Rivers of Orion

by Dana Kelly

  He pointed across the way. “There are at least two more hostiles in that direction. They’re doing something with the Deck 2 ladder, most likely trying to cut off access to the lower decks. Since this ship uses symmetrical overrides, it’s safe to assume there’s a starboard side team trying to do the same.”

  “Oh, right,” said Torsha. “Of course. Symmetrical whatever you just said.”

  “It’s a security feature,” said Mike.

  “He’s right, you know,” said the ocelini, startling his captors, and he pulled a ring-shaped device from the small of his back. In a flash, he swung it around and held it in place next to Nimbus. Electrical jags arced between Nimbus and the device. “Soon as we take the bridge, all those folks down there are dead!”

  “Miguel Santos, our opponent has active… an… he has activated,” said Nimbus. He made a terrible clicking noise as he tried to continue.

  “A repurposer,” said Mike. “Stay calm, Nimbus. It’s going to be all right.” He glared at the ocelini, watching his every move as the bloodied pirate got back to his feet. “Let him go.”

  “Oh, it’s a ‘him,’ is it? Sounds like you got a little too cozy with your hardware,” said the pirate. He squeezed the device’s grip, and the jolts intensified. “Well, if you care that much about this thing, I’d think real hard about getting down on your knees with your hands behind your head. Both of you.”

  “M-M-Miguel Santos, I…!” Nimbus’s voice vanished in a collision of pops and static.

  Mike breathed coolly, evenly. His gaze remained fixed on the pirate. “I won’t ask again.”

  The buccaneer smiled wickedly. “Neither will I. One more squeeze, and you can kiss your little sentry bot goodbye.”

  Mike closed his eyes. Drawing a deep breath, he nodded and slowly descended to his knees.

  “Great,” muttered Torsha, and she knelt beside Mike.

  “Good. That’s good,” said the pirate, and he kicked the bedsheets over to Torsha. “Tie up your friend. Wrists and ankles. Now!”

  Torsha flinched and glared at him. Electricity snaked over Nimbus. “Fine,” she said, and she reached for the bedsheets.

  “Torsha M-M-Madagan, you mussst not,” sputtered Nimbus.

  “He’ll kill you if I don’t,” said Torsha.

  A smile formed in Nimbus’s front plating. “M-M-Miguel, Torsha, I choose to s-s-save… you,” he said. Sparks flared from his joints as the repuroser pulled one of his legs from his body. “Live well, always.” He dispersed, and electricity flooded each of his individual nanobots.

  An instant later, Nimbus snapped back in the form of a dull metal orb.

  It dropped to the deck with a lifeless thud.

  “No!” howled Mike. He attacked the ocelini pirate with unbridled fury, landing blow after blow upon his opponent’s stomach, chest, and neck. In a blind rage, he pummeled the buccaneer’s face, until Torsha finally pulled him off.

  Tears flowed from Mike’s eyes, and blood dripped from his knuckles.

  “Hey,” said Torsha, and she hugged him close. “Take a deep breath.” She pressed Nimbus’s remains into Mike’s hands. “Just take a deep breath and try to relax.”

  Mike withdrew from Torsha’s embrace. He lifted the orb to eye level. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “Nimbus, why did you do that?” Tenderly, he ran his hands along its surface. He sniffed, and his voice croaked as he pleaded, “What were you thinking?”

  “He might still be alive,” said Torsha.

  Mike glared at her, though only briefly.

  She shrugged. “Hey, we don’t know.” She pushed against his chest. “He might be. Don’t give up on him.”

  “I won’t,” said Mike, and he wiped his eyes and nose. “I really hope you’re right.” He slipped the orb inside his jacket pocket.

  Torsha squatted beside the pirate and gingerly poked at him. “You really fucked this guy up,” she whispered. “Jesus, Mike, I think he’s dead!”

  He looked at his hands. “Yeah, well, he kind of deserved it.” Unhurried, he approached the bathroom sink and rinsed the blood from his knuckles.

  “I don’t know.” She stood up and cleared her throat. “Maybe.”

  They heard gunfire from somewhere far away, followed by the terrified cries of the crew.

  Mike dried off his hands. “We have work to do. One of the crewmembers warned me about a mech pilot over by the port hatch. We should probably deal with that first, then the starboard hatch, and finally the mess deck. Are you okay for that?”

  “Why the mess deck?” asked Torsha.

  “It’s the only place large enough to accommodate that many people, and since they already marched the Fox Mendes crew past the airlock, the mess deck is the only other destination that makes sense.”

  “Then we’ll need to split up,” said Torsha. “We can meet near the bridge. Remember, the rest of the crew will die as soon as these thugs take command of the ship.”

  Mike regarded her sternly. “I’d rather we stay together.”

  Torsha offered a friendly smile and pointed downward. “I’m sure they’d rather we didn’t.”

  “What if something happens to you?”

  “Too late for that,” she said. “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl. I can hold my own.” Before Mike could respond, she spun on her heels and dashed out into the passageway, where she turned right and sprinted away.

  “Torsha,” whispered Mike, and he took a deep breath. He exited the room and moved along the passageway before him, until he reached an opening. Across the way, two figures stood hunched in the corner, their backs to him, with a chest of tools nearby. One was human, dressed in loose clothing. He carried a plasma rifle. The other was sudasau, and he towered over his human comrade, dressed in battle armor painted black with flames and grinning shark’s teeth. A large, thick plate guarded the back of his head. Upon his forearms, he wore oversized vambraces, each joined to the armor by reinforced conduit. At the end of the left vambrace, intense heat radiated within a concave lens. At the end of the right one, three massive, robotic fingers formed a steel fist

  With his robot hand, the armored buccaneer scissored a bundle of network cables, and the human tapped his commlink. “We’re ready,” said the human. “How are you guys doing?” After a moment, he nodded, looked up at his associate, and patted his associate’s vambrace. In response, the armored buccaneer closed the hatch leading down to Deck 2. With his weapon hand, he set to fusing the passage shut.

  “I can’t let you do that,” said Mike.

  With looks of surprise, the pirates turned to face him.

  Mike bolted across the deck. Scooping up the toolbox, he spun around and smashed it into the sudasau’s faceplate. The toolbox clattered to the deck, spilling its contents. Howling in pain, his armored foe used his robotic hand to claw at the glass embedded in his snout.

  As the human raised his weapon, Mike gripped a handful of tools. Before the pirate could pull the trigger, a barrage of wrenches struck his chest, broke some of his teeth, and struck his forehead. He swayed a moment before falling backward, unconscious and bleeding.

  Mike raced around behind his armored foe.

  With his weapon arm, the sudasau fired through the air in Mike’s wake, spinning wildly on his heels as he tried to track his target. Heat blasts scattered cables, knocked open a door, and dislodged a mounting brace. “Hold still!”

  “Sure, I can do that,” said Mike, and he climbed up his opponent’s back. “How’s this?” Alighting upon the sudasau’s armored shoulders, he crouched and gripped the underside of the shattered helmet. With a quick pull on its seal, he disengaged it. “I hope you like the view,” he said, and he spun the helmet around. As his opponent staggered blindly, Mike hopped down, picked up a length of cable, and cinched it around the sudasau’s ankles.

  With a muted cry, the sudasau tripped and toppled forward. He crashed upon the deck. A moment later, the sudasau’s body relaxed as he succumbed to unconsciousness.

  Pausin
g only long enough to catch his breath, Mike took up the plasma rifle. He pointed it at the toolbox and pulled the trigger, but a red light flashed as the gun beeped. “Biometrics,” said Mike. “Figures,” and he tossed the weapon aside.

  He gathered several lengths of cable and used some of them to bind the human. When he had finished, Mike set to removing the sudasau’s armor. The stench of sweat and blood wafted from within, and he leaned away. Steeling himself, he returned to his work. Mike piled all the pieces close by, and he used the remainder of the cable to tie up the sudasau.

  Static sounded from a nearby comm interface. “This is PFC De Leon. Can anyone hear me?”

  Mike rushed over to the console and pushed the button. “Bianca, is that you?”

  “Mike, thank God,” she said. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear your voice!”

  “How can I help?”

  “Ask Captain Aguirre to override the lockdown,” she said.

  “I wish I could, but Deck 1’s been boarded,” said Mike. “This place is crawling with pirates.”

  “If I give you a code, you can attempt to enforce the command override yourself. Do you see a console in the bulkhead next to you?”

  “I do, but they cut the data cables,” said Mike.

  Bianca fell quiet. Slight static returned, and she said, “Then command override is not possible. You must find a way to reach Captain Aguirre.”

  “Copy that,” said Mike.

  “It’s roger that,” said Bianca. “Only civilians use ‘copy.’”

  He laughed quietly. “Roger that, PFC De Leon. Next time we talk, I’ll be calling you from the bridge.”

  “Mike,” she said, and a pause hung in the air. “Mike, they breached the Deck 3 starboard hull, drawing all of us down here, but… The sled was a decoy. When she opened up, there was a terrible explosion.” She sniffed and coughed, and the comm went quiet for a moment. “Carmina was killed in the blast. We have people from IS down here, but they say it’ll be at least an hour before they can quarantine the virus. Ops is down until then.”

  “Life support?”

  “Thank God it runs on a separate network,” said Bianca. “But if they gain access to the bridge, these bastards will certainly shut it down.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” he said.

  “I know I can count on you.” She took a deep breath. “Good luck, amigo.”

  The comm fell quiet.

  Mike approached the armor. “I wonder,” he said, and he slipped his left hand into the weaponized vambrace. He found a pistol-grip recess, along with several switches within easy reach of his thumb. Straining against the vambrace’s weight, Mike pointed the lens at the toolbox and squeezed the trigger. A blast of heat turned it red and deformed it slightly. “Nice,” he whispered.

  Mike donned the chest piece and reattached the vambraces. He slid his hands inside and took hold of both grips. Slowly he stood, steadying the armor’s weight across his shoulders, and he carefully stepped forward. Four lengthy counterweight rods swung up from the front of the chest piece. They automatically repositioned themselves with each of Mike’s footfalls, lending him a sense of surefootedness. His muscles ached from the effort of movement, but it wasn’t long before he neared the Fox Mendes chart room.

  Torsha whistled as she dropped down from the overhead, and Mike halted his advance. Blood spattered her claws and clothing. “Where did you get that?” she asked.

  “From a guy who really didn’t need it anymore,” said Mike, and he smiled.

  “Did you kill him?” she asked.

  He winced a bit. “No, I didn’t kill him.”

  “What is it?”

  Mike raised the robot hand. “Part of a custom combat vac suit. It’s a little large on me, so I left the rest of it behind, but this should be enough to work with. It’s very heavy, though. Honestly, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to fight in this.”

  “Hopefully long enough,” said Torsha. “I left four of those jerks tied up in the dining room, and two more tied up near the stairs, but the big metal hatch thing was already closed by the time I got there. Except for the people on the bridge, everyone’s safe in their rooms like you asked. How long until they take over the ship?”

  “Any minute now,” said Mike. “As soon as they take the bridge, that’s it. Whatever software these guys used to hijack ops, it’s got information systems stumped. Help won’t be coming from the lower decks for at least an hour, and command override’s down.”

  “So, it’s just the two of us?” asked Torsha, and she felt her heart race.

  “Three of us,” said Mike.

  “Where’s Nimbus?”

  Mike smiled sadly. “Still in my jacket pocket.”

  With a heavy heart, Torsha looked away. “We’ll find someone who can fix him. I promise.”

  “I could’ve sworn you said something about making promises you can’t keep,” said Mike.

  Torsha laughed bitterly. “That’s the difference between you and me. My kind of integrity, it can’t erode.”

  “Of course, it can’t,” said Mike. He drew a deep breath and glanced further along the passageway. In the distance, steel embers rained down from the command deck door, amidst a huddle of motley pirates. “Do you feel good about this?”

  “No,” said Torsha.

  “Are we doing this?”

  She extended her claws and glanced in the direction of the command deck. “We’re doing this.”

  “Stay behind me,” said Mike, and he lowered his chin. He adjusted several switches in his left vambrace. “This is where we fight. This is where they fall!”

  They roared a fearsome battle cry and charged their foe. Gritting his teeth, Mike squeezed the trigger, and a blast of heat engulfed the pirates. With his robot hand, he gripped a nearby jamb, and as he swung inside, Mike stole a sidelong glance at his enemies.

  Half of them shrieked and howled in pain. Still aflame, blackened limbs crumbled from their bodies. Only a cauterized crater remained of someone’s chest. Another pirate’s head burned down to the skull—and kept burning.

  Torsha covered her mouth as she vomited and stumbled into the room with Mike. “Holy shit!” she wheezed. “They didn’t fall, they died!”

  Horrified, Mike stared at the vambrace. “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “Torsha, I didn’t know it was going to do that!”

  Coughing, she flicked the biologicals from her fingers and whirled around on him. “What the hell, Mike?”

  “Can we worry about it later?” he asked. “Please take position at the door. They’re almost here!” As Torsha moved into place, Mike caught his breath and stepped back. Assuming a sideways fighting stance, he used one vambrace to guard his legs and the other to shield his head. He breathed raggedly, and his muscles burned.

  A mottled sudasau stepped through first, and Torsha struck. She carved out rivulets in his snout. He snorted angrily, aiming his energy pistol as his comrades in arms crowded the threshold.

  Mike used his robot hand to grasp the sidearm. With a squeeze of the vambrace’s control glove, he crushed the weapon, along with the sudasau’s fingers. He pulled his opponent close, and the sudasau perished under a barrage of his associates’ gunfire. Bullets riddled Mike’s armor. Sparks showered onto the deck, and the vambraces powered down.

  Somersaulting, Torsha slipped between her opponents. Crouching in the passageway, she slashed at the bootheels in front of her, cutting through cloth and leather. She severed muscles and tendons, and three pirates collapsed. Immediately, she wrested their firearms and with a snarl, kicked each of the buccaneers out cold. She tossed their weapons into the room.

  Only two enemies still stood.

  A thin fellow with a tri-corner hat leveled his plasma pistol at Mike, but a burly, tattooed pirate stepped in front of him and boomed, “Lower that gun! I want a shot at this coward, mono e mono.” He holstered his weapon and raised his fists. “All right, pipsqueak. Why don’t you step out of that rig and fight like a
man!”

  “It’s mono a mono, actually,” Mike panted. “Tell your man to stand down.”

  The burly pirate looked puzzled. “I did.”

  “You’d better tell him again,” said Mike. “His gun is still pointed at me.”

  Exasperated, the brawny fellow glared at his associate. “Put it away.”

  “You’re being stupid,” hissed the thin pirate.

  “Don’t call me stupid!” shouted the burly one. He cleared his throat. “I’m not stupid,” he said, this time much quieter. “He’s got nothing left, that guy. Look at him. He’s about to fall over from all his tiredness.”

  The thin one looked past his comrade. He watched Mike exit the armor and summon the last of his strength to hoist the weapon arm. Regarding the brawny pirate again, the thin one raised his brow. “Got nothing left? Is that what you think?”

  The burly pirate turned around just in time to see Mike’s vambrace flying at him. Instinctively, he tried to catch it, but it slammed into his face, knocking him out, sending him flying backward into the thin pirate, and he into Torsha. With a grunt, she caught the thin pirate by the shoulders and steadied him. “Easy now,” she said.

  “Well done,” he croaked. Suddenly, his arms drooped, and his pistol clattered to the deck. The whole of his body hung upon her forearms. Though she fought to keep him upright, the thin pirate leaned beyond her center of balance and collapsed in a heap. Blood flowed from his sides.

  She looked desperately at Mike. “What happened? What’s wrong with him?”

  Hunched over his knees, his arms quaking, Mike nodded toward her and gasped, “Your… claws.”

  Torsha looked down at her hands. Her claws remained fully extended, painted crimson with the thin pirate’s blood. “No,” she whispered. “It was an accident.” She hurried to the dying man’s side. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I was just trying to catch you. I didn’t know my claws were still out, and… I mean…”

  “It’s okay,” sputtered the pirate. “I’d have done the same to you.” Blood welled from his mouth as he mustered a slight smile. “Guess I won’t be needing this anymore.” With the last of his strength, he placed his tri-corner hat on Torsha’s head.