Rivers of Orion by Dana Kelly (best detective novels of all time txt) 📗

decided to open the door and invite me in. Oh, Orin, you should’ve seen it! It was beautiful. Your mind is beautiful!”

“Okay.” He rubbed his eyes and plopped down at the edge of the bed. “But you didn’t ask.”

“Orin, I thought we had an understanding.” April’s voice caught in her throat. “It was essentially an accident, anyhow. I really didn’t expect to get in.”

“Am I just a curiosity to you? Your ticket to fame for bagging the first O-class binary?”

“No, of course not,” said April. “I care about you!”

“Yeah, right.” He folded his hands in his lap. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about what Casey did to me. I give you my word. No harm no foul, right?”

“W… What?”

“That’s why you’re being nice to me, isn’t it?” He glanced up at her, daring her to refute him. “I’m no psychic, but even a child could’ve seen through the show you and Casey put on in the shuttle hangar.”

“Orin, wait,” said April. She sat down next to him, but he stood up.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m not the monster. It’s Casey. And it’s you.” He nodded toward the door. “You can leave.”

“Orin, wait!”

“Why’d you come here, anyway?”

She pointed to the plate. Eyes downcast, she whispered, “I brought you breakfast.”

“Ah. Well, you can send someone else next time,” said Orin.

“If that’s really what you want,” said April.

“It is.”

“All right.” April got back up and approached the door. She glanced his way. “Orin, I’m sorry. It really was an accident.”

He reached over and took up his food and water. “Okay.”

“How can I make this right?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Anyway, what does it matter? In three weeks, I’ll be gone.”

“I’d rather not avoid you for three weeks.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled hopefully.

“Don’t do that,” said Orin. “You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember? I gave you my word, and that actually means something to me.”

“I know it does,” said April. Unsure of what else to say, she stepped out into the passageway, and she pulled the door closed behind her. A lengthy moment passed before she locked it.

Orin finished his meal and flopped backward on the bed. In time, he adjourned to the bathroom. He shed his orange jumpsuit and undergarments along the way.

He luxuriated under the warm steam shower. Eventually, he emerged with damp hair and a towel. To his surprise, the tin plate and water pouch had vanished, along with the clothing he had arrived in. Upon the bed, he found a gray sweatshirt, sweatpants, socks, and underwear—all folded neatly. A pair of gray Velcro sneakers awaited him near the door.

He dried off and donned his new attire. As he jammed his feet in his shoes, his entry chime rang. A moment passed, and the door drifted open.

April stood before him with her arms clasped at her back. “Hi.”

“What do you want?”

She grimaced. “I’d like to start over.”

“For my sake or yours?”

“Mine, probably,” said April.

Orin rolled his eyes and chuckled ironically. “At least you’re being honest. If we’re starting over, I need you to promise me that’ll never happen again.”

“I promise.” April offered her hand, and they shook on it.

“Thank you.” He took a step back. “So, now what?”

She smiled kindly. “Will you walk with me?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” said April.

“You’re not going to give me a tour of the airlock, are you?”

She waved dismissively. “Certainly not! I said surprise, not shock. Surprises are good.”

He took a deep breath and offered wrists. “Okay. Lead on.”

April fastened the restraints. “This way,” she said, and she gestured toward the lift.

They journeyed down to the bottom deck. “Our first stop is the engine room,” she said. “It gets very cold in here, so it’ll be brief.” Three enormous mixture tanks stood evenly spaced relative to one another, each surrounded by thrumming magnetic coils and crowned by polished liquid hydrogen globes. Starkly lit, they chilled the air, and the deck constantly shook ever so slightly underfoot.

The machine shop and parts storage awaited them up a set of grated steel stairs. “We have to be able to manufacture what we break out here,” she explained. “We keep boxes of regular wear items on the shelves, but you’d be surprised by how much of our ranch-hand has been replaced by parts Cajun’s engineered right here at the printer.”

“I thought Cajun was the ship’s cook,” said Orin.

“Actually, Cajun is the ship’s chief engineer and ops specialist. He also happens to be a certified grandmaster chef and has joyfully taken on the duties of running the galley, entirely to our benefit.” Stopping in mid-stride, she whirled around, and Orin nearly collided with her. “If you value your health, never call him ‘Cookie.’ Ever.”

Orin laughed and nodded. “I won’t.”

“Good.” She led him up another set of stairs. “You’re already familiar with the hangar deck and the crew decks, so we’ll take the lift straight to the S-Ring.”

A moment later, the lift doors opened, and they stepped forward into a cramped, circular chamber. Columns of pitted, egg white panels formed a ring, leaving just enough room to allow for maintenance and little else. Orin ran his hands across one of the plates. “It’s really smooth,” he said. “What’s it made of?”

“An exotic alloy, I’m sure. It shields us from the S-Ring’s phase radiation,” said April.

Beyond the panels, something thumped, followed by a series of rapid pops. On the opposite side of the deck, something moaned, a low-pitched and musical reverberation. “Oh, that’s cool,” said Orin. “It sounds almost like whale song, or something deep underwater.” He glanced at April, but she looked grave.

“It’s never done that before,” she said.

“Make those sounds?”

She opened a nearby diagnostics console. “Make any sound.” Bounding from one point to the next, high pitched trills and chirps filled the air, followed by another series of low pops. At last, the console surrendered its findings, and April chewed on her knuckle as she studied the data. “So odd,” she whispered.

“What is it?” asked Orin.

“Everything’s fine. There’s nothing anomalous.” She