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

“I’m Officer Casey Cartwright, with the Interstellar Police Force.” Casey flashed her badge. “You should be aware there’s a hostile xenological intelligence we encountered up on Space Station 6. It’s skinny, covered in gloss black skin, and has a huge mouth full of blunt teeth. You haven’t seen or heard of anything matching that description, have you?”

“Definitely not,” said Hector. “Actually, the last part rings a bell now that you mention it. Oh wait, it’s just Cajun.”

“As funny as ya ever were,” said Cajun.

The rest of the group exchanged introductions, and Mike retrieved Nimbus. “We’re here for him. This is Nimbus. He got badly damaged by a repurposer, and he’s been like this ever since. Please help him. I don’t know how much time he has left.”

Hector regarded Mike quizzically. “Your fog is hibernating because its code is damaged. That’s perfectly normal after interacting with a repurposer. What isn’t normal—in fact, bordering on highly abnormal—is traveling all the way out to a countdown planet at the edge of the galactic core for a reset. I’m not saying you’re a wasteful moron of privileged means, but you literally could’ve had it done at any number of upgrade centers. Any big franchise is cleared for this kind of hardware. Why come to me?”

“I was told you have the expertise to restore his code, not just reset it,” said Mike. “Can you help or not?”

“Probably. May I?” Mike nodded, and Hector took Nimbus into his grip. From off to the side, Hector retrieved a set of high-tech goggles, donned them, and studied the orb. “Come on, kid, it’s still warm. You got months left on this thing! Who told you it was running out of time?”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Mike. “Can you fix him?”

“Yeah, sure, I can fix it.” Hector returned Nimbus and moved his goggles to his forehead. “But it’s late, and I’m not going to start doing that now. It’s involved, and it’s expensive.”

“I’ll pay you whatever you ask,” said Mike.

“Within reason,” said Cajun. “He’ll pay what ya ask within reason, ya hear?”

Hector scoffed. “John, you always ruin my fun! Sure, sure, within reason. Kid, you’ve got nothing but time. Besides, I’m not seeing any ticks or tremors, so you can definitely go at least one more night without it.”

Mike looked annoyed. “Ticks? Tremors? What do you mean?”

“You,” said Hector. “You’re not twitching or shaking.”

“Why would I be doing either of those things?” asked Mike.

“This is a military-grade ancillary utility fog, undoubtedly paired with your neuroware,” said Hector. “Didn’t they explain this to you? They should’ve explained all of this before they upgraded you.”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t have any upgrades.”

Hector squinted. “They didn’t tell you. What did they tell you?”

Mike detailed the accident and the extent of his head trauma.

“Well kid, you’re missing some key parts of your story, but I can uncover some of it,” said Hector. “Medically, you have a right to know what I discover. Would you like to know what I see?” He tapped his goggles.

“Sure,” said Mike. “What do you see?”

Hector lowered the goggles back into place, and he took a moment to study his subject. “Well, you’ve got plates and screws in your skull, and more than a third of your brain matter is synthetic.”

“I’m aware of that much,” said Mike.

“You’ve got some kind of responsive dermal plating, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen before.” He glanced at Nimbus. “The molecular structure’s repeated in your fog, but… Oh, I get it! This thing infused your skin with nanobots. Since they exist in symbiosis with your meat body, you need your fog to replace any lost machine mass. This thing’s beefy enough to run bleeding edge neuroware, so you can see why I assumed that was the case.”

Mike’s mouth hung slightly open. “I… Are you sure?”

“Completely sure,” said Hector. “You’re walking around in a permanent suit of micro-bot armor.”

“Does that make me a robot? An android?” asked Mike.

“No, man! All your internal organs are still right where they belong,” said Hector. “Here, look.” He pulled up his pant legs, revealing wholly mechanical shins. “I’ve got a complete set, acetabula to toes on both sides, and I certainly am neither a robot nor an android.”

“Nimbus, what did you do to me?” whispered Mike.

“The less you know, the happier you are,” said Hector. “Am I right?”

“All knowledge is worth pursuing,” said Edison. “Mike, you can ask Nimbus what happened after he’s been restored. With any luck, he’ll know how to reverse the process. If that’s what you want.”

Hector rolled his eyes. “Ah, boohoo. Kid, you’re bulletproof, blaster proof, knife proof… You get the idea. You didn’t ask for it? Big deal. Most mercs would kill for an upgrade like that.”

“I’m not a mercenary,” said Mike.

“Could’ve fooled me,” said Hector. “Hey, why don’t you vagrants sleep here in my lobby tonight? With the station crew in town, guest housing’s bound to be full up, but I’ve got plenty of couches and chairs. I hear they’re surprisingly comfortable.”

“Thanks, Hector,” said Cajun. “We’d be grateful.”

Hector looked at Mike. “There’s a bright side. My advice? Focus on that. I mean, cry it out if you need to, just don’t stain my cushions, okay?”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

“Great,” said Hector. “John, I’m glad you finally made it out here. Coffee and water are over there, and bathrooms are down the hall.”

Casey and her crew crossed inside, and Hector closed the doors.

The yellow light switched off.

◆◆◆

Hector’s exit sign served as the only lamp in his office’s darkened lobby. It cast shades of green upon the walls, the furniture, and the cluttered reception desk. Malmoradan lay curled upon the tread plate floor; his rebreather’s speakers muted his snoring. Both couches had been pushed together, forming a wide makeshift bed. Shona slept there on her back, with her knees bent over the upholstered arms. Mike slumbered on a reclining chair, while Casey, Edison, and Cajun slept on the floor, on beds made