Rivers of Orion Page 2

  With a puzzled look, Orin asked, “What the hell?”

  In time, he allowed his thoughts to wander.

  An hour passed before he arrived at his destination. He thanked the pilot. In response, the hawkish fellow pointedly tapped the sign that read, “Do Not Converse with the Pilot.” With a wry smile, Orin disembarked alone, tromping down steel stairs to the sidewalk below. The shuttle pulled away.

  An overhead lamp guttered. A biting wind howled as it drove against him. The sky seethed with dark, distant clouds. Orin pulled an orange utility jacket from his backpack and donned it. He zipped it up, shouldered his pack, and hefted his toolbox.

  As he walked, he spotted movement in the corner of his eye. Keeping his distance, he paused to peer back toward the shuttle station. Standing before an empty poster frame, an older fellow set to bonding a lengthy sheet of digital paper to its surface. His light gray hair flowed up from a receding widow’s peak, and a luscious, patchwork cloak hung across his shoulders.

  “Excuse me,” said Orin.

  The stranger didn’t respond.

  “Come on, man. It’ll be weeks before someone comes out here to clean that up.” Orin stepped closer and caught sight of the stranger’s post.

  “Beware the shadows,” it read, “where Mesmegoria waits!” Satisfied with its placement, the older man smiled slightly and took a step back. He placed his fingers together in the shape of a circle, a triangle, and a pair of capital Ls. Light flared from his palms, adding colorful shapes to the surface of the paper.

  As quietly as he could, Orin retreated.

  “Young man,” said the stranger. “Before you go, can I get your opinion?”

  Orin froze.

  The stranger turned to regard him. “Can I get your opinion really quick?”

  “Uh, sure,” he softly replied. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were a binary. I never would’ve bothered you if I’d known.”

  With a friendly laugh, the stranger approached. “There’s nothing to be afraid of. Just trying to create some buzz so I can get my business off the ground.” He produced a wallet and flipped it open to reveal a badge. “I’m Craig Grousely. Retired M-class waveformer at your service.”

  “Nice to make your acquaintance.” Orin set down his toolbox and introduced himself. “What did you want my opinion on?”

  Craig faced the poster frame. “Does this feel ominous to you?”

  Orin raised his brow. “Honestly?”

  “Please.”

  “The name needs some work, and the bright colors are at odds with the warning. The whole thing kind of lacks focus.”

  After a lengthy pause, Craig muttered, “Yeah, you’re right.” Twisting to face Orin, he regarded him with narrow eyes. “What sort of superhero name would you give someone who can muster gentle glows and bursts of color?”

  “The agency never gave you one?”

  “You heard me say M-class, right? I’m barely a binary.”

  Orin grimaced. “Well, not Mesmegoria. It sounds more like a carnival magician, or one of those robot fortune tellers.”

  Craig grinned, and he thrust forth his hands dramatically. “Ta-da!”

  “You’re a binary. You’re the real thing.”

  Dejected, Craig sank against the poster frame. “Look kid, it’s plenty tough to get any civilian work for people like me, and doubly so when you’re retired. I’ll take what I can get.”

  “I don’t know if you want to hear it,” replied Orin, “but I can think of at least three things I could do for money if I had your powers.”

  Craig crossed his arms. “Okay, smart guy, like what?”

  “Search and rescue, for one.”

  “I’m not really the heroic type.”

  “You could set up shop in the Sea of Sands and give nighttime constellation tours—actually link the constellations, or how about running a couples retreat? Holograms are great, but everyone knows they’re fake. You can just tell.” Orin gestured pinpoints in the air. “You could make fireflies and put auroras in the dining room. How’s that for romantic?”

  “Clearly, you’ve never been to Vega Mar Beach.” Craig leaned forward. “But you know what? That’s not half bad.”

  Orin smirked. “See? You just needed a fresh perspective.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Craig winked, and a luminous fedora appeared on his head just long enough for him to tip it Orin’s way. He turned around and set to removing his post. “So long, kid.”

  “Good luck,” he responded. Orin gripped his toolbox and took his leave.

  Scattered in all directions, neighboring houses offered only glimpses of light and movement. Coarsely paved roads snaked alongside otherwise isolated neighborhoods. Lengthy paths flowed from them, cutting the soil into crudely formed rectangles. Rolling scrublands rose from the expanse, their nocturnal denizens hissing and clicking, their shadowed trees relentlessly menacing.

  Stepping beyond the touch of light, Orin steeled himself as he walked. Hurriedly, he found his way to a dimly lit transit stop and called a cab. It wasn’t long before a domed, single-rider commuter car rolled into view at the edge of the faded lamplight. Silver trim glinted. Gravel crunched under its wheels, the only sound it made as it advanced. Pronged fenders sprouted from its base and shrouded four pitted, spherical tires. “Property of Terran Galactic University Student Housing Dept.” dressed the vehicle’s flanks.

  He passed his wrist over the gene key reader, and it beeped happily. The bubble hatch lifted upward as if celebrating his presence. Relieved, he sat within the crescent of bright meters and user menus. “Welcome to OmniVoy,” a soothing female voice announced. He selected “Home” from the application presets. “Please fasten your safety restraints.” Orin did so, and it guided itself out onto the darkened back road.

  ◆◆◆

  Overhead, a caged dome light served as the sole source of illumination. Dimly, it shone over a lone steel table anchored to the mess deck of the starship Watchtower, the sort of lighting that caused the air to feel cooler than it was. Two women stood across from each other at the table, and just past the door leading to the galley, a barrel-chested man stirred a large pot. He whistled melodically, in time with the clanking of his ladle.

  “Damn it, Kendra, what am I supposed to do without you?” asked Casey. She bore a youthful appearance and raven hair.

  “You’ll figure it out, Captain,” answered Kendra, a small woman with a sweet face. “You always do.” She sat down, unafraid of Casey’s red-brown glare.

  “You won’t reconsider?” Casey exhaled into her hands, sitting across from Kendra. “Is it the work? What we’re doing out here?” She adjusted her sturdy black vest and the off-white blouse beneath it.

  “No, it’s not the work. I sleep just fine at night.”

  Leaning forward, Casey crossed her arms. “What can I do to change your mind?”

  Kendra laughed warmly. “You’d have to go back in time and cut me in for half my rate, I think.” Placing her hand on her captain’s forearm for a moment, she added, “Trust me—you’ll be fine!”

  Casey shook her head, running her hands along her jeans. “Eventually, maybe. You’re our ace in the hole.”

  “I’m not the only scout in the galaxy.”

  With a resigned sigh, Casey got to her feet. “Where are you headed?”

  Kendra’s smile returned. “Ixion System. Bonnyrigg Station over New Falkirk, then planet-side. I picked up a nice dome and five acres of unspoiled colonial land, freshly terraformed. It’ll be decades before gene scanners make it out there.”

  Nodding slowly, Casey said, “Sounds dreamy.”

  “It is. I’ll send pictures when I’m settled in.”

  “How do you plan on getting there?”

  Kendra looked sheepish. “I really don’t want to risk getting scanned, so… I was hoping you might drop me off at the station?”

  “I could do that, but Ixion’s on the other side of the galaxy, and I don’t have any plans to be out that way�
� maybe ever. It’d be a special trip. You’d have to make it worth my time, and worth the crew’s time.”

  “I’ll find a fugitive in the area,” Kendra offered, “someone with a killer bounty. That would be worth the trip, don’t you think?”

  Casey considered. “Can you get me a replacement scout, instead?”

  Kendra frowned and shook her head, eyes downcast. “I can’t. Scouts can’t see other scouts. I don’t know why, we just can’t.”

  Wincing, Casey sighed. “You better find me a whale of a fugitive.”

  Kendra’s hope returned. “I will! Give me an hour.”

  “Take two. Maintenance is still banging away on the bottoms.”

  She beamed. “I’ll see you in an hour, Captain!” Kendra hurried from the mess deck through the opposite door.

  Casey stood awhile, leaning against the cool steel curved against her back. Machinery hummed on the other side of the bulkhead. From the galley, she heard a clatter, and a string of colorful, French epithets. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she shouted, “Cajun, keep it down in there!”

  “Then you do the cookin’!”

  With an amused smile, she strolled from the mess deck into a wide passageway. Bulkhead lights cast warm crescents toward the deck and the overhead alike. Her boots clanked as she approached a circular four-way intersection. A green light flashed overhead, and she stepped over the jamb into the circular compartment before her. Taking a left, she followed the passageway to its end, where she turned to face a door.

  The instant before she could knock, April pulled it open from within. “What’s up?”

  “I was… Stop doing that!”

  “Doing what?” April smiled playfully, her pale skin stark against her flowing black hair as she tilted her head to look up at Casey. Her amber eyes twinkled.

  “You need to let me knock once in a while, even if you know I’m coming,” said Casey.

  April’s loose-fitting T-shirt rumpled as she crossed her arms. “I’ll make a point to remember that.”

  “You always say that, but you never do it!” Casey looked insistent. “Anyway, I’m here on official business. It’s about Kendra.”

  “What’s going on with Kendra?”

  “She quit. Well, retired, more like. She promised us another fugitive—one with an outlandish bounty—but we’ll see what she can actually get for us. She wants to trade the info for a trip to New Falkirk.”

  April looked puzzled. “New Falkirk… Where’s that?”

  “Ixion System.”

  “I’m not familiar with it, at least not by name.”

  “It’s in the eastern arm, right at the edge,” Casey answered.

  April whistled. “That’s a bit of a trek.” She took a moment to consider, slipping her hands into her jeans’ pockets. “There’s a lot of new terraforming out that way, too. It’s not exactly a bounty-rich environment.”

  “I know that. That’s why I need your advice.”

  “Do you want it as your cousin, your telepath, or your first mate?”

  “As my first mate.” Casey counted on her fingers as she spoke. “One—can you find me another scout? And two—if Kendra comes up empty, what do you think we should do?”

  “As to one,” April began, “I’ll start looking around next time we’re planet-side. I don’t have the kind of range a scout has, so—”

  “I know, I remember.”

  “Okay, then for two—we should do nothing. She finds her own way. She knew the risks when she quit.”

  Exhaling pointedly, Casey argued, “Except that we’re doing really well, these days. We can afford it, and she’s been flying with us for years.”

  With a shrug, April said, “Hey, you’re the captain. You asked me for my advice. Do what you want with it.”

  Casey looked torn. “Is it because of the time involved?”

  April offered a noncommittal shrug in response.

  “It’s the precedent it sets.”

  At that, April nodded.

  Casey pressed her lips together. “Damn it, April.” After a moment of thought, she added, “See you for chow.” She turned completely around and strode across the passageway to the door opposite April’s. She placed her palm on the scanner panel, and its maglock clicked. She pushed it open and disappeared into her own quarters.

  ◆◆◆

  Two hours later, someone tapped upon her door, and Casey arched up from her terminal. “Coming,” she said, and she took a moment to stretch. “Is that you, Kendra?”

  “Yes, it’s me,” she answered, her voice uncharacteristically mousy.

  Casey greeted her hopefully. “What’s the word?”

  “Can I come in?”

  Somewhat surprised, Casey said, “No.”

  “Well, you’re not technically my captain anymore, so…”

  “That’s an even harder no,” Casey laughed, and she led Kendra out into the passageway, closing the door behind her. “What did you find?”

  Kendra cleared her throat. “There’s good news and bad news. The good news is I found someone in the same system, on Rhyon. It should be an easy takedown.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “I couldn’t find a bounty for him anywhere on any of the boards.” She glanced at her feet. “But he’s burning so bright, I figure he must be deep undercover. There’s got to be a ton of money connected to him from somewhere, right? I mean, how else does he burn that bright and stay under the radar?”

  Casey rubbed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. “That’s not enough to go on. How can I broker anything without a bounty?”

  “Well, um, that’s what I mean. It’s probably a false identity, and… there’s probably a bounty under his actual name, but I just can’t track it down right now. I’d need access to local resources. He might even be a spy, and those guys are worth a ton, even without a bounty.”

  Chewing on the inside of her lip awhile, Casey asked, “Do you have a current alias, at least? Some kind of starting point?”

  Kendra brightened. “I do!” She pulled a square of holopaper from her pocket and unfolded it. The image of a young man sprang to life upon its surface—blonde and tall with deep blue eyes.

  Casey studied his personal info. “Human. An even two meters and a hundred kilos. Well, that doesn’t sound too bad. Orinoco Everett Webb. Goes by Orin.” She regarded Kendra. “File says he’s twenty-one years old, with a humanities scholarship at Terran Galactic, New Cal. Undercover or not, that’s no easy feat on an ocelini world.”

  “It is, if you’re actually a hundred years old and pumped full of gene therapy.”

  Casey laughed. “You’re really going out on a limb here, and you’re asking me to join you.”

  “You know I’m good for it! This guy is bleeding light on practically everything he touches—he’s got to be some kind of waveformer. With as much output as I saw, he could be an A-class, maybe even a B-class.”

  “I hope not. We’d need government resources to take down a B-class.”

  “Please, Casey. Please help me!”

  The captain held Kendra’s imploring gaze. “Let me think about it.”

  ◆◆◆

  The crew formed a line leading from the chow hall to the galley. Cajun served them lobster bisque and seasoned rice, and chatter filled the compartment. They returned to the mess deck and gathered round the table, where Casey called for their attention. “I have a couple of announcements to make.”

  As conversation died off, she paused to take stock of her crew. April sat across from her, and Kendra sat next to April. Going down the line, she regarded Edison Stone, a tall and collected fellow with dark brown skin and a casually tended beard. Beside him sat Malmoradan Taig, a mountain of an ocelini with tuxedo fur.

  Next to Casey, sitting a full head taller than Malmoradan, Shona Chelsea leaned over the table, resting upon her forearms. She looked at her captain with glinting emerald eyes, partly obscured by her auburn bangs. A pair of thick braids hung over he
r shoulders. On the other side of her sat Krané Glorwae, a cullthoun with elegant purple coloration under his sunset-mottled skin. His arm tentacles looked strong, and the four smaller ones extending from his chin moved gracefully, dexterously. At the very end, Cajun plopped down, wearing a jovial smile hidden within a full, braided beard.

  “First off,” Casey continued, “Kendra is leaving us. We’ll be parting ways at Bonnyrigg Station, in orbit over a little planet called New Falkirk. Krané, that’s Ixion Five on the star charts.” She shared a bittersweet smile. “Cajun, I fully expect you to write her a proper shanty as part of a proper sendoff.”

  Shocked and surprised chatter filled the mess deck as her crew shared tears and hugs.

  As conversation died down, Casey said, “We also have a new bounty. Kendra found us a doozy, most likely a foreign spy. He goes by Orin Webb, and he lives in a backwater town called New California City, located on the northeastern continent of the planet Rhyon.”

  “That’s also in Ixion System,” said Kendra, with a dash of personal pride.

  “You’re the very champion of efficiency.” With a friendly wink, Casey continued. “He’s lived there for at least twenty years, and no one’s tried for him. He’s probably grown very comfortable. That means we can take our time observing him and develop the most effective takedown strategy. After chow, let’s meet in the briefing room to go over what we know and what we don’t.”

  “Captain, please excuse me, but Ixion System is almost eighty thousand light years away!” Krané exclaimed through his vocoder. “It’s at least a month’s flight through the nightmare from here.” His glassy, barn-red eyes looked damp.

  “I’ve had a chance to review Kendra’s data, and yes it’s a long haul, but it’ll be worth the trip.”

  Krané’s oral tentacles writhed gently. “It’s not the overall duration I’m worried about. After spending a month in the nightmare, some ships don’t make it out! Sometimes, the indigenous fauna takes notice, and if they’re hungry…” He gulped. “Or thirsty…”

  Casey waved dismissively. “Old starfarers’ tales.”