Shadow of the Colossus

by Nicole Grotepas

  “I’m so sorry about the painting. I’ll replace it,” Holly said.

  “Don’t worry about it. If they never come back, that will be payment enough.”

  They only left for the night when Odeon seemed certain that his grandmother wasn’t in any further danger.

  SIX

  Holly drained her drink—an imperial ale—and glanced out the large window nearby. It faced Ixion as the Copper Nebula traversed the intermoon aether-way back home to Kota. The journey would take six hours at the speed they were traveling. Her senses were dulled slightly from the drink. She felt better about this trip. Maybe all the exposure therapy was helping. Someday she’d outrun the memories of that fateful journey.

  She reflected on it for a moment, remembering that it was also the journey that had taken her into Graf’s orbit. Her life would be much different now if she’d never done it, if she’d never met him. They’d saved each other, though afterwards, true to form, he’d always said that he’d done all the saving.

  The dining room of the zeppelin was filling up with patrons, including members of her crew. Odeon had wandered up to the stage where a Yasoan performer had taken a momentary break from singing. He kept looking over his shoulder at her. Shiro wandered in, dressed in a light blue suit with a bowler to match it, and sat down.

  “Not quite as lovely as some of our previous ships, but I supposed it could be worse, eh, Ms. Drake?” Shiro said, sitting down and doffing his bowler.

  “Precisely, Shiro. We should be grateful it’s never been worse. Darius could be booking us on barges or worse, tankers like the one we just lost.”

  “You sound like you’re already deep into the sauce, Drake,” Darius said over her earpiece.

  Holly jumped at the sound of his voice so close to her and cussed. “Darius, why are you still awake? Turn off, already,” Holly said.

  “Just keeping an eye on my team,” he said with a low laugh.

  Shiro grinned at Holly. “I turned mine off.”

  “Of course you did.” She grinned at him. “How are the preparations for the job, Charly?”

  “Is swell a word? They’re going just swell, Holly,” Charly responded. “But I’m kind of in the middle of something with Torden at the moment. Darius and I have a sick presentation all ready to fill the team in on everything once you guys get back here.”

  “Looking forward to it,” Holly said.

  “To what?” Shiro asked, turning toward her, then looking back at the stage where Odeon stood, casually conversing with the woman. “Who is this performer? Odeon seems to know her.”

  Holly pulled the communicator out of her pocket. “I’m muting you for now, Darius.”

  “That’s so vicious, Drake. But ok. I’ll keep my earpiece in and turned on in case you need anything. You don’t have a great history with traveling safely, so anything could happen. I got your back, that kind of thing.”

  “What’s happening back at HQ?” Shiro asked. “Update me, please?”

  “Nothing much. Seems that Darius and Charly are ready to fill us in on the job.”

  “A job, eh?” A deep voice said from behind her. She jumped again.

  “You’re jumpy, Ms. Drake. Just the usual inter-moon travel nerves or something else?” Shiro sipped the cocktail a server dropped at the table as they breezed by.

  “It’s that people keep sneaking up on me.”

  Grant strolled around from behind her and sat down. “Not intentional. I was in the other room for the card games my crew decided they wanted to play. And now I’m here for the meeting.” His voice was a low rumble. Through the alcohol, Holly stared across the table at him, her view only broken by the center-piece of the table, a gaudy brass candle, flickering with six soft purple aether-flames that gave the dining room a cozy feeling. But that sensation was as deceptive as the sense that the Copper Nebula was a solid structure that could truly protect its passengers from danger. Holly forced her thoughts to swivel onto something solid. Like Grant. There was something solid about him that emanated power and strength. Maybe it was the navy blue minimalist, fitted coat. Today he wore the zipper open and casual, revealing the snug black compression top. It looked military. Maybe it was a kind of armor—Holly didn’t know.

  He confused her. And she knew she was staring, but she did it anyway. Perhaps it was the alcohol and the nerves that plagued her while she floated through space in a zeppelin, fragile just like the aether flames whose somewhat oily haze she stared through at the former commander. He was older than her—certainly older than any man she’d felt viscerally drawn to. What was his age, anyway? What did she want from him?

  Or was Grant something else to her?

  “We about to begin this meeting, Holly?” Grant ask, returning her stare. He’d noticed.

  She flicked her gaze away, and buried it in the green velvet curtains skirting the small stage that was the focal point of the dining room. She cleared her throat and scrubbed her hands through her hair, then pulled it up into a ponytail, twisting it into one strand and tying it in a knot. She had this. Just one drink couldn’t unravel her wits. It was just enough to take that edge of terror off.

  After boarding, Grant and his crew, as well as Holly and hers, had all gone to their cabins, agreeing to meet in the dining room at 0700. Holly glanced at her communicator, then put it back in her pocket. They were three minutes to the hour.

  “What sort of cards?” Shiro asked, perking up at the mention of gaming, referencing Grant’s allusion to what they’d been doing in the gaming room.

  “I didn’t play. Just watched. I don’t gamble.”

  “Not surprising,” Xadrian said, sitting down. He’d lost the conservative attire he’d worn the pervious day, returning to his flamboyant dress. It was much better on him. Holly nodded at him in greeting. “Well, HD, how do you propose making up the loss of my cargo?”

  She laughed. “Come on, XT, you know I’m not responsible for that loss.”

  “Hmm, I don’t gamble much, either,” Shiro said, still on the topic Grant had introduced. “What else do they have going on in there?”

  “We had an agreement, HD,” Xadrian said, cocking his head to the side. “You’d deliver the goods after the job. With that in mind, I entered into agreements with other parties. And now they want their goods and I want the money.”

  “Billiards. Space bowling. The usual,” Grant said, answering Shiro. “Is this what the meeting is about? Xadrian’s losses?” Grant asked, leaning back in his chair and gesturing widely at Xadrian before crossing his arms.

  “It is now,” Shiro answered with a laugh. Holly exchanged a look with Shiro. Xadrian was gunning to get himself left behind. “I’d head to the gaming room with you, Scotch, but I don’t fancy leaving Ms. Drake alone with this animal.”

  Xadrian chortled. “I’m the animal. I keep my word when I give it.”

  Music began playing from the stage. Soon Odeon was taking his seat at the table. Normally Holly felt capable of handling all the testosterone on her own, but for some reason, she wished Charly was along to balance out the group. Holly was often guarded in the group setting, especially when there were wild cards like Grant and Xadrian, who weren’t typical team-members, while Charly burned through convention. For now, she was glad Odeon had returned to the table. Xadrian’s accusations were absurd.

  “It was out of my control, Xadrian,” Holly said with a shrug. She would not be cowed into taking the blame for the loss of the hydrantium. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Cough up a sum that will appease my clients.”

  “So they’re clients? Does ‘Dave’ know you’re playing other angles?”

  Xadrian blinked. Then laughed uncomfortably. “Does he need to know? He knows what he needs to know. I should say that’s enough.”

  “Look, Xadrian, I don’t think he’d be happy to know you’re attempting to get something out of me for a failed mission. The goods were on their way to you when we were attacked by what is basically a pirate organiz
ation.”

  “You’re not asking, Holly, but I’m on your side. Xadrian? You’re out of line.” Grant shifted in his seat and then pointedly stretched his hands and cracked his knuckles.

  “I agree with the commander,” Odeon said, setting his Ousaba on the table and giving Xadrian an obviously threatening look.

  “And you as well, I suppose,” Xadrian said waving his hand at Shiro.

  “Well, yes, I would always have Ms. Drake’s back,” Shiro said with a low chuckle.

  “Thanks, Shiro,” Holly said.

  “You lot are the most annoying ‘crew’ I’ve ever met.” Xadrian made air-quotes and shook his head.

  “I think that’s a compliment,” Odeon said. He glowered at Xadrian, an intensity flashing through his brilliant, multi-hued eyes.

  “For once I agree with you, Odeon Starlight,” Shiro said.

  “Then we’re done here?” Grant asked, rising.

  Holly nodded, though she’d been intending to discuss other topics with the team, she was feeling a bit off and wanted to head to her cabin and sleep the rest of the trip.

  “Shiro, you interested in some billiards?” Grant asked. “My first-mate has a table reserved.”

  “Definitely,” Shiro said, putting his hat back on and rising.

  “No billiards for me, Grant,” Holly joked, not actually feeling hurt. She flashed him a half-smile. “You interested, Odeon?”

  “I may watch, but only after the performance.”

  Grant and Shiro left the dining room together. Xadrian rose and sauntered past Holly, leaning toward her as he passed by and whispering that he wasn’t afraid of her hardball tactics. She laughed and winked at him, knowing that would just piss him off. From the way his bright red, painted lips compressed into a thin line, she knew it had. He strolled to the bar, leaving just Holly and Odeon at the table.

  Soon, Holly also stood and excused herself. Odeon followed her, despite her protestations that he should stay for the performance.

  “Holly, please. I have your back. And I know you are not well, though you’ve been putting on a smile for everyone else.” He stayed close to her in the corridor. Green rugs lined wooden floors of the corridor. One side of the bulkhead had a wooden bannister that was punctuated with brass decorations. Holly held onto it as she walked. The cabins were on the side opposite the bannister. The glass in the sliding doors glimmered in the soft yellow lights of the corridor, winking at her as she rambled through. One of the doors slid open and a couple exited, passing them in the narrow walkway. Holly and Odeon took the spiral staircase at the far end of the corridor up to the level where their cabins were. Odeon stayed close behind her.

  Soon she was in her cabin and laying down. “I never told you what happened, did I, Odeon?”

  “What happened, when?” He asked, leaning against the interior wall, his club dangling casually from one hand.

  “To make me hate inter-moon travel.” She sat up and removed her jacket. The Equalizer was stowed in her small traveling pack. Now that she had the knives, the thought of using the aether gun in a ship was ridiculous. But the knives weren’t enough. She knew that first chance she had, she’d head back to Aeolionais’s to pick another weapon. She undid the wrist straps that held the throwing knives in place on her wrists, then placed the knives and their sheaths in the drawer of the small nightstand. Sconce-lighting illuminated her cabin and she slapped the switch on the wall near her head to darken the window, shutting out the light from Yol and the reflected light from Ixion. There was just the soft glow of the aether powered sconce light.

  “You never have, no. Is now a good time?”

  “Probably not,” she said. “But I was thinking about it in the dining room. I think all the traveling is helping. I’m less nervous about being out here in the aether.”

  “Of course I want to know the source of your fears, Holly. I’m listening.” He took two steps and sat on the side of the bed. The cabins were small. There was no where else to sit except the floor.

  Holly stared up at the underside of the top sleeping compartment. She mentally revisited the disastrous journey that had nearly killed her, then laughed.

  “It was quite some time ago, now,” she began. As she began to relate the experience to Odeon, her speech became slurred and her eyelids drooped. It was only moments before she fell asleep that she realized Odeon had placed a hand on her shin and calm had flooded her.

  SEVEN

  Holly’s eyes flashed open just as her assailant swung.

  She cried out and rolled away, toward the inside of the sleeping compartment.

  The long blade of the vicious mulukai knife plunged into the pillow right where her neck had been.

  Holly rolled back and spun on her back like a turtle. The assailant was struggling to remove the knife, but it appeared to be stuck in the wood of the bed frame beneath the mattress. She slammed her feet into the stomach of the stranger.

  It was a man. His voice escaped along with a gust of breath as her feet connected with him.

  Holly cried loudly, hoping her shouts would rouse anyone from her crew—she could fight a man, but there was no sense in pride overpowering her reason. She had been asleep. Her muscles were still waking up as that first surge of adrenalin began to wear off.

  The man had crashed against the bulkhead that separated the sleeping compartment from the bathroom. Splinters of wood and gold flecks of paint cascaded down around him in the dim light of the muted sconce on the wall.

  Holly groped in the dimness and dug into the drawer to retrieve one of her throwing knives. Her fingers closed around a smooth hilt as the man suddenly realized what she was doing. He shook his head and scrambled to his feet. Holly shouted again as she flung the knife at him. It clattered against the bulkhead where he’d been sitting, useless. The doors of her room began to rattle and she lunged to release the latch.

  So he hadn’t used the doors—he must have been hiding in her tiny compartment somewhere. He attempted to stop her from releasing the latch as her fingers struggled against it. With the surging adrenalin in her blood, her fingers were jittery. Her assailant—a Shadow Coalition soldier based on his tattoo, which she noted as a prickle of recognition shivered through her—grabbed at her wrist, attempting to pull her away. His attempt worked, but not before she’d sprung the latch. Holly fell onto her behind with a thud, and rolled to get away and leapt to her feet.

  The doors opened and Xadrian came in, “Is everything alright…”

  “Look out!” Holly shouted.

  Xadrian was cut off as the assailant’s fist connected with his jaw. Xadrian cussed and called the stranger a name as he absorbed the blow and ducked away from further attacks.

  The man came at Holly next while Xadrian struggled to regain his bearings. The room was still too dim to make out details of the assailant’s features, but Holly continued to feel as though she should recognize him.

  She got her fingers around the boot-knife knife in the drawer and raised it to ward him off.

  “You really want to come at me? I’m not afraid to just stab the hell out of you. Self-defense.”

  “You’d stab an unarmed man?”

  “You’ve already tried to kill me. While I was sleeping. Knife in the face isn’t exactly a gesture of goodwill.”

  “He tried to kill you?” Xadrian asked, straightening. “Bloody bastard!”

  It was a standoff. Xadrian near the door, Holly against the outer hull, and the SC member against the bulkhead separating the cabin and the bathroom.

  “I think we should kill him, HD,” Xadrian said.

  “Right,” the SC thug growled. “Be my guest.”

  “I think we will. Or find out what he knows. He’s with the Shadow Coalition. Maybe he knows where the Heart is hiding.” Holly thought quickly, figuring out how she could question him. It would be their best lead so far if they could get him to talk. But how did someone do that?

  “We tie him up. And make him take us directly to the Heart. I
have some experience with interrogation. I like it.” Xadrian grinned and began rubbing his hands together. He was wearing shimmery pajamas—gold colored with undulating dragons in metallic green breathing fire.

  “What are you wearing?” she asked, biting her lip to fight back a grin.

  “What? These? Pajamas. It’s what civilized people do, rather than just crashing in the things they wore the previous day. You ought to try it, HD,” Xadrian said.

  “I have pajamas. But I wasn’t in a position to put them on when I went to bed.”

  “I don’t see how that should affect my sleeping attire choices,” Xadrian said.

  “You two just going to discuss leisure-wear? Doesn’t seem like an ideal time for it, you’re both about to die,” the assailant said.

  “Tell us your name and who sent you.”

  He laughed. “As though that’s what I’d do. Just divulge information you wish to have, because you asked.”

  Holly focused on the task, forgetting Xadrian’s pajamas. “You’re outnumbered,” she reminded the Shadow Coalition thug. “And your weapon is out of your reach.”

  He seemed to consider what Holly had said. And then, from a sleeve, produced another knife. A throwing one like she’d seen on so many other Shadow Coalition thugs and not unlike her own. “Ah, we’re even now, it seems.”

  A worried look crossed Xadrian’s face as he considered who the thug would throw the knife at. Holly felt her own muscles tense in response to the danger.

  Holly exchanged a look with Xadrian. Understanding seemed to pass between them, just before Xadrian dove for the man in a wild attempt to disarm him. At the same moment, Holly leapt to snag the pillow off the top bunk, landed, then went after the thug, swinging the pillow at him and using it as a shield. He slashed the pillow. A burst of feathers exploded from the pillow, filling the air with white and gray down as Holly and Xadrian tried to disarm the thug. A stinging sensation exploded from her bicep. She bit her lip as knife-blades flashed in the muted yellow light of the sconce. The main thing would be to prevent getting slashed somewhere worse and to stop him from getting the larger knife he’d left in her bed.