by Dana Kelly
Rivers of Orion
Dana Kelly
Copyright © 2021 Dana Kelly
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9798506761327
Cover design by: Keri Warhol
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
For N
Special thanks to my editor, Shannon Duggan.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
The Only Constant
Chapter 2
Into the Labyrinth
Chapter 3
Worth the Price
Chapter 4
Night Drive
Chapter 5
The Big Score
Chapter 6
Monday Blues
Chapter 7
Where the Heart Is
Chapter 8
Falcon’s Lure
Chapter 9
Vagabond
Chapter 10
Beacon
Chapter 11
Memento Vivere
Chapter 12
Decisions in a Vacuum
Chapter 13
New Blood
Chapter 14
The Wreck of the Excrucio
Chapter 15
Recovery
Chapter 16
The Way Home
Chapter 17
Orthogonal Vectors
Chapter 18
Binary States
Chapter 19
Primary Succession
Chapter 20
Derelict
Chapter 21
Rust
Chapter 22
What Makes the World
Chapter 23
The Vessel
Chapter 24
Sunset Beach
Chapter 25
The Message
Chapter 26
Tranquility
Chapter 27
Lake Front
Chapter 28
The Woman Inside
Chapter 29
Friend or Foe
Chapter 30
Building a Bridge
Chapter 31
Crime Ring
Chapter 32
Skullduggery
Chapter 33
Conjunction
Chapter 34
Earth Star
Chapter 35
Showdown
Chapter 36
Basic Training
Chapter 37
Truth in Shadows
Chapter 38
Waking Nightmare
Chapter 39
Where the Rivers Flow
About The Author
Chapter 1
The Only Constant
Oil drained down from a filter, headed straight for Orin’s eyes. Reflexively, he rolled away, dislodging a cardboard drip trough. His wrench dropped noisily to the hangar floor, and oil poured all over it. Climbing to his feet, his breath caught in his throat as Liago—Orin’s boss—marched toward him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t another screw-up from Orin the Moron,” Liago snarled. “Clean it up, right now! Starship oil’s a biohazard, or are you too stupid to remember that?” Liago was ocelini, a proud species descended from the great cats that stalked the jungles of a distant world, and leopard fur covered his body. A leathery base capped his downturned nose, and lengthy whiskers reached beyond his brow. Prominent, angled ears sprouted from his head, framing his thick, flowing mane. He wore a garage manager’s uniform and a pair of steel-toed boots. “I never should’ve promoted you from the parts room, but I guess that’s a mistake I can always correct.”
“It was about to get in my eyes,” said Orin.
“I didn’t catch that,” Liago shot back. Glancing at Orin’s fists, he stomped close and seized him by the shoulders, digging his claws into Orin’s joints. “You should really learn to speak up.”
Orin fought the urge to cry out. “It was… I mean…”
Liago hunched lower, his breath hot against Orin’s forehead. “I couldn’t make that out,” he hissed. “I told you to speak up.” Liago squeezed with all his might.
Orin’s hands spread wide as he howled in pain.
Liago shoved him stumbling, and Orin landed hard on his tailbone. “That’s what I thought. Now, clean this up!”
After a moment, as Orin slowly got back up to stand, a pair of mechanics approached the spill. “Don’t you dare help that worthless piece of crap,” growled Liago. “He cleans it all by himself.” Sheepishly, they returned to their work.
Between scrubbing the hangar and detailing the engine compartment, it took hours to finish.
Orin clenched his teeth as he scrubbed his hands, and when they were dry, he tossed a stained shop towel into a blue bin. Methodically, he put his tools back in their box, closed it up and set it next to his backpack. Taking a deep breath, he faced his boss. “It’s done.” He glanced at his phone. “I’m clocking out for the day.”
“Clocking out? I clocked you out as soon as you started mopping up the spill, but feel free to clock back in, because you’re not done until you change that oil filter. In fact, you’re not leaving this hangar until it’s done right—until I like it. Understand? Even if we’re here all damn night.”
“In that case… I quit,” said Orin.
“Yeah, right.”
“No, I mean it. I quit.” With fury in his eyes, he screamed, “I quit!” He shouldered his backpack, grabbed his toolbox, and stormed out of the hangar.
Liago guffawed so hard he needed to lean against a nearby wall. He glanced to his left, to the parts room counter, and chuckled. “Jazz, you better hurry. Looks like Orin the Moron is taking a second lunch.”
“It’s Jasmine,” she snapped, and she sprang from her chair to dash through the door leading out of the parts room. Her coal-black braid danced wildly as she moved. Exiting the hangar, she caught up to Orin as he marched across the parking lot, fuming under a gloomy sky. “Stop!” She lunged to grab hold of his shoulder, but he shrugged out of her grip. “Wait!”
Orin halted, turning to face her, and she leaned back slightly to regard him. His arms bulged within their sleeves. Grease smudged his jeans and work shirt. Sweat traced the neck of a snug undershirt. A wave of sandy locks crashed across his forehead as an ocean storm raged in his eyes. “For what? More insults?”
“Don’t let him get to you!” Glancing back to the hangar, she said, “At the very least, get him to fire you, so you can collect unemployment.”
“Fire me?” Orin scoffed. “No, Liago’s never going to fire me. He’s having too much fun insulting me.”
“I’ll admit he rides you pretty hard, but it’s not all bad, is it?” She squeezed his hands, her rich, olive-brown tone a perfect complement to his lightly tanned skin. “You’ve got me, don’t you?” Gazing upon him with exaggerated adoration, she hopped up to steal a kiss. “I like to think our lunch breaks are enjoyable.”
“That’s not the point. I was about three seconds away from decking that jerk.”
“Yeah, and he’d have ripped you to pieces and claimed self-defense.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t stay here!” He squared his jaw. Demurely, he added, “I can always meet you for lunch.”
“You’ve got to grow thicker skin. Liago treats
everyone like garbage, okay?” She glanced away. “He’s ocelini. It’s just how they are.”
“Not all of them.”
Jasmine gave it some thought and nodded. “You’re right; they’re not all raging jackasses, but your friend, Torsha, is literally the only ocelini I’ve ever met who I didn’t want to skin after thirty seconds of conversation.” Her posture relaxed, and she waved him over. “Come on, come back with me. We got maybe thirty seconds before Dale starts ringing up customers; thirty seconds before basic math makes him cry. Do you really want to make Dale cry? Could you even live with yourself if you did?”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I meant it. I’m gone.”
She regarded him with sharp disapproval. “Don’t be stupid! You don’t have anything else lined up.”
“I still have my scholarship.”
“Not until next semester,” said Jasmine.
“You don’t know that for sure,” said Orin.
“It’s Terran Galactic! They process claims twice a year—at the beginning of fall semester, and the beginning of spring semester.” She stepped back and crossed her arms. “You know what happens if you can’t pay rent?”
“I end up like your mom?”
“Screw you, Orin.”
He shrugged. “Hey, she’s homeless, and you asked.”
“You know what? Fine! Quit. I’d wish you luck, but I wouldn’t mean it.” She turned around and marched back toward the hangar.
“Ouch,” he whispered. Drawing a deep breath, he hoisted his toolbox and continued across the parking lot.
She watched him walk away. Grumbling to herself a moment, she shouted, “Orin!”
He paused.
“You weren’t supposed to actually quit!” She looked worried and frustrated. Beckoning him over, she insisted, “Please come back!”
He wore a look of grim determination. “Never.”
She balled her fists and hurriedly returned to him. “Okay, if not for me, then do it for your truck.”
“There’s lots of work out there, and if worst comes to worst, I can always lease another truck,” he said.
“Orin, I love you, but I love me too.” She gripped his sleeves. “I told you when we first started dating, I wouldn’t go out with a freeloader. That hasn’t changed.”
He sighed sadly. “I know.”
“Good, then you’re coming back.” She regarded him rhetorically. “Right?”
He exhaled calmly, steadily. “You can keep your yoke.” Tenderly, he kissed the top of her head. “Goodbye, Jasmine. You can get your things tomorrow.”
Tears welled in her eyes, and she pushed him away. “You’re breaking up with me?”
“No, I’m quitting North Valley Spaceflight,” he said. “You’re enforcing your boundaries, and I’m respecting them.”
“Oh.” She wiped at her nose.
He turned away, and Jasmine didn’t follow. Pressing away tears, he soon reached the street and sat down heavily upon the curb. Within moments, an automated cab quietly rolled up. Rain pattered down around him, and he stooped inside. As he pulled away, he finally let himself cry.
◆◆◆
The taxicab passed under a well-lit banner emblazoned with the with the words “Valley of Light Interplanetary.” Upon arriving at the heart of the bustling starport, Orin disembarked, and the cab sped away. Covering his head with his backpack, he raced for a covered metro shuttle terminal. Standing beside a cylindrical radiator, rain drove down in sheets as he basked in the warm air and paused to enjoy the view.
Softly and colorfully aglow, the metropolis sprawled under the haze of the downpour. Thick, oily steam rolled forth from massive vents buried throughout. Rows upon rows of dingy retail centers and grease-stained parking bays sprouted from a dozen towers, all of them festooned with graffiti. Floating high above, neon signs and traffic lights directed the slow waltz of airborne vehicles.
Nearby, a bulky municipal shuttle slowly lifted off, visible just past the handrails that enclosed a metro station. A single tail fin and a pair of guide wings steered the path of the lengthy passenger transport. She wore a light gray coat of steel, painted with red and orange bands, adorned with warning lights. Her brilliant headlamps cast platinum cones into the clouds as she suddenly and swiftly ascended, their light glinting upon the edges of the viewports that lined the hull.
Under a vast awning, stripes and chevrons glowed dimly red, orange, and yellow as they offered paths to ticket kiosks, storage lockers, and boarding ramps. Suspended in front of a curved wall, bright blue symbols skittered across a display board that listed all departures and arrivals for the next two days. A young boy passed his umbrella through the display, giggled, and his older sister quickly nudged him away.
The kiosk beeped, and Orin claimed his pass. A transparent sigil glowed faintly green as it registered his gene key and deducted credits from his account. He crossed the grated floor, kept just under the overhang of a curved wall, and when he had reached its end, hurried for the cover of a pair of sheltered bus benches.
Occupying most of one bench, dressed in a suit and heavy long coat, a red tabby-coated ocelini hunched forward. He pored over a weathered paperback that looked tiny in his hands. Two others, a human couple, took up the other bench.
Enjoying the rain upon their slick, mottled skin, a nearby trio of cullthouns stood several paces off. Their tentacle arms moved as they discussed in excited clicks and watery squeaks, the gestures as much a voice in their conversation as the sound. Nostrils crowned their elongated foreheads, seated high above their colorfully glassy eyes and tiny, oral tentacles. Each stood upon a second pair of sturdy tentacles, darker in color with cylindrical boots. They wore deactivated vocoders around their necks.
Before long, engines thumped rhythmically off to his left and Orin glanced toward the sound. He smiled. A light gray behemoth glided close, and rain sizzled in sheets upon the shuttle’s plasma aura. It butted up against a boarding tube as its directional thrusters swung down and the plasma sheath faded away. A red light shone over the passage entryway, framed on either side by warnings to stand clear.
Orin secured his backpack straps, lifted his toolbox with box hands, and shuffled to form a line with the others as they stood behind the ocelini. “No,” muttered the tabby, “don’t do that.” He gestured for the other two humans to advance. “You were here before me.”
Awkwardly and with muttered thanks, they moved ahead of him.
A pilot with hawk-like features stared fixedly ahead as his passengers embarked. Gingerly, Orin stepped along the crowded aisle and took a seat near the back, setting his toolbox between his legs, and his backpack atop it. Staring out the viewport, he unbuttoned his work shirt and tugged at his undershirt.
The transit vessel detached from its clamps and glided up into the atmosphere. Warning lights flashed as they passed a retail tower, and for a moment, Orin’s reflection stared back at him from the glass.
With a weary sigh, he sank back and closed his eyes. For one searing moment his abdomen ached, and he traced a scar through his shirt. He winced and settled back into his chair. “That’s quite enough out of you,” he muttered to himself.
“Excuse me?” said a woman to his right.
Orin glanced her way. With alabaster skin, she tucked a wisp of platinum hair behind her ear as she met his gaze. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t hear you sit down.”
“No apology is required.” Her blue-gray eyes twinkled. “Are you well?”
He nodded. “I just get these cramps sometimes.”
“I understand,” she brightly replied and studied him a moment. “I believe your destination is somewhere in New California City. I have been so curious to visit.”
He looked visibly impressed. “How’d you know that?”
“Thank you for the implied praise, but my observational skills are far from extraordinary.” With a playful wink, she leaned closer and prodded his work shirt. “The way your clothes have faded, and the slight smell
of pine are clear indicators.” Orin nodded appreciatively, and she beamed. “Returning to my previous assertion, I have always wanted to visit.”
“You should go,” he suggested, “tonight. I’ll show you around.”
She smiled all the brighter. “I suddenly very much desire to do just that, but sadly I cannot.”
“Why not?”
“I have a work party to attend.” She straightened. “I sense your desire to join me, perhaps to explore casual romantic interaction, but you should know I am not human.” She whispered, “I am denshi-tengu.” A flash of silver glinted in the back of her eyes.
“Oh.” With a dry chuckle, Orin sank back into his chair. “Nice.”
“It is a costume party. I have been rehearsing this form for two weeks,” she continued, “and I feel accomplished that you took me for one of your own. I did not mean to offend, of course. I am aware that certain individuals take great offense at species imitation.” Her energy faded as he leaned away. “Have I offended you?”
“Not at all.” He took stock of her executive attire. “I’m impressed, really. Usually you denshies are easy to spot. Not you, though. You got all the details right.” He glanced sidelong at her. “Of course, you could actually be a guy.” He shook his head. “Or even a kid. I have no way of knowing for sure.”
She replied, “I suppose you do not,” and gazed upward as she considered. Cheerfully, she placed her hand in Orin’s grip, startling him. “I am Eleski,” she announced and firmly squeezed. “I assure you I am an adult female of my species.”
He returned the gesture, just as a recorded voice announced the shuttle’s arrival at the Risen Hills station. “I’m Orin.”
“Perhaps we will meet again?” she hoped.
“I’m here every day for the next couple years,” he said. “Assuming I get my scholarship back in time.”
She recoiled as she held his gaze, and her eyes widened. “Oh,” she whispered. “Your truths have changed my truth.”
“I don’t follow.”
“I must find the appropriate convergence before I am lost.” Lingering for a moment more, she withdrew her grip before making her way to the exit. Docking clamps rang through the sky bus. The door rolled aside, and Eleski vanished beyond it.
