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

by Nicole Grotepas

  “I know him a little,” Holly admitted.

  “As do I, just a bit.” Shiro tipped his bowler and then removed it as though on second thought. He turned it in his hands.

  Henn suddenly leaned across the desk and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Harvey has built a press.”

  Holly exchanged a look with Shiro.

  “A printing press,” Henn said when they didn’t give her the response she expected.

  “Oh, to make books?” Holly asked.

  “Exactly,” Henn said, pointing at Holly. “Well done. Yeah, that’s what I mean. You’re a bright one.”

  It sounded sarcastic, but Holly wasn’t in the mood to argue slights. She laughed.

  “Harv found a book in the collection that had all the details for how to make one,” Henn explained. “It’s taken him months, but with the help of others, he’s managed to get it working. Now all he needs is ink and paper. Paper—got that, but he wants paper the way it used to be made. He’s in talks with some chaps in the alley who know old trades like papermaking and how to make ink. Amazing what kind of forgotten wisdom books have in them, isn’t it?”

  Shiro’s brow furrowed. “So, is it a secret, what he’s done?”

  Holly wondered the same thing. Henn’s whispering had thrown her.

  “Not at all. It’s just so amazing.” She waved a hand of dismissal at them, and her countenance brightened. “Oh, what was it you were here for? Something for Harv?”

  Holly removed the paper full of numbers she’d recovered from the book at her father’s. Paper was cheap, but when someone used it to make a note or scrawl something, that carried importance.

  Finding books in her father’s home wasn’t strange—many of Holly’s passions for analogue objects came from George’s reverence for them. It was one thing that she secretly held onto. He’d done terrible things, but there was something hopeful in him. A terrible human couldn’t revere anything as sacred. That had to be an idea she could count on.

  Nothing could make her feel more like a child than the confused emotions that plagued her about her father.

  She unfolded the paper and placed it on the desk. Shiro watched her, his brow knit together, then relaxing like he’d solved a riddle.

  Holly held the paper down so the handwriting scrawled on it was visible. “Do these numbers mean anything to you?”

  Henn picked up the paper without asking. She also looked perplexed. “I have seen numbers like this on some of the books in our collection. It’s a cataloguing system, an old one. We don’t use it now. But there were several numerical cataloguing methods like this, Dewey Decimal System and one called the Library of Congress. We don't really use any.”

  “A cataloguing system? For books?” Shiro asked.

  “Specific topics were assigned a class of numbers or letters. Then numbered within that group of letters and numbers. And they were centrally organized, I guess, so every version of that book carried the same number.”

  “Is there a way to find out what book this went to, or to see if you have it?”

  Henn lifted her eyes to the ceiling, then her gaze swept across the expansive interior of the bookstore. “It’s big in here, and we don’t catalogue that way. Harv just kind of knows where all the books are . . . which topics are where, that kind of thing. But, tell you what. I'll copy the number down on this," she gestured at her v-screen, “and have Harv look for it. Whoever wrote that note likely has it. Maybe it was found here a while back and purchased?”

  “Could you get Harv now?” Holly grimaced inwardly. She didn't want to see Harv, but she'd do what it took to track the number down.

  Henn laughed, punching the numbers into her v-screen. “He’s up to his elbows in machine parts. Strict orders to not bother him.” She leaned close and whispered, “You don’t want to disobey Harv’s orders, you know what I mean?”

  Holly thought of Harv’s dark eyes—his supposed pain that he treated with drugs, and his strange moods—and agreed with Henn. She hardly liked the human. The pain was just an excuse for the drugs. But, who was she to say so?

  “Back to square one,” she muttered to Shiro. “Thanks, Henn. Let me know what Harv says.” Holly turned and headed for the exit.

  Shiro made a sound of surprise, then hurried after her. “That’s it? Done here?”

  “No time for more wild goose chases, Shiro.”

  “Not even a moment to peruse?”

  “Least of all perusing. I have one more stop before I’m done for the day. You coming?”

  He sighed and followed her out into the dying daylight.

  23

  Heavy bass throbbed through Holly’s bones as throngs of bodies surged in motion to the rhythm. Strobing lights danced across the darkness, casting shadows against the walls and banisters of the upper levels, where couples writhed and snaked around each other. One of the familiar bartenders nodded Holly and Shiro past security, and they wove through the crowd to dodge safely into Cosma’s office.

  “You brought a friend,” Cosma said, rising.

  Holly blinked in the relaxed lighting of the woman’s plush office. Focusing on what they’d come for was harder than she would have liked; her hand felt like it was engulfed in flames. Moments before, Shiro had momentarily gathered it into his and pretended they were going to dance.

  She curled her fingers up where he’d touched her. This isn’t even his scene. How would he dance to music like that?

  She was irritated and intrigued and annoyed. She found herself picturing Shiro dancing—or trying to. She wanted to both laugh at the thought, and see it. Would it be like some kind of proper step from ye olden times, or . . . something else?

  She cleared her throat and smiled at Cosma.

  Holly didn’t belong to Iain. She belonged to no one—guilt was an unnecessary burden. Iain knew he didn’t own her, that was one of the things she loved about him.

  She crushed the guilt in her thoughts. It was a remnant from her life before the crew, before prison, back when she’d lived under the thumb of her ex, Graf.

  “Shiro Oahu. It has been too long.” Cosma gave both of them besos. “Sit down, sit down.”

  “I’d rather stand,” Holly said, beginning to pace, shaking her hand and her head in an effort to overcome the distracted state of her thoughts.

  “Nonsense, dear, you’ll wear a hole in my rug,” Cosma indicated the stylish pair of chairs positioned across from her desk.

  “Better do as the master says,” Shiro laughed, sitting down with his lionhead cane positioned between his knees and his hands balanced on top of it.

  “That’s right, I’m the master here,” Cosma said, chuckling.

  Holly didn’t have time to fight, nor did she want to make more of a scene and throw her capacity to function into doubt. She sat next to Shiro.

  He gave her a sidelong glance, his expression clearly telegraphing that he was curious about what strange mood she’d landed in.

  Welcome to my world. “Master Cosma,” Holly said, banishing her emotions and thoughts. She had this. She dipped her head in a joking gesture of fealty.

  “Thanks for coming, Holly Drake. I wasn’t expecting that you’d bring a friend, but as I know you’d involve your crew anyway, that’s fine with me. Besides, Shiro Oahu is one of my favorite competitors in the industry.”

  “From which you’ve retired,” Shiro said, grinning. “Blessing all the rest of us with more jobs and chances for notoriety.”

  “Of course, of course. I’m retired. Which is why I’m willing to give you a gig that has come across my desk. As with any jobs I pass along to others, I’ll take a finder’s fee once you cash in the prize.” She looked at them expectantly, the crown of her golden hair shifting as her gaze moved between them.

  “No argument there, Cosma. Do you have an estimate on the value of the object? So we know what kind of finder’s fee you anticipate getting?” Holly asked.

  “This one is a whale, my friend. If you are successful, you would be
looking at close to five million novas.”

  Holly’s blood froze. She all but felt the same happening in Shiro beside her.

  He coughed.

  Holly coughed.

  Cosma laughed. “Stunned speechless? It’s only an estimate, dears, but I know of three buyers willing to pay that price. This item . . . ” she cocked her head to the side. “It’s more than just a trinket. Secrecy surrounds it. There is something I don’t even grasp about it that pushes its value to those astronomical numbers. I would pay a hefty chunk of novas myself just to lay my eyes on it for a moment.”

  Shiro tapped his cane on the floor. It was a weak staccato against the surging club music outside the room. “I’m in. I don’t even need the details to decide. Sign me up. Is there insurance? Health coverage?” He laughed.

  Holly’s chest relaxed. She ran her fingers through her hair, which she’d worn down just for the change. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her leg. “Tell me everything about it—at least, everything you know, Cosma. Shiro is in, but he can’t do the job alone. I’m guessing whatever it is, it is heavily guarded and comes with multiple layers of security.”

  “My darlings, let us call this one, for the fun of it, the Centau Treasure job,” she began.

  The thrill of the job swelled in the room as the master thief launched into the story.

  “There aren’t a lot of treasures the Centaus value from their own world, for whatever reason. Their imperialistic tendencies? Who knows. But there was one famed treasure rumored to be in the collection of a powerful, ancient Centau family. What’s so tantalizing about this treasure is the stories that go along with it—the family who owns it is notorious for being tight-lipped about their wealth. They are a non-traditional Centau family, and that is rumored to be because of their wealth. The two parental figures didn’t want to spread it around when they began living here, so they adopted a familial style like that of monogamous humans. They bore two children, a cruel female and a benevolent male, who grew up and shared the treasure, living together in their Green Jade district spire.”

  They waited as Cosma paused.

  Shiro chortled. “I mean, that’s a bit odd, isn’t it? The children still living together, hoarding their treasure? Have they ever left the family nest?”

  “No. Again, they’re fixated on their wealth and not sharing this one item with others. If the two children paired off with lovers, they would have to invite them into their inner circle and all its inherent wealth. So the story goes.” Cosma leaned her head back and spun in her desk chair. Her gaze hung on the shelves lining her office, which were filled with the prizes of her former life. “Mind you, much of this is hearsay. There are layers and layers protecting them, plus other Centaus.”

  “Except for the Centaus who want the treasure for themselves, lass,” Shiro pointed out.

  “Precisely, Shiro. The Centaus attempt to maintain a united front, but those who dig deeper see the truth.”

  “Well, what is the treasure?” Holly finally asked.

  “I know that one of the interested parties is a powerful, wealthy human. He’d give a pretty penny to add this treasure to his private collection. No human has seen it, but we know it exists,” Cosma explained.

  “What is it, Ms. Kenyon?” Shiro asked, his eyes hungry.

  “Ah, I suppose I must tell you,” she laughed. “It’s a galactic orrery. A 3D map of the galaxy. Intricate. Complex. Shrouded in secrecy and mystery.”

  A galactic orrery, Holly repeated to herself. “Is it real? And it’s an accurate representation of the galaxy?”

  Cosma spread her hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen it. I wouldn’t even know if I saw it, actually. I would guess yes. But the reason you’re here right now, hearing about this, is because word is bubbling in the underworld that it’s being moved. And what do we do when a prized treasure is being transported?” She leaned across the desk, her brown eyes on fire with the thrill of the game.

  “We take it,” Shiro said, clenching his fist.

  Holly agreed, but as usual, reservations clouded her. “Let’s think about the technical issues, determine if getting it is even feasible.”

  “Oh, it’s feasible, my dear. It’s feasible. And if I told you it wasn’t, I know you’d leave here and still find a way to get it. But the most pressing facet of this particular job is that you’ve only got two days to plan. After that, you’ll be back to square one.”

  Shiro stood up, spun his cane, and began pacing. “Let’s hammer this out. There’s no time. And, Ms. Drake, I know you want this. Windfall like that means you have even more seed money for the forces you desire to build.”

  He was right. She pictured Warehouse 23A with two ships in it. She visualized not being a sitting duck as Voss and her ilk swooped in on them with kitted out ships.

  She sighed. “You’re right. But—” she held up a hand as she too stood up, “I reserve the right to stop the job if it looks like it’s going to end in death. Or dismemberment. Or other bodily injuries.”

  Shiro scoffed and looked at Cosma. “As if danger has ever sincerely stopped her.”

  24

  Night in the City of Jade Spires always looked like twilight, especially when Ixion wasn’t obscured by cloud cover. But tonight, as Holly and Shiro left Cosma’s rooftop club, the clouds hung low over the spiretops, preparing to unleash a storm on the city and its inhabitants. The Spireway was covered in the mist and fog of the pre-storm as the lift doors opened onto the platform. Interlacing bridges and gondolas that ran on a vast network of cables connected the spiretops across the city, which eliminated the need to ride three thousand feet down to street level to get somewhere.

  “I’ve rarely heard of a job that would pay this much, Ms. Drake. It’s truly a whale, like Ms. Kenyon said,” Shiro said, nestling down into his coat.

  “It might be a mistake to bet ourselves on a big job, rather than several little ones.”

  “That’s the thrill of every job, though, isn’t it?”

  They cut through the warming night, strolling out onto the platform that led to the Spireway. There was a hop in Shiro’s step that caused a smile to creep across Holly’s face. The air against her cheeks was laden with humidity as the clouds over them churned and settled, holding its breath just before it unleashed the snows it promised.

  “Can’t argue that. She mentioned that the underworld is all stirred up over this job. We need to be careful. We won’t be the only ones going after it.”

  “Agreed. I’ll have my contacts stay alert for word that others are planning to intercept.”

  As they approached the platform, a strange hush settled over the queue. It was a stark contrast to the usual buzz of conversation. Holly’s senses suddenly noticed everything. Sounds were muffled from the impending storm. Very few people waited for gondolas. Those that did shifted as though uncomfortable.

  The trail of fine hair on the back of Holly’s neck and down her spine prickled in that unpleasant sensation that told her something wasn’t quite right.

  She reached a hand out to grasp Shiro’s forearm through the sleeve of his coat. When he looked at her, she nodded at the people waiting in line.

  One, a female Constie, glanced over her shoulder, locking eyes with Holly. She jerked suddenly into motion.

  Holly’s heart pounded in her throat. “Come on!” She yanked on Shiro’s arm and raced for the skybridge a short distance from the platform. It would carry them to the next spire.

  As they ran, she caught sight of the Constie leaping over the bar that separated the queues. Two more males—a human and another Constie—followed her, and the race was on.

  Shiro let out a yelp. Holly glanced sidelong at him without slowing. A wide grin stretched across his cheeks. “A chase! I’m alive again!” He laughed.

  “You’re insane!” she shouted.

  “I know! But in a good way, correct?”

  They brushed past other pedestrians, many of them Centaus in their stately winter robes
and boots that were really just slippers meant to glide across the snow.

  “No one ever asks if we need help when we’re being pursued,” Holly shouted. “Have you noticed that?”

  A Centau wearing thick winter, golden robes and a matching hat paused to watch them.

  “Send help!” Holly called to him.

  He didn’t move, his expression the Centau-equivalent of boredom.

  “Yes. Getting involved means investing too much. Others would rather assume it’s a game. Something fun to pass the time.”

  The skybridge would normally be slippery with ice, but the pre-storm atmosphere had reduced the chill factor. Instead, everything was wet from the melting ice. Sounds of water trickling across surfaces echoed back at them.

  “Let’s get to the next spireway platform and jump on a gondola,” Holly suggested between breaths.

  “I agree. Should put some distance between us.”

  “Let’s hope these fools aren’t rabid enough to shoot at us from their own gondola.”

  She recalled previous pursuits across the spireway, and dangerous encounters with the Shadow Coalition where she’d only escaped by the skin of her teeth.

  “Are they Shadow Coalition or your chicken friends?” Shiro asked. It took him over a minute to get the words out as they skidded around the corner onto the next spiretop platform.

  “Can't tell. Doesn't matter,” Holly shouted back at him.

  They wove between Centau and Yasoan pedestrians. A group of about twenty religious acolytes moved as one over the pathway, blocking Holly and Shiro.

  They muttered “Pardon,” and “Excuse us” as they pushed through the center of the crowd.

  “What is this?” Shiro asked as they jogged between their ranks. “A new religion?”

  “We worship the new Centau gods,” one of the acolytes called after them.

  But they were already through the ranks and moving on. Their destination was on the next spire. Holly could see the platform ahead in the illumination of the glowing green jade.