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

by Nicole Grotepas

  “A replica would be lighter, unless the forgery was made in the same process, which would take as long as the original, but it wouldn’t be the same. I do wish the vase could be mine,” Amaya said as she nodded that they could put the vase down.

  The two of them returned the vase to the cocktail table.

  Shiro had finished removing his coat. Holly glanced at him. Perspiration gathered at his hairline. He removed his bowler and began fanning himself. “Very glad to hear it, Amaya. Now then, shall we discuss payment?”

  Amaya dusted off her hands. “The agreed upon price. Five hundred.”

  Holly balked. “Novas?”

  Amaya fixed her intense stare on Holly. “Hundred thousand. Five hundred thousand novas.” She turned and sauntered to the far end of one of the sofa. From behind it, she produced a suitcase.

  Shiro took it, checked the glowing LED panel for the number that indicated how much money it held, and handed it over to Holly.

  Amaya studied her fingernails. “Let me know if there are issues. I took out my fee, so it’s just shy of the five hundred thousand.”

  That was standard. Holly nodded.

  Shiro leaned toward Amaya and gave her a beso. “Thank you, Amaya.”

  “Oh, dear Shiro, always a pleasure. Fencing is my second favorite thing to do.”

  12

  Holly carried the case of money as they strolled through Analogue Alley back toward the street that would take them to a Spireway entrance. Pedestrians in grand suits with elaborate coats, top hats, canes, and feathered boas swelled around them. Yasoans were sparse, due to the cold, but there were many representatives of the other races amongst the throngs.

  As Holly and Shiro neared Iain’s shop, the crowd suddenly teemed with Shadow’s Shadow members in their ridiculous white jackets.

  “Don’t they get cold?” Shiro asked aloud, nuzzling deeper into the collar of his camel coat.

  “Their grudge keeps them warm,” Holly said. “Duck in here with me.” The briefcase felt as conspicuous as the vase had when she’d been carrying it.

  They climbed the stairs to Angelo’s Golden Age.

  “Where are you taking me, Ms. Drake?” Shiro asked.

  “To see an old friend. And I want to get out from under the eyes of all those SS thugs. What’s going on? Is there a corrupt faction conference happening nearby?”

  A bell dinged as they entered Angelo’s shop. Holly paused just inside the entrance and took a deep breath.

  Ixion’s father, she’d missed Angelo’s. The musty odor of all the old things filled her—ancient typing machines, long-obsolete telephones, strange music players with horns poking off their boxish bodies, the archaic technology of bygone Earth eras, all of which Angelo stocked his shop with. The warmth of the lighting—lampshades and vintage glowing neon signs, the eons of dust still embedded in the worn armchair cushions, the ancient dirt and sand that clung to the shag rug that had seen decades of shoe soles.

  Holly sighed.

  “That much, eh?” Shiro asked, noting the tension leaving her. “Will we be here a while? Shall I de-frock myself?”

  “Shiro, that’s a question a lady should never have to answer for a man,” she said, her cheeks heating up at her decision to respond in a teasing way. “But since you asked, yes. Let’s do. Let’s have tea with Angelo.”

  Her crew member began to undress.

  “Be out in a moment,” Angelo’s voice shouted from the back room, sounding muffled. “A moment!”

  “I do have another appointment coming up, Ms. Drake. And we should get this money back to the Bird’s Nest as soon as we can. The quicker we can get their share off our hands, the better.”

  Holly walked deeper into Angelo’s shop, the familiar comfort of his business sinking into her. It was like going home, always. She scanned the shelves, noticing the absence of some of her favorite antiques. It had been ages since she’d come to see him. Was it fair to be annoyed that some of her favorite items had been sold?

  Hardly. She laughed.

  “What is it?” Shiro asked. He’d been following her as he undid his scarf and the buttons on his coat.

  “I haven’t been in for a while. Angelo has had some sales. I’m glad for him.”

  “You sound not glad, Ms. Drake.”

  She bit her lip. It was a shop. That was the way a shop worked. It was no use. If she kept browsing, she’d find more things that he’d sold.

  Holly headed to the counter where Angelo usually worked. “Hello?”

  “Holly dear!” Angelo’s voice greeted her from the back room. Soon the old fellow appeared in the doorway, and clasped his hands together in delight. “Lovely girl. Where have you been?”

  The white hair over his ears fluttered as he hobbled toward her, his body bent ever-so-slightly forward, hunched from the work of fixing up old machinery.

  Holly put the suitcase down. Angelo leaned toward her and caught her hands in his.

  “I was growing worried that you’d been hurt or—as the way of the world—married off again, and were too busy for old Angelo.” He leaned close and gave her two besos. “Now then, who is your friend?”

  “Angelo, this is one of my closest friends. Shiro Oahu,” Holly introduced, stepping aside to allow them to shake hands.

  Angelo laughed and grasped Shiro’s hand and pulled him close to plant two big besos on either cheek.

  Shiro laughed. “Ah, a man after my own heart. I do quite love an ostentatious display of welcome like that.”

  “You are certainly welcome here, then, my friend.” Angelo let go of Shiro and walked around the sales floor to park himself behind his work counter. “Have a seat, have some tea. What would you like? It’s tea-time, isn’t it? And Holly, did you have something specific you needed, or is this merely a social call?”

  “A social call, Angelo. I’m afraid I’ve let some of my most important relationships lapse. Will you still have me for social calls?”

  “Darling girl, there’s nothing you could ever do that would make you not welcome in my shop!” He pointed at the arrangement in the center of the sales floor—the shag rug, the velvet armchairs, the soft-hued floor lamp—Holly’s sanctuary. “Have a seat. I’ll get the tea.”

  Shiro had finished removing his winter attire and draped his coat over the back of one of the armchairs. “This one is mine, then.” He flashed a grin at her. He walked around into the central part of the arrangement and sat down. “Comfortable. I wasn’t sure it would be. But, oh yes, that’s very nice, Ms. Drake.”

  Holly sat opposite of him and nodded. “This is one of the best places to unwind. Angelo is an old friend.”

  “So I gathered. Friend of the family?”

  “More like someone I adopted when I was younger. I used to come here to look at the oddities. We got used to each other. Became friends.”

  “I love a story of friendship.”

  Holly nodded. “I actually believe that. Seems like something you’d get a kick out of.”

  “You know me so well.” Shiro removed his gloves and placed them on a nearby end table.

  From the back of the shop, they heard a kettle whistle.

  Holly took a deep breath. “Shiro, I think I’m going to start gathering my own force.”

  He stared at her. “Force?”

  “Like to fight back. People that I can count on to rise against the Shadow’s Shadow. Those ridiculous idiots.” She shook her head and laughed. “I feel completely outrageous whenever I say their name.”

  “It’s quite an annoying name to say. It’s almost as though they’re playing a joke on everyone. Forcing us to call them by such a silly phrase. Let’s rename them—how about the Shadow’s Armpit? Seems more accurate.”

  “The Shadow’s Toe. The Shadow’s Butt,” Holly said.

  Shiro laughed, then flushed, looking a bit stricken.

  “Shiro, honestly, you look like I just slapped you.”

  “Well, you are a lady. I confess it caught me off guard.”
>
  “You and your notions about ladies and propriety. Please, whatever you do, don’t put me on a pedestal. I’m human. I say terrible things. I want terrible things. I’m not an angel.” She sighed.

  “And you’re welcome to be all those things, I simply wasn’t expecting a reference to that particular body part.”

  “The Shadow’s Ass,” Holly said, hoping to get a rise out of him.

  It worked. His blush deepened.

  “The Shadow’s Cock,” she smirked.

  Shiro held up a hand, his cheeks on fire.

  “You’ve gone almost as purple as Odeon,” Holly observed in awe.

  “Ms. Drake, please,” he said.

  “Let’s do it, let’s just call them the Cocks from now on. If anyone asks, we’ll say we mean a male chicken. A rooster.”

  He laughed, almost as though he couldn’t help himself.

  Holly smiled, sitting back in her armchair. “You love it. You love it when I’m this real. And you should, you should treasure it, since it happens so infrequently these days. I reserve it only for my most trusted friends. This is great. Then it’s settled. The Cocks. Not even ‘the Shadow’s Cocks’. Simply ‘The Cocks’. Capital T. Capital C.” She moved her hand like it was outlining the distant title on a marquee somewhere. “One night only. The Cocks.”

  Shiro shook his head, muffling a laugh, and rubbed his hand across his forehead. He sighed. “You’ll be my undoing, Ms. Drake.”

  “You want me to be. You’re bored of this buttoned-up look. You’ve been looking for a way to unleash the Shiro underneath that proper exterior.”

  “Oh, however did you find me out?” he asked.

  “Now you’re just being sarcastic.”

  “Well, imagine that—you don’t love my sarcasm?”

  “The Cocks are coming, and we need to do something.” She grinned, feeling suddenly empowered.

  Shiro let out a sound that resembled a whimper. “Ixion’s mother.”

  “Ixion’s father.”

  He said nothing. Holly didn’t either. They sat beneath the yellow light of the lamp. Shiro took off his bowler and placed it on the end table on top of his gloves.

  Holly felt an urge to grab it and throw it, to continue on this sudden path, teasing Shiro until he came completely undone. She resisted.

  In the back of the shop, the whistling stopped. The tea would come soon.

  Shiro had collected himself, finally, and asked, “Who would this force consist of?”

  “Not really sure. You. The crew. Gabe. Meg. Iain. The people who are already on my team,” Holly said.

  She wondered what had happened to her just now. What had been her goal in teasing Shiro like that? It had been rather liberating, but now what? She wasn’t lying about calling the Shadow’s Shadow ‘The Cocks’. She was going to do it and leave it up to the others to decide what it meant.

  She continued outlining her plan, which was only an outline so far. With very blurry edges.

  “I want to use this money to gather together what I can, consolidate and work like a spear tip, prying my way into their ranks to destroy them. Now we have not only the Shadow Coalition and Aimee Voss to deal with, we have this other faction—The Cocks. It’s too much to handle on our own.”

  Shiro let out a loud sigh at her use of the new name. She permitted herself the tiniest of smiles.

  “Well, if that is your plan, Ms. Drake, you always have my sword. I will help you whatever way I can.”

  “Thanks, Shiro. But I feel like I have no choice. It’s this, or . . . what? Nothing else.”

  “You have a choice, however, I have always felt that we cannot hide from who we’re meant to be.” He started suddenly, and removed the familiar pocketwatch from the vest pocket of his suit. “My other appointment, Ms. Drake.”

  Angelo appeared with a tray laden with a tea kettle, teacups, and jam-filled cookies.

  “That watch!” Angelo said, spying the pocketwatch he’d fixed for Holly.

  She’d done it for Shiro, months and months ago.

  “Yes, it’s a very nice one, isn’t it,” Shiro answered. “I’m quite sad to miss this tea, Mr. Angelo, but I do have a previous engagement and must be going.”

  Shiro put his watch away and rose, returning his bowler to its home atop his head with a little flourish. He stood, gathered up his gloves and his lionhead cane, and pulled his coat from off the back of the chair he’d been occupying.

  Angelo put the tea tray down on the coffee table in the center of the rug, and straightened. Chuckling, the old man gave the slightest suggestion of a bow. Light from the lamp reflected in the magnifying goggles he always wore on his forehead, winking at his visitors.

  “I’ll be off then,” Shiro said, exchanging a quick beso with Holly, then heading out. He paused in the doorway. “Ms. Drake, careful with that suitcase.”

  Holly dropped her hand to the suitcase resting at her feet to make sure it was still there. It was.

  He dipped his head in a slight bow and left the shop.

  13

  “But what kind of shit are we talking about, Drake?” Darius asked.

  She held her communicator to her ear. The window of Iain’s shop that overlooked the main thoroughfare of Analogue Alley fogged over at the edges as Holly watched the parade of interesting pedestrians coming and going. She could hear Iain somewhere talking to his shop assistant, his niece, Kaye.

  “Doesn’t really matter. It could be anything. Maybe it’s a ship or two. Maybe a large amount of supplies—aether guns. Food. Or maybe it’s a bunker. I don’t know. It’s still vague.”

  “Alright, alright. And how much can you afford? Like what’s the seed money?” He sounded like he was rubbing his hands together, getting excited to start spending money that wasn’t his.

  “I’m planning to use my share from this job on it.”

  “So one hundred thou?”

  “No, let’s say ninety thousand novas,” Holly said.

  “You should take the larger share, Drake.”

  “Been over this, Darius, it’s not up for discussion. Besides, Shiro brought this job to the crew.”

  “Take some of mine, then. Count that. Let’s make it an even hundred. I mean, it’s the least I can do—we got other work lined up for the future, right? So I’m feeling generous, like I can contribute.”

  It was a battle of wills, and she wasn’t interested in spending time on the argument.

  “You’re in, then? I haven’t even asked you. For all you know, I’m going rogue,” she said.

  “Are you?”

  “No,” she sighed.

  “Well, don’t take it so hard, Drake. After all, we’re all rogue, in our own ways. Now, when you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “You know what’s going on in general. My goal, this time, is to not be outnumbered. Or, for that matter, outgunned.”

  She turned from the window and looked at Iain over the shelves full of palettes, charcoal, and pencils. The hardwood floor beneath her feet creaked as her weight shifted over it.

  Iain’s steel blue gaze caught hers as he glanced up from looking over a v-screen with Kaye. There was a gravity to his look that made her wonder if he’d heard what she’d been saying.

  A brief smile touched his mouth, then he looked back down at the v-screen.

  “So, this is big. You need my cash? My tech powers? You got it, Drake.”

  “I don’t know where it’s going, but it’s going somewhere. We keep seeing the Shadow Coalition and the Cocks running around in the city.” She smiled to herself at the use of the new term. It felt right.

  “The what?”

  “The Cocks.”

  “OK, so I heard you right the first time. You said, The Cocks, right? Like, a proper noun?”

  “Right.”

  “Is this—a new faction or whatnot?”

  “Shiro and I renamed them today—it’s the Shadow’s Shadow.”

  He laughed. “They deserve that, with such a stupi
d name,” he observed. “Doesn’t sound like Shiro, though. Sounds like you. Or Charly. More Charly, but I’ll accept that it was you.”

  “It fits them. The Cocks.”

  “In every sense of the word.”

  She needed to wrap this up.

  “Look for the stuff on my list. Let me know the details, prices . . . This is something that needs to have been done yesterday. They’re already ahead of us in terms of organizing.”

  “Got it, Drake. I have contacts that can help as well. Want me to start recruiting?”

  “Make a list, we can go over it. For now, I want to keep word from spreading that we’re doing something unusual. Recruitment should be the next step, especially with your contacts, Darius, who are not exactly the most discreet of the Kotan underworld.”

  “Not just Kota, Drake, the entire 6 Moons. My eyes and ears—my agents, if you will—know no bounds,” he laughed.

  “Just like your arrogance.”

  “Almost exactly like it.”

  They ended the call, and Holly put her communicator away. She’d stopped wearing the earpiece all the time, since she frequently partook in conversations that she didn’t need her crew to hear, and which she was sure they didn’t want to hear.

  “Holly.” Iain sauntered over to her, his boots clacking against the floor.

  She watched him approach, a smile pulling at her lips.

  “Now what’s this I hear about cock?”

  She laughed. “The Cocks, Iain.”

  “So it’s more than one?”

  “Yes—I renamed the Shadow’s Shadow. I believe I mentioned them to you? We ran into their white-jacketed butts on Po?”

  “You did mention them to me, yes,” he said, folding her into a hug.

  “Get a room,” Kaye shouted immediately.

  “You’d think my niece would be happy to see me soften up, she’s so used to me barking orders at her. But no, she only thinks of herself.”

  “I just don’t need to see all the cutesy stuff. The giggles and oh-my-gods, like I’ve missed you,” Kaye mocked. Over Iain’s shoulder, Holly saw the girl covering her mouth like she was pretending to be shy.