Rivers of Orion

create some buzz so I can get my business off the ground.” He produced a wallet and flipped it open to reveal a badge. “I’m Craig Grousely. Retired M-class waveformer at your service.”
“Nice to make your acquaintance.” Orin set down his toolbox and introduced himself. “What did you want my opinion on?”
Craig faced the poster frame. “Does this feel ominous to you?”
Orin raised his brow. “Honestly?”
“Please.”
“The name needs some work, and the bright colors are at odds with the warning. The whole thing kind of lacks focus.”
After a lengthy pause, Craig muttered, “Yeah, you’re right.” Twisting to face Orin, he regarded him with narrow eyes. “What sort of superhero name would you give someone who can muster gentle glows and bursts of color?”
“The agency never gave you one?”
“You heard me say M-class, right? I’m barely a binary.”
Orin grimaced. “Well, not Mesmegoria. It sounds more like a carnival magician, or one of those robot fortune tellers.”
Craig grinned, and he thrust forth his hands dramatically. “Ta-da!”
“You’re a binary. You’re the real thing.”
Dejected, Craig sank against the poster frame. “Look kid, it’s plenty tough to get any civilian work for people like me, and doubly so when you’re retired. I’ll take what I can get.”
“I don’t know if you want to hear it,” replied Orin, “but I can think of at least three things I could do for money if I had your powers.”
Craig crossed his arms. “Okay, smart guy, like what?”
“Search and rescue, for one.”
“I’m not really the heroic type.”
“You could set up shop in the Sea of Sands and give nighttime constellation tours—actually link the constellations, or how about running a couples retreat? Holograms are great, but everyone knows they’re fake. You can just tell.” Orin gestured pinpoints in the air. “You could make fireflies and put auroras in the dining room. How’s that for romantic?”
“Clearly, you’ve never been to Vega Mar Beach.” Craig leaned forward. “But you know what? That’s not half bad.”
Orin smirked. “See? You just needed a fresh perspective.”
“Yeah, sure.” Craig winked, and a luminous fedora appeared on his head just long enough for him to tip it Orin’s way. He turned around and set to removing his post. “So long, kid.”
“Good luck,” he responded. Orin gripped his toolbox and took his leave.
Scattered in all directions, neighboring houses offered only glimpses of light and movement. Coarsely paved roads snaked alongside otherwise isolated neighborhoods. Lengthy paths flowed from them, cutting the soil into crudely formed rectangles. Rolling scrublands rose from the expanse, their nocturnal denizens hissing and clicking, their shadowed trees relentlessly menacing.
Stepping beyond the touch of light, Orin steeled himself as he walked. Hurriedly, he found his way to a dimly lit transit stop and called a cab. It wasn’t long before a domed, single-rider commuter car rolled into view at the edge of the faded lamplight. Silver trim glinted. Gravel crunched under its wheels, the only sound it made as it advanced. Pronged fenders sprouted from its base and shrouded four pitted, spherical tires. “Property of Terran Galactic University Student Housing Dept.” dressed the vehicle’s flanks.
He passed his wrist over the gene key reader, and it beeped happily. The bubble hatch lifted upward as if celebrating his presence. Relieved, he sat within the crescent of bright meters and user menus. “Welcome to OmniVoy,” a soothing female voice announced. He selected “Home” from the application presets. “Please fasten your safety restraints.” Orin did so, and it guided itself out onto the darkened back road.
◆◆◆
Overhead, a caged dome light served as the sole source of illumination. Dimly, it shone over a lone steel table anchored to the mess deck of the starship Watchtower, the sort of lighting that caused the air to feel cooler than it was. Two women stood across from each other at the table, and just past the door leading to the galley, a barrel-chested man stirred a large pot. He whistled melodically, in time with the clanking of his ladle.
“Damn it, Kendra, what am I supposed to do without you?” asked Casey. She bore a youthful appearance and raven hair.
“You’ll figure it out, Captain,” answered Kendra, a small woman with a sweet face. “You always do.” She sat down, unafraid of Casey’s red-brown glare.
“You won’t reconsider?” Casey exhaled into her hands, sitting across from Kendra. “Is it the work? What we’re doing out here?” She adjusted her sturdy black vest and the off-white blouse beneath it.
“No, it’s not the work. I sleep just fine at night.”
Leaning forward, Casey crossed her arms. “What can I do to change your mind?”
Kendra laughed warmly. “You’d have to go back in time and cut me in for half my rate, I think.” Placing her hand on her captain’s forearm for a moment, she added, “Trust me—you’ll be fine!”
Casey shook her head, running her hands along her jeans. “Eventually, maybe. You’re our ace in the hole.”
“I’m not the only scout in the galaxy.”
With a resigned sigh, Casey got to her feet. “Where are you headed?”
Kendra’s smile returned. “Ixion System. Bonnyrigg Station over New Falkirk, then planet-side. I picked up a nice dome and five acres of unspoiled colonial land, freshly terraformed. It’ll be decades before gene scanners make it out there.”
Nodding slowly, Casey said, “Sounds dreamy.”
“It is. I’ll send pictures when I’m settled in.”
“How do you plan on getting there?”
Kendra looked sheepish. “I really don’t want to risk getting scanned, so… I was hoping you might drop me off at the station?”
“I could do that, but Ixion’s on the other side of the galaxy, and I don’t have any plans to be out that way… maybe ever. It’d be a special trip. You’d have to make it worth my time, and worth the crew’s time.”
“I’ll find a fugitive in the area,” Kendra offered, “someone with a killer bounty. That would be worth the trip, don’t you think?”
Casey considered. “Can you get me a replacement scout, instead?”
Kendra frowned and shook her head, eyes downcast. “I can’t. Scouts can’t see other scouts. I don’t know why, we just can’t.”
Wincing, Casey sighed. “You