She waited for the others to do the same, then they walked through the rain, until they found an overhang to wait under.
“They need a visitor’s center, or a pamphlet or something, that let’s rookies like us know what to expect.” Her clothes were uncomfortably wet.
“It’ll stop soon. And then the sun will dry us.” Odeon examined his staff.
“Is it ruined?” Holly asked, seeing his concern.
“Not at all. The wood has been sealed. But I don’t like the idea of it air drying. I’ll find a towel soon.”
“How about if we check into a hotel, get our clothes dried, and then go looking for Darius’ infamous Constie?” Holly began looking around for a hotel. “Is there a hotel district?”
“One way to find out.” Shiro went back through the rain to one of the restaurants and asked the clerk. When he returned, Holly couldn’t help herself and laughed at his wet cat look. His pale blue suit hung off, heavy with water. His matching bowler drooped over his face, too weighed down to hold its form. Despite this, the crew’s distraction still managed to look dignified by using his cane and walking as though nothing could faze him. “The clerk said back that way about two hundred yards. She also said that the scheduled rain shower should stop momentarily. As if that matters. The damage is done.”
“Shiro Oahu. As a human would say, you still look like a trillion novas. Like Ixion’s own son,” Odeon said, beginning to head in the direction given them by the clerk.
“Thanks for finding that out, Shiro. Let’s go get a room and get out of our wet clothes.”
***
Once they’d checked into a room, they found a clever device in the water closet that spun the water out of their wet clothes. They took turns stripping down in private and running their clothes through the machine. They also removed their spare clothing from their luggage and dried them in the machine, and then they laid them out on the balcony to air dry. The next schedule rain shower wasn’t until the evening—this time they checked.
They were relatively dry and cleaned up again. So the three went out in search of their contact, the Constie named Macav Onini. Holly let Odeon lead them through the city streets, laid out in an octagon with the city center at the middle of the shape, with streets radiating out in spokes. The platforms themselves were giant octagons with pylons evenly distributed beneath them, and bridges connecting the platforms.
Odeon had begun to use his Ousaba club like a walking stick, when it wasn’t strapped to his back in an instrument case he’d modified to hold it. Their stroll through the city to find Macav was leisurely until they spotted graffiti on the side of a building. “Beware the Hands,” it read, in black paint. The three of them stopped dead in their tracks. People jostled against them from behind, before moving around them.
“We’re all seeing the same thing, right?” Holly asked, the blood rushing in her ears.
“Graffiti. In this city. On Helo. It doesn’t fit. Does it?”
“Of course it does, Ms. Drake. The Shadow Coalition is everywhere. Not just on the shitty planets. It was probably on Itzcap when we there, we just hadn’t bumped it yet. Right, Odeon? What say you, lad?”
“I think Shiro is right, Holly Drake.”
They moved off the main thoroughfare and into the shade of an overhang of a nearby building of what looked like condos. The platforms didn’t need large vehicles like the Mirage that the crew used occasionally. So the few aether-powered autos that bustled across the street moved slow, pushing through the crowd of bodies.
“Yes, I agree with both of you,” Holly said. “Another reason to find Macav and get the hell out of here.”
At last they came to the condo that belonged to Macav. It was the entire top two floors of a four story building. They pressed the button at the front entrance and waited to hear a response.
“Who goes there?” a deep voice said, the face appearing on the v-screen panel totally in shadow.
Holly motioned at Shiro, who answered. “Er, yes, lad. The Sleeping Giant Traveling Troupe.”
“Enter,” the voice answered. The door slid open and they ascended the stairs into the man’s home.
They were greeted on the top floor. Most of the condo was windows. Fine rugs covered the floor. Tropical plants from Centau stood in the corners with their long blade-like leaves.
The male Constie Holly presumed to be Macav Onini entered the room. She gasped. He was beautiful. His pale skin glittered like a porcelain glaze. His hair was a dyed dark blue that complemented his clothing. Shorter than most Centau and Druiviin, but taller than the average Constie, Macav was dressed in traditional Yaso attire. He wore a dark blue square top that had gaudy buttons up the side and flowing box sleeves. His pants were white and made of a similar linen-type fabric. They were also large and boxy with a silky navy blue sash tied around the waist.
“Hello,” he said, “please, introduce yourselves. Darius has already mentioned to me that you’d be here soon. But he neglected to tell me your names.”
Holly and her crew obliged.
When they finished, he explained, “I’m Mavac Onini, as you well know.”
“Yes, we’ve heard,” Shiro said.
“Of course, you’d be surprised at how many times that fact has slipped the notice of a client. Macav Onini. Legend. Son of no one, raised by Centau, and thus the force that surfs between two races, picking at will which parts he likes best to create his own greatness.”
“Wow . . . that’s a thorough introduction,” Holly muttered, looking between her crew. “You guys catch that?”
“I most certainly did,” Shiro said. He glanced at Odeon. “Did you, Odeon?”
Odeon nodded, studying Macav with his brilliant eyes. Holly had the distinct impression the Druiviin didn’t trust Macav.
“So,” Macav said, gesturing at the fine chairs arranged around the rug. “Please sit. You are here for a large tap.”
Holly started, then realized that Darius would have informed Macav of what they were seeking.
“Yes. Do you have it?”
“I do. Yes, I built it. It is indeed a product I have made, with my own two hands. I don’t make many, because as you can see, the market isn’t looking for these very often. The fact that I have it is a bit of a shock in the first place. The original buyer backed out.”
“You mean, you built it? Not that you simply have such a product.”
“Oh yes. Being raised by Centau has its advantages,” he remarked, heading to a door in the wall that was bolted shut and had a lock that only something as advanced as the Skelty Key could hack. “See, I have their honor code. Plus my own addition to it—the complexity that the Constellations approach all ideas with, which are mostly instinctive anyway. They’re not all philosophers like I am, you see. I think I absorbed that being raised by the Centau who adopted me.”
“I don’t like to pry,” Holly said, exchanging looks with her friends where they sat around the room.
“Not at all. I’m volunteering the information,” he said, withdrawing from the locked closet a large box shaped device. It was metal, bore a few buttons on one panel, and a hinge on one side. “Here it is.”
“And you made it? And it will work?” Holly asked, dubious.
“Oh yes. Guarantee it. I built it.”
Holly tapped her lip with a finger. “You mentioned that.”
“You’re thinking, ‘he’s a Constie, so he’s lying.’ And you’d be right about that. I do lie. Because I am the crossroads of two races—Constie and Centau. So I get to pick what I want about both and fuse them, in me.”
Holly’s suspicion of Macav and his posturing continued to grow. “How does it work? And if it doesn’t? Will you refund our money?”
“Refunds. No. Besides, you’ll be on an entirely different planet. And it works, so you don’t even need to worry about that. Darius will know how to work it. But let me give you a quick explanation.”
He showed them how to attach it to the cabling and demonstrated
the other parts of it—the repeater that broadcast the signal, and he gave them the receiver that would collect the signal and send it back the Bird’s Nest, where Darius would filter the messages coming in, looking for keywords about Charm.
“Now, if anything happens to it, I won’t be able to help you. This is one of a kind until I make another one.” He paused. “What are you and Darius looking for?”
Holly started to answer with an apology that they didn’t want to tell him, but he held his hand up to stop her.
“I don’t want to know. Nevermind. The less I know, the better. Because . . .” He studied their faces with his dark Constie eyes. “It involves the Hands, doesn’t it.”
“The Hands?” Holly repeated. “You mean, Hand.”
“There’s more than one. So I mean Hands.”
Holly muttered a curse.
“You didn’t know that there was more than one Hand?” Macav blinked at them in surprise.
Odeon shrugged. “We just barely learned about the Hands.”
Macav raised and eyebrow. “And you know about the Heart?”
“Vaguely, good man,” Shiro answered. Holly was still trying to recover from the new information.
“So this has to do with them? I would be very very careful, were I you.”
“Yes, we know. Thank you,” Shiro said glancing at Holly.
“They do not play games.”
Shiro laughed drily. “We’ve noticed.”
“Now,” Macav said, turning and pacing to the side of the room to fill a drink for himself at a counter built into the wall. “To make this tap work, I must tell you, you’ll need one other part. And it’s not here.”
Holly cursed again. She thought she heard Shiro cuss as well.
She knew before she even asked that it was going to be far away. Somewhere that would require another zeppelin ride. “Where is it?”
“Joppa.”
“Of course it is,” Holly said. “Why is it on Joppa? Why can’t it be a part you have?”
“I did have it. Until someone purchased it. That’s why, and they are on Joppa. You’re welcome to go buy it from them. Or. Whatever you want to do.”
Holly rose, then thought of something. “Before we go, would you mind telling us what you know about the Hands and the Heart.”
Macav sipped his drink and regarded Holly with a smile in his dark eyes. “Very little, because I am not a part of the organization. They deal in the illegal aether trade, somehow procuring their own supply, but not from the Centau approved dealers. They sell it for magnitudes less than the official channels. There are other things, probably, but what I know of them is limited because they keep close tabs on their trade and who is allowed to see the Hands and the Heart. Any foot-soldiers that see them are either killed or turned into higher ranks and kept on hidden bases throughout the 6-moon system.”
“Well, thank you. That’s more than any of us know or have had the chance to find out.” Holly looked at her companions. They shifted in their seats and cleared their throats. Holly understood. She wasn’t feeling comfortable either. Macav was kind enough, but there was something ambiguous about him. Perhaps it was the way he denied and embraced whatever he wanted about the races.
“You are quite welcome. Did you bring payment?”
Shiro took out the novas he’d brought for paying Macav that were sequestered away in his interior pockets and placed the stack on the table.
“It’s all there.”
Macav produced a single lens from somewhere on his body and glanced through it at the stack of novas. “So it is. Well then. I would like to warn you to be incredibly cautious as you proceed. The SC does not play friendly. In fact, I have begun to feel their presence more and more on Helo. So, watch your backs, my friends.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
ACCORDING to Macav Onini, the other part they needed—a thermo-core suppresser—to make the ridiculous communications hub tap work, was in a seedy, quite questionable joint on the moon of Joppa. Joppa was a place that had been formed to resemble Centaurus sans the dangerous life-forms that rendered the original planet one of the most deadly in the known galaxies hosting humanoid life. It was tropical and supported a wide diversity of species.
The Centau themselves adapted to the dangerous environment and through millennia had developed a tribal family system that worked to keep children in stable family units. Several males and females of child-rearing age banded together into communal living to form a family, of six to eight individuals. They had nine to ten children and worked as a unit to raise them, every adult invested in the children like they were their own. If one of the parents died in a random sting from a poisonous insect or a bite from a sneaky, venomous reptile, or by being eaten alive by one of the many horrific monstrous creatures that did that sort of thing, there were still five to seven parents equally invested in raising the children to adulthood.
But it kept their population in lower numbers. It had the added impact, however, of forcing the Centau who didn’t die to become geniuses of science and engineering. They learned quickly to overcome environment by blending into it seamlessly, or by living above it. The houses on Joppa were elevated on stilts. The stilts were designed with traps all around them to prevent insects from migrating up them and into the home.
Despite this being Joppa where none of the threats lurked that did on Centaurus, the cities of Joppa resembled quite successfully those found on their homeworld. The tall city buildings made of white stone rose out of the jungle with green rolling hills as a backdrop. The autos that rolled along the streets were protected with strong, unbreakable glass. Buildings were equipped with multiple exit routes, but protected against pestilences with ventilation that trapped or poisoned anything trying to enter through openings.
Holly had seen photos of Joppa and knew the lore. Being in it was quite another sensation.
The odors of the planet were heavy with humidity and the fragrances of sickly sweet flowers that hung from vines clinging to buildings and the towering trees with giant glossy leaves. The species variations of the plants was in some astronomical number, and many of them had been brought to Joppa by the Centau.
However, one of the unfortunate side affects of the tropical species was the sheer number of drugs that could be synthesized from the various leaves and vines.
And that was the location Macav Onini had sent them to. A legal drug house.
Holly reached under her dark wine blazer and shirt and felt the grip of the Equalizer for a moment of reassurance. On either side of her were Odeon and Shiro, both outfitted with their weapons.
“So, I never told you yokels that my father lives here, on Joppa. I have no fucking idea why he would, but there you go.” She told them this as they approached the Jungle of Delicious Delights.
“Ah, Ms. Drake, I would have expected you to tell us sooner.”
“Really?” she scoffed.
“No, that was me, giving you the slightest ribbing,” Shiro said.
“He’s an ex-cop.”
“And yet another surprise,” Shiro said.
They stood outside the location, watching people pass by and enter and exit the building. Holly glanced around nervously. “Let’s just get this stupid part and get the hell out of here. This moon is giving me the creeps.”
Shiro gestured at the rolling green hills in the distance. “I understand what you mean. I believe it’s due to the humidity. We’re used to the drier climate of Kota.”
“Why couldn’t this part be in one of those Centau-worship churches?” Holly mused aloud. “Or some other church? Where it doesn’t seem like we’re about to be injected with hallucinogens or shot at for startling someone?”
“I’d take another church. But alas, the Centau worship thing is a cult, and I don’t do cults, of any sort,” Shiro said.
“In my view, all churches are intimidating,” Odeon said.
Holly rubbed her hands together and took a few quick deep breaths. “Let’s go in, grab the part, a
nd go.”
“Oh hey, guys, just a quick rundown,” Darius said over the comms. He’d been listening in but hadn’t said anything for a while. He was busy at the same time with sifting through the information his filters had given him. His program wasn’t quite as effective as he’d been hoping. “The woman with the part runs this joint. Now, though there’s a bit of stigma with this stuff, it’s not outlawed. The Centau figured out early on that making it illegal only caused their people to do it more, because as you might have guessed, life on Centaurus is stressful as fuck.
“My take is, offer her however much money she wants for it and get the hell back here. We’ve got to move on this shit.”
“Great. Great. Thanks Darius. Really helpful,” Holly joked.
“What? I know how you guys work. You’d try to have a long chat with her about business, sit down for drinks, pop some drugs, have some fun, maybe get wild and crazy, and then I’d see you again in four days.”
Shiro entered the establishment when he realized that Holly was hesitating. It was snug between taller buildings, a two story structure that had a wooden sign in the front with Centau script on it. Holly and Odeon followed Shiro inside.
“Welcome,” a voice said as they moved inside. The lights were bright and sterile. Holly blinked. She’d expected a dim ambiance. “Take a look at the menu, then let me know what you would like.”
The voice was coming from a Centau female sitting behind a wooden counter. The front of it was glass. On the other side of the glass there was paraphernelia for using drugs. Glass pipes, devices for making tiny teas of jungle species leaves, beakers, flagons, and kits for distilling. In the center of the room there was a cozy arrangement of couches, armchairs, and a rug. A few people—Consties, mainly—sat talking and drinking tall, thin mugs of tea. When Holly and her crew entered, they glanced toward the door, then resumed their shushed conversation.
Hands of the Colossus Page 17