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

“I think he’s coming over in one of the Sunhawks,” said Mike.

Bloodtusk laughed. “Yeah, right.” He glanced at Torsha. “He never lets that stupid hat out of his sight. Tell him to stop avoiding me and put him on.”

“He’s passed out in the back,” said Torsha. “You really want me to wake him up?”

“No, but I need a proper password response,” said Bloodtusk. “One of you jokers sent me ‘New Falkirk clam chowder.’”

Mike raised his hand.

“Not funny, Blackburn.”

“Be right back,” said Torsha. She took a deep breath and nodded. Drifting to the door, she disengaged it and disappeared through the gap. She closed it behind her and stared at the Falcon marines seated in their harnesses. Their lively conversations stalled.

“Quick question, guys,” she said. “If someone told you ‘tarantula juice,’ what would you say in response? First thing that comes to mind.”

“I’ll take two,” said one of the marines with a laugh.

“Spider sauce?” said another.

“Why?” asked a third. “What’s going on in there?”

Torsha shook her head. “Thanks. I think I’ll go with the first one.” She vanished beyond the door and sealed it shut.

Bloodtusk regarded her expectantly. “What did McKinley say?”

Torsha chuckled and rolled her eyes. “I’ll take two! Of course.”

Bloodtusk guffawed. “Of course! Unbelievable, that guy. Can’t be serious for even one minute. All right, transmitting the handshake now. See you guys for chow.” He terminated the call, and they all shared a sigh of relief.

The copilot opened the door. “Great job, you two. You can head back to your seats, now.” Mike and Torsha thanked him and pulled their way awkwardly along the handrails. They settled in and buckled up as the sled pitched and rolled to align with Excrucio’s launch bay.

In time, the sled docked, and passenger warning lights flashed within as the cockpit door and bulkheads folded against the inner hull. An instant later, the armored nose opened like a clamshell, and the first fireteam moved forward. As the second team readied to mobilize, Mike and Torsha heard quick bursts of gunfire.

The second fireteam advanced, and the remainder of the marines stood up. “You’re with us,” said Montaña, a colossus of a man. He hoisted a massive gun and set it upon a harness-mounted swivel arm. “Stay behind me, and you’ll be just fine.”

A reedy fellow named Mastegar disengaged and reengaged his magazine. He grinned as he chewed a stick of gum. “Welcome to Harriet’s!”

“They ain’t actually part of the team,” said Fiedler, a man with a persistently dour expression. He readied his grenade launcher and re-checked the explosives hanging from his belt and vest. He glared at Mike and Torsha. “You ain’t actually part of the team, comprende?”

“Yeah, we know,” said Mike. They heard another burst of gunfire.

Bainbert completed the fireteam, a sturdy man with broad shoulders. He donned a massive backpack and clipped a ring of cards to his belt. With a playful wink, he glanced at Mike and Torsha as he adjusted one of his straps. “You’ll have to forgive our Lance Coolie, here. Fiedler was born in fire and ice, straight out of his mama’s asshole!”

“Eat shit, Stainbert,” said Fiedler. A green light flashed on his wrist device. “Our turn.” They hustled from the vessel, moving quickly across the launch bay. The flight crew joined Mike and Torsha as they hurried after.

Thick frames reinforced the hangar bay, and sloped boots joined the frames to the deck. Chutes, vents, and bundles of conduit lined the bulkheads. Red lane lights glowed alongside magnetic landing rails that spanned the length of a two-way launch tunnel, and ruby LEDs blinked in sequence along the tunnel’s length. Stacked crates and boxes cluttered the gaps between overfilled shelves.

“This ship is huge,” whispered Torsha.

“Good thing she’s running artificial gravity,” said Mike. “I don’t see any tethers anywhere.”

“They’re pirates,” said the pilot. “I don’t think they’re too concerned with OSHA violations.”

“Good point,” said Mike.

“What kind of ship is that?” asked Torsha, and she pointed to a neighboring bay.

Painted blood red and standing two decks high, her cockpit anchored the nose on the lower deck. Her gentle dorsal arc swooped back until it dropped away upon joining a recessed cargo ramp. The vessel’s crystal canopy enclosed the upper deck, offering a panoramic view from within, and scores of tiny, disk-shaped thrusters lay dormant throughout her avian wings.

“That’s a Starwind LX-9,” said the copilot. “It’s a civvie ship. High-end luxury shuttle. Either someone out there is very sad, or someone in here is very rich.”

“Either way, I’m starting to think she’s part of our exit strategy,” said the pilot, and they bumped fists.

They soon reached the far side of the launch bay, where they rejoined the other fireteams. Gathered near a lift entrance, they discussed tactics, while Bainbert slapped one of his cards on the lift’s data reader. “What does that do?” asked Torsha.

“It’s a tommyknocker,” said Bainbert. “Aggressive netjacker that hardcodes these readers to our biosignatures. Each one we place joins our little network, making a path for us and locking everyone else out.” He bowed slightly toward Mike and offered his hand. “Falcon Prince Miguel Santos, it’s an absolute honor to meet you, sir. I’m Private Raul Bainbert. My mom served under your dad for a couple tours during the Pegasi War.”

“Well met.” Somewhat embarrassed, he shook Bainbert’s hand. “Please call me Mike. Only Nimbus calls me Miguel.”

“Who’s Nimbus?”

Mike tapped his chest, reminding himself he had left the dull orb behind in his quarters. “A very dear friend.”

“Nimbus is,” said Torsha, but her voice caught in her throat. She forced a deep breath as she fought the urge to cry. “He’s gone.”

Bainbert nodded and placed his hand upon her shoulder. “But never forgotten. I’ve lost a few brothers and sisters myself. What’s your name?”

“Torsha,” she said. “Torsha Madagan.”

“Well, Torsha, I’m guessing you must’ve done something right to get lumped in with such fine leathernecks as us, huh?”

She smiled slightly. “I guess so.”

The lift chime clanked, and the first two fireteams stepped inside. As they ascended and