Dax turned in a slow circle, understanding at last that there was no drive worth having and no son to trade and no floor left under him.

He did not run, and he did not reach for anyone; there was nowhere to go and no one to take.

He simply sat down on an overturned crate, put his head in his hands, and let the officers come through the door and take him.

The click of the handcuffs was the quietest and most enormous sound I have ever heard.

As they walked him out he looked at his mother.