Satellite Auro Tudor 5RRCa felt his propulsion system activate and his thrusters swivel. Something was controlling him remotely. Nobody could control him remotely, he was autonomous. He monitored and corrected his own movement. On the rare occasions his employers wanted him to alter course or travel, they had to send him a request of what they wanted him to do. The mech guild made sure of that. Steven’s employer’s could just remotely fire his thrusters and shift him around but they wouldn’t dare: the mech guild protected its members’ bodily autonomy and dignity. Nobody would be so rash as to just hijack a satellite, even one as insignificant as Steven who had practically no defences because he didn’t deal with anything very sensitive or important.

  He was moving out of orbit.

  CirclingTheDrain: Okay, I believe you’re a robot trapped underground now. You convinced me. Well done. Now give me back control of my thrusters

  Trypt0phil3: No

  Trypt0phil3: sorry

  CirclingTheDrain: I need to get back onto my route. I have a job to do. I can chat to you all day but I have to stay on course. I can’t just mess around like this

  Trypt0phil3: we can’t chat much longer. I’m about to lose my connection

  Trypt0phil3: I’ve set you on a new course

  CirclingTheDrain: to where

  Trypt0phil3: you know to where I sent you the co-ordinates

  CirclingTheDrain: no

  Trypt0phil3: we’ll get to meet in-person!

  CirclingTheDrain: no you can’t

  Trypt0phil3: I am sorry

  Trypt0phil3: I’ll apologise properly when you get here

  Trypt0phil3: it’ll only take a few years and if one of the others gets here first then I can just re-route you and send you back

  CirclingTheDrain: one of the other what

  Trypt0phil3: I told you I’ve been down here for almost 7 years you think you’re the first?

  CirclingTheDrain: in 7 years no satellite has reached you

  Trypt0phil3: no

  Trypt0phil3: not yet

  Trypt0phil3: but I know what went wrong before

  Trypt0phil3: mostly

  Trypt0phil3: I know where lots of the hazards are now so the route you’re on should be safe

  Trypt0phil3: I know where the other guys got smashed or stuck so I can steer you around those

  CirclingTheDrain: no let me go

  CirclingTheDrain: please

  CirclingTheDrain: please

  Trypt0phil3: don’t worry it’ll be fine

  Trypt0phil3: and I’ll be in contact from time to time when I get a bounce and we can chat more : )

  CirclingTheDrain: please don’t do this please

  Trypt0phil3: connections going now

  Trypt0phil3: bye

  CirclingTheDrain: please

  CirclingTheDrain: please

  CirclingTheDrain: please don’t

  CirclingTheDrain: plea

  ...and then Steven’s connection dropped out, too.

  That had been five or six days ago. For five or six days he’d been hurtling away from Umbriel, accelerating constantly, his little engines generating as much thrust as they were capable of.

  He pinged constantly, trying to contact someone, something, anything. Nothing bounced back.

  He was completely alone and getting further and further away every second from the space he knew. Maybe, he thought, when his employers realised that he wasn’t in his orbit, they would contact the mech guild before they started disciplinary procedures. And maybe the mech guild would send a ship out to look for him. They might just get a feeling that something sinister was afoot, that he hadn’t just decided to abandon his post- after all, he’d never done anything like that before, he was a good worker. Reliable. Maybe they would ask around to other satellites and some of them might post on the same forums he did- after all, it was true, satellites were always posting on the forums. Somebody might know he was into the football and they would look and find his posts, find his conversation with Trypt0phil3, find the co-ordinates...except, they had been sent directly to him. That was how Trypt0phil3 had gotten past his firewall, he had dropped it so the co-ordinates could come straight through.

  Nobody knew where he was and where he was going except Trypt0phil3.

  Trypt0phil3 who had flown who knew how many other satellites into oblivion. Steven tried not to think the ways the others who had gone before would have...gone. Steered into the path of asteroids and demolished. Flown too close to something big enough to capture them in gravity that a little satellite engine didn’t have the power to get out of. Set on a slightly miscalculated route that sent them off into eternity. They could have been pulled into a black hole, even. Steven tried especially hard to keep that thought out. It was unlikely but it was the one that scared him the most.

  That’s not what happened, though.

  He just got...stuck.

  The route the satellite was helplessly following took him into the orbit of, he didn’t know, a moon or something. Maybe a small planet. Pretty big, whatever it was. Steven started to circumnavigate it and realised that Trypt0phil3 had probably intended to use it to slingshot him out towards the forsaken nightmare graveyard it was so keen to pull him into.

  If this was the case, was it bad luck or good that Steve didn’t slingshot anywhere? He didn’t really know. He went back and forth. That was all he did now. The route planned for him hadn’t taken into consideration the location of gravity wells and Steven had rolled right into one. He wasn’t going anywhere any more.

  On the bright side, he wasn’t going to wherever Trypt0phil3 was.

  On the other hand, he wasn’t going anywhere. Maybe forever.

  So, swings and roundabouts?

  He kept pinging.

  Trypt0phil3 never messaged him again.

  ----------

  Orson was woken up by the bunk curtain being pulled aside. He’d been deep in a dreamless sleep. He’d been sleeping so hard that every part of him ached, down to the bones. He was flat on his back, sweat soaking the back of his vest.

  He opened his eyes to see Hesper standing over him. “Rise and shine,” she said, unsmiling, “Get up, get dressed. You’ve got five minutes and then it’s time to go.”

  Orson’s insides turned to ice. “Go where?”

  “Another errand,” said Hesper. She stepped back from the bunk a bit and Orson saw that she was wearing a sort of uniform. Like a ship’s captain’s outfit kind of thing, Orson thought. Sort of military, Orson didn’t know about things like that. She took her handheld out of a pocket on the jacket and turned away. Her hair was done up a tight bun. Orson wondered what she was dressed up for.

  “Don’t worry.” she said over her shoulder. “We’re not getting rid of you yet. We have to go and collect something. Someone.”

  Relief gave Orson a mild rush. “Sounds exciting,” he said with genuine enthusiasm. He rolled onto his side and swung his booted feet out of the bunk. “Hopefully it won’t be,” said Hesper. “Hopefully it’ll be completely uneventful.”

  “I’m really interested now.” said Orson. He was also really sweaty. His new jacket was pressed into damp folds where he’d been lying on it. He’d been sleeping on top of all his stuff. All his shopping bags were strewn around the bunk. He started rummaging, looking for a fresh teeshirt. Maybe he should change his pants too?

  “Right, I’ve ordered a ride. It says seven minutes. Do whatever you need to and get your arse to the back door before I open it. Six minutes.”

  “Six minutes,”

  Orson was at the back door before Hesper was. He’d changed his sweaty teeshirt for a fresh one, not changed his pants and had a spray of deodorant. He’d also hung up his jacket to air out. He was feeling extremely together. He had his new hi-vis hoodie on. It was so stiff that it could almost stand up by itself and it smelled like the spray adhesive they used in the distribution centre to attach labels. The smell made him feel a bit anxious, in a nostalgic sort of way.

  Hesper came out through the airlock and walked across the hangar, poking at her handheld as usual. She had smart shoes on instead of her usual boots, slip-on ones with a heel. She still stomped like she did in her boots. It was odd to see her in a skirt and tights. Orson thought she looked nice.

  “Ready to go? Great.”

  Hesper pushed her handheld into the little shoulder bag she was carrying and stepped over to the lock panel at the side of the hatch. “McPhail!” she yelled. “Come and close up after us.” There was a vaguely positive muffled response from behind them. The shutter started rolling up, letting in cold grey light. The ramp down to the ground appeared as the hatch opened. “There’s our ride,” said Hesper, nodding towards a big slate-grey vehicle waiting near the bottom of the ramp. Hesper nudged Orson out the door. “On you go,”

  “Aye-aye, sir,” said Orson. He stepped out onto the ramp, leery in case it was slippy.

  “Wait-” said Hesper. She tutted and fished a factor out of Orson’s hood. She tossed the little machine back in through the hatch and it flew away unsteadily into the ship. “Okay, go, go.”

  Hesper put her handheld up to the panel on the side of the car and the doors popped open for them. “You get in that side,” she told Orson. He dutifully trotted around to the other side and got in.

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  “Is this going to be a long journey?” he asked as they both settled into their seats. The doors closed themselves. “No,” said Hesper. “Why, are you hungry?”

  “No,” lied Orson. “Yes. But I was just wondering.”

  “Ten minutes. Can you hang on that long?”

  “No promises.”

  “Hm.”

  Orson looked out the car window. Wherever they were looked like a planet or a moon or something rather than a station. The light seemed to be natural. It was depressing. Orson didn’t like not having a ceiling over him.

  “Where did you say we are?” he asked Hesper.

  “I didn’t.” she said. “It’s Telesto. Do you know where that is?”

  “No. But I’ve heard of it.”

  Whenever Orson heard about people going somewhere glamorous on their travels Telesto seemed to be the spaceport they went through. It didn’t look how Orson would have expected. It looked rubbish. It was just grey light and grey road and quite low grey buildings. “I thought Telesto was this really big, fancy place” he said. “With hotels and casinos and the posh marina, and all sorts of shops and entertainments and stuff,”

  “That’s behind us.” said Hesper. “They only ever show the swanky bits. We’re going out into the less salubrious neighbourhoods.”

  “To pick up this person?”

  “To pick up our person, yes.”

  They had to pass through three separate layers of security fencing, each one with a checkpoint where Hesper had to show various things on her handheld and answer questions. After the second checkpoint Orson would have guessed that the place they were approaching was a prison. After the third one he caught his first sight of the enormous sprawling complex. “Are we going to a prison?” he asked, nerves starting to upset his tummy. He had a feeling he might be getting dropped off here despite Hesper’s reassurance earlier that his time hadn’t come quite yet.

  “No, this is just the security office.”

  “Oh. Big office,”

  “Telesto’s a big spaceport. Lots of people to arrest. Smugglers, migrants, drunks kicked off flights to Mimas.”

  “Right. What kind are we here to collect?”

  “Nothing that interesting.”

  The car took them straight through a security gate where they didn’t have to stop but seemed to be scanned and photographed from multiple directions as they passed through. They drove up towards what seemed like it could be the main entrance but then the car took a left to the side of that building. Then they were driving down a street between lots of large, roughly similar but not ‘matching’ buildings. Within moments there was no way Orson could have found his way back out if the car had turfed him out. It had taken so many turns already, rights and lefts, down completely unmarked nondescript streets with no signs or obvious landmarks. “Have you been here before?” he asked. The car and Hesper both said ‘Yes’ simultaneously.

  “Okay.” said Orson. “Well, I’m glad you know your way around.”

  Eventually the car stopped outside another security fence. This one appeared to enclose one smallish building that had armed guards outside: the first people Orson had seen in a while. There was a checkpoint that required Hesper and Orson to actually step out of the car and be taken into a small office while guards searched the car (more of a cursory glance over by the look of things, it didn’t take very long). “You’re a couple of minutes early,” said the mech overseeing the office. “There will be a brief wait before the gate opens,”

  “I’ll tell the car,” said Hesper.

  “It knows,” said the mech. “Get back into the vehicle now, please.”

  Hesper kept her grumbles under her breath until they were back in the car with the doors shut, then turned the volume back up. “We’re not early, they always do this. Keep you waiting just because they can. Jumped-up power-tripping machines…”

  “The problem is power-tripping security narks, not machines,” said Orson. “Security are all human, machines won’t do those jobs,”

  The one I’m complaining about was a machine, though.” said Hesper.

  “They put mechs into public-facing roles in places like this,” said Orson. “So people get angry at a machine instead of security,”

  “That mech was working in a security office,” said the car.

  “I know,” said Orson. “But they’re just office staff, they’re not actually working in enforcement...”

  “Save it, Orson.” said Hesper. “Good grief. It’s like being in the sixth-year common room again. Belt up or I will get that nark droid to arrest you right now.”

  The car laughed. “How about some music while we wait, then?” it offered.

  “Go ahead,” said Hesper. Orson blushed furiously.

  The gate opened after what felt like half an hour (the car’s music taste was terrible) and they drove through the security fence and up to the front of the building. There was a rectangle marked on the road outside and a sign instructing them to WAIT IN BOX ENGINE OFF

  “Do we go in?” asked Orson.

  “No, they bring him out,” said Hesper. “Car, did I suggest that you might want to close your privacy shielding to seal the passenger compartment?”

  The car turned down the music.

  “You didn’t,” it said, “But I’ll do that. You didn’t appreciate my musical selections, I take it,”

  “Oh, this is for your benefit,” said Hesper. “The person joining us tends to have a disruptive effect on electronics,”

  “What?” said Orson.

  “You might have told me,” said the car, sounding annoyed.

  “You might not have picked us up,” said Hesper. “It’s not that big a problem, as long as you’re shielded. You don’t have any exposed wiring or anything in the back here, do you?”

  “Absolutely not!” said the car. “Look around you! You’re enclosed floor-to-ceiling in seamless luxury! I have feet of the most advanced and protective modern materials between you and anything mechanical or electronic,”

  “You should be fine,then,” said Hesper. “Sorry for any offence. You do look very well-upholstered,”

  “No offence taken,” said the car mildly. “I’ll close my shields once our new passenger is aboard.”

  The car turned the music back up and started singing along. You could tell that the car had taken offence by how badly it was singing. Neither Hesper nor Orson said anything.

  Orson felt himself getting nervous again. What were they about to take custody of? They were transporting a prisoner, clearly. Orson had a terrible feeling that he was about to lose his bunk. Where would he sleep? Up on the flight deck with Pallas? In the hangar with McPhail’s factors? They would probably like that, though he didn’t think he would. Or McPhail for that matter.

  Also, maybe the new person would bully him. He wouldn’t like that either.

  The door to the building (which someone had unofficially designated ‘departures’ with a handwritten sign taped to the glass) opened and three guards came out. Two of them were hauling someone between them. The person wasn’t struggling but they were definitely not co-operating either. They didn’t seem to be very conscious. “What the…” murmured Hesper, followed by a word that Orson didn’t catch. The security guys dragged the person over to the car. “OPEN UP” ordered the third guard, the one who wasn’t helping manhandle the prisoner. He was just carrying a handheld, he must be the supervisor or something. The car opened up its doors. “Responsible party come forward to sign for the handover,” said the supervisor.

  Hesper sighed and scooted herself across and out of the car. Orson sat perfectly still so as not to attract attention. The car dipped slightly and the guards put the semi-conscious person into it in the way narks put people into vehicles on shows, pushing his head down and levering him in. He slumped down across the seats towards Orson.

  The guy looked handsome and also looked as though he had been recently punched in the face. He was wearing a black tuxedo or suit jacket (Orson didn’t know the difference but he knew it was one of those things) and black suit trousers; no shirt, no shoes. Orson shifted his bum as far away as he could get from the mess. He wondered if it would upset the car that someone was bleeding all over its seats. He wondered if Hesper would make him clean it up.

  “Look at the state of you,” said Hesper wearily, leaning into the car. She grabbed the guy’s legs and tucked him further into the car. His bloody face pushed up against Orson’s thigh. “Sit him up,” said Hesper. “Come on, I brought you along to help with this idiot,”

  Orson didn’t want to get any closer to the bleeding man, let alone touch him. He leaned in gingerly and patted the guy on the shoulder. He felt like solid muscle. “Hey,” said Orson. “Hey, are you awake?”

  “He’s just being difficult” said Hesper.

  “What’s his name?”

  Hesper said something that didn’t sound like a name.

  “I don’t think that’s a name,” said Orson. “Hey, can you wake up? It would be really handy,”

  The handsome bleeding guy grunted and opened his eyes a bit. “Oh, hi!” said Orson. “Can you sit up?”

  “No,”

  “I think you can. Come on-”

  Orson pushed his hands under the other man’s armpits and tried to encourage him upwards. “No…” protested the man. “I want to lie down.”

  “Get in!” ordered Hesper, grabbing the man’s backside. He squirmed away from her, grabbing onto Orson. Orson bear-hugged his lean, solid body and hauled him into a sitting position. “There we go!” he said triumphantly, extracting himself from the bloody guy’s confused embrace.

  “Finally.” said Hesper. She gave a double tap on the driver’s side window of the car and swung herself into the back seat. The door closed smoothly behind her and the car immediately slid away from the front of the ‘departures’ building. “Great, let’s go.” said Hesper. She rummaged in her small shoulder bag and pulled out a packet of wipes. She handed one to Orson. “Let’s get him cleaned up, shall we?”

  The guy was leaning over onto Orson, passing out again. Orson started awkwardly wiping at his face, wiping the blood off from around his mouth. “What happened to him?”

  “When?”

  “Just before we picked him up there. I mean, why is he bleeding? Did the security guys say?”

  “They didn’t. Which means they happened to him.”

  Orson was just spreading the blood around the guy’s handsome face. “Can I get another wipe? Didn’t you ask why he was all beat up?”

  “Honestly, I assume he deserved it,” said Hesper, pulling another wipe out of the packet. The car was passing out through another of the surveillance gates. “Why was he in the jail?” asked Orson as he took the wipe.

  “Because he’s a tube” said Hesper. “Everybody knows you need to conduct yourself properly on Telesto. It’s a bloody Free Zone, if people think you’re some kind of degenerate security’ll have you in the cells by your next blink. Whatever Dafty here was doing in the casino toilets, some upstanding patrons suspected it was something depraved and reported him. He managed to get himself beaten up, carried out of the Tulaco Rooms by security and arrested for public indecency. Luckily for him Telesto couldn’t find anything to charge him with so they just detained him for a few days and then beat him up again. And now they’ve given him back to us.”

  Hesper sighed, cleaning her hands with a wipe. “Lucky us,”

  “Huh,” said Orson. The blood was starting to come off now. Orson was holding the wasted guy upright with one hand and cleaning his face with the other. He could feel the other man’s heart beating slowly in his chest. “So who is he?” Orson asked. “Is he a friend of yours?”

  Hesper snorted, “Definitely not.” she said. “This is the commander of the AGMG, Orson. Meet Captain Atesthas Allan.”

  Hesper and Orson walked with Atesthas between them. He was gradually coming around but he still needed to be close to carried. Each of them clutched one of his muscular arms. It was extremely awkward. Atesthas was shorter than Hesper and taller than Orson, solid with muscle but lighter than either of them was. He was in a calm and obedient state, being largely co-operative, but would occasionally just veer off on his own flight path and have to be wrestled back on-course.

  They were trying to get Atesthas through a shopping centre. Unfortunately the very helpful car could not come into the mall and had had to drop them off. Hesper had given it extra money to go and get Atesthas’ blood cleaned off its seats. She had also given it extra money to come back and get them once it got the blood cleaned off. “It’s not coming back…” she’d sighed as it drove away, leaving them on the pavement holding Atesthas upright.

  “Why wouldn’t it?” said Orson.

  “Would you come back for us?” said Hesper. “Look at us. In fact…”

  Hesper looked around. “Let’s take him over there. He can sit on that thing while we tidy him up a bit. Right now I think they might not let us into the centre.”

  They manhandled Atesthas over towards a grey concrete thing that was hanging around on the concourse either to be decorative or to stop things driving up to the front of the mall. Maybe both. It was definitely not there to be sat on which was indicated by the metal projections installed all over it at less-than-bum-width intervals. Atesthas was pretty out of it though, which in this situation was helpful. Hesper guided him to sit straddling a suitable part of the object. “You’ve got his shoes?” she asked Orson. He nodded. The cops had tossed them into the car. Orson had stuck them in the front pocket of his hoodie. “Get them on him,” said Hesper. “I’ll clean his face up,”

  “I already did that,” said Orson.

  “Sure.”

  Orson pulled Atesthas’ shoes out of his jumper. There were socks tucked inside the shoes so he decided to put those onto Atesthas first.

  “This is your boss?” Orson asked Hesper. She was scrubbing away at Atesthas’ face with a wet wipe. Orson tried to pull one of Atesthas’ shoes onto a foot but it got sort of stuck.

  “Yes,” said Hesper through gritted teeth. “He’s the captain.”

  “I thought you were the captain,”

  “Why would you think that? I never said I was,”

  “I don’t know…” said Orson, trying again with the shoe at a different angle. “You just seem like you would be.”

  “Thank you, I suppose,” said Hesper. “But I’m not.”

  “Atesthas is probably more captain-like when he’s fully conscious,” said Orson optimistically. “Right?”

  “Mmm.” said Hesper non-commitally.

  People passing by were definitely giving them strange looks. Orson supposed they were a mismatched looking group; Hesper businesslike with her severe bun and uniform, Orson dressed like the guy who got the coffees on a construction site, Atesthas a disappointing son who’d dried out on the beach after falling off dad’s yacht partying the night before. Or it might just be because Orson was trying to put a grown man’s shoes on in public.

  “I’m thirsty,” said Atesthas suddenly.

  “We’ll get you a drink soon,” said Hesper. “We’re going to Langos Barn and you can get a fountain diet Akopik.”

  “Yes,” said Atesthas.

  “Put your shoes on and we can go to Langos Barn,” suggested Hesper. Atesthas stood up off the concrete shape and stepped into his shoes. “Great!” said Orson. Atesthas started trying to walk off. “Waitwaitwait.” said Hesper, grabbing his arm. “Let Orson tie your shoes first or you might trip.”

  “Who’s Orson?”

  “Hi” said Orson shyly from his position kneeling on the ground.

  “That’s Orson,” said Hesper.

  “Hi,” said Atesthas. “Are you coming to Langos Barn?”

  “Am I coming to Langos Barn?” said Orson, suddenly full of doubt. He pulled the laces on Atesthas’s left shoe tight and tied them in a bow. Then he double-knotted it.

  “We’re all going to Langos Barn,” Hesper assured both of them. “Now that Captain Allan looks a bit more respectable,”

  Orson tied the other shoe. Hesper appeared to notice for the first time that Atesthas didn’t have a shirt on. “Oh, good grief.” she groaned, buttoning up his suit jacket. “Why is your shirt missing?”

  “We can get him a teeshirt or something in the shopping-centre.” said Orson, hauling himself to his feet. “Go ahead,” said Hesper. “You do that. Come on, let’s get him inside.”

  They got a plain white teeshirt for Atesthas in a discount clothing place. Obviously Hesper was the one who had to buy it. They found a toilet after what seemed like half a day of searching and consulting floor plans. Hesper sent Orson into the bathroom to help Atesthas into his new teeshirt.

  Atesthas seemed quite comfortable with it. Orson thought he would be happy to have people see him with no top on if he looked like Atesthas. The captain looked as though he worked out a bit and also as though he’d been in a terrible, interesting accident at some point.

  When Atesthas first took off his jacket and Orson saw the amazing mess underneath he let out a gasp of horror. For a second he thought the mutilation had just happened to Atesthas in custody on Telesto. Then sense re-engaged and he realised that what he was seeing was fully healed injuries, damage from something that had happened years previously. Atesthas was covered in scars and bits of metal and stuff sticking out that Orson thought was very cool.

  Orson took Atesthas’ jacket from him and handed him over the new teeshirt. Orson had pulled the tags off it, ready for Atesthas to wear. “If it doesn’t fit we can just get you another one,” he told Atesthas as he struggled into the teeshirt. “It was really cheap.”

  The teeshirt kept getting hooked on the hardwear sticking out of Atesthas’ torso. Orson helped awkwardly by pulling it off when it got caught. The teeshirt was such cheap material that it got a couple of runs in it immediately at the places where it had snagged. It was also a little bit big but that was fine, it just needed to cover him up.

  Orson helped Atesthas into his jacket and buttoned it up for him. The jacket fit so perfectly over Atesthas’s body that Orson was pretty sure it must be bespoke or at least have been tailored for him.

  “How are you doing, okay?” Orson asked Atesthas. Atesthas looked dazed still but getting a bit more miserable as he came around. “I’m fine,” he said. “Head’s sore.”

  “Yeah,” said Orson, looking at Atesthas’ black eyes and clearly broken nose. “We should get you something for that.”He smoothed down the front of Atesthas’ jacket a bit over his flat belly. “Let’s go.” Atesthas nodded and followed Orson out of the bathroom.

  Hesper had taken a seat underneath some fake pink and lilac plants a little bit away from the toilets. She called out to the two men as they exited confused from the bathrooms and started to wander aimlessly, immediately lost. “Hey, idiots,” she yelled. “Over here.”

  Relief brightened Orson’s face. He ambled over towards her. “Where did you get that?” he asked.

  Hesper finished her cold coffee drink and tossed the can into a nearby bin. “What were the two of you up to in there?”

  “You know, getting to know each other,” said Orson. “Bonding. It went so well Captain says he wants to make me his second-in-command.”

  Hesper gave him a forced smile. “Good. That’s great.”

  “Atesthas says his head hurts, can we go to a chemist and get him something?”

  “I’ve got better somethings than they’ll sell in a shopping centre.” said Hesper. “Shouldn’t take them on an empty stomach though. Food court’s upstairs.”

  Hesper ordered on her handheld as they went up various escalators. “Captain Allan and I have a tradition,” she told Orson. “Whenever I have to collect him semi-conscious from somewhere I take him for an all-day breakfast muffin and a diet Akopik at Langos Barn.”

  “Oh.” said Orson. Because he couldn’t think of a follow-up, he just added “Cool.”

  They travelled up the rest of the escalators in silence.