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

by Nicole Grotepas

  A few moments later, and the three of them sat around the furniture arrangement near the front of the shop beneath antique lamps and nestled into deep armchairs, their feet gracing the thick shag of a gold rug. The arrangement was entirely for sale, but Holly was pleased that no one had so far bought the setting. And what had been purchased, Angelo had replaced with a suitably similar model. She someday hoped to pay for it and insist that Angelo keep it just for her. Would he do it? Or would he want to fill up the space with more objects to sell?

  “Shiro, please show Angelo the orrery.” He’d brought it along after Xadrian’s inspection at Holly’s request.

  “Oh, an orrery, dear. You’ve brought me an orrery. Delightful,” Angelo said, adjusting the goggles he wore on his forehead for magnification.

  Shiro took the bag off his shoulder and removed the orrery from the protective case within it and set the device on the small round coffee table at the center of the furniture setting.

  Angelo’s face lit up. The tufts of his white hair shook as he looked between Holly and the orrery, unable to suppress a grin.

  “I’ve never seen one like it,” Angelo admitted.

  “It’s a galactic orrery. 3D. Different from the 6 Moons orreries.”

  “Yes, I see that. May I touch it?”

  “Please, sir, be my guest,” Shiro said, waving his hand casually at it.

  “Thank you,” Angelo said, stretching out his arthritic fingers to pick it up. The motions of the device were measured and impossibly smooth. Holly still felt the same awe and intrigue looking at it that she always had. Its allure was catching, and she never wanted to pull her eyes from it again.

  “So lovely,” Angelo said, as he turned it over and over in his hands.

  “Could you make a copy of it, Angelo?” Holly asked.

  “Oh, is that what you want? Another one?” Angelo said, studying it. He pulled his goggles down over his eyes and fidgeted with it, making thoughtful sounds as he looked it over.

  “Yes, we’re not sure if this is the original or a copy. But to be safe, we want another. In case this one gets broken.” She saw no reason to involve him in the intrigue and affairs that surrounded the orrery. There was no sense in putting him in deeper danger than he already was, just by bringing the thing here.

  “Yes, I could, I could,” he said somewhat absentmindedly. “But it would take many small parts that I’d need to fabricate. I’d need metals and shapes and pieces that I would need to blacksmith. You see? These pieces aren’t something I can simply buy from a shop. And it would mean taking this one apart to learn how to make the new parts. And by then, we might as well make two or three of the things.”

  Holly laughed, uncomfortably, somewhat thoughtfully. Two or three?

  “Whatever you need. I will help you all I can. Figure out everything and I’ll buy the supplies and pay you well for the work. But, could you get started right away?”

  Angelo thought on that. “Right away?”

  Holly stood up and began pacing as he continued in his absentminded study of the object. She carried her two-bulbed mug of tea and meandered toward the bay windows which overlooked the alley. Shiro cast a questioning glance at her. She twitched her shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. What was he worried about?

  Out in the street, dusk draped its shroud over the stoops, sidewalks, shops, and pedestrians. But she saw the Analogue alley workers flitting about the alley, hanging boughs of evergreen and string lights over the aether streetlamps as they prepared for the Yasoan festival of light, their celebration for the longest night of the year. Holly turned to see if Angelo was done with his assessment.

  The old man pushed his goggles off his face and looked at her, warily. “What’s the rush, dear?”

  His question immediately pricked Holly’s conscience. “Someone wants to buy a copy.”

  That wasn’t a lie. And it would still protect him.

  “Wonderful,” he said with a laugh. “I can’t wait to dig in. I’ve wanted a new project to test my skills. This one seems perfect.”

  “The record job,” Shiro said, softly, prompting Holly back on track for their other purpose in coming to Angelo’s.

  “One other thing,” Holly said, returning to her seat. She sat down and sipped her tea.

  “Let me guess, Holly, you’re looking for a record?” Angelo teased. “A record of what?”

  “A specific vinyl album. Do you happen to know the people who have them? Is there a club or something where the people who collect those discs—you know the kind?—mingle and talk about their silly habit?”

  Shiro grinned to hear her call it silly. The amber light covered him in soft hues, and made his cream colored overcoat appear slightly yellow.

  “Oh, I’m sure there is. I have attended something like that, but only when I knew there would be product to buy.”

  “Did you buy some product?”

  “I have on occasion—but only if I thought I would be able to resell it. You know, the benefit of that vinyl, is that it will last much longer than other formats. It doesn’t degrade the way other storage mediums do. It’s like information crystals in that way,” he said. He rose and took the orrery back to his work station in the rear of the shop. He suddenly paused. “I am right in assuming you’d like me to keep this device here so that I can make a copy?”

  “Yes, of course. But please take care to not let other customers see it? It’s very valuable.”

  “Say no more, love. I’ll keep it in the safe when I’m not working on it. As for the record collectors. Here is the name of the collector I know on Kota. You might ask her for the music you’re looking for. Lives in the city, even.”

  Holly glanced at the name and then at Shiro. “Too late to go by tonight, Shiro.”

  “Troubling, indeed. I suppose we’ll have to relax the rest of the night.”

  She wondered how he could think to relax with Odeon missing. But, Shiro and Odeon had never gotten along too well. And maybe he was putting a good face on it. She would never know, but that didn’t change how she felt about it: anxious.

  17

  “I see transactions in this database between several collectors and sellers,” Darius said from his bay of monitors in the workstation in the corner of the Bird’s Nest.

  “Don’t tell me—they’re all on Itzcap.” Holly said.

  “Good guess. Cynical, but I get it. No, none on Itzcap. Oh wait,” he paused. “One of them is.”

  “That’s probably our guy.” Holly stared at the v-screen in her hands. Saanvi had sent her a message—a link to something. An ideal message to get in better times, but right now she was dealing with something bigger. There was a cold in her gut where Odeon belonged. Extraneous tangents were the last thing she wanted to add to her to-do pile. She was barely listening to Darius recite the names and locations of the potential collectors.

  “That’s not helping,” she remarked.

  “Someone’s grouchy,” Charly observed.

  Holly and Charly hadn’t fully reconciled after their minor spat over the painting gig. Snide interchanges were cropping up more than usual.

  “Get a room,” Darius barked.

  It was funny, but laughter seemed wrong with Odeon MIA.

  Holly bristled and put Saanvi’s email aside. She’d work that out later. It was a good thing, but bad timing. The subject of the email encouraged Holly to get to a position where she was constantly liquid with novas. When that happened, surprises like Saanvi’s could actually be quite helpful. Right now there were too many things going on that were perpetual reminders that they couldn’t stay ahead. It felt like poverty—just when she got her head above water, disaster struck and every morsel she’d saved was needed to get her out of the jam.

  “I’ve got a right to be grumpy,” Holly said, wishing that she’d not taken the bait. The two of them would never get out of this dynamic if one or the other didn’t rise above petty responses. She thought they’d mostly worked things out, but suddenly it seemed the t
wo of them were right back in the same place—at odds. Perhaps it was the stress plaguing Holly, silently and she was projecting her attitude onto Charly. She sighed inwardly. They usually looked out for each other. Being at odds with the fighter unsettled Holly more than she liked.

  “Odeon’s gone,” Holly continued. “I think I might be grouchy till we get him back.”

  Charly’s brown eyes softened, the fire vanishing. “Yeah, girl. I’m worried too.”

  “Get a room.”

  “That your one-liner for everything now, Darius?” Charly growled.

  “Excess makes everything funny. I’m going to use it as often as possible. With each use it’s going to get funnier and funnier, until finally, you explode with mirth.”

  “You’ve got humor all wrong, boy,” Charly said, marching down the stairs to the main level of the club. “Got to go over this damn order with Torden. And maybe slip into the store-room for a quickie.”

  “That should cheer you up,” Darius said. “Let me know if you want a third.”

  “I hope you choke to death on your own laughter,” Charly shouted from the stairwell.

  “She’d get off on that, I think.”

  Holly resented his ability and willingness to crack jokes while their crewmate was missing. But she let him do it—maybe it was his way of coping. She didn’t need him to remind her that he cared for Odeon—Darius would rarely just show off a vulnerability like that. He was damaged goods in that way. They all were, in their own ways. But Darius had a rough history before his Constie mothers took him in. Anyway, Holly didn’t expect to rule with some kind of iron fist.

  “Tell me something good, Darius.” Holly rubbed her face and pushed thoughts of where Odeon might be at the moment out of her mind.

  “Oh, good news is my specialty, Drake. Don’t know if you noticed.”

  “I thought horribly inappropriate jokes were your speciality.”

  “Those too. Besides, resist all you want. I know the levity brings relief to your troubled heart.”

  She let herself smile when he glanced over his shoulder from his station. She’d leaned back into the sofa and propped her boots up on the coffee table. Charly would chew her a new one if she’d been there. But she wasn’t.

  “Where’s Shiro, by the by?” Darius asked.

  “Handling some errands for his father. He’s expanding his haberdashery business—something to do with the performance suits. They’re in hot demand.”

  “OK, so, looking over this list, I’ve narrowed it down to four that I think it could be.”

  “What are your parameters?”

  “I’m basing it mostly on how many purchases they’ve made in the past year. These four have the largest history.”

  “Where are they?”

  “I also based it on that—three of them are in the City.”

  “And the fourth is on the moon currently farthest away from us?”

  He stared at her, his lips twitching. “Come on, Drake. He’s OK, wherever he is. We’re going to find him, or he’ll turn up.”

  “Tell me where the last one is.”

  “Joppa.”

  “The worst moon. Worse than Paradise.”

  “I know you hate it. But there are, actually, worse options than Joppa. What if it was the Shakti base?” He referred to a gas giant that required a longer trip than one that a moon around Ixion did.

  “I’d just put everything aside and ransack the 6 Moons till I found Odeon. I’d stop being careful.”

  “I suggest we just go to these asshole’s homes, knock on their doors, and ask if they’ve heard of the album our smuggler friend is looking for. If they have it, plan the steal, and then get it.”

  “So the transactions you’re looking at don’t have records of specific purchases?”

  “Sadly, no.”

  “This is the proverbial needle in a haystack.”

  “I know.”

  “So, when do we leave?”

  “Me?”

  “Who else is going to knock doors with me? Shiro? Charly? Grab your coat, Darius.”

  * * *

  Darius cursed a few times.

  A lot.

  A string of curses that would make the most hardened factory worker on Paradise blush.

  A few hours after leaving to knock on the doors of strangers, Holly stepped into the foyer of the Surge Club and the rush of wind and snow hit their backs, pushing them into the warmth of the club.

  The glow of the amber light was inviting. The sounds of customers laughing, the clinking of silverware, the pleasant music of the band on the stage, and Charly behind the bar helping Torden fill orders, all struck a sense of comfort in Holly.

  It was bittersweet.

  “What a waste of time.” Darius rounded off his cloud of vitriol as they wove through the crowd of patrons.

  “Now’s when I tell you to look on the bright side, right?” Holly said.

  She caught Charly’s concerned glance and held it, then shook her head that they hadn’t found what they’d gone looking for.

  Disappointment crossed the club owner’s expression. Torden caught the interaction and a shadow fell over his violet complexion.

  “I’m starting to worry that my parameters for narrowing down which asshole vinyl collector it would be were totally off.” His voice echoed in the stairwell. The music and noises of the club proper followed them up the into the Bird’s Nest.

  Holly shut the door at the top of the stairs—something she rarely did, or ever wanted to.

  Inside the Bird’s Nest, she made a beeline to the bar along the far wall and started some kasé brewing. She opened a bottle of bourbon and poured it into a tumbler and swallowed a mouthful.

  “Hey there, lady, you want to slow that down?” Darius asked, noticing her frenzied actions.

  “I’m fine.” She wasn’t.

  Their lack of leads meant they’d be traveling to Joppa as soon as possible. She’d already decided as much on the way back from their recon and investigative door-knocking. It was a long shot. So far, she could see entire solar systems standing between herself and her goals before she could see the end result of her goal.

  “Call Trip, Darius.” If Trip couldn’t help them immediately, who knew what they’d do?

  “‘Call Trip, please, Darius.’”

  The brewing kasé filled the room with comforting fragrances. Not that they worked on Holly at the moment. Darius took her order lightly—perhaps realizing she was at the end of her rope—and pulled out his communicator as he slumped into an armchair.

  Holly’s communicator buzzed in her pocket and she had the strange thought that he’d accidentally called her.

  She answered. The voice that came through was unexpected.

  “Holly Drake. Thorn in my side.”

  Magna. A chill like a knife stabbed Holly’s heart. “Speaking.”

  “Missing someone?”

  Holly bit her lip.

  “He hasn’t stopped humming since I got him.”

  Emotion wouldn’t make the job easier. She fought back the avalanche of rage. She put steel in her own voice. “He’s smart.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. I have heard that a Yasoan can’t live long without food. Some races can, as long as they have water. But Yasoan who are attempting self-healing, not so much.”

  She didn’t want to know why he was attempting self-healing. That meant they’d hurt him. But it also might mean that he was simply meditating to protect his mind. She felt a gaze on her, and met Darius’s eyes. He was conversing with Trip, it seemed, but he looked concerned about why Holly was hardly speaking to whoever she was on a call with.

  “You know what I want, Holly Drake. Bring it to me. And the Yasoan lives. Screw this up, and you will live a long life full of regret.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Those details will be given when we set up the trade. But first, I want you to suffer. To squirm. To wonder what has been done to your Druiviin friend.”

  The
term felt like a fist in Holly’s gut. It was just a word, but Magna was using it to hurt her.

  She didn’t take the bait. “He dies or you damage him beyond repair and I will find you. I will do it without your help. And I will make sure your death is a painful one.”

  So much for not taking the bait. The hand holding her communicator trembled. If Darius hadn’t been on his own call, maybe he could have tracked down where Magna’s signal was coming from.

  The woman laughed and ended the call.

  Holly had learned recently to shut down some part of herself that tried to feel what her friends felt. Her mind went to a place to visualize what Odeon was enduring and she stopped it. No. It won’t help me find him. It will only make me want to scream and destroy the solar system looking for him.

  “You OK, Holly?”

  She looked up. Darius stared at her, standing a few feet away. His communicator, forgotten, in his hand. The kasé was done. She moved to pour some into a mug.

  “No. Not when you start using weird names to address me.” Darius never called her Holly. That name felt weird on his voice.

  “I’m worried about you.”

  “Well you saying such a tender thing is also disorienting. Too out of character. Get back into character, Darius.”

  He ignored her sarcasm. “Who was on the phone?”

  Holly rubbed her face. She began making a mug of kasé, topping it off with some bourbon. “That was Magna. Gloating.”

  Darius was quiet till Holly glanced over her shoulder to see if he’d heard.

  “She’s got Odeon.” It was a statement, as he added up the pieces. “We’ll get her. Trip says she’ll be ready to leave in an hour if you want. Too bad our contacts on Joppa are basically zero. Otherwise we could just send someone to check on this person.”

  “Tonight, at least, I’ll leave. Let me gather the others and we’ll go.” She sipped the kasé. Her hands continued to quiver. She saw Darius notice.

  “He’ll be ok.”

  “I know.” But she didn’t know. And she didn’t know what she’d do if the idiot on Joppa didn’t have the record. Figure something else out. Ask Dave for help. Make him give her money. Something. She’d do anything to keep Odeon safe.