Rivers of Orion

by Dana Kelly

  “What is it?” asked Orin.

  “Everything’s fine. There’s nothing anomalous.” She regarded Orin. “I think it’s you. Your nightmare body’s affecting the S-Ring. We should get out of here before Casey notices.”

  Calling the lift, they traveled to the deck above, but the doors remained closed. A light flashed red on the interior console. “This is the recreation and command deck,” said April. “Sorry, but you’re not allowed on the bridge. I can show you pictures of the rec deck if you’d like.”

  “Sure, that’d be nice. Thank you.”

  They traveled up to the boiler room, where April explained how the starship used power, and how heat vented from the engine room. Above that loomed the reactor room. “There’s one more deck above the reactor, but it’s only accessible by stairs and an airlock, and since you need a vac suit to do anything with it, I guess that concludes the tour.” She smiled, looking deep into Orin’s eyes.

  “Thank you,” said Orin, and he found himself captivated by her gaze. “That was very nice.”

  “It was no trouble at all.” She squeezed his hands. “Let’s get you back to your quarters.”

  They descended to Deck 6 and walked unhurried to Orin’s room. April removed the handcuffs, and after Orin settled in, she excused herself. She locked the door and faced the lift, wearing a wistful smile.

  She found Casey marching toward her. Feeling a bit nervous, April asked, “Is everything okay?”

  “The S-Ring just made some really interesting sounds,” said Casey.

  “You heard that?”

  “Everyone heard that!”

  April nodded. “I see. I can promise you’ll never hear those noises again.”

  “It was the prisoner, wasn’t it?” asked Casey.

  “It’s possible. I can’t say for certain either way.”

  Shaking her head, Casey stepped close. “No, you showed the prisoner our S-Ring, and he caused those noises, because he’s an O-class binary with an O-class nightmare body, and the S-Ring was never designed to function in the presence of something on that scale.” Incensed, she stepped back and stood akimbo. “We can’t risk taking him to the space station.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll be fine!”

  “The testing facility sits at the edge of a nightmare tunnel. If we get too close, he’ll switch. If his unphased presence puts that much stress on the S-Ring, imagine what happens when he’s phased.” She gestured an explosion. “We’re done for.”

  “I won’t let you kill him,” said April.

  Casey laughed dryly. “No, I imagine you wouldn’t. That’s okay, I’m not sure we can kill him, even if we tried. I have a feeling that if I’d spaced him, he’d have just gotten angry and switched forms.”

  “Are we taking him back to Rhyon?” asked April.

  Casey relaxed somewhat, staring off. “No. Actually, I’ve got an idea. Don’t follow me and stay out of my head. That’s an order.” With that, she spun on her heels and hurried for the lift.

  “What are you up to?” April mumbled, and she made her way to her quarters. She worked the maglock, stepped through, and switched on a strand of white string lights affixed to the top edges of her chamber. In the dim light, she drew a deep breath and sat beside a viewport. She gazed at the stars, haunted by her memory of the S-Ring’s eerie song.

  In time, her eyes grew heavy. She stood and stretched, feeling each quiet pop in her joints. Shaking her head, she crossed back to her recessed bed, where she changed out of her day clothes and into her nightgown.

  She pulled back the covers and slid between the sheets. April tossed and turned, alert to every little noise. When exhaustion finally claimed her, she dreamed fitfully.

  ◆◆◆

  April awoke with a start, and she hurried to the viewport. “Those are the wrong stars,” she said, and she pulled a hoodie on over her nightgown. She slipped into her boots and boarded the lift. As soon as she exited, she stormed the rest of the way to the command center.

  “What’s going on?” asked April.

  “You woke up quick,” said Casey. Standing at the navigation console, she pivoted to regard her first mate. “We’ve changed course.”

  “I can see that much!” April glared at her captain. “Where are we going?”

  “It’s in the navi-computer. See for yourself.”

  Casey’s thoughts flickered across April’s mind. “You’re planning to hand Orin off to a rogue smuggler,” said April. “That’s reckless, bordering on depraved!”

  “Where’s the dash cam footage?” asked Casey.

  “I’m sure it’s hanging up on the ring,” said April.

  Casey laughed frostily. “That’s what I thought too. It’s why I checked every single datastick, in case they were out of order.”

  “What about the one in the camera?”

  “Yeah, about that.” Casey turned fully around. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the console. “I checked that one too, and before you suggest, ‘Oh, perhaps it got corrupted or overwritten,’ I already had a look at the datastick’s serial number, and it doesn’t match what’s on record. Naturally, I retrieved the camera’s access log, and guess what I found?”

  Clearing her throat, April stammered, “The… the camera has an access log?”

  “Mine does,” said Casey. “Krané took the datastick. He’s a traitor, and he’s fired as soon as we’re done here. I’ll be arresting him for evidence tampering. He’ll be confined to quarters until we reach the next port, at which point I’ll hand him over to the authorities.” She narrowed her gaze. “Unless you know something I don’t?”

  With a defeated look, April glanced away. “It’s not his fault. He destroyed the datastick at my request.”

  “Why?”

  With a pained look, April said, “This is why! This is exactly why! I knew if you weren’t able to leverage proof of Orin’s powers, you’d never be able to hand him off.”

  Casey chuckled. “Unless it’s Ky. He’s happy to take my word for it.”

  April blanched. “Ky Rego?”

  “That’s right,” said Casey.

  “Did you even try to reach out to the station crew?” April balled her fists. “They would’ve sent a shuttle, met us halfway!”

  “So they can die in our place? I don’t think so.” The navigation console beeped, and Casey returned her focus to the display. “Consequence is huge. She’ll be able to weather Orin’s transformation, however monstrous his nightmare body ends up being. Then Ky can work out delivery with the MABAS techs. Look, April, this is the only way I can guarantee our safety, and it’s the only way I can make sure the prisoner won’t report the airlock incident.”

  “He won’t talk,” said April. “Orin gave me his word. You don’t have to do this!”

  “Don’t be naïve. I know you don’t approve, but the prisoner is just too much of an unknown.” Casey swiped through star charts. “Krané’s in the clear for now, but don’t you ever lie to me again. Understood?”

  Fury burned in April’s eyes. “Have you completely lost your mind?”

  “Nope, it’s right here where I left it.” Casey tapped the side of her head. “Try to relax. The prisoner’s going to be fine.”

  “He’ll wipe Orin’s memories,” said April.

  “Of course, he will,” said Casey.

  April seethed. “Ky’s a sadist.”

  “He’s my friend,” said Casey.

  “He’s your ex,” said April.

  Casey smiled. “That only sweetens the deal.”

  “For the record, I object!”

  “Maybe you should take some personal time,” said Casey. “Unwind out of this prisoner. I can handle the transfer without you.”

  “Is that an order?” asked April.

  “Only if you need it to be.” She regarded April firmly.

  “Pusillanimous,” said April.

  “Excuse me?”

  “That’s what you are,” said April. “Pusillanimous.”


  “What’s pusillanimous mean?” asked Casey.

  “Look it up,” said April, and she marched from the command deck.

  ◆◆◆

  Mike sat bolt upright in his sleeping bag, and it sagged down to his waist. After rubbing his eyes, he yawned and leaned back on his arms. The dream had seemed so vivid. Whoever she was, she was pretty, he thought, and he smiled.

  “Hey,” said April, and he whirled around. “Are you still with me?”

  “I’m… dreaming?”

  “No, you’re not dreaming,” said April.

  “Who are you?” asked Mike.

  “April Sattari, first officer aboard the starship Watchtower. We’re transporting your friend, Orin Webb.”

  Mike glanced around the storage room. “How did you get here?”

  “I’m not here. I’m a telepath, and I’m projecting my consciousness onto your optic and audio nerves.”

  Torsha stirred. “Who are you talking to?”

  “Go back to sleep,” whispered Mike.

  “Okay,” Torsha muttered. She smiled and rolled onto her side.

  “If you think your responses to me, I’ll hear them,” said April. “But we need to be quick. I can’t do this for very long.”

  What’s going on?

  “I found your flight plan,” she said. “You’re bound for the same space station that we were. I expect you were planning to intercept us, possibly to offer my captain a transaction she’d have been unwise to refuse.”

  Mike laughed, and he nodded. That’s very astute of you.

  “We’re not headed for that space station anymore. By the time you get there, we’ll be long gone.”

  Where are you going?

  “My captain plans to subcontract the delivery of your friend to a rogue smuggler named Ky Rego. They’re planning to meet this Friday night at 9:00 PM Galactic Standard Time, at the Rocksaugh Steelworks asteroid excavation site. That’s this Friday, November 8th. Got it?”

  Mike’s blood ran cold. A rogue smuggler? What’s wrong with her?

  “She’s scared.”

  I bet she is.

  “Now, Miguel, I need you to pay close attention to what I’m about to tell you.”

  It’s Mike. Only Nimbus calls me Miguel.

  “Fine. Mike. Listen to me and remember. The excavation site isn’t marked on any civil star charts; you need to adjust course to 37-mark-272 and step on it. That starship you’re in should be able to push 3Gs without breaking a sweat. You’ve only got six days, and there’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  How do I know you’re not just trying to throw us off your trail?

  “You don’t, but I really hope you believe me.” April looked worried. “If that transfer goes down, your friend is gone. They’ll wipe Orin’s mind.” Sensing Mike’s doubt, she quickly added, “Just go with your gut, okay? I’ve got no better advice to offer.”

  Mike wrung his hands. Even if I believe you—and I’m not saying I do—I’m not the captain of this ship. I can’t just go ordering the helmsman around like that.

  “37-mark-272,” she repeated. “Friday night.”

  You don’t understand. We’re stowaways!

  April smiled calmly. “If you want Orin back, you won’t be for much longer. 37…”

  “Mark-272,” they said in unison.

  “Friday night,” said Mike. “I got it.”

  “Good.”

  Why are you helping him?

  April broke eye contact, and she clasped her hands at her back. “Goodbye, Mike. You seem like a smart person and a good friend. I truly hope we’ll meet in person very soon.” She smiled slightly, and she vanished.

  “Bye.” Mike faced forward and pulled his knees to his chest.

  “Miguel Santos, were you hallucinating or simply talking in your sleep?” asked Nimbus. A lengthy cord linked him to a nearby charging socket. Glittering points of light cascaded beneath his surface.

  “Neither,” said Mike.

  “Is everything okay?” mumbled Torsha.

  “No, it very much isn’t,” said Mike, and he glanced at his friends. “We have a very big problem.”

  Torsha rolled onto her back, suddenly awake. “What kind of problem?”

  Mike recounted the conversation he shared with April and asked the others for their thoughts.

  “Miguel Santos, empirical evidence suggests you are likely sleep deprived or in need of psychiatric assistance. However, I have experienced neither an internal nor external thoughtform event. Therefore, you must do what you believe is right,” said Nimbus.

  Torsha sank into her sleeping bag. “My gut feeling is she’s telling the truth. That sucks because that means you’re going to talk to Captain Aguirre, and she’s going to rat us out to your dad. She’ll find her way down here, and that probably means at least Nimbus and me get to spend the rest of the trip in spaceship jail.”

  “It’s called the brig, and there’re plenty of unused crew quarters on this ship. I promise I won’t let her—”

  Torsha interjected, “You’re not in charge here, Mike! Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It erodes your integrity.” Drawing a deep breath, she released it slowly. “You better find a way to tranq me. They’re little, but my fangs are sharp, and if they get rough with us, I can’t promise the claws won’t come out.”

  “Come on, Torsha, you’re not a little kid anymore. If your claws come out, it’s because you want them to.”

  With a dry laugh, she arched her neck and closed her eyes. “They’re Falcon’s best, aren’t they? They’ll be fine.”

  Mike got to his feet and dressed into his day clothes. “Please wait here,” he said. “When Captain Aguirre comes looking, she’d be very upset if she has to go searching for either of you.”

  “Fine, but you owe me,” said Torsha. “You owe me big!”

  “I know I do.” With that, he stood taller and crossed the cargo hold to the door. Stepping out into the passageway, he paused to glance back inside. Torsha snarled and flipped him off. Mike’s shoulders slumped, and he closed the door. With mounting dread, he made his way along the starship’s passageways.

  He soon climbed a ladder and exited the hatch leading up from the crew deck. He stood at a nexus of passageways, within view of the chart room. Lighthearted conversation grew closer, and he smiled slightly as he recognized one of the voices. Taking a deep breath, Mike stepped into view with his hands at his sides.

  “Mike?” gasped one of the marines. “Mike Santos, is that you?” She wore a red and gold uniform, with a dark brown pixie cut and pale skin. The woman next to her maintained a guarded pose.

  “Hey Bianca,” said Mike.

  “Without the long hair, I almost didn’t recognize you!” She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly. With an excited grin, she introduced her comrade. “Carmina, this is Mike. Mike, this is Carmina.”

  They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries.

  “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you since high school! The captain never mentioned we had royalty on board,” said Bianca. “Where are you staying?”

  “Captain Aguirre doesn’t know I’m here,” said Mike.

  Bianca stepped back with a worried look. “You snuck aboard?”

  “I did,” said Mike. “I’ve been hiding out in an unused storage compartment for the past three days.”

  “You were always such a stickler for the rules,” said Bianca. “What happened?”

  “Believe me, it was my only option,” said Mike. “I possess mission critical information that the captain needs to hear. Can you get me on the bridge? It’s time sensitive.”

  “Even if I can, she’ll throw you in the brig,” said Bianca. “You know that, right?”

  Mike nodded. “Probably, but it’s worth the risk.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Bianca shook her head. “Sorry about this, amigo.” She moved around behind him and firmly seized his arms, forcing his hands up and behind his back. Nudging him forward, she said, “This way.”
r />   Her comrade in arms took the lead, guiding Mike and Bianca along the passageway to a reinforced door. The other marine waved her wrist over the gene reader, and the door hissed quietly open.

  “Capitán, we have an unexpected visitor,” said Bianca. “Lance Corporal Ignacio and I discovered Falcon Prince Miguel Iván Santos, son of Archduke Martin Santos, in a nearby passageway. He surrendered without incident and claims to be in possession of mission-critical information.”

  Izel Aguirre, captain of the starship Fox Mendes, slowly swiveled in her chair. “This is unexpected.” Short black hair formed a rounded widow’s peak over her hawkish nose. Flecks of gold tinted her brown eyes, and she regarded Mike with cold anger. “Speak your piece. Quickly.” Her bridge crew manned their stations with increased focus, not one of them willing to steal so much as a backward glance.

  Mike cleared his throat. “I have reason to believe Watchtower is no longer headed for the MABAS station. In fact, it’s my understanding she’s now headed for the Rocksaugh asteroid mining complex. At 9:00 PM Galactic Time, this Friday, Watchtower’s captain intends to deliver Orin Webb into the hands of one Ky Rego, a man known to provide clandestine transport services for rogue binaries. I’m told we’ll need to change course to 37-mark-272 to overtake them.”

  Izel studied him. “Ensign Rodriguez, confirm Watchtower’s current trajectory.”

  “Sí, capitán,” said a young man at the ops console.

  Silence filled the bridge and passageways beyond. Mike heard his heart pounding in his chest. Bianca relaxed her hold only long enough to reassert it.

  “Sending the report to you now, capitán,” said Rodriguez.

  Izel’s eyes danced as she read it. Gracefully, she unfolded from her chair. Red, with gold and white trim, her uniform hung impeccably upon her slender frame. “It seems radio telemetry confirms your story. Watchtower’s trajectory no longer tracks toward the space station. If she maintains her current course, she will indeed reach the asteroid dig site.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Mike breathed.

  “Your father well be very upset when he hears of this.” She shook her head. “He went to great lengths to keep you safe! You must do better, principito. No one will follow a coyote.”