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

to adopt anyone out. You can leave when you turn eighteen, but they’ll let you stay on until you’re twenty-one if you help manage the kids. After that, they give you a choice: work for the starshipyards until you die up there or find your own way on the streets. Wherever you end up, most don’t make it past thirty, and wherever you die, guess where they send your kids?”

“Right back into the hands of child services,” said Mike. “Straight to the orphanages.”

“You got it,” said Shona.

“That’s one hell of a closed system,” said Orin.

“It’s tragic. I can see why Malmoradan won’t talk about your home world,” said April. “I just want you to know it’s not like that almost anywhere else in the galaxy. Most of the child services directors and caregivers are good people.”

Shona laughed dryly. “Who said the ones on Gladius Prime are bad? They take care of a lot of kids, as best as they’re able. And trust me—you can do all right out there on the streets. There’s lots of communities, and even if it takes a while to find your tribe, the eternal fires of industry can keep a person plenty warm at night.”

“No, screw those guys,” said Torsha. “It’s not supposed to be like that!”

Shona smiled. “That’s basically what Malmoradan said. A little less polite, though. Unfortunately, as long as the wealth stays in orbit, everyone down below will just have to scrape by.”

“That can’t be legal,” said April.

“Probably not,” said Shona. “But the long arm of the law was never quite long enough to brave the starfires of Orion. Leastways, not until Casey and Malmoradan stopped by. Even then, I’m not sure how long the law stuck around.”

“Ça c’est bon, but ya spin a gritty tale,” said Cajun. Casey stood at his side, and their comrades’ faces lit up as they turned to regard them. Cajun set his toolbox on the table as Shona and April embraced them both.

“Malmoradan’s recovering nicely,” said Casey. “Totally rocking the shaved look.”

“He’s not supposed to have any more visitors yet,” said Shona. “Not for another thirty minutes!”

Casey shrugged. “No one was there to tell us no.”

“I seriously doubt it would’ve stopped you, even if there had been,” said April, and she grinned. “It’s so good to see you! Both of you!”

“Are you Cajun?” asked Mike.

“Accordin’ to most,” said Cajun, and they shook hands.

“Thank God!” said Mike. “Please tell me you’re here to—”

“Bring back ya chère? Oui, here I am. Now, let’s have a look see.” He extended his hand, and Mike passed Nimbus his way. “Still intact. That’s a good sign.”

“Thank you so much,” said Mike.

“Don’t thank me yet, ya hear? Still got a lot o’ work to do.” Cajun retrieved a Plexiglas case from his toolbox and carefully placed Nimbus within. He attached fiber optic cable leads to the orb’s surface and plugged a cord into the nearest wall socket. After a moment, nested spheres of encoded data sprang to life in the air above the case. Unhurried, Cajun reached into the holographic haze, using hand gestures to rotate and zoom in on each layer. Scattered snippets of data glowed brightly, stark against a sphere full of dim characters. “That’s the core logic,” he said. “It’s set apart and buried deep, like it’s in a fallout bunker. The gray bits, well that’s the damaged code.”

“Can you repair it?” asked Mike.

“Hard to say.” After what felt like an eternity of navigating the code base, Cajun withdrew and wiped his brow. Eyes wide, he exhaled slowly and stood up straight. “That there’s a fully holographic intelligence. Each unit’s got the data of every other unit, but it’s usin’ a certain proprietary cascadin’ bioelectronical protocol. Ain’t ever seen anythin’ like it.”

Mike swallowed visibly. “So… can you bring him back?”

With an apologetic frown, Cajun answered, “In a way. I could dump the damaged code and reboot him, but I got no garrontee ya’d recognize him after, nor he you. Can’t say what’s left o’ them bioelectronicals either.”

Mike’s face twisted with worry. “So, you’re saying you could fix him, but you’d have to rip out everything that makes him who he is to do it.”

“Afraid so,” said Cajun.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” said Mike.

Cajun shut down the diagnostics machine and returned Nimbus to Mike’s care. “I understand ya reluctance, but most o’ these medical fogs are backed up remotely. No need to worry yaself over a reboot.”

“His most recent backup is eight years old,” said Mike.

Cajun raised a brow. “Oh?”

“One day, he just stopped being compatible with the HealiOS archives,” said Mike. “No one could fix him, and no one knows why.”

“Well, ya saw the code base,” said Cajun. “If ya chère’s not interfacin’ with HealiOS, I reckon it’s ‘cause he went and replaced his original code with a unique language of his own makin’. Ya see?”

“How can we save him?” asked Mike.

Cajun grimaced. “There’s a doctor I know by the name of Hector Liu-Song. He’s a hundred times smarter than me, and he specializes in complex bioelectronicals. But there’s a consideration.”

“What kind of consideration?”

“He lives in a certain spike on a countdown planet known as Arsenal Bay, he do.” Cajun took a deep breath. “And that’s located near the galactic core.”

“The galactic core?” Mike cleared his throat. “Wow. That’s a bit outside our price range. I… I guess we’ll take Nimbus to a HealiOS center when we get back home. Maybe they’ll have better luck this time.”

“Hear me now.” Cajun rested his hand upon Mike’s shoulder. “Ya chère’s outside the framework. HealiOS will tell ya the same as me.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” said Mike.

“Ah, but I do. Got my fog cert at a HealiOS center.” He rotated the toolbox toward Mike and indicated the corporate logo.

Mike swore under his breath. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to take our chances.”

“There’s another option,” said Casey.

“Great,” said Mike. “What is it?”

“I’m very thankful for what Nimbus did,” said Casey. “Some are saying he should receive the George Cross, as it’s