S01E07 · Greetings, Weary Travelers (Kai)

(Chapter Six of Legacy, Book One of the Orriona Universe)

Hangar Bay C on Level 12 is where Edgepoint Station keeps the things it wants forgotten. Corroded pipes drip overhead. Uneven lighting casts jittery shadows. And wedged between two towering freighters sits the Orriona—polished, streamlined, impossibly clean against the station's rust and decay.

Kai Kyros watches from the shadows as the others arrive. An engineer with grey-streaked hair and an ancient bot. A doctor carrying a meditation bench. A Taree'karin whose theatrical energy fills the hangar. A former Sector Guard pilot whose green eyes hold too many questions.

Strangers, all of them. People who answered the same impossible invitation Kai did. People who believe a sentient ship and generous credits are reason enough to leave everything behind.

Supply bots haul provisions up the boarding ramp in a steady stream. The Orriona's amber light spills across deck plates, warm against Edgepoint's harsh glare. One by one, the others climb aboard—stepping from a station that takes everything and gives nothing, into something none of them fully understand.

Kai stands at the threshold, pack digging into his shoulder. Eight years ago, he escaped one impossible situation with nothing but hope. That hope delivered him to Edgepoint, where he learned that survival means staying invisible, relationships are transactional, and trusting anyone is the fastest way to lose everything.

But ahead, a pilot waits. A crew waits. A ship that chose him specifically waits.

Time to decide: stay in the shadows he's mastered, or step into amber light and see what happens when someone finally sees past the masks.

WHAT TO EXPECT:

1. Audio drama adaptation of Legacy with cinematic sound design
2. A queer-norm galaxy (no homophobia, no coming-out angst—just space adventures)
3. A found family's first meeting
4. The moment strangers become crew
5. Hope warring with hard-earned survival instincts
6. Grand, hopeful adventure with a massive heart

CONTENT NOTES: Anxiety, trust issues, references to past survival trauma

WHERE TO PURCHASE THE BOOK: Currently in Kindle Unlimited.

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Welcome aboard. The Driftline awaits.

#QueerSciFi #Audiobook #SpaceOpera #MMSciFi

ORRIONA - BOOK ONE - LEGACY - Chapter 6: “Greetings, Weary Travelers”

Kai

Hangar Bay C | Edgepoint Station

The Orriona sat in Hangar Bay 12, wedged between two towering freighters with hulls so battered they look carved from raw stone.

Their bulk all but swallowed the smaller vessel, leaving its polished panels to catch only faint light from above. The contrast struck Kai immediately, a streamlined form nestled among lumbering giants that hauled cargo across the stars.

Kai cataloged three maintenance hatches, the main bay doors, and a ventilation shaft partly hidden by stacked crates. He stored each route in memory, noting how the Orriona's position leveraged the freighters for covering.

Camera angles would be limited, and any stray energy surges might vanish in the heat signatures of these bulk carriers. A droplet splashed onto his neck. He swiped at it, glancing up at the corroded pipes overhead.

The station's signature blend of rust and recycled chemicals dripped sporadically all around, marking this level with its usual signs of disrepair. The uneven lighting cast a jittery glow across the deck that matched the irregular rhythm of Kai's pulse.

Each time a bulb dimmed, the station's long decline felt more tangible, yet the resulting shadows offered convenient cover.

Overhead, shipping drones descended in a practice sequence, their cargo pods glowing as they lowered sealed containers of provisions onto the hangar floor.

The rented station bots, old models with mismatched plating and squealing joints, hauled these supplies with single minded determination, forming a steady line that crept up the Orellana's boarding ramp. Within minutes they emerged empty handed, their footfalls echoing lighter without their cargo.

Near the Orriona's entrance stood an Edgepoint Administrative Model, a gleaming showpiece funded by Level 3 sponsors, jarringly out of place among the station's usual battered equipment. Its chrome shell remained undisturbed by the constant drizzle, and it moved with a fluidity that made the loader bots appear primitive by comparison.

One by one, it scanned the 15 hopefuls gathered around it, its holographic display rapidly cycling through background checks. Most tried to appear casual, but the robot's mirrored surface betrayed tense shoulders and sidelong glances. Two stepped forward.

Invalid credentials detected. Further inquiry is not required.

You gotta be kidding me.

A Rythari engineer slammed her cybernetic arm against a crate. The hollow clang drew Kai's attention to an ex-OSSA soldier standing next to her.

His hand moved with intimidating intent toward his holster, a motion Kai had observed too often across poorly rigged card tables right before things turned violent. Tattoos on his neck told of genuine void combat, not the amateur designs people purchase to look tough. Something in Kai's chest constricted.

He'd survived this long by recognizing when violence transformed from threat to certainty.

"I want to speak to your captain,"

the EX-soldier said, his voice rough enough to strip paint from a hull. Now the bot remained motionless.

Access is restricted to invited candidates only. Please exit the boarding area.

The soldier's pulse pistol appeared against the bot's metal head in one swift motion. Kai's body tensed, instincts urging him to find cover. Yet curiosity held him back. He wanted to see how the Orriona's crew would respond.

The bot showed no sign of alarm.

"I said...."

A series of clicks shattered the tension. The Orriona’s defense turrets emerged from hidden panels, targeting the ex-soldier in unison. In unspoken finality, red lights dotted the man’s chest.

Kai observed the shift in the man's expression as he grasped his disadvantage. He released a strained laugh and retreated with hollow bravado.

"Fine. Have it your way."

With a trained ear, Kai detected the faltering confidence in the ex-OSSA soldier's voice.

The turrets tracked his withdrawal until he disappeared into the shadows beyond the bay. Then they retracted, vanishing into the ship as if nothing had occurred. A faint smile pulled at Kai's lips.

The display impressed him, not for its firepower, but for the restrained way the Orriona had revealed it. Whoever crewed this vessel understood that true strength required no fanfare.

The commotion at the bot's side erupted into arguments, dispersing some applicants. Kai maintained his grip on his pack.

Inside, he carried a small trophy from the Fourth Quadrant Tournament, his battered hologaming interface rig, and a compact multi tool. Ieoa had given him these irreplaceable items carried fragments of a past that still mattered.

Orange light radiated from the Orriona's vents, casting shifting patterns across the deck. The Level 3 administrative bot navigated the hangar, clearing out the remaining onlookers.

A few curious mineral miners lingered, but as the bot turned its photoreceptors toward Kai, they departed.

"Welcome aboard, Mr. Kyros..."

it announced, loud.

Enough for anyone nearby to hear. Several pairs of eyes snapped toward him, evaluating. He had no explanation for their unspoken questions. What distinguished him?

Why had he been chosen? A presence materialized behind him. Kai's spine stiffened. How had someone that tall approached without detection?

Years on the station had taught him to monitor anyone approaching Chara height, classifying them as potential threats long before they came near. Yet this man had somehow crossed the distance without triggering a single internal warning.

Kyros,

said a voice carrying an unexpected warmth.

Good to see you made it. The presence reached out towards his shoulder, but instead of contact, it hovered just above, close enough for Kai to feel the warmth.

When it finally settled, fingertips touched only his jacket's worn leather, as if respectful, avoiding contact with his body beneath. The contact lasted only a moment, enough to convey welcome without invading boundaries. Too much.

Kai turned to face the stranger, his trained eye assembling details in seconds. The man's boots told the initial story, too clean for Edgepoint's perpetually filthy corridors.

His clothes held the subtle scent of alcohol, not on his breath, which carried traces of mint, but embedded in the fabric, he'd spent a night in one of the station's seedier establishments.

The cut of his clothes revealed Inner Meridian Zone fashion, expertly tailored jackets and fitted pants that immediately marked him as an outsider to every hustler between here and level 24. He might as well have worn a target. Someone with such obvious wealth and apparent naivety wouldn't keep their credits for long.

Two weeks at most, depending on his drinking habits and which den he wandered into first. Something about the man's bearing gave Kai pause. He offered a slow nod only Mr.

Only Mr. Kyros has received clearance. Please step back.

The man exhaled but remained in place.

My apologies,

the bot began,

but I must ask you.

Wait.

The stranger interrupted.

Can you relay a message to the captain? I'm looking for information about a freighter called the Starweaver.

The bot froze mid gesture. Its photoreceptors cycled through patterns suggesting the receipt of new instructions.

The silence stretched, populated only by distant dock machinery sounds and the Oriona's steady exhalations through its sense. When the bot moved again, its entire demeanor had transformed. Its arms opened in welcome, previous barriers forgotten.

Mr. Kellen Har,

it announced, as if.

Reciting an entirely different script.

Please join the others. Your recruitment interview will commence shortly.

Kai contained his surprise. Whatever the Starweaver represented, someone aboard the Orriona clearly valued it.

Kellan appeared relieved, suggesting this outcome aligned with his expectations. Or maybe it was closer to hope. He joined Kai as they approached a small gathering at the foot of the ship's ramp.

A woman stood examining the hull plating, her deep skin catching the orange glow from the Orriona's vents. Flecks of white dotted her close cropped dark hair, framing features that revealed years of hard earned expertise.

The antiquated bot beside her barely reached her elbow. Its oversized blue optical lenses gave its spherical head an almost childlike appearance as ancient servos whirred with each adjustment.

Its frame combined original casing with carefully grafted upgrades, suggesting something far more sophisticated than it Initially appeared not far from them stood two others, one a tall man with a relaxed, observant manner suggesting medical training. Approaching 40, with a short, neatly kept beard.

His light brown skin had earned lines around the eyes that deepened when he smiled, which occurred frequently at his companion's animated gestures. Kai studied the alien's features, searching his memory for xenobiology references.

Lets just say ceremonial bathing protocols mean something very different in their culture.

That's not funny, Jotter.

The lean frame and elongated neck suggested Taree’karin, or perhaps a related species.

Yellow orange scales covered most of the face and arms, darkening to purple along the bridge of the nose and spine curve.

Tell me, as an engineer, is it normal for a chief medical officer to recap calibrate diagnostic equipment by percussive maintenance?

Because our old colleague Dr. Vasquez has been smacking the neural scanner like it insulted her mother, and I'm fairly certain that's not in the manufacturer's guidelines.

It was creating false positives. She was trying to reseat the sensor array.

Array with her fist, Rian. Her closed fist. Repeatedly.

Did it work?

Infuriatingly, yes.

Two antenna like extensions rose and angled with each comment, revealing a nuanced sign language embedded in their conversation. The pair's comfortable interaction stood out in Edgepoint's tense atmosphere.

Two people accustomed to trusting each other's judgment through countless crises. Such bonds were rare and unmistakable. The messenger bot addressed the arrivals.

Welcome, Mr. Kyros.

Kai, he corrected.

Valunara Jaren.

Val,

the engineer stated firmly.

Jottermatrix unit....

Just Jotter,

Val interjected, her bot chirping in agreement.

Dr. Ryan Jengu.

The doctor inclined his head slightly.

Nixxorrii Pa'a-

Nix works fine,

the alien interrupted, antennae shifting.

Please move to the conference room.

A boarding ramp extended with a gentle hiss. Though the Orriona's interior remained shadowed.

Nothing says welcome aboard like a path straight into the abyss,

Nix said, tapping the metal underfoot. As if responding, the ship's interior illuminated in sequence.

Panels brightened one after another, creating a pathway of pale amber light extending down the corridor. The darkness transformed into a shifting canvas of illumination. Val crossed her arms, her stance tense.

Feels more like a predator playing with its food. Anyone sure this thing isn't planning to eat us?

If it is, I taste terrible.

Nix's scales lifted slightly with amusement. Then he projected his voice into the Orriona's corridor for emphasis.

My species evolved to be, let's say, flavor resistant. Most predators spit us out halfway through...

Kai found himself smirking. Despite the nervous energy coiling in his chest, the Oriana contradicted his Expectations simultaneously thrilling and unsettling him.

Nothing conformed to the usual script. Not the ship, not the crew, and certainly not this unusual welcome.

The hangar's ambient noise receded, leaving only the steady pulse of the ship's systems. Val studied the pathway, jaw set. I've seen uglier ways to go out. Let's see what's on the other side.

Her companion bot moved slowly beside her as they ascended the ramp. The sleek corridor shadow swallowed them in phases.

Dr. Jengu adjusted his bag and the wooden meditation bench tucked under his arm, gaze sweeping the busy hangar once more.

We might as well discover if this venture holds promise.

Nix clapped him on the shoulder as they headed up the ramp.

Now that's the spirit. A motto for life if I've ever heard one.

The short reptilian looked back at Kai And Kellan and added,

Just don't get your hopes up. That's as close to a rousing speech as you'll get from him. He's a doctor, not a bard.

Kai and Kellan remained at the threshold, allowing the others to proceed.

Thank you,

kellen said quietly, the unexpected weight in his voice catching Kai off guard. "For what?" Kai asked, genuinely confused.

For rolling with it back there?

Kellan's smile transformed into something authentic, illuminating his face in a way that suggested he rarely manufactured expressions.

Kai hadn't contributed much, but he shrugged, unsettled by how easily Kellan's sincerity disarmed him. He was accustomed to interpreting angles and responding through layers of caution. Sure, kai managed the word emerging less confidently than intended.

The calculations and angles that typically guided his responses suddenly seemed inadequate, as if Kellan's presence had altered the rules of a game Kai thought he'd mastered.

Kellen held his gaze a moment longer, the green of his eyes catching the amber light from the ship's interior, creating an effect reminiscent of sunrise through bottle glass, something Kai had witnessed only once in his early youth while taking shelter in a farming widow's barn. Then Kellan turned and climbed the ramp. Kai stayed at the threshold, pack digging into his shoulder.

The hangar stretched before him, every panel and rivet familiar yet wrong, like watching a hollow feed stutter between frames. Eight years ago, he'd huddled in a cargo hold with Ieoa pressed shoulder to shoulder in total darkness.

Their hearts had pounded with the ship's engines, each vibration promising escape to Meridian Prime's legendary skyline.

Instead, the loading ramp had opened to reveal Edgepoint's corroded reality, recycled air heavy with machine oil, sickly lighting casting shadows across rusted walls. That moment had reshaped them both.

The years that followed blurred into desperate routine, Kai's fingers perfecting the card shuffle that fed them, Ieoa's voice weaving stories that diverted station security. Both sharing stolen nutrition packets while watching ships depart for lives they'd dreamed of claiming.

Ieoa's credit chip pressed against his leg through his pocket, each step emphasizing the weight of her absence. How many vessels had they tracked through this bay, plotting impossible escapes?

How many promises to find a way out had dissolved in the station's perpetual twilight? But they'd endured. They'd adapted. They'd carved out their place here, even as it hardened them beyond their intentions.

The Orriana's amber light spilled across the deck plates, warm against Edgepoint's harsh industrial glare. Not like the other ships, the ones that only meant escape. This one meant something else.

A place where his reflexes might matter, beyond the game tables, where a crew might see past the sharp corners Edge Point had carved into him. Kellan's boots rang against the ramp, steady and certain. The station's industrial atmosphere filled his lungs. One final time.

Ieoa's image surfaced in his mind.

Not the polished version who'd left him behind, but the fierce girl from that first day, her determination outshining the station's artificial lighting.

She'd found her way out. Now he had his. He turned toward the Orriona. Each step up the ramp left something behind. The wait, the waiting, the watching.

The ship's pulse thrummed through the metal beneath his feet. Behind him, Edgepoint Station continued its endless rotation, indifferent to another resident's departure.

But ahead, bathed in amber light, waited something he hadn't experienced since pressing his shoulder against Ieoa's in that dark cargo holding. He let himself smile as he crossed the threshold, leaving the hangar bay's familiar shadows behind.

Time to play at a different table.