Eye of the Colossus

by Nicole Grotepas

  Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Glossary

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  A Note from Me

  Copyright © 2018 by Nicole Grotepas

  Other titles by Nicole Grotepas:

  Novels:

  Feed, part 1

  Feed 1

  Feed 2

  Blue Hearts of Mars

  World in Shadow

  Short stories:

  “Six Shadows”

  “Cry Olly Oxen Free

  “The God Machine”

  “Cities of the Sun”

  “The First Post-Android Buyback Program”

  Thank you:

  David Gervais

  E.T. Roske

  Elizabeth B.

  Tanya Wheeler

  To my mother, Sally, who was the first bad ass heroine.

  RACES:

  Centau: a race of people from a system of planets in the Centaurian constellation. Very tall, dark skinned, with hair colors ranging across the lighter hues of white, silver, blond, etc. They’re far more advanced than humans. They are the race responsible for having terraformed and settled the 6-moon region. Muibaus produces an element known as hydrantium that when refined provides a form of energy that powers ships, vehicles, and energy weapons.

  Druiviin: a race of people from the planet Yaso. Violet skinned with hair ranging from white to silver, and almost blonde. Rather calm and peaceful and more given to artistic pursuits.

  Constellation: a race of people from the planet Acxia. Their pale skin is reflective due to conditions on their home planet. Their moral advancement is similar to humans.

  Human: a race of people from Earth.

  Locations:

  Ixion: a gas giant in the solar system Achelois. Also known as Muibaus (“pale mother”) to the Centau. Provides hydrantium and ionium to the settlers of the 6-moon system. Also referred to as Moebius.

  Kota: a moon orbiting Ixion. Capital city, the City of Jade Spires.

  Paradise: one of the 6-moons which is a central hub for storing and shipping elements mined from Ixion such as hydrantium and other goods.

  Itzcap: the most idyllic moon of the 6-moons. A popular place for resorts and vacationing.

  The Sliver: the safest region of Kota and most populated.

  ONE

  “THREE more days in this hell-hole, Charly. The question is, can you go that long without another fight?” Holly Drake glanced sideways at her friend as the prison guard who’d been leading the group through the corridor pushed the dining hall doors shut behind them.

  The two women stuck together as they headed through the hall to get their lunch, hanging back behind the rest of their cohort. Meals happened in shifts, and stragglers from the previous shift still lingered at their tables, while others headed out through the secure doors to the yard to stretch their legs.

  “It is a hell-hole. I’m ready to get out of here. No more fights for me. I’ve sworn them off,” Charly said, grinning. She was a hand shorter than Holly, with a larger frame that matched her name, Charly Stout. Her dark curly hair was frizzy from the lingering humidity left by the rain that had washed the City of Jade Spires clean the night before. As they walked, Charly gathered it up into a pony-tail.

  Holly laughed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. I’ve actually started to wonder if you’re afraid to get out. To leave me behind.”

  It was Charly’s turn to laugh. “It’s you who can’t give me up. If anything, you start the fights so I have to join in. Defend you. You’re too skinny to survive a real battle.”

  Holly ignored Charly’s jab. It was true, anyway. Holly preferred to think of herself as lean but muscular. Anyway, it didn’t matter, because Holly had a history that proved her friend wrong when it came to fighting.

  Holly scanned the room. “But as far as our lovely minimum security prison goes, I’ve heard stories about the sorts of dungeons that used to pass as prisons. At least this place is a bit sunny and the food’s not bad. Right?” Rays of dust-filled sunlight filtered in through the strip of tall windows that outlined the upper reaches of the hall. Women sat in small groups at circular tables, picking through the food in front of them. “And we have chairs. You know Cremity? She told me that in max security the tables and chairs are bolted to the ground.”

  Charly scoffed. “The Centau are idiots. They’re too nice. We don’t deserve the kind of trust they try to give us. We’re goddamn human prisoners in a Centau directed prison. And Cremity would know. That bitch has done time in max. Anyway, if the Constellations were running things without interference from the Centau, everyone would be better off. Those idiots know how to treat criminals.”

  “Charly,” Holly said, “you’re talking about us, you know? Anyway, I’m not a criminal.”

  “I know—you ‘were framed.’”

  “I was.”

  “I know.” Charly glanced to the side at Holly, flipping her pony-tail over her shoulder as she did. “We’ve talked about it since the day I stepped in to beat Korla down for you.”

  “We did that together.”

  “Sure we did.”

  “I know how to fight,” Holly said, getting her hackles up. She took a breath. It’s OK. Charly’s just teasing. She sometimes had to remind herself how normal people interacted. With levity. Familiarity. Charly was now both of those things to Holly. They’d spent hundreds of hours together since Charly showed up in prison about six months after Holly’s sentence began.

  Charly winked at Holly. “Shut up. I know. I taught you, remember?”

  Holly forced herself to laugh. The muscles across her chest relaxed as the laughter did its work. “Definitely. Before you, I had no idea how to defend myself. It’s all thanks to you.”

  Charly grinned and gave Holly’s jumpsuit a slight tug to indicate that it was in good fun.

  Charly, Holly, and all the rest of the prisoners wore the same turquoise colored jump suits—a hybrid of two warring design choices: the Centau and Druiviin felt things should be beautiful, organized, and that criminals shouldn’t be treated like monsters. Meanwhile the humans and Constellations wanted to punish criminals. The two races embraced the gray areas where morality wasn’t quite so black or white. They saw beauty in the vagaries of the disorganized and hideous, and because of this acceptance of human and Constie nature, they saw punishment as a necessity in their society.

  This disagreement at the most basic level happened for almost every civic decision. From the delegation to humans and Consties the blue-collar economic industries like shipping and trade, to the physical aspects of building and construction. The City of Jade Spires Minimum Security Prison was directed at the very top by a Centau, who wished not to
get her hands dirty, but who interrupted the major decisions made by the humans and Consties just below her that she herself had appointed. The entire minimum security prison was a direct reflection of the two distinct approaches: a strangely beautiful facility that very nearly punished the inhabitants.

  Holly and Charly skirted several tables full of chattering women. As they passed a specific group of women—Korla and Jalia, bullies that relished any opportunity to cause problems for Holly—the two paused their conversation to look up at Holly and scowl openly. Holly’s skin prickled. They were hardened women who’d been in the pen many times. Both were pale Constellations with the mixed red and black short hair and square ears typical of their race. Their faces were branded with the orange tattoos that female Constellations adopted after picking a profession.

  “Keep it down,” Holly said, leaning toward Charly’s ear and flicking her gaze to Korla and Jalia so Charly would glance at them. “I mean, I know you’re excited about getting out—I’m happy for you—but those jerks aren’t happy for you. Have you seen their faces? It’s like, I don’t know, like they’re plotting.”

  “Really?” Charly shot a look toward the two women Holly had indicated. She scoffed and grabbed a tray, as did Holly, and they started down the line, jostling against the other inmates in front of them. “Whatever. Everyone knows this is my week. Plus it’s not like I did anything bad. It’s not even fair that I’m in here.”

  “Really? Blackmail isn’t some noble thing.” Holly put a vegetable pie on her tray. She wouldn’t miss the food when it was finally her turn to put this god-forsaken era behind her. But she still had three and a half years left.

  “Definitely not the same as murder,” Charly muttered, grabbing whole pieces of fresh fruit from a bowl in front of the inmate working as a cook. Some old earth fruit, as well as a chamblos and a xinfra. Of the two alien fruits, Holly preferred the chamblos and grabbed one for herself. It was a star-like three-pointed, dark red fruit with leathery skin, and their texture as well as their taste reminded Holly of bananas. Xinfra were pink, palm-sized oblongs with fuzzy exteriors, but they were tart, sometimes bitter. Holly didn’t like to chance it. Both were native to the Constellation home planet, Axcia, but the Consties begrudgingly shared their hand-grown fruit with the prisoners at the behest of the Centau.

  Holly scoffed but didn’t say anything about Charly’s comment. She didn’t mean it that way—as a reference to what Holly had done. Manslaughter and murder were different, and they both knew that.

  They finished filling their trays and headed to a table with a few empty spots.

  “I’d ask you what I should have done,” Charly said once they’d settled, revisiting the blackmail comment. “But I already know what you’d say—walk away. Let them get away with their crimes.” Charly began to nibble on the apple and made a face. “This tastes like dust.”

  “It always does. That’s why I get the baked stuff.”

  “The least they could do would be to have decent food. Brightly painted walls and nice furnishings don’t make up for the animal feed they give us.”

  Holly took a bite of her pie and made a face. “Yeah, it’s no good. What I wouldn’t give to have a bowl of ramen. Or a few tacos.”

  A shadow fell across Holly’s plate and her stomach dropped.

  “You dickheads done here?” It was Korla, hovering over them with her arms folded. Jalia was a head taller than Korla, and she stood behind the other woman trying to look as menacing as Korla did by nature.

  “What the hell?” Charly stood up, her voice raising into a shrill pitch.

  “Charly, don’t—” Holly said, lifting her hand to calm her friend down.

  Korla reached down and swept Charly’s tray off the table. The fruit, a glass of water, and a hunk of bread soared away in a wide arc, most of it knocking into the back of a woman at another table.

  “Sorry, that wasn’t me,” Charly said when the woman turned to see who had done it. Charly spun back to Korla and Jalia. “You don’t just get to knock our food around and get away with it,” she growled. Her brown gaze darkened, her mouth curled into a snarl. A portion of Charly’s ancestors were islanders from old Earth. She was built with a burly body with a low-center of gravity in a fight. And some them must have also been hot-headed, because her immediate response to a threatening situation was to double down and fight.

  “Yeah? What are you going to do about it? As far as I’m concerned I can do whatever I want, to whoever I want. This is my territory. Mine and Jalia’s. We own this place.” Korla jerked her thumb back at Jalia, then jabbed her finger into Charly’s shoulder. “You don’t sit where I don’t want you to sit. You ask, ‘Korla, is it OK if I sit here?’ And I will either say yes or no. If I say no, you sit on the ground, bitch, do you understand?”

  Charly’s face had gone from light brown to a furious red. Her fists were clenched, the turquoise jumpsuit over her chest rose and fell in rapid breaths like a bull about to explode into a charge. Holly could swear she saw Charly’s heart beating like a trapped bird in her neck from the other side of the table.

  Oh god. This is not going to be good, Holly thought, hurrying to stand in front of Charly to prevent her from doing something rash that would destroy her chance of being released in a few days. It wasn’t the first time Holly had run interference on her friend, nor was it the first time Charly was only a few days away from getting out of prison, only to have a prison yard skirmish push her time back. Holly stretched her arms out like wings between the two parties and made placating gestures.

  “Look, look, ladies, calm down everyone. The accident with our food? No big deal, Korla. Totally an accident. We’re prepared to put that behind us,” Holly said. Charly blinked in surprise at Holly as though to say, hell no, I’m not putting that behind me. Holly continued. “Now, let’s get some perspective, all right? Korla, listen, this is the first time either of us have heard of your rules. We had no idea—we swear—that the cafeteria was your territory. No idea. But we’re totally fine with that. Next time we come in, we’ll definitely double check with you about where we can sit.”

  Korla’s face screwed up into a sneer. “Are you making fun of me? Watch yourself, you skinny, little top-knotted bitch. Besides, I don’t buy it. You knew.”

  It was like she wanted to fight. Holly remembered, suddenly, how they’d scowled as Holly and Charly entered the dining hall.

  Korla and Jalia were trying to fuck it up for Charly.

  But there was no way Holly could explain that to Charly at the moment. There would be a fight—that was Korla’s goal. Shit, Holly thought. There’s no way I’m going to let that happen. Charly shouldn’t even be in prison, nor should I.

  “You want a fight, Korla? Is that it? Again? You trying to mess this up for Charly? You’re so transparent. Piss Charly off, get her to fight with you, and they tack three more weeks onto her sentence. Is that right? Have I got it?”

  Korla blinked, her pale Constie face melting into a mask of shock, then just like that, it transformed back into her snarling rage-face that looked just like a baffled bull-dog. “I’ll break you for saying that shit,” Korla sneered.

  “Bring it on, Korly-cue.” Holly turned and pushed Charly back, away from the fight and glared at her friend, “Don’t get involved. You’re going free this week if it’s the last thing I do for you.”

  Something crashed hard into Holly’s head. Stars flashed in her vision as she rocked forward and caught her balance. Around them there was the sound of chairs sliding back and footsteps scurrying away. The women of the City of Jade Spires Minimum Security Prison were criminals, but most of them weren’t violent criminals. And a fight meant more time in the lock-up. And probably a lot of wounds the Consties and humans who managed the place didn’t want to fix for them. Usually injuries went ignored, unless the Centau official came through to inspect the facility. That was when things got done.

  So the room cleared as women ran for the edge of it, where they stopped a
nd observed. They didn’t want to fight. But they sure as hell weren’t going to miss seeing a fight.

  “Holly!” Charly shouted as Korla hit her in the head with a tray again.

  Holly cussed and struggled to regain her balance. Then she turned, an ire she hadn’t felt since Grafton rising in her chest like a black beast. This was why Holly didn’t like to fight either—it reminded her of that ugly time in her life.

  But she let the beast out as Korla swung at her again with the tray. Instead of dodging it, or moving, Holly swung her fist straight at the tray. It was made of some kind of plastic polymer and her hand crashed through it, the material splintering and flying like shrapnel from a bomb. She jabbed her other fist into Korla’s gut. The Constie was off-balance and the blow to her gut sent her crumpling to the ground. Jalia yelped and then called for her friend.

  “Korla, get up, woman!” Jalia turned to face Holly. Her dark eyes were bright and focused, yet Holly saw fear in them. It seemed their desire to screw it up for Charly surpassed their own aversion to fighting.

  Jalia came at Holly, a windmill of kicks, one right after the other.

  Maybe it wasn’t aversion in Jalia’s eyes. Maybe it was concentration. Maybe it was lust for blood.

  “Holly,” Charly called from the edge of the room. “Sweep her leg!”

  But it was too late. Jalia’s foot connected with Holly’s shoulder and sent her careening against a table. Chairs clattered to the ground as the table slipped away across the tile floor. Holly almost gave up then—maybe the other women would be done with the fight. Maybe they’d had enough. But no. Jalia’s hands grasped the loose fabric of the back of Holly’s jumpsuit.

  “Shit,” Holly muttered, as Jalia pulled, yanking Holly off the table and then threw her across the room and into another table. She heard the women around the edge of the room gasp and titter among themselves.