Cibola Burn (Expanse, #4)

by James S.A. Corey

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “What am I doing? You think that’s the question?” “You know that her husband—” “I don’t know a damned thing, Elvi. Neither do you. I’m rich in interpretation and poor in datasets, just the same as you.” “You think… you think it’s not…” “I think that building was filled with terrorists, and that Murtry killed them and saved us. That’s what I think, though. I also think that the more the locals know and love me, the less likely it is that I’ll be scalped in the next uprising. And… and what is civilization if it isn’t people talking to each other over a goddamned beer?” Fayez said, then lolled his head back over his shoulder. “Am I right?” “Fuckin’ A,” Amos called back. “That sure is whatever you were talking about.” “That’s right,” Fayez said. “You’re drunk.” “I’ve been doing this for a while,” Fayez said. “I’ve probably had drinks with a third of the people in this shithole. What I want to know is where the rest of you are while I’m making peace.”