Rivers of Orion

Orin.
“Why’s that?” asked April.
“It just is.” He shivered. “How did I slip past the gene screen?”
April shook her head, adjusting her position on the bench. “I honestly couldn’t say. I don’t know enough about the process.” With a wink she added, “Maybe one of your abilities is good luck.”
“Luck isn’t a superpower,” said Malmoradan.
With a cheerful laugh, Shona said, “You need to read more comic books!”
“I still don’t see how having a nightmare body stops you from lobotomizing me,” said Orin.
“How well could you perform a physical lobotomy with your bare hands?” asked April.
“I couldn’t,” said Orin. “Not with my bare hands, or at all since I don’t know how.” Realization struck him. “Oh, wait… Just because your nightmare self can sense certain things, and that gives you psychic powers, it doesn’t give you the ability to reach into someone’s physical brain and do any harm, because it’s out of phase.”
“Exactly!” April grinned. “So, you see you’re safe with me.” She squeezed his arm and pressed her finger lightly against his temple. “May I please have a peek?”
Orin breathed out and nodded. “Knock yourself out.”
“I’d rather not,” she teased, and she closed her eyes, tickling Orin’s mind. At length, she came to and released a frustrated huff. “Orin, I can’t get in. You’re still blocking me.”
“Not intentionally,” said Orin.
April studied his expression. “I believe you. That’s all right, we’ll figure it out. It’ll be a few days before we rendezvous with Watchtower, anyway.”
“A few days?” Orin gulped. “That’s a long time.”
“Welcome to space travel,” Shona said with a playful grin. “You get used to it.”
“Why is your spaceship so far away?” asked Orin.
“Because she runs the ‘old reliable,’” Shona explained. “Matter scoops and fusion torches, and that makes most orbital stations plenty nervous. We park in the back lots of most of the planets we visit.”
Orin looked at his manacles, then to April. “Can you take these off?”
“Only Casey has the keys.” She traced his hairline with her thumb. “Sorry, Orin. If it were up to me, I’d let you roam free right up until we transfer you to the assessment techs. But it’s not up to me.”
His shoulders sagged. “I hate this.”
Seated in the cockpit, Casey donned a headset and hummed along with the music.

Chapter 7
Where the Heart Is
Rhyon gleamed in the starry expanse. Bright aquamarine oceans cradled her islands and continents. Draped in mossy cloaks of stone, onyx and glistening snow, the land masses slumbered behind mantles of clouds. In orbit around her, a space station with three stacked rings of drab green steel spun slowly, gracefully. Docks and vessels mottled the space station’s surface.
The starship Paradisum approached from very far away. A chipped coat of drab goldenrod covered most of the tug’s outer hull, and she looked sturdy. Arrays of mounts, clips and rails dotted the hitch deck, along with a massive winch. At the rear of the tug hung a pair of down-swept, oversized thrusters.
Inside, dingy, cream-colored supports framed the bridge deck’s bulkheads. Circular lamps ran the length of the overhead. Viewscreens angled down over the bridge deck’s stations, and brown, matted carpeting dressed the deck, marred by hardened stains.
“Movin’ to oh-one-niner, mark three-two-two, steady on approach,” Oliver Webb announced. Secure within his harness, he sat tall, with silvered salt-and-pepper hair, dark blue eyes, and a barrel chest.
On the other side of a broad navigation console, his captain answered, “Thanks, Ollie. Go ahead and engage the autopilot. Time for final approach.”
Oliver adjusted his tan, weathered Stetson, flipped a series of switches, and the green lamp just below the “AUTOPILOT” placard brightened. He shifted in his cowboy boots and leaned back into his curved, faded orange chair, as if he expected it to rock back with him. It didn’t budge. “Ah, come on.”
“You okay over there?” asked the captain.
“I’m fine,” said Oliver, and his walrus mustache swung down a bit as he frowned. “Still gettin’ used to the new chairs, and the new ship.”
“And the new captain,” teased Judge. Tattooed murals covered both of his massive arms.
“You sayin’ you don’t miss the old captain?” asked Oliver
Judge laughed heartily. “Miss her? Ollie, I married her!”
“Oh, is that what you did? I seem to remember it wasn’t as formal as all that,” said Oliver.
“I ever tell you about our wedding night?”
“All right guys,” interjected the captain, “look sharp. We’re getting close.”
“We’re ten minutes out!” Oliver protested.
“Autopilot,” added Judge.
Sternly, the captain stated, “That’s when we need to be the most alert! According to the operator’s manual, we must maintain readiness, especially on approach.”
Judge unbuckled his harness. “Excuse me while I pinch a loaf. Good luck with all the readiness.”
“Get back to your station!” hollered the captain.
Pulling himself along, Judge paid him no heed. Gracefully, he floated into the privy, where he closed the door and started singing.
The captain gritted his teeth. “No respect! He’s supposed to be the first mate, but do you see how he treats me?”
Oliver shook his head. “Judge respects you. If he didn’t, he’d make you live with his cold shoulder. I’ve seen the effect it can have on others—hardened spacers cryin’ for days. Legitimate Section-8 stuff, so count yourself lucky.” He watched his captain fuming. “Hey, we’ve only been flyin’ with you for two years. Out here, respect is earned, and that takes time.”
They heard the clunk of the toilet, and Judge drifted out. He cinched his belt and smiled. “I’m telling you guys, coming home always feels faster.”
“Maybe that’s because we aren’t towing a city dump’s worth of recyc on the return trip,” said the captain. “It’s a simple matter of thrust-to-mass ratios.”
“Thruster mass fellatio?” asked Judge, feigning shock.
Blinking pointedly, the captain seethed. “How did you ever pass your assessment?”
Oliver chuckled and folded his arms across his chest. As Judge and the captain fell to bickering, he shook his head, closed his eyes, and slipped his earphones on. His thoughts drifted to his wife, his son, and his daughter. I should pay the kids a visit, see