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

by Nicole Grotepas

  Holly wanted to be done with the haggling, but even in the midst of her fog, she could see that the resulting amount wasn’t precisely fair.

  “We can double that amount once we’ve got the orrery back,” Holly said.

  “If you get it back,” Danielle taunted with a wry grin.

  “If we can’t, we’ll get another job.”

  “And if you can’t get another job?”

  “I’ll sell my assets to pay you.”

  Odeon exclaimed softly.

  Holly looked at him. She didn’t love the shock in his eyes, but what could she do?

  “You have assets?” Danielle looked skeptical.

  “Look, how I get the money shouldn’t be your concern. You’ll be paid, Le Roi.”

  “I’d better. We turned down other jobs to do this one.”

  Right, Holly thought. Just like she had assets that she would even considering selling simply to pay Le Roi.

  The captain pointed her scepter at her. “If you don’t pay me, there will be consequences.”

  “You’ve mentioned them a few times, Danielle.” Holly flicked her ponytail over her shoulder. “I think we’re all clear that you’ll leave us on a deserted shepherd moon or an abandoned mining station.”

  Danielle stood and strutted around her throne, trailing her fingers along the wood of the seat. “Actually, this time it’s a different ultimatum. I like coming up with unique ideas. We’ll be parked at the platform for ten days. That’s how long you have to come up with the money. I’ll send Lucky to get it, and if you don’t have it, Lucky has my permission to circulate your names throughout the underworld with a reward attached. The reward will be enough to ensure you’re brought in. And once I have you, I know about a secret slave colony on a shepherd moon, and I’ll sell you to them.”

  Danielle smiled and winked.

  35

  “Your beautiful legs!” Meg said, cresting the stairs in Iain’s living quarters above the shop in Analogue Alley.

  “Leg,” Holly corrected.

  “They’re a pair, and now they’re damaged,” Meg said, striding across the room to check on Holly.

  Lucy, her daughter, followed, and Gabe came last. He heaved a sigh, loudly, as though to register his disapproval of how Meg was behaving. As though it had anything to do with him—but, well, Holly did appreciate it.

  “I think it’s going to recover,” Holly said. “I’m fine.”

  “It’ll scar.”

  “Who really cares, Meg? I mean, at least I’m alive.” She was painfully aware of Lucy listening to the discussion. It wasn’t a great idea to talk about those things in front of the girl. She was impressionable. “Scars are cool. Get over it.”

  Meg feigned being offended. “I’m just worried about you.”

  “So, what happened?” Gabe asked as he trudged along behind his daughter and ex-wife. He sat down on one of the chairs arranged around the rug.

  Holly was stretched out on the sofa. Her leg still throbbed, but the treatment had been successful, and she’d be able to get around in two days without a limp or concern that she’d damage it more—she hoped. It would continue to hurt for a few more weeks, but nothing she couldn’t manage. Probably.

  “Did Iain let you know?” Holly asked, suspicious. “I mean, obviously he did.”

  Meg tapped her chin. “You should be a detective.”

  Holly wanted to say something snide, but her sister had cornered that market. Besides, Lucy was there, and the girl didn’t need to see her aunt being crabby with her parents. “Thanks for coming.”

  “Wouldn’t miss checking in on you, Hols,” Gabe said.

  “Come here,” Holly said, snagging Lucy’s attention and gesturing for her to come in for a hug.

  Lucy laughed and swooped in for one. Her arms bumped against Holly’s uninjured thigh, and the motion sent an aftershock through both legs.

  “Sorry,” Lucy gasped, putting her hand to her mouth.

  “Don’t even worry. I think that hug just added seven new layers of skin to the wound.”

  “ ‘Wound’?” Meg laughed.

  Holly rolled her eyes. Her sister managed to bring out all the worst behaviors of their shared childhood. Meg obviously suffered from similar issues the same way around Holly. “Is there a better word for it?”

  “Wound just sounds so . . . elevated. Like maybe a bit too grandiose for what happened?”

  That hurt, a bit. Holly glared at her sister.

  Gabe burst into the conversation before it could devolve into a full-blown fight. “So, what did you find out?”

  Holly exchanged a look with Meg, then Gabe. “About what?” She certainly wasn’t going to start discussing the insanity of what happened on The Golden Eclipse in front of Lucy.

  The sound of someone tramping up the wooden stairs echoed through the living quarters. Holly saw Iain’s head pop into the room. “Lucy! My customer is gone! Get down here, and let’s cover a canvas in a fresh masterpiece, quick!”

  “Mom?” Lucy asked, leaping to her feet.

  “Ask your father,” Meg said.

  “Fine with me, kiddo,” Gabe said. He waved back at Iain. “Thanks, Scotch!”

  Iain barked something unintelligible back at Gabe—something about not calling him Scotch.

  Lucy raced across the rug and hardwood floor. They watched her go, and when she’d vanished entirely, Meg’s gaze swiveled back to Holly. “Spill.”

  “Don’t you guys have a case?”

  “Did. Closed it today.” Gabe leaned back in his chair, relaxing visibly into the conversation now that his little girl was in better hands.

  “I’m sure someone will get murdered soon and you’ll need to run off.”

  “Just a matter of time, really. They always do,” Gabe sighed.

  Meg scoffed. “Macabre, Holly.”

  “Realistic.”

  “So, what happened? Any news?”

  She was resistant, but they’d eventually win, and she couldn’t think up a good reason to not tell them, other than the obvious—that they’d know more about her potentially illegal pastime.

  But what would they do, really? Arrest her again? Maybe that would be nice. The minimum-security women’s prison wasn’t too bad. At least she had time to think and reflect there—something she never got to do much of these days.

  So she filled them in on everything, even the slaughter she’d seen. Nightmares of the grisly scene still plagued her.

  When she’d finished explaining, she glanced between the two of them.

  Sometime in her retelling, Meg, slack-jawed and enrapt, had sat down near Holly’s feet and rested one hand on the foot of her uninjured leg. It was familiar and comforting, and almost replaced the black depression in her heart where her failure to secure the galactic orrery had taken up space.

  “This Voss, she’s worse than George?” Gabe asked, his voice sober.

  Holly nodded, studying the grim face of her ex-brother-in-law. She wasn’t used to seeing him look so serious. Even facing homicide as a regular part of his job, he always found a smile just to reassure those who needed it.

  “George was crap too, but Voss is unnecessarily ruthless. Her minions killed everyone on the ship, I think. Everyone but us.”

  “Was that merciful or brutal?” Meg asked thoughtfully.

  “Your guess is as good as mine. The point is the bastards got the thing that was going to give me an edge.”

  “An edge?”

  “Yes. A valuable item that could bring in enough money for me to build my own empire.”

  “An empire?” Meg studied her, her face quiet. “Have you listened to yourself, Holly?”

  “Hey now,” Gabe said. “She sounds like she’s being smart.”

  “Or stupid. Following in George’s footsteps.”

  “I’d never,” Holly said.

  “He built an empire.”

  “Yeah, on the backs of children. He brought disorder, and cared only for himself.”

  �
�I’m sure he also found a way to justify to himself everything he did,” Meg said.

  “Slow down, Meg. Holly’s just doing what she thinks is right.”

  “Rethink it,” Meg pleaded.

  “I’m not George. My goal isn’t to replace the Centaus, it’s to stop Voss, and The Cocks, and possibly . . .” She stopped.

  Meg’s eyes narrowed. “What? What were you going to say? Possibly . . . what?”

  “Nothing,” Holly shook her head. She glanced at Gabe.

  He was waiting for her to finish. “Is there something else we should know, Holly?”

  “Is this about George, then? You’re worried he will come back?” Meg probed. “Like The Cocks.”

  Holly shrugged. “If he does come back, he won’t be alone.”

  Meg leaned forward. She had her cop vibe on now, asking all the questions, no humor. “What does that mean?”

  Gabe’s expression also intensified.

  “Damn, is this how you guys make your witnesses feel when you’re doing an investigation? Not fun.”

  “Just spit it out, Holly.”

  “Come on, Meg, for the love of Ixion. It’s Holly.”

  Holly blinked. “Is this good cop/bad cop? Are you guys seriously trying this one on me?”

  “Not at all, Holly. You’re not a witness. You’re family, kiddo.” Gabe spoke in saccharin tones, almost like he was hamming it up.

  “Now it’s my turn to say ‘for the love of Ixion,’” Meg said.

  Gabe cocked his head. “Really, Meg?”

  She turned her gaze back to Holly. “What were you going to say? Don’t change the subject. I have a long attention span.”

  Holly sighed. Her leg was beginning to demand her attention, and her spirits were sagging beneath their aggressive questioning. “I’m only going to tell you if you promise to help.”

  Gabe leaned forward, alert. Holly caught them exchange a glance. The look was a compromise. Meg lifted a shoulder. It was almost imperceptible, but Holly saw it.

  “Help you with what?”

  “I haven’t figured that out yet. But when I do, you’ll help, right?”

  It sucked to ask for help, but she’d gotten used to it. She couldn’t abide by the egotistical approach that she had to work alone; she couldn’t be too proud to need other people. It did suck something out of her every time she needed help from Meg, however. But this was too important for sibling rivalry.

  “Maybe,” Meg said at the same time that Gabe said, “Yes.”

  Meg glared at him.

  “What? You’re really going to give your sister a conditional response?”

  Meg closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “She’s gone to the dark side, for all I know, Gabe.”

  He guffawed.

  “That was dramatic, Gabe,” Holly praised. “I liked it. But you, Meg, seriously?” She shook her head.

  Meg clenched her jaw. “Just tell me what you were going to say!”

  “Fine! If George comes back, he’s not going to come alone. He’ll probably bring an army.”

  “So?” Meg said.

  “I’m not thinking like an army from here. Humans and Consties and Yasoan. I mean, like outsiders. From other worlds.”

  “Not following.”

  “It’s just a hunch, but he’ll come here with technology from other races. That’s what I want to be ready for.”

  “But if that’s true, whatever you can build won’t be big enough to take him on,” Gabe said.

  “I know. But I have to try.”

  36

  Iain’s breathing reached her across the darkness, which felt like miles though it was only a foot or two. Unable to sleep, and lying awake with someone snoozing so soundly nearby was perhaps one of the loneliest places to be in the universe.

  Outside, the night was bright with the light of the nearby gas giant pouring a reflected brilliance down on their moon. The shaded windows punched rectangular shapes in the black walls. It should have been a cozy scene that relaxed her. Maybe it was her leg. Maybe it was something else—for whatever reason, sleep refused to claim her.

  She closed her eyes and listened to Iain’s sounds, hoping that his unintentionally overwrought relaxation would calm her, and soothe her into sleep.

  But the underside of her eyelids were painted not with the deep pink hues of her own living flesh, but the accusations of her darkest fears—that she was exactly like her father in all the worst ways.

  An empire? Have you listened to yourself, Holly?

  Meg’s almost nonchalant question swooped around her brain like a neon sign, flashing at her. It stung.

  Holly should have never called it an empire. There were other words to describe what she wanted to do, much less villainous-sounding words, words that could illustrate it without building in a prejudice against what it was she was hoping for.

  But was that simply what Meg had said it was: a justification to become evil? George had most certainly rationalized what he was doing and found a way to live with it.

  There had to be a way to steer herself through this without bringing her own judgments upon herself. She didn’t care if others never grasped it, or if history painted her into a villain, did she?

  She couldn’t lie to herself. She did care. But only because doing the right thing mattered to her.

  Iain snorted and rolled over. The sounds of him alive so close to her set her mind onto a different path, but the faint throbbing just beneath the numbing effect of the drugs quashed any amorous sensations that flickered to life. They smoldered and burned out.

  It was nice to have him there. He orbited her, and she him, but the gravitational pull they had on each other was lenient when it needed to be, relaxed or charged up when necessary. His pull never overpowered what she was willing to give. She hoped that she never let hers overpower him. That sort of dance was the perfect kind, it respected boundaries.

  If she continued thinking about Iain and the sounds of his life, she could avoid the neon sign Meg had turned on in her brain.

  Was she like George?

  Ixion’s ghost, she wasn’t going to sleep, which meant her leg wasn’t going to heal, which meant she’d eventually be a sitting duck with creditors after her. She could just imagine Le Roi sending Wick after her.

  Wick. She found him fairly revolting, and thinking of him in the middle of a sleepless night wasn’t going to relax her.

  She sighed.

  If Wick did come after her, he would never let up, she could tell. He was just that sort of nightmare that, no matter how much you maimed him, he simply kept coming. He’d have to be an armless and legless creature to finally accept defeat. And even then, he’d probably get himself an automatic chair that he could steer with his mouth or by command, and still come after her.

  Holly wanted to roll over onto her stomach, to face her sleeping Iain, to study his profile in the gray light that seeped in through the shaded windows. But her leg wouldn’t let her.

  She turned her head instead. Through all the shades of gray, she saw the details of his face, which woke the sensation of comforting familiarity. His long eyelashes touching the tops of his cheekbones. The ridge of his nose, the sharp angles of his lips, and the black and gray whiskers already lining his jaw.

  He was so far away from her, though so close.

  She was struck again with that sensation of dark loneliness, of being lost in a void. Was it the near oblivion of existing beside someone who was lost in the other world of sleep? That pure oblivion they succumbed to, which wrote the one who was awake out of existence?

  A pang went through her.

  But ceasing to exist . . . that would be better than being like her father. Teetering on the precipice of becoming a dark overlord, like he’d been.

  No. I will never be like George. The purpose of my empire is to set others free. To stabilize what other forces want to destabilize. I am not George. His legacy is not mine, though his genes are.

  She had to believe that.
The choices she made every day determined her future, not the blood that ran in her veins.

  She couldn’t hide from the reality that George was her father. That was something she had to accept.

  But gathering a team and tools to fight against whatever the future held wasn’t what George had done.

  I’m different. I will write the future that I want. It’s not written. I’m writing it.

  37

  “Hey,” a voice said.

  She stirred, and opened her eyes. Iain sat on top of the bed near her watching her, naked except for his underwear.

  “Creepy,” she said, stretching.

  “What’s creepy about it?”

  She laughed. “Some strange man watching me while I sleep?”

  “Only about three words of what you just said make any sense,” he answered, thoughtful like he’d repeated the words she’d said in his mind, counting them.

  “Strange man watching?”

  “Man, watching, sleep. And I believe you meant, ‘a totally sexy man.’”

  “How long have you been waiting for me to wake up?”

  “Long. A while,” he said, drawing out both words. “Long enough to hear you saying, ‘take me, Iain.’ I wondered where? What does she mean by that? I could interpret it in so many ways.”

  She laughed, feeling her cheeks go hot. Time to change the subject. Not that she wasn’t into being taken, but a sense of urgency had bloomed inside her and she needed to let it take her where it would. “I know what I need to do.” She sat up and began dressing, being careful around her leg.

  “Did that embarrass you, Holly?” Iain asked, standing up and getting dressed, watching her face.

  “No,” she said, lying.

  “You didn’t talk in your sleep. But I did wonder when you’d wake up, and I wondered which was better—to let you sleep till you woke up or to wake you up.”

  “Wake up. I think this,” she motioned to her leg, “needs me to move around to keep it healing right. Also, I think I know what I need to do.”

  Iain paused, his fingers hovering over the button to his pants, and looked at her. “In relation to what?”

  “I’m not going to stop my plans, just because things got hard,” she said.