Rivers of Orion Dana Kelly (best free ebook reader for pc .TXT) 📖

“Why?” asked Orin. “Is it bad luck?”

“No, it’s bad form. Much like a nickname, your callsign should be earned in a sense, or bestowed upon you by another at the very least, or else it doesn’t mean anything.” She pondered awhile. “We should think of something that’s close to your real name, in case someone slips up, but something that also captures the essence of your powers.”

“We could go with Rocco in place of your full name,” said Mike. “How would you feel about Rocco Slaughterdome? According to the agency callsign generator, it’s available.”

Orin laughed. “The Rocco part’s not bad, but Slaughterdome? That’s like the opposite of me.”

“I like Rio,” said Torsha. “It’s got three of the same letters, and since you’re named after the Orinoco River on Earth—and you’re powerful like a river—it has two meanings.”

“Rio’s taken,” said Shona, and she offered Torsha an apologetic look. “It was a good suggestion, though.”

“Of course, it’s taken,” said Torsha, and she sighed.

“What do you think about Orion Sky?” said Shona. “Most of the northwestern systems know about Orion, and there’s just a hint of Skyler to go along with your new ID.” Smiling wistfully, she leaned over the table. “I grew up on Gladius Prime, deep inside the Orion Nebula, and I’ve always loved that name. Orion, I mean.”

Mike entered it into the availability checker and nodded. “Orion Sky is available.”

Orin brightened. “Orion Sky. I really like the sound of that. Thank you, Shona!”

“Great,” said Mike. “It’s been reserved!”

“Thanks, Mike,” said Orin.

“Nice one,” said Torsha, and she met Shona’s gaze.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” said Shona, and she sat on the edge of the table. “Hey, April, if we’re picking Orin’s callsign, does this mean what I hope it means?”

“Indeed, it does! Orin’s agreed to join our company,” said April. “How’s Malmoradan doing?”

“Really good! He should regain the full use of his arm, but he’s got lots of physical therapy ahead of him. His nurse said he could be discharged in the morning, and he can start seeing visitors in about an hour.” Shona beamed. “Malmoradan says hello, by the way. Hello!”

“I say hi back,” said Orin.

“That’s wonderful news,” said April.

“Hey Shona, I was wondering. What was it like growing up inside a nebula?” asked Torsha. “I imagine it was really scary or really pretty.”

“Both, actually.” Shona gazed back in time, smiling dreamily. “You should get out there, some day. If you can.” She told them about newborn suns, about shimmering starscapes, and the rolling auroras of Gladius Prime.

◆◆◆

Casey exited her shuttle’s top hatch into the Fox Mendes boarding tunnel. “Here,” she said and offered her hand to Cajun as he neared the junction. He let go, drifted slightly, and she pulled him close.

“Oof,” he muttered as he joined her, and he took a moment to get his bearings. Stout with a mottled complexion, he wore a full, jet-black beard, with shocks of white. Decorative steel rings capped each of its three braids. “Me, I much prefer dockin’ with somethin’ that spins.”

“I hear she’s got full-time gravity,” said Casey. “If it’s true, we’ve got that to look forward to, at least.”

He reached down to retrieve a HealiOS-branded toolbox and unclipped its tether. “At least there’s that. Ya sure Edison and Krané’ll be fine runnin’ the new recruits?”

“I’m sure,” said Casey. “I’ve got them sorting and stacking crates in the cargo hold. They’ll eventually figure out why the ranch-hand keeps moving things around, but not before we get back.”

“Ya got a mean streak, mon Capitaine. Ya do.” He straightened his green flannel and smoothed out his faded jeans. His hands looked even sturdier than his build.

She led him to the far airlock, and they stepped into the staging area. The Officer of the Deck greeted them with a smile and a nod. Behind him, a screen displayed the Falcon flag standing proud against the sea of stars; Cajun and Casey paused to acknowledge it. “Permission to come aboard,” said Casey, and she presented her identity profile.

He scanned her gene key, as well as Cajun’s toolbox. “Permission granted,” he said, and he smiled slightly. “Welcome aboard Fox Mendes, Officer Cartwright. The liaison officer will be here momentarily. He’ll show you to sick bay.”

Before long, the liaison officer led Cajun and Casey along the passageways, up a ladderwell to Deck 1. They passed by the fusion uptakes and several storage compartments before reaching the Fox Mendes medical center. “He’s right inside,” said the liaison officer. “The nurse should be around in fifteen minutes or so. Where are you headed after this?”

“We were hoping to catch up with the rest of our friends, so wherever they are,” said Casey.

“The Officer of the Watch will know,” he said. “I’ll find out and meet you back here. Okay?”

“Sounds great. Thanks for your help,” said Casey.

“My pleasure,” said the liaison officer, and he took his leave.

Casey opened the sick bay door, and Cajun followed her inside. Sitting up halfway, Malmoradan occupied the compartment’s single bed, and he greeted them with a groggy smile. “Hey, strangers.” He adjusted his gown to better cover his bandaged shoulder.

“The shaved look totally works for you,” said Casey.

Malmoradan turned his ears back, and his whiskers flattened against his cheeks. “It’s just the one arm, and the fur will grow back,” he said. “Don’t get your hopes up.”

Cajun set his toolbox on a counter and stepped close. “Where ya fur is black, ya skin is too. Same for where it’s white. A little surprisin’, is all.”

“All right, all right,” grumbled Malmoradan, and he pulled his blanket up over his arm.

Cajun cleared his throat and took a step back. “Apologies, mon chère. Did not realize it was a sensitive issue.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Malmoradan.

Casey moved a chair over and sat beside him. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine, I guess. Nothing hurts right now, thanks to the drugs. How about you? How’s the old girl doing?”

“I’m all right,” said Casey. “Watchtower’s doing fine. The new recruits have enough bad habits to be dangerous, but they’re learning