pretty technical piece of equipment,” Bull said. “It needs support.”
    “So you redefined what I do as technical support.”
    “Yeah.”
    “That’s never going to fly,” she said.
    “Then get the job done quick,” Bull said.
    “Ashford will pull you up for disciplinary action,” she said, the amusement fading but not quite gone yet.
    “He has that right. But there’s this other thing I wanted to talk about. You said something yesterday about how long it would take to do the job if everyone on your crew was sober?”
    It was like turning off a light. The smile left Sam’s face as if it had never been there. She crossed her arms. Tiny half-moon shapes dented in at the corners of her mouth, making her look older than she was. Bull nodded to her like she’d said something.
    “You’ve got techs coming to work high,” he said.
    “Sometimes,” she said. And then, reluctantly, “Some of it’s alcohol, but mostly it’s pixie dust to make up for lack of sleep.”
    “I got a report about a kid got his knee blown out. His blood was clean, but it doesn’t look like anyone tested the guy who was driving the mech. Driver isn’t even named in the report. Weird, eh?”
    “If you say so,” she said.
    Bull looked down at his feet. The gray-and-black service utility boots. The spotless floor.
    “I need a name, Sam.”
    “You know I can’t do that,” she said. “These assholes are my crew. If I lose their respect, we’re done here.”
    “I won’t bust your guys unless they’re dealing.”
    “You can’t ask me to pick sides. And sorry for saying this, but you already don’t have a lot of friends around here. You should be careful how you alienate people.”
    Across the bay, the two technicians lifted a broken mech onto a steel repair hoist. The murmur of their conversation was just the sound of words without the words themselves. If he couldn’t hear them, Bull figured they