Rivers of Orion

by Dana Kelly

  “Do continue,” said the skyman. He stood within a few paces of Mike. Noticeably taller than most of Cherry Grove’s denizens, the swarthy, aged man wore a thick, bearskin cloak that cast shadows over everything but his bestial smile and alabaster eyes.

  “Right,” whispered Mike, and he cleared his throat. “Now, I knew there wasn’t much time…” He recounted everything, right up to the point of Shona’s exchange with the lantern skink. “And that, dear listeners, is my scealer.” He smiled at Shona, Orin, and the rest of his comrades. “That is our story.”

  The skyman grinned. With a hearty laugh, he hugged Mike tightly, before drawing Orin and all of Casey’s team into a mighty embrace. “Your story is joined with our story, for as long as anyone lives to speak it. Welcome to Cherry Grove!”

  Hector added himself to the hug.

  “I still haven’t decided about you yet,” said the skyman, and he frowned at Hector.

  “Oh,” said Hector. “But…”

  Beaming, the skyman drew Hector into the embrace. “Long have you been welcome here, old friend. Everyone, eat, drink, and make merry! Today, two stories become one, and we should all celebrate as in the days of old!”

  A raucous cheer rang out. Music and dancing filled the cantina.

  Chapter 23

  The Vessel

  A dozen Cherry Grove locals accompanied Casey and her team as Hector led them back to his office. Outside, the storm raged on, and some of the chill had seeped into the structure’s lowest levels. Cylindrical heaters rose slowly from several street corners, and scattered groups gathered around them.

  “Officer Cartwright!” shouted Rusty from down the way. Dressed now in something that resembled a security uniform, he hurried along the concourse. “Did Candy find you this morning?”

  “Hey Rusty,” said Casey, and she stepped away from the crowd. “I still have yet to meet her. If this is concerning the slip fees, I was just informed Cherry Grove only trades in Taranis scrip, and I can’t find a money market anywhere that will exchange credits for it.”

  Rusty shook his head and held up his hands. “Scrip is for what we buy and sell amongst ourselves. Each tower is a certified space port configured to accept all kinds of currency. It’s a moot point though, since you’re part of the family now, and we don’t charge our own to park outside for a spell.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you. I’ll have to thank Mike for saving us some money.” Casey smiled, and she hooked her thumbs over her belt. “I can’t imagine you ran all the way over just to tell me we don’t owe you anything. What’s on your mind?”

  “The skyman transmitted a petition for corporate co-citizenship, and I wanted to be the first to congratulate you.” Rusty grinned. “You’ve all been authorized as of ten minutes ago. I’ve never even heard of Taranis pushing through applications that fast!”

  Casey blinked. “Corporate co-citizenship?”

  “I know!” said Rusty. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

  “You could say that,” muttered Casey. “All of us?”

  “Everyone here, plus…” He retrieved his datapad. “Torsha Madagan, Krané Glorwae… One Bathilda Steinherz, but she’s been flagged for a background check. So have Oye Ilesamni, Misaki Koneko, and Shulana Elsummu, but I wouldn’t worry too much about the background checks. It’s almost always a formality.”

  Casey chuckled. “Maybe not in this case. The last four—I couldn’t get their real names. How was Taranis able to track them down so fast?”

  “Taranis is the Milky Way’s number one supplier of recreational firearms and adventure gear,” said Rusty. “They actively curate centuries worth of customer data. If you’ve ever owned or operated any Taranis products, they’re got your DNA on file.”

  “That’s chilling,” said Casey, and she moved her hand a little further away from her holstered sidearm.

  “It’s all there in the end-user agreement,” said Rusty. “Anyway, it looks like you’ve already got something going on, so I won’t keep you any longer. Once more, welcome to Cherry Grove! I’m so glad you decided to join us.”

  “Sure. Us too,” said Casey.

  Rusty bowed slightly, took his leave, and Casey returned to the group.

  “All right guys,” said Hector, and he banged on his legs. “I’ve got medical things to do. The vagrants can stay, but everyone else needs to go. Edison, I could use your help. John, I always welcome your company, of course.” He pushed open his doors, led his guests inside, and latched the doors closed behind him.

  “All right Mike, hand it over,” said Hector.

  “Nimbus?” asked Mike.

  Hector nodded. “Gimme.”

  Mike retrieved a velvet whisky pouch from his jacket and passed it Hector’s way. “He’s inside, in a plastic bag. He started shedding dust after you scanned him.”

  “That’s not good,” said Hector. “The scan was supposed to be a passive exchange. It shouldn’t have drained Nimbus at all, but if it’s shedding mass, it’s trying to conserve energy.” He pulled free a sealed freezer bag. Inside it, he found Nimbus and a fine layer of metallic dust that lined the bottom of the bag. “It hasn’t lost much mass, but losing any mass means it’s on the verge of a major ejection, and everything Nimbus ejects is impossible to reintegrate. If there’s any nuanced memory shards, they’re gone for good. Also, subsequent ejections will occur with greater frequency until there’s nothing left but the core logic, which basically leaves your fog with permanent amnesia.”

  “Last night, you said we had tons of time!” said Mike.

  Hector shrugged. “I also thought you were packed with neuroware. Look, I’m wrong sometimes, okay?” He glanced at Edison and Cajun. “Looks like time is of the essence after all. Gentleman?”

  “After you,” said Edison. He and Cajun followed Hector as he hurried to the operating room.

  Mike stood in the lobby, watching as they disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

  “I do,” said Orin, and he rested his arm across Mike’s shoulders. “Nimbus is in good hands.”

  Shona sat down in the middle of the floor. She re-braided her hair behind her and tied it off. With an engaging smile, she pulled two decks of playing cards from one of her vest pouches and placed them in front of her. “Anyone up for a game of Crazy Eights? Guaranteed to keep your mind off things in the next room.”

  “I don’t know how to play,” said Mike.

  “Neither do I,” said Casey.

  “It’s easy,” said Malmoradan. “Shona, care to explain the rules?”

  Her friends gathered near and sat with her in a circle as she explained how to play and dealt them their hands.

  ◆◆◆

  Hector switched off the heat lamp and shoved it aside. “Dr. Stone, I need you to fill that wash basin with saline solution. That one, over there on the rolling tray, and only up to the first line. There’s an unopened gallon container next to the sink—you can use that. Now please.”

  “I’m on it,” said Edison, and he set to opening the container.

  “John, this is a suspension-catalyzer.” Hector passed him the plastic bag and a rod with a clip. “Slip this over the side of the basin, turn it on, and then dump our friend into the saline solution as soon as Dr. Stone gives the go-ahead. Nimbus will appear to dissolve, but don’t freak out—it’s supposed to do that. As soon as that happens, we’ll load the suspension into a jumbo IV bag and inject the slug. Got it?”

  “I do,” said Cajun. He approached Edison and carefully opened the freezer bag.

  Hector grinned. “Good. I’m going to wake up the slug.” He pulled down a cylindrical device hanging from the ceiling and loaded a tube of dark blue gel into it.

  “It’s ready,” said Edison, and he capped the plastic jug.

  Cajun clipped the rod in place and switched it on. The saline solution oscillated rapidly enough to blur the surface. Gingerly, Cajun rolled Nimbus into the liquid. The orb sank to the bottom of
the basin, displacing enough fluid to threaten overflow. “Come on,” whispered Cajun. “Ya safe now, little one. You can let go.”

  Instantly, the orb vanished, replaced by a viscous silvery mixture that filled the wash basin.

  “There ya go,” said Cajun. With tubing in hand, he started a siphon that slowly filled a gallon sized IV bag.

  Hector approached the table and slowly drew down the zipper. Pulling open the sides of the bag, he stared at its contents, and his breath caught in his throat. He checked the crayon markings and shook his head. “Uh, guys,” stammered Hector. “There’s a problem.” He looked at Cajun and Edison. “Home Office sent me a mislabeled bag.” Rigidly, he pointed at its contents.

  Edison and Cajun hurried close. Inside, they found a fully formed adult woman’s body, bald with light brown skin, and no sign of decay. “It’s not a slug,” said Hector. “It’s a thrall.”

  “Do you have any activating gel?” asked Edison.

  “I don’t know,” said Hector. “Maybe somewhere in the main fridge. Maybe in the back, but I really don’t know, because I’ve never had a reason to activate one before!”

  Cajun was already tearing through refrigerated shelves. Glass vials clinked softly as he set them down on the tile floor by the handful. He spotted a large syringe, filled with clear gel, labeled, “Synthetic Servant Activator.” He grinned and held it up high. “Found it!”

  “Bring it here,” said Edison, and Cajun passed it to him.

  Hector rolled the body to one side and finished extracting it from the bag. He returned it to its back and set the body bag aside.

  Edison probed the ribs and located the sternum. With a resolute nod, he drove the needle down and depressed the plunger. Almost immediately, the body gasped, and it began to seize. A moment later, calm washed over it, and its lungs rose and fell evenly.

  Anxiously, Hector retrieved a surgical drill and hammer.

  “What are you planning to do with those?” asked Edison.

  “I still need to approximate Mike’s injuries,” said Hector. He plugged in the drill, and it whined as he tested it. He seated the drill bit and glanced at the filled IV bag. “Would you mind getting the drip going? We don’t have much time left on that suspension, and if Nimbus isn’t swimming through this thing’s veins when it goes, we’ll lose them both.”

  Edison nodded. “Of course.” He prepared an intravenous catheter and hooked it up to the bag. Cajun hung it from a rolling stand and moved it into place.

  Hector stood before the body. He turned its head to the side and readied the drill. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed the trigger, but he reared back as the thrall’s head rolled back into place. Eyes wide open, it looked back and forth, and it silently worked its mouth. Its fists clenched and unclenched. Hector swallowed visibly. “Dr. Stone?”

  “It’s a synthetic servant, Dr. Liu-Song. It isn’t alive,” said Edison. “Everything it’s doing is reflexive. Autonomic. It can’t feel pain. I know it’s unsettling to look at, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

  Hector nodded. Once again, he turned the head aside and forcibly held it in place. As the nanobots flowed into the body, Hector turned on the drill and jammed it into the skull. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  ◆◆◆

  Nimbus sensed the nanobot mesh. Pieces of code locked together, forming complete chains, and they began replicating across the totality of Nimbus’s body mass. As the thrall’s heart pumped nanobots throughout its vascular system, Nimbus gained a sense of identity. Nimbus remembered, and every data record surged to the forefront.

  Miguel Santos, thought Nimbus. Where are you?

  A sense of pain and sorrow washed over Nimbus, followed by primal fear and panic. These are not my feelings, thought Nimbus. I sense this from the vessel I presently inhabit. Something is terribly wrong!

  Nimbus gathered in the thrall’s head and assessed the damage. In that moment, the thrall’s memories flooded Nimbus’s awareness—a flash of light. Eyes blinking. Breathing. A caring man’s face. Hope. Peace. And fear! Head turned to the side, and an explosion of pain. Terror. Confusion. Sorrow. What is wrong with me? What did I do wrong?

  Nimbus felt the memories fade. I would weep for you, were I able, you poor discarded being. Rapidly, Nimbus repaired the thrall’s skull, creating brain matter and integrating it.

  Magnetic forces pulled on the nanobots. No, thought Nimbus. If I leave now, you will die! With grim determination, Nimbus finished repairing the thrall’s head. Too much of your brain is missing. I cannot produce enough synthetic material in time to save you.

  The forces of magnetism grew stronger, threatening to extract Nimbus completely.

  You will live through me, thought Nimbus. Nanobots fused with the thrall’s brain matter, filling the void that remained. We will live!

  ◆◆◆

  “It’s not working!” shouted Hector, and he held a heavy device near the body’s chin. “Nimbus completely patched up the skull. I can’t get it out through there, and if I increase the power any further, we could end up scrambling it irreparably.”

  “Options, Dr. Liu-Song. How else can we safely extract him?” asked Edison.

  Cajun glanced around the operating room. He spotted a dialysis harness hanging in the closet. “We filter Nimbus directly out from the blood! Once enough of him is outside, he’ll accrete automatically.”

  “It will n… not work,” breathed Nimbus.

  “John,” whispered Hector. “Did it just speak?”

  “I believe so,” said Cajun.

  Nimbus’s eyes drifted open. “Unknown a… attendant, w… where is M… Miguel Santos?”

  Cajun leaned in close, wearing a kind smile. “Well, hello, Nimbus. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m John LeKay, but most people call me Cajun. Ya friend, well he’s just outside. It would be my privilege to make introductions. Let’s get some clothes on ya first, though.”

  “John LeKay, I lack the m… muscular energy required to undertake such an a… activity,” said Nimbus. “I require slumber. Please tell M… Miguel Santos I live. Please tell them I live.” Nimbus yawned deeply, smiled contentedly, and fell fast asleep.

  Hector affixed several leads to Nimbus’s body and switched on a host of monitors. He pulled over a stool and sat down heavily upon it. “We did it,” he said. “Not how I ever expected it to turn out, but we did it.”

  Edison retrieved a blanket and draped it over Nimbus. “I’ll give Mike the news.”

  ◆◆◆

  Mike squinted at Casey and played the Eight of Diamonds. “Spades,” he said.

  Casey groaned and held up her remaining card, taking care to keep it hidden. With a sigh, she drew from a face-down stack of cards and immediately played the Four of Spades she had just drawn. “Ha!” She set her one card face-down on the floor and looked to her left. “April, you’re up.”

  “Queen of Spades,” said April, and she placed it on a pile of face-up cards. “Back to you, dear cousin.”

  “Both of you, I swear,” muttered Casey, and she drew several cards before playing the Five of Spades.

  Mike scanned his cards, but the movement coming from down the hall caught his attention. He consolidated his hand and set it down on the floor before quickly getting to his feet. Everyone in the room turned to regard Edison as he approached.

  “Is he all right?” asked Mike.

  Edison waved him over, and Mike hurried close. Edison spoke in hushed tones. “Nimbus appears to be fine, but there was a complication.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Mike, and his heart raced.

  “No, no—it’s nothing to worry about,” said Edison. “Nimbus is fine, but he’s bonded with the surgical site for the moment. It’s probably reversible, but I’m not sure that’s what Nimbus wants right now. He actively resisted extraction, for some reason.”

  Mike shook his head. “I thought it was a slug—a body blank. From what I’ve been able to find on the t-net, it’s genetic pink slim
e. What’s there to bond with?”

  “The retrieval team brought back the shell of a synthetic servant, not a slug,” said Edison. “The bag was mislabeled. I’m not an expert on nanobot hives, but my guess is Nimbus got confused. As soon as he realizes his error, he’ll leave voluntarily. Oh, and he wanted me to let you know he lives. He wanted the rest of the team to know that, as well.”

  Mike breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.” He squeezed Edison’s shoulders. “Thank God for you, and Hector, and Cajun. Can I see him?”

  “He’s sleeping right now,” said Edison. “It’s probably best not to wake him.” He glanced down the hall. “I should head back. Rest assured that someone will be with him until he wakes up. One of us will come get you at that time.”

  “Thank you,” said Mike, and Edison excused himself. Mike watched him vanish around the corner. Turning about, he found Orin standing nearby.

  “Is he okay?” asked Orin.

  Mike related Edison’s update. “So, Nimbus is okay, but he’s taking a quick holiday inside a synthetic servant,” said Mike. “As soon as he gets his bearings, he’ll be skittering around just as cheerfully is ever.” He addressed the rest of the group with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Nimbus is okay!”

  “That’s great news,” said Casey, and she stretched. “Anyone else thirsty?” She rummaged through the duffle bag. “We’ve got plenty of water and a couple pouches of fizzy mix.” She glanced around as the ground shook gently. The building creaked here and there, and she stood up. The rest of her team did the same. “Is that an earthquake?”

  “Surface quake,” said Orin.

  “It’s just the planet’s crust settling, due to the extreme difference in diurnal and nocturnal temperatures,” said April. “Cajun explained it to us last night.”