The Colossus Collection : A Space Opera Adventure (Books 1-7 + Bonus Material)

by Nicole Grotepas

  “Hold on—“ Darius said, over the comms. “Did someone say dick-measuring contest? I’m very interested.”

  “Figurative, Darius,” Holly said, shaking her head and smiling across the counter at Elan. “Any sign of Odeon?”

  “No, Drake. Not seeing him. His last known location was outside the city. And then the signal vanishes.”

  “Did he go back to the City without me?”

  “Why would he turn off his comm if that was all it was.”

  “Shame? For losing?”

  “More of a surrender,” Elan said, as though having second thoughts on his initial story.

  “Don’t stop looking for him, Darius. I don’t want to be invasive to him, but Ixion’s ghost, why would he ditch us?”

  Elan began dishing up a late lunch. Holly knew she needed to eat, but her appetite was elusive, as concern about Odeon pecked at her peace.

  Where the hell had he gone?

  15

  The next day, Holly found herself back at the Surge Club, where she put her feet up and reclined on the sofa, ready for a nap.

  Tension from the early morning departure from Rochers Deshiketes, and the stress of owing Danielle Le Roi the debt she’d recently paid off had created knots in her shoulders. Tension from not hearing from Odeon had caused those knots to have had babies, and the baby knots were about to spawn more knots. She felt them inching their way into her muscles.

  She hadn’t even had a chance to focus on the galactic orrery. It rested on the cocktail table, spinning happily in its perpetual motion. She stared at it, pensive, unsure what to think about all that had transpired of late.

  At the moment, she had the Bird’s Nest to herself—Charly was on the main floor, barking orders at the deep cleaners who were there to scrub all the nooks and crannies neither she nor Torden wanted to get. The noise buzzed and hummed up through the stairwell.

  Afternoon sunlight slanted in through the window next to Darius’s workstation. The tech nut was off somewhere with his tiny fraction of the novas from the job, probably attempting to work a miracle on the money and multiply it quickly into larger sums.

  That was a fancy way of expressing that he was about to lose it all in gambling.

  She was just drifting off, wondering vaguely why she hadn’t gone home instead of coming to the Bird’s Nest. Maybe this was her home now, her nest, and she was a momma bird. And so she flew here when her heart and soul were weary from carrying the weight of the crew, the weight of the 6 Moons, and the knowledge of the many forces mounting to blast to pieces the little stability the Centaus kept in place.

  Just as she almost drifted deep into the warm state of dreaming, her communicator buzzed. She managed to leap horizontally a foot in the air.

  She cursed and fumbled for the small phone.

  “Hello?” Her voice sounded draped in a heavy fog.

  “HD. Did I wake you?” asked the familiar lisping voice of Xadrian Tyanne, Dave’s right-hand man.

  Did everyone have a right-hand man now? Holly needed to snag one.

  “Probably. Still sorting it out.”

  “Wakey, wakey. There’s too much to do. You have no time for naps. Tell you what, HD, you may have a nap when I get a nap.”

  “Take one, if you want one.”

  “We need to meet. In one hour. Glassini.”

  “I’m not going to Glassini.”

  He ignored her. “I suggest you head out now.”

  “Give me one good reason to meet you?”

  “Oh please, HD. We still haven’t discussed the item in your possession. Bring it.”

  “I’m not bringing it. It stays where it is, to be safe.”

  “Fine. Remain where you are: Surge Club?”

  She made an affirmative noise.

  He continued. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “Fine.”

  She ended the conversation and attempted to go back to sleep. At least she didn’t have to leave the Nest.

  But the moment to nap had passed, leaving a disappointing taste of foiled nap on her tongue. It was incredibly frustrating.

  She got up and brewed a carafe of kasé and was sipping the comforting drink when footsteps pounded up the stairwell.

  She leaned against the counter, her hands cupped around the mug as tendrils of steam fluttered through her eyelashes. Xadrian appeared in the doorway.

  “HD,” he said, breathlessly.

  “XT.” She gestured at the carafe. “Kasé?”

  “Get the device out. Let me inspect it,” he said, removing his sequined hat and unbuttoning his long, galaxy-covered coat.

  “In a moment.” She’d put it away again, just because she’d gotten neurotic about having it out. “I just got this cozy drink.”

  “I thought you were in a hurry to figure out if it’s real?” Xadrian said, waltzing to the window overlooking the street where he gazed out. He finished removing his winter gear and ran his ringed fingers through his short hair, ruffling it into a carefully mussed look.

  “Yes, I’m always in a hurry, these days. But I don’t take orders for you. Unless it’s a request from Dave. But those are usually orders, aren’t they? Less requests, always orders.”

  “That’s what happens when you earn his trust. And then he pays you, a lot of money, for the work you do. Sort of, I don’t know, like a job. Perhaps you’ve heard of this, HD.”

  “Why XT, thank you for the training. What did you need again?” Holly realized she still harbored some frustration at him for suggesting that the 3D galactic orrery she’d worked so hard obtaining—nearly getting herself killed, no less—was a replica.

  And now he wanted to do more of that. Hmm. Maybe she didn’t need his expertise.

  “The orrery. Let’s take a look.”

  Holly took several sips of her kasé, then set the three-bulbed mug down and strolled to Charly’s wardrobe and removed the orrery from a shelf within.

  Xadrian gaped, then pursed his bright pink lips. “Tell me that’s not where you’re keeping it, Holly Drake. Please.”

  She blinked, hearing her full name on his voice struck a rebellious chord in her, like she’d just been scolded by her father. “Yes, that’s exactly where I’m keeping it. You claim it’s a fake, why be cautious.”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “No, you fool, I got it out of the super secret safe before you arrived.”

  “Thank Ixion’s mother you’re not as foolish as you look.”

  “Get on with it, Xadrian. What couldn’t wait? What makes you think this is a fake?”

  “What I think is that while you were busy stealing this one, the actual orrery was on another vessel, being moved. There were three ships that set off around the same time from the same space platform. All three of them were booked by the same person, under different aliases. That explains why you were unaware this was happening.”

  “How did we miss this?”

  “I’m not sure, but I do know that there’s a chance the one you got is the actual original orrery.”

  Holly placed the beautiful device on the cocktail table. They both sat down and watched it spinning slowly, the lights of the galaxies mesmerizing.

  “There is something I’ve been searching for, for a few days, HD. Let’s call it a cipher key. We need it to translate some information. I can’t tell you more than that. But there is lore that in addition to whatever it symbolizes, the galactic orrery holds more secrets than we know.”

  He reached out to touch it.

  Holly grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking for a secret button or an opening—something unseen.”

  “Just be careful. I’m supposed to get this to our buyer.”

  “A bit late for that.”

  “I asked for a few extra days.”

  “And the buyer didn’t run off? Or send armed guards after you?”

  “Just do your thing, XT.”

  He ran his hands across the surfaces of the device. The a
rms balancing the glowing galaxies, the dark purple and blue, glittering orbs of light, the weighted matte bronze base, the spindle at the center that held the slowly swinging arms aloft. Nothing happened.

  He poked and prodded, feeling it thoughtfully, looking for a catch or a hook something that would click open.

  Nothing.

  Xadrian sighed and put it down. He stared at it, then plopped back into the couch.

  “To be honest, I hoped that when I set it down, it would trigger something, even though I’d already given up. It must be a fake, HD.”

  “So you’re saying the real one would do a somersault when you found the right combination of clicks and pops?”

  “If the lore about it is to be believed.”

  “Tell me this lore, please.”

  “Only that the orrery is more than just a pretty little trinket. There is something that it hides from us, which is why it’s so valued. I think that it literally contains something the Centaus don’t want us to know.”

  “Isn’t that what that strange floating storage facility was for? Or the military base out at Shakti?” She asked, referencing places she’d recently visited for jobs for Dave.

  “Those have that too, but the orrery I think is key in a way those other places are not. It’s an unfinished puzzle, HD.”

  The noise below in the main floor of the club quieted as some machines turned off. The change in sound disrupted the conversation and Holly glanced at the clock on the wall above the door to down to the main floor.

  “Time for me to go meet someone.”

  Xadrian followed her gaze. “Who? I deserve an hour of your time, don’t I?”

  She touched her lip thoughtfully. “Hmm. Not really, no.”

  Xadrian muttered to himself as he got dressed back into his winter attire about what a nuisance overachievers were.

  “Ungrateful. But, can I blame you? That’s the question. You’re disappointed and taking it out on me. Well, HD, know this, if I find out more about the orrery, I might be back to check it again.”

  “But will I be here, XT? I might be, I might not. Why keep it if it’s a fake? And what might you discover that you don’t already know?”

  He shrugged, buttoning up his long coat. “Some secret about how to unlock its true purpose.”

  “Based on what you’ve told me, it’s a fake. I hate to say it, but maybe you’re right.” She shook her head and sighed loudly. “What a waste of my time.”

  The orrery job had been meant to pay for her fleet-building efforts. Now she was back to square one—penniless, and with a growing sense of urgency about creating her own fleet.

  Now what?

  She hoped to find some answers at the Earl’s Crown.

  16

  “Him, again?” Shiro asked, spinning his cane. As they sauntered into the Earl’s Crown, Shiro removed his gloves and stuffed them into a coat pocket.

  Why am I sauntering? Holly wondered, darkly. What she wanted to be doing was tearing through the 6 Moons looking for Odeon. She’d never felt more powerless.

  “Yes, hopefully he’ll be here this time.”

  Henn beamed at them as Holly and Shiro walked up to the horseshoe desk at the center of the main floor.

  “I’m ready for you,” she said. “After you left last time, I mentioned you to Alan, later. And he said if you showed up again, to send you to wherever he was in the building. Sounds like you’ve got a free pass. So good job on that.”

  “Sounds fair. We’re long time customers, right Shiro? Where is he?” Holly asked.

  “Up in the conference room. Er, number 2. He’s putting the printing press together. Did you know there’s an archive people brought from Earth that has all this information about how to build old stuff?

  “So, for example, if you wanted to know how to make paper—which, someone does, which is why I’m thinking about it—you just watch the archive videos and learn the steps. Then get the tools. Then make paper. We have paper, but there’s different types of paper. And obviously a problem you run into is that some of the tools require also being made. So, then you end up with this issue of finding all the proper tools and parts. That’s where he’s at, with the printing press.” Henn finished, breathless. Her excitement was apparent.

  “Fascinating, Ms. Henn. And do you suppose that your friend will begin printing books or is this just to see if he can do it?”

  “He’s nuts, so either sounds like a possibility.”

  They left Henn at the desk and headed up to the conference room. A few customers browsed among the shelves of books, quietly, preserving the serenity of the near-sacred space. Chandeliers hung from the center of the spire, on cords of different lengths, illuminating the staircase that Holly and Shiro took to the top levels.

  They reached the conference room after weaving between desks and bookcases piled high with books in various states of disrepair and preservation. The sound of tinkering came from inside, tiny hammers against metal. Holly exchanged a look with Shiro as they opened the door and went inside.

  Strewn across a long table was something that looked like a massive, reclining wild cat built from metal pipes and levers and exposed machinery.

  “Not a very attractive device, is it,” Shiro said in a voice of disappointment.

  “Messier than I expected.”

  A man and woman were inside, their faces covered in grease. They stared at the machine together. As Holly and Shiro entered the room, they both looked up. The man, the owner of the Earl’s Crown, Alan, looked up and waved.

  “Hello,” he said, managing to make a two-syllable word sound surly. He approached them, wiping his hands on a dirty orange cloth, leaving streaks of grease and oil on it. “Henn said you’d been by.”

  “Yes, thanks for the invitation to come up.”

  “I didn’t invite you.” He didn’t smile. Typical. He always managed to unsettle Holly. “What is it you wanted me to look at?”

  Holly reached into her hidden inside coat pocket and pulled out the paper she’d taken from a book at her father’s house on Itzcap.

  Alan wordlessly took it from her. He removed his glasses and studied it, his preternaturally dark, human eyes flicking across the paper.

  “Henn showed me a copy of this last time you were in. I found the book to which it refers. Nothing special. But I placed it in my desk in case you ever came back for it. Would you like to see it?”

  Holly nodded, feeling her pulse increase, trying to act nonchalant about it.

  “I’ll be back,” he said to his female friend, whom he still hadn’t introduced them to.

  She nodded and pulled the goggles on her forehead down over her eyes and flicked on a welder’s torch and began firing it at a seam between two metal plates.

  Alan led them out of the room.

  As they departed, Shiro whistled low and muttered to Holly, “It seems to not be a good area to fire a blowtorch. Paper everywhere. Could be dangerous.”

  Alan’s private quarters weren’t too far from the conference area. He led them to a room in the corner where large windows let them see out into the city, where a light snow fell. There were dark shades cutting the windows in half.

  “I normally have these down. To protect the books,” Alan said, flinging a hand at the shades. He sat down at his desk and opened a drawer. The book he withdrew was completely unexpected. The Soul of the Night. After his dark eyes slinked across it, he handed it to Holly. “This look familiar?”

  “No.” Holly said, taking the book from him. “I didn’t know what the book would be. But I don’t see why this one would be important.”

  “Well, do you want it?” Alan asked.

  “You mean to buy? Or borrow?”

  Alan shrugged. “I’m not sure anyone else would ever want it. You may buy it.”

  “How much?”

  “How much is it worth to you?”

  She stared at Alan, wanting to say a ridiculously small number. But she knew he expected her to say something fair. But
what the hell was fair? She wasn’t going to read the book. She wanted it in case it meant something, at some point, because right now it meant nothing. But what if someone else wanted it? There were too many possibilities for what could happen if she let it slip away.

  “Fifteen novas,” she said with a shrug. It was either worth a years’ worth of pay more than that, or it was worth nothing, and he would just let her take it.

  Similar thoughts seemed to run through Alan’s mind based on the expression on his face.

  He nodded. “I’ll take it.”

  “Right now it means nothing to me. I don’t know if it will ever mean anything.”

  “No need to explain. This isn’t a title that I think will fetch a hefty price.”

  They finished the transaction and Holly and Shiro left, hearing the sound of the blowtorch and the tinkling noises of a hammer against metal as they descended the stairs and Alan returned to his work on the press.

  * * *

  “Last stop,” Holly said, as they entered the cozy atmosphere of Angelo’s shop after leaving the Earl’s Crown.

  “Wonderful, because I have duties to attend to also,” Shiro said.

  “Oh really? Such as?”

  “Getting my suits pressed. Specifically my performance suit.”

  “I thought the point of a performance suit was that you didn’t need to clean it.”

  “Not so, Ms. Drake. It requires regular cleaning as well.”

  “Holly, dear!” Angelo said as they strolled deeper into his shop, his arms outstretched.

  Holly grinned, at once warmed by her old friend’s greeting.

  “What brings you to my shop today? Lucky me,” he chuckled. “Tea?”

  “Tea would be wonderful,” Holly said, meeting Shiro’s eye. He shook his head, no, but ah, it was too late. They would be forced to stay for tea. She smiled.