The Colossus Collection

by Nicole Grotepas

  “Another trip, guys?” Charly said, fluttering in, her curly hair lifting like wings behind her, the air moving around her and stirring the heavy smell of kasé that hung in the room.

  “You can’t come with?” Holly asked, giving her friend a pleading glance.

  Charly laughed. “I’d love a goddamn break. A simple trip would be so much easier than the shit I deal with here. The damn caterer thought the brunch was tomorrow, so they’re currently trying to put together a meal and get here before the party of seventy-fucking-five shows up with their ravenous appetites and descends on the club like a fucking plague.”

  Holly smiled and patted Charly on the back gently. “So, you know, when you put it that way, your life does sound like a whirlwind of shit.”

  “Right? And a trip on a freaking posh liner sounds like a damn vacation.”

  “Sure, sure, Charly,” Shiro said. “Remind me again how you’re on the team, short of providing an endless supply of delicious drinks and the roof over our heads?”

  “Someone’s looking to get punched.” Charly punched her fist into her hand. “I seem to remember a near-death experience on a certain transponder moon that basically puts me at level one hundred on this team.”

  “Ah, yes. The near-death of Charly Stout. Sounds like a play. Someone should write it.”

  “I would see that,” Odeon laughed. “As long as there was a Yasoan in it that heroically saved the day at the very end.”

  “Team effort,” Darius pointed out. “Trip helped too. Basically Charly owes everyone her life, right now.”

  “I owe none of you, anything. All of you have a drink tabs longer than Kota’s distance from Ixion.”

  “Alright Drake,” Darius said, chuckling. “How many tickets am I buying to Helo?”

  26

  Helo spread out below them, a layer of white cloud like a plush rug in a Centau’s spire-top condo. The clouds reflected the sunlight in a blistering glare right at them. Holly squinted against it. “Why would anyone live here?” she asked. Odeon was strapped in beside her, and Shiro was on the far side of Odeon.

  “Perhaps a person who hates anything other than sunlight. The novelty of living above the clouds. And trade, I would guess,” Shiro answered.

  “And because you love to grow food,” Odeon said. “Many Yasoan live here because they love to grow and sing to the plants.”

  Helo was yet another marvel of Centau engineering. The planet was covered with water. Beneath the oceans, enormous pylons that were drilled into the rocky core supported the massive platforms that extended above the usual cloud cover and held the cities. These cities were bright and clean and full of sunlight. Though it never rained above the clouds, water from the oceans was piped up into a series of sprinklers that rained down regularly to wash the dust away. The dust came from the artificial soils that had been brought in for growing from many of the rocky mini-moons. It turned out that the amount of sunlight and the quality of what hit Helo was perfect for many grains, vegetables, and fruit. All that Helo needed to supply on its own was the mineral dense water beneath the cloud cover.

  And so Helo was the bread, fruit, and vegetable basket of the 6-moon system, filling large container ships with the plants on growing cycles that only varied depending on a city’s location on the moon.

  Soon the skeleton crew found themselves wandering the streets of the city of Halo Stand. The Zeppelin ride from Kota to Helo had been uneventful, and now Holly was hungry. Her anxiety—though what was beginning to seem like constant exposure to the dreaded space-flight seemed to be helping—had prevented her from eating. And now that she was moon-side, she needed to fill her belly.

  “Let’s find a place to eat. Then we can locate this Constie,” Holly said. “Anyone else hungry?”

  Shiro pointed with his cane. “Food is that way. I’m not famished, but I wouldn’t mind grabbing something light.”

  Halo Stand was built only three to four stories high. The platforms that kept the city above the cloud cover were already high enough that the air pressure was weak. Holly felt the thin air fighting with her lungs every time she inhaled. The buildings and streets were concentrated in the center of the platform they found themselves on. Around the perimeter of the city were vast swatches of farmland. Orchards, gardens, and grains grew in octagon patches.

  “Let’s go. I’m not feeling picky at the moment.” So they headed up the street on foot, soaking up the sights. The air was brisk and light, and there was an immaculate feeling to the area that brought a spring to Holly’s step.

  “Odeon have you been here before?” Holly asked thinking back to something he’d mentioned, about the Druiviin singing to the plants that were grown on Helo.

  “Once. As a child. My parents came here to help with a plague. A few insect hitchhikers had come down on some cargo. With no natural predators, the bugs multiplied rapidly and infested the plants. Once they’d taken care of the bugs by introducing house-cats from Earth and woolly rock-cats from Centau, the crops were so decimated they tried to work quickly to replace what had been lost. They used song to help speed up the growth process. And my parents, along with many other Yasoan, came to help.”

  Holly squinted. The remnants of that episode were all around her. There were the smaller house cats of Earth lazing about in the sun, as well as the slightly larger species of cat from Centau. “I vaguely remember when that happened.”

  “As do I,” Shiro said, surprised. “I suppose we’re all old enough to recall the same events.”

  They cut through the crowd and reached a plaza with several stories of small restaurants. They were all built in a cluster surrounding the plaza and people descended the stairs from the three-story collection of eating establishments and ate at tables that served all the various restaurants.

  Holly picked a Centau restaurant serving bowls with a type of rice-like grain and vegetables. She got her dish and went back to sit down. Odeon soon joined her with his meal of Druiviin food, and then Shiro showed up with a fusion of ramen and Constie cuisine.

  About halfway through their meal, there was a soft beeping from loudspeakers around the city. People eating around the plaza suddenly produced umbrellas and covered themselves and their food. Holly and her crew looked around in alarm, and then the artificial rain shower began. Overhead sprinklers on nearly invisible cables criss-crossing in a grid pattern across the sky above the platforms turned on and showered down on them. Their food, not entirely eaten, was soaked, as were their bags and clothing. The three of them stared at each other as water dripped over their faces and filled their bowls and plates with water, rendering their food inedible. Odeon laughed. Shiro glowered for a moment, before attempting to eat the ramen dish, slurping up the noodles.

  “Needs salt,” he said around the food.

  “Yes, I heard the chef waters it down to save money,” Holly teased. “Well, at least we got to eat a bit before the rain started.” She rose and walked through the rain shower to deposit her bowl in a tub that would later be picked up by the clean up crews employed by the restaurants.

  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 scheduled 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 into 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 Yasoan 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 to 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?” Maca
v blinked at them in surprise.

  Odeon shrugged. “We just barely learned about the Hands.”

  Macav raised an 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.”