Rivers of Orion by Dana Kelly (a court of thorns and roses ebook free .TXT) 📕

Over the next hour, passengers filled the shuttle, and Oliver eased awake as Frostshadow took a seat next to him. “Hi, Ollie.”

He grumbled, “Fancy that.”

“Can we start over?”

With a warm smile, he answered, “No, ma’am. Now, if you’ll please excuse me, I’m beat and intend to sleep through the flight.”

“What the hell! Do I smell bad or something?”

“You do not.” He tilted his hat over his eyes, crossed his arms, and draped against the bulkhead.

The shuttle’s airlocks sealed. Clamps released the shuttle, and thrusters engaged.

Oliver drifted off to sleep.

She watched him long enough to be certain he was out. Retrieving her phone, she typed, “I have eyes on the father. Requesting go for acquisition.”

After a moment, she received a response from someone labeled “A.S.” It read, “Do not engage. Command asset has the acquisition order. Follow only to the parking garage and report.”

With a disappointed frown, Frostshadow pocketed her phone and got comfortable as the shuttle plunged through the atmosphere.

◆◆◆

Thunder boomed overhead as rain drove down in sheets, soaking the skyscrapers of downtown Van Alder. Within the bubble of an automated taxi, Oliver adjusted his Stetson and retrieved a wide umbrella from his duffle bag. He disembarked, and as the vehicle sped away, he paused to enjoy the sound of rain from within the umbrella’s bell. He grabbed his phone and dialed his wife, but it went straight to the message center. “That’s just great.” Mildly annoyed, he pocketed the device.

His feet and legs felt leaden. Seems like it’s takin’ longer and longer to get used to things planet-side, he thought, and he worked his shoulder awhile. Mustering his determination, he willed his limbs into motion, walking two city blocks to a cylindrical steel docking structure. After exchanging pleasantries with the attendant, Oliver rode an elevator up to his docking spot and stepped out onto a covered, metal passageway. Rain clattered overhead, echoing all around him.

Crossing the passage, he paused at the door. Splashes of rain spilled through a gap in the seal onto a heavy toolbox. Cautiously, he pushed open the door and stood at the ready, umbrella gripped like a sword. He nearly jumped when a young woman in hooded coveralls rounded the corner, colliding with him.

“Holy crap, guy,” she barked, “watch where you’re going!” She had a round face, and a curl of bright red hair hung over her dark brown skin. Her coal-black eyes narrowed to slits, and she looked ready to fight.

“What are you doin’ in my dockin’ pod?”

She stepped back. “Are you Oliver Webb?”

“I am, and what’s your name?”

“Stella Fiero,” she replied, and she showed him her badge. “Also known as Lafuega.”

He frowned. “Another binary?”

“What do you mean ‘another?’”

“Second one I met in a matter of hours.”

“I’d say it’s your lucky day, if I weren’t here to boot your van.”

He tilted his head. “Got no outstandin’ tickets or warrants. Got no cause to boot my ride.”

“Not according to the boys in blue. They’re planning to arrest you, Mr. Webb.”

“Please, Agent Fiero. Been out in the black for three months. Help me get home to my little lady.”

She tucked away the curl of hair, her expression torn. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Look, I know it’s a rough welcome, but that’s your hand. You gotta play it.”

“Right here an’ now, you’re the one with all the cards. You could deal me a new hand.”

“I’m… Look, I want to help you, but…” She glanced toward the pod’s interior, then startled as he captured her attention with his gentle gaze. After a moment, she let loose a frustrated groan. “The law requires I ask you to linger, but what you do when my back’s turned lies between you and your maker.”

“Much appreciated,” he said.

“Yeah, well.” Slowly, she hunched over the toolbox, drawing open its lid. Under her breath, she muttered, “Schurke’s going to be pissed.”

Oliver wasted no time stepping past her and closing the door.

Rain poured down on his sky van. Light beige with faded red trim, thick metal plates overlapped her flanks and dorsal ridge, lending the vessel an armored appearance. A single tailfin stood over the rear cargo hold.

Interior lamps brightened as he passed his gene key over the reader pad. A ramp yawned open, extending into the covered boarding area as a pair of wings unfolded from around the engine housings. Oliver boarded, vaulting across the narrow passage to the cockpit, where he switched on plasma generators and directional thrusters.

Hastily, he ran through preflight, set his navigation points, and flipped a switch labeled, “MOORINGS” to “DISENGAGE.” The berth released its clamps, and the vessel dropped. He jammed the throttle, rocketing into the air lanes just in time to avoid a wedge of approaching police sky cruisers.

◆◆◆

With the sky lot behind him, Oliver ascended above the storm and engaged the autopilot. He constantly checked the exterior camera feeds. Every bloom of lightning sharpened his anxiety, and he watched the navigation display when he wasn’t watching the feeds. Once more, he tried calling Aurora, but she didn’t answer. He fought the urge to pitch his phone as hard as he could.

Time passed, and the seatbelt warning light flashed. He buckled his harness as the sky van angled down, and he slipped through pillows of charcoal cotton. Downtown New California City faded swiftly into view, twinkling here and there in the storm’s determined grip. Rain sizzled upon the vehicle’s plasma aura, and directional thrusters swung into place.

Oliver spotted the familiar rooftops of his residential tower. He switched off autopilot, taking the flight stick to close the distance. Zipping past spires of blinking lights, elevated walkways, and docking spots, he shot past a massive delivery shuttle. It honked and flashed its high beams, but Oliver barely glanced at it, instead locking on his home garage.

Positioned halfway down the northern face of the residential tower, his gate was still scrolling open by the time he reached it. The very instant it had