Rivers of Orion

by Dana Kelly

  “What?” Bello sobbed. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!”

  “No, you’re terrified,” said Orin.

  Tears streamed from Bello’s eyes. “Please believe me.”

  “I wish I could.” He lifted Bello higher overhead.

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Well, I’m not going to kill you, but since I can’t let you try to hurt my friends anymore either, this will have to do.” Orin pushed Bello through the air until the ocelini collided with a concrete streetlight near the entrance to Nostromo’s. Nearby clubgoers hurried away.

  Struggling to command the forces pumping through him, Orin clumsily uprooted the light pole. It creaked and sparked, and its lamp shattered. Wincing, Orin slowly wrapped it around the driver, pinning Bello’s arms in place. Gritting his teeth, Orin let Bello drop, and the impact cracked the sidewalk.

  ◆◆◆

  “Oh, screw that!” yelped Shona.

  “Hell no!” Malmoradan hissed, emphatically shaking his head.

  Gripping her armrests, Casey stooped up and whirled around to face April. “Perfectly mundane?” She pointed, straight-armed, at the scene unfolding before them. “You call that mundane?”

  April leaned forward in her seat, wonderstruck. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

  “What is he—an exo-cognitive? An atomic? A kinetic? A temporal?”

  “I don’t think he’s any of those things,” whispered April. “He’s burning so bright right now it’s difficult to say for certain, but I think Orin’s manipulating gravity. If I’m right, it makes him a waveformer, and with that much power at his command, I believe he’s unprecedented.”

  “Remind me to pay Kendra a special visit while we’re in the neighborhood and thank her personally for this one,” grumbled Casey. She rested her gloved hand over her mouth, shaking her head. “Damn it.”

  “He’s looking our way,” said Shona. She leaned forward between the driver’s and passenger’s seats, causing the chairs to creak. “Captain, we need to go!”

  “Easy now,” said April. “He hasn’t killed anyone.”

  “Yet,” barked Shona. “He hasn’t killed anyone yet!”

  “I don’t think he’s a killer,” said April.

  Malmoradan scoffed. “Five minutes ago, you said he was mundane!”

  Casey sat back down. “Everyone take a deep breath. April’s got a point. The target hasn’t killed anyone, and we’re first on scene. That basically guarantees our claim.” Tapping the steering wheel, she glanced sidelong at her cousin. “If you’re right, and he’s actually unprecedented, I think I know how we can make this trip worth our time.”

  ◆◆◆

  Orin’s heart thundered as the power began to fade. He came swiftly to his senses and plummeted, crashing on one of the hoagie stand’s benches amidst a cascade of debris. In a growing daze, he saw Torsha back away from him with a horrified look on her face.

  Trembling, she breathed, “Stay away from me!”

  Returning to the form of a four-legged clockwork spider, Nimbus said, “Orinoco Webb, I mean no offense, but I must refactor the parameters of our friendship.”

  Awestruck, Mike only stared, wide-eyed.

  Orin’s mouth worked silently as he tried to say anything.

  Sirens grew louder, throbbing in time with his pulse. Orin’s body burned. Red and blue lights seeped over everything as he slipped off the bench and landed hard on his back. He fought to stay conscious.

  Orin couldn’t understand what the ocelini police officer was saying.

  Time plodded along as everything faded to white.

  Chapter 6

  Monday Blues

  “The truth!” The ocelini detective’s face twisted, and he struck the table hard enough to startle Orin. He sported a mottled, earthy mane and egg-white fur. Dark tufts angled up along his forehead, giving him an owlish appearance.

  “It is the truth!” Handcuffed and chained to the table, dressed in an orange prison jumpsuit, Orin shifted uncomfortably upon a hard, plastic chair. His eyes were bloodshot, and his muscles trembled from exhaustion. A thick, metal collar snugly enclosed his neck.

  “You won’t talk? Fine.” The detective retrieved his phone. He swiped through several screens before setting it down. With forced calm, he turned it to face Orin. Two live video feeds displayed Torsha and Mike, each in their own cells, also dressed in prison jumpsuits. “But remember what’s at stake.”

  Leaning back in his chair, Orin exhaled, exasperated. “You keep reminding me! What do you want me to say?”

  “Your name, for starters.”

  “Orin W—”

  “Your real name!” barked the detective.

  “It’s Orinoco… Everett… Webb!”

  Leaning forward, the detective growled. “You’ll tell me your real name.” He collected his phone, reached past Orin, and adjusted a setting on the collar. “And who you work for, and why you’re here.”

  “Oh my god,” said Orin. “Why do you keep doing that? Can you take this off, please?”

  The detective sneered. “I bet you’d like that.” He smiled smugly. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Not really. Is it supposed to?”

  “All right, tough guy.” With cruelty in his eyes, he reached for the collar’s interface, but before he could adjust the settings further, someone pounded on the door.

  It pushed open a crack, and someone on the other side growled, “Mazza, get over here now!”

  The detective got to his feet and talked with the other person in hushed tones. His fury rekindled, and he argued quietly with whoever it was, until he grudgingly acquiesced. He pulled open the door, passed through, and slammed it behind him.

  Orin closed his eyes. He searched his being for the cosmic energy he had felt coursing through him three days earlier. Suddenly, the scar on his abdomen twinged, and he winced. “That’s quite enough out of you,” he muttered.

  “I understand it’s quite painful,” said Casey, pulling Orin from his thoughts. She wore black, tactical armor with the letters BICOM stenciled on the chest in bold white block letters. Arms crossed, she studied him.

  He sighed. “What are you supposed to be?”

  “I’m your ride.”

  “I’m free to go?” he asked.

  “Hardly. Local PD is transferring you into my custody,” said Casey.

  “So, you’re a cop?” asked Orin.

  “That’s right,” said Casey.

  He glanced at her armor. “It looks like you’re with Binary Response Command. I thought you guys were supposed to take down hostile binaries, not harass the ones already in handcuffs.”

  “I’m not taking any chances with you,” said Casey. “I saw what you did at Nostromo’s.”

  “It was self-defense.”

  “Looked a lot like reckless endangerment to me,” said Casey. “Not to mention assault with a deadly weapon.”

  Orin rolled his eyes. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m dead serious, pal.” Casey stepped closer. “Time to go.”

  Orin lunged, and she recoiled slightly.

  “Don’t be an asshole,” she spat. “You’re coming with me whether you like it or not. We can do this easy, or we can do this hard.”

  He swore under his breath. Straining against his own mind, he willed the energy to return. His whole body clenched.

  “Do you need to use the bathroom before we go?” asked Casey.

  At last, a trickle flowed through him. He tried to drag it into his mind’s eye, struggling to channel it. By sheer force of will, he pushed the energy into his hands, but it seared his nerves and joints. In agony, he yowled.

  Casey chuckled. “Man, I love those things.”

  He fixed her with fiery, bloodshot eyes. “What things?”

  “Screamers,” she replied.

  “What’s a screamer?”

  She tapped her neck and nodded toward his collar. “You’re wearing one.”

  “Why th
e hell is it called that?” asked Orin. “It doesn’t make any noise.”

  “Oh, it’s not the collar that screams. It’s the binaries who wear them, like you screamed, just now.”

  Orin scoffed. “I yelled. I didn’t scream, and that’s not why I did it.”

  “Oh no? Well, maybe you should just take a moment to feel it, then. That aching fire in your spine is the neural counter-frequency hard at work. Think of it as equal parts mind cuffs and training whistle.”

  “I don’t feel anything,” said Orin.

  “You’re lying.” She walked around behind him to study the device. “Or maybe not. Wow, talk about amateur hour.”

  “Who, me?”

  “No, not you. Someone set this thing to eighty percent, which is more than enough pain to reduce anyone to a weeping pile of sprained joints and cracked ribs.” Humming to herself, Casey turned it down to fifty percent. She tugged here and there at the leads and the power cell. “It must be malfunctioning.” After a moment of further investigation, she stepped back, eyes wide. “But it’s not. How are you not screaming?”

  “I did scream.”

  She frowned. “You should’ve been screaming this whole time. You should be screaming right now!” Shaking her head, she stated, “I’ll be right back. Wait here.”

  “Only because you asked so nicely,” said Orin.

  Casey stepped out of the room and joined her crew in the hall. “The prisoner’s screamer is set to eighty, but he’s weathering it like it’s a day at the beach. Why?”

  “Maybe he has nerve damage,” said Malmoradan.

  “That’s possible,” said Casey. “Shona, thoughts?”

  Shona shrugged.

  Casey looked to her first mate. “April, do you have any ideas?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you’ll like them.”

  Casey gestured toward her expectantly.

  “If he’s unprecedented like I believe he is, it’s possible the screamers can’t work on him,” said April. “It’s possible his binary state exists on a level so powerful that counter-frequencies are impossible to generate from a wearable device.”

  “You’re right. I hate that.” Casey shuddered. “In fact, it’s terrifying. Can you do a deep dive? The prisoner’s screamer is set to fifty, so take the necessary precautions.”

  “Are you sure about that? You remember what happened at the club,” said April.

  “I remember you couldn’t pick up surface thoughts, but now I’m authorizing more aggressive measures.”

  April nodded. “Copy that. One deep dive coming right up. Stay tuned for my report.”

  “Thank you,” said Casey, and she returned to the interrogation room, closing the door behind her. She found Orin asleep, his head resting upon the table. Sweat pasted his blonde hair to his scalp. He was covered in bruises, his mouth caked with dried blood. Exhaling quietly, she muttered, “Man, they really worked you over, kid.” Closing her eyes, she summoned her resolve and barked, “Wake up!”

  Orin groaned into his hands. “I am awake.” Slowly, he sat up.

  “You learned how to ignore pain, didn’t you? Mind over body.”

  “You got me,” said Orin. “I mean, it couldn’t possibly be because you guys are using the collar wrong.” His head tickled for a moment, but he shook it off. “Maybe you should try turning it all the way up, just to make sure.”

  Captain, April mentally intruded, I’m not getting anything, no matter how deep I go. I could try a few other approaches, but not with that screamer in place. How bad do you want it?

  Casey’s attention shifted only for a moment before it returned to Orin. Not that bad. This can be a MABAS problem. They’ll dig it out.

  April lingered. Whatever you say.

  Casey’s mind felt quiet again, and her expression hardened. She retrieved a set of heavy wrist restraints from a belt clip. “All right, it’s really time to go.” She freed Orin from one set of cuffs and transferred him to another. Opening the door, she showed him into the hallway. Casey’s crew fell in behind them.

  As they all stepped foot in the lobby, Detective Mazza glared at her. “Hey, bounty hunter,” he spat as he advanced. “Hey scumbag, I’m talking to you!”

  Casey ignored him, urging Orin along. Malmoradan exchanged nods with her and stepped between Casey and the detective. Shona collected the transport fee from the finance clerk and grabbed a handful of fun-sized chocolate bars from a small plastic pumpkin.

  They exited the police station, with Malmoradan at their back.

  ◆◆◆

  Dressed once more in his own clothes, Mike collected the rest of his belongings from the property clerk. The police station was beige, vaulted, and dingy, sparsely decorated with paper ghosts and skeletons. Purple and orange string lights adorned some of the desks.

  Behind him, Torsha sat on a hard, plastic chair between two ocelini officers as they chatted casually with her. The one on the right passed her his business card as he leaned in close. Intercepting it, Mike ripped it in two. “Where are they holding Orin Webb?”

  The officer narrowed his eyes. Looming over Mike, he produced another business card. “Maybe Torsha can call me up and ask me real nice-like.”

  Gritting his teeth, Mike snatched the card from his hand and destroyed it. “You don’t know.” He faced the other officer and studied his name tag. “Officer Buteo, do you know where they’re holding Orin Webb?”

  “If you’re talking about that rogue binary, I saw him leave with a BICOM crew about an hour ago.” He shrugged. “Bounty hunters, I think, but your friend’s UBA. Probably got himself a one-way trip to a United Planets chop shop.”

  Mike nodded. “Thank you.”

  “You’re… welcome?” Officer Buteo looked at his partner with upturned hands.

  Torsha got to her feet, straightened her clothes, and followed Mike as he hurried out the door. “What’s the rush?” she asked as they reached the base of the stairs. Cars zipped by in front of and above them.

  “We don’t have much time.” He walked quickly.

  “It’s almost six at night,” said Torsha. “You already missed your classes.”

  He stopped in his tracks, and she nearly ran into him. “Orin’s on his way to a government lab,” Said Mike. “When he gets there, they’ll process him bit by bit, until there’s nothing left but genetic slime.”

  She flung out her arms. “Surprise! He’s a binary. He’ll be fine.”

  “No, he won’t. Like Officer Buteo said, he’s UBA—an unregistered binary-actual. They’ll deconstruct him.”

  “I bet they’ll try,” said Torsha.

  “The United Planets doesn’t deal in ‘try,’” said Mike.

  She crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s for the best. You saw what he can do.”

  “Orin is our friend!”

  Torsha shook her head. “He lied to us! This whole time, he’s been lying to us, ever since we were kids!”

  “Maybe, but maybe he never realized what he was,” said Mike. “Plenty of binaries have trigger events.”

  She scoffed. “Yeah, in training rooms, where it’s safe.”

  “Orin needs our help,” said Mike.

  “He could’ve killed us,” said Torsha.

  “But he didn’t!”

  Torsha stood firm. “But he could have!”

  Mike forced a calming breath. “Orin will die, if we don’t rescue him.”

  Tension simmered between them.

  “You’re ridiculous,” said Torsha. Her shoulders sagged, and her arms dropped to her sides. “How do you propose we rescue Orin?”

  “We need the transport crew’s flight plan,” said Mike. “Officer Buteo told us they’re BICOM, probably bounty hunters. If we can intercept them before they get to the lab, we might be able to buy Orin back. If they won’t consider a reasonable offer, we can always exercise other tactical options.”

  “Oh, right, we’ll just line up that deep space strike team we have on standby,” said Torsha. “You still ha
ve their number, right?”

  “Funny.” He resumed his march. They passed by a costume store with a line out the door. “No, I’ll call my dad. He has the resources. I just hope they’re available.”

  “Marty?” asked Torsha. “What’s he going to do, talk them to death?”

  Mike smiled slightly. “Didn’t you know he’s El Sangron?”

  Torsha laughed, but Mike didn’t. “Wait, he is?”

  “He really is the archduke of this sector,” said Mike. “Reports directly to the king. Pretty important guy.”

  “My whole life, I thought you were kidding,” said Torsha.

  “Never about that,” said Mike.

  Torsha stared off. “I’m completely upside down, right now.”

  He retrieved his phone and placed a call. “Hey, papá.”

  “Hola, mijo,” said Martin.

  Mike took a deep breath. “I have a huge favor to ask.”

  “We’re stretched a little thin,” said Martin. “Now is not a good time.”

  “I know, but it’s for Orin,” said Mike. “He had a binary trigger event three days ago.”

  “Huh.” Martin whistled quietly. “Orin’s a binary… You know, I’ve always had a feeling there was something special about him. You saw it with your own eyes?”

  “We were right there,” said Mike.

  “Tell me everything you remember,” said Martin. “Every detail.”

  ◆◆◆

  Within the back of the panel van, Shona sat beside Orin, and Malmoradan hunched across from him. In time, brakes squeaked faintly as the vehicle came to a stop, and Orin struggled weakly against his wrist restraints. A moment later, April dragged open the sliding door. Her eyes met Orin’s, and she offered a compassionate smile.

  Quickly, Malmoradan exited the van and pulled Orin to his feet. Guiding him out onto the sidewalk, the massive ocelini nudged Orin along, steadying him as needed, as they approached a nearby sky lot. With Casey in the lead, they made their way up the stairs and onto a rooftop tarmac.

  Casey’s shuttle was long and sleek, with a sloped nose and a chrome skirt that surrounded her main engines. Canopy glass extended nearly halfway along the upper hull, accompanied by half a dozen smaller thrusters. Her vertically folding wings framed the shuttle’s aft engines, and a lengthy boarding ramp extended from the exterior airlock passage.