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

She laughed dryly. “You won’t be missing anything. I’m hideous.”

“Well, if my form is safe to move around with, I can stop by your quarters after the transition and show you what I look like,” said Orin.

“I’ll be able to see the hangar cameras from here,” said April. “Don’t worry. I’ll bug you on the coms the whole time we’re in there. I wouldn’t want to get lonely, after all.”

“Right.” Orin cleared his throat. “Talk to you soon, April. I guess I’ll see you in two—”

“Did I ever show you my symphonica playlist?” April interrupted.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

“Give me a minute. I think you might like this.” She grabbed her datapad, opened the player, and loaded her symphonica list. Orchestral music filled her quarters, and the string of white Christmas lights twinkled with the rhythm. She pressed and held down the communicator’s button.

Two decks below in the cargo hangar, Orin leaned against the bulkhead. Through the com’s tiny speaker, an undercurrent of dance beats buoyed thundering kettledrums, flowing alongside and under violins and cellos. Rhythmic notes danced around him, and when he closed his eyes, the symphony filled his mind.

◆◆◆

Upon Watchtower’s bridge, the viewscreen switched off. Every viewport everywhere on the starship slowly shuttered. On Deck 5, the S-Ring awoke, oscillating the outer hull. Instant by instant, the eldritch machine adapted vibrational frequencies to meet the maelstrom of the infinite multiverse.

On every deck, silence hung in the air.

Glowing tendrils of red and purple snaked forth from the nightmare gate, drawing in the starship. Suddenly and from all directions, great force struck the outer hull. Cajun jumped. He quickly found his nerve, while the rest of the bridge crew held steady. As the starship slipped through the nightmare gate, a sudden and profound sense of desperate solitude washed over her passengers and crew.

At the helm, Krané studied a grid-mapped tunnel as it slowly twisted and undulated. Dozens of glowing motes drifted within, each labeled with navigational data. With one motion, he dragged half of them away. Over the next several minutes, he carefully stacked the remaining nodes atop one another in specific sequence.

Blinking slowly, saffron clouds bloomed in the depths of his barn red eyes, and his facial tentacles rippled in unison. His voice sounded cheerful through the vocoder. “Our course is set. We should reach the Taranis Arms and Outfitters 11B APT Space Transition Gate in twelve days, seventeen hours, Galactic Standard.” He activated the thrusters.

“Got a full row o’ green lights, OCapitaine, mon Capitaine,” said Cajun.

Casey breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God.”

Sturmhardt regarded Cajun frankly. “You know zee captain in zat poem is dead, ja?”

“That so! I suppose I better find somethin’ else quote-worthy,” said Cajun.

“Probably a good idea,” said Shulana.

As Watchtower raced along, her directional thrusters fired, constantly adjusting pitch and yaw to remain within the passageway. Every color crashed around her, and millions more beyond comprehension. Oceans of methane exploded and collapsed alongside an endlessly faceted diamond that captured every moment of a woman’s life on a distant world. Suddenly, it burst into countless shards that swirled around the starship. A hundred ghostly bramble-vines reached for the diamond fragments, only to be chased off by a flock of titanic, six-winged, sun-bright eagles.

A thousand planets slammed against the passageway’s membrane from every angle, only to be as quickly devoured by crimson lightning and violet maws riddled with fangs the size of moons. Light and shadow coursed throughout, a fractal lattice of rivers and tributaries linking everything that lived. Beyond them loomed ancient carcasses as large as suns, and beyond the carcasses, the unfathomable darkness of the dead universes.

◆◆◆

Within the cargo hangar, Orin opened his eyes. The deck appeared as ever it had. He took stock of each crate, every smudge on the hardware and tools, every spatter of dried paint, and every speck of rubber left behind by every footstep ever. He noted each curled steel shaving, the dust, the mites, and every detail of everything around him.

Finding his focus, he placed his hands upon the bulkhead. Suns, comets, and planets drifted within his fingers, his arms, and his legs. A soft, azure glow outlined his starry form. Nebulae pumped through him like blood, driven by a flashing pulsar deep within his chest. No clothing hung upon his frame; the transition had claimed his primary body and everything he wore in that moment.

He decided to breathe, but no air passed in or out of him. Yet, his body longed for the movement of breath, and so his chest rose and fell. It felt comfortable to do it. He blinked, and he stretched. Though neither action provided physical relief, he nonetheless delighted in the familiar motions. I am Orinoco, he thought as stars flashed along his waist.

Stale air buffeted him from the overhead vents. The outer hull hummed inaudibly. Electricity danced as it waited for machinery to come alive. Cold lamps buzzed and bathed him from above. Music echoed throughout the hangar, and he traced it to its source—the ship’s communication interface.

April, he thought, and he suddenly appeared in her chambers.

Startled, she stumbled away from the bulkhead and dropped her datapad. “Orin, is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me,” he answered.

“How did you get in here?”

“I thought of you, and then… I don’t know, I just… appeared,” said Orin.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” April stood a full head taller than she did in her primary state. Her skin looked translucent, her limbs joined together by resplendent internal filaments, and she softly glowed. Her eyes lingered below a velvety crown of elegantly swaying tendrils. “I’m hideous.”

“Not to me,” said Orin. “You remind me of the haunting beauty of the deep, deep ocean. April, you’re gorgeous like this.”

She lowered her head and shied away. “Orin, please don’t make fun of me.”

“I would never,” he said.

“I need you to stop looking at me,” said April. “Please.”

“My eyes are closed,” he