Page 3 of Atlas: Colony: Nyx #5(Intergalactic Dating Agency)

THREE

Harvest time again. It came around so fast, Atlas felt like he'd only just completed the last harvest before he had to start again. At least he didn't have to worry about unscheduled arrivals from Hera's minions coming to collect the apples, like he had when he'd sailed through the stars on the Drakon , but Hera had reclaimed her ship for purposes she had not cared to share with him, and had his orchard transplanted to the top of the Nyx Dome in the Colony, below the Altan System's sole permanent observatory, before naming him the sole custodian of them both.

This time, he'd been tempted to hire some of the Colony's farm labourers to help with the harvest, but he dared not. There'd be hell to pay if one of the common labourers stole a single one of Hera's apples. No, better that he do the job alone, even if it took him away from his real work.

A shrill screech rang out across the trees.

Well, almost alone.

A ghostly shape settled on a branch of the nearest apple tree and chirped.

Atlas eyed the meowl, the preventative pest protector Hera had insisted he have, even though he'd seen no evidence of rats in the orchard, despite their reported presence elsewhere in the Nyx Dome. Of all the companions he could have forced upon him, the half cat, half owl was probably the least unpleasant. She was independent and as reclusive as Atlas himself, only bothering him when she was hungry. With no prey for her to hunt, that meant several times a day. Worse, she'd worked out how to get into the ventilation shafts, so more than once, he'd been awoken by a deafening screech in the middle of the night, only to find the smug meowl perched on the end of his bunk.

Atlas checked the time on his tablet. "It's not mealtime yet. I'll feed you once I'm done harvesting all the apples."

The meowl chirped again, but there was a warning edge to it that told him she'd make him regret it if he didn't keep his word.

He propped his tablet up on the table beside the hatch, and set it to the local news programme. Prometheus blazed into view, his unmistakeable voice describing some upcoming fight in the Arena this weekend. People were easily entertained, and his brother had a way of capturing people's attention that Atlas envied. He loved his brother dearly, but they couldn't be more different.

Which was why his brother's voice followed him as Atlas wheeled his platform ladder up to the first tree.

"And now, let's cross to Pollux, to ask him how confident he is about the upcoming fight..."

A cascade of quiet thumps made the fighter's words hard to hear as apple after apple landed in the sack. Atlas fell into a rhythm, stripping one tree after the other, shifting the ladder, letting the full sacks slide to the ground softly, then stringing up new ones, before climbing up to pick again.

"Thank you, Pollux. Good luck out there. Now, some good news for those looking to grab a nightcap on their way home from the Arena. An old favourite, the First Shot Cantina, which recently burned down in an unexplained fire, following the tragic death of its owner, Falcon Han, has been rebuilt and reborn as the Second Chance Saloon..."

Atlas snorted. Falcon Han and his First Shot Cantina had firmly belonged to Hera, and he had no doubt this second coming did, too. He should probably stop by to meet the new owner, before comming him to arrange the next shipment of Hera's apples.

After he'd finished the harvest, and secured the apples in stasis pods for transport. Drinking and ladders did not go together. Besides, he was almost done. Atlas sealed up the last sack and lowered it to the ground.

A loud yowl drowned out Prometheus.

"What in the blithering black holes...?" Atlas slid down the ladder and ran toward the sound.

The meowl sat in front of the tablet, batting at the screen. She yowled again, a sound more fit for a horror movie than an apple orchard.

"If the apocalypse isn't imminent and you're just trying to get me to feed you again, I'll take the tablet away and won't let you watch the news. And there'll be no chicken or fish treats, either," Atlas said, scooping up the meowl. She settled in his arms like she belonged there, purring like an ordinary house cat.

Prometheus was still blathering about the star scape that now adorned the new pub's ceiling, but it was the message alert in the corner that held Atlas's attention. One of the heliopause sensors had identified a fast-moving object heading into the system. A second alert appeared: the object had tripped a second sensor. That meant it was moving faster than any ship or planet, and certainly not in a regular, circular orbit, either.

A comet. It had to be a comet. What were the chances? After missing out on that dark comet back in the Titan System, here he was, about to discover a second one, here in the Altan System. The first ever comet to orbit a red dwarf star, and a dark one, too.

Atlas was definitely naming this one. He just had to make sure he captured the first pictures of it – which was pretty much a given, as he was at the only observatory in the entire system. He couldn't do it alone, though. This observatory had been built to be run by a team of astronomers and technicians.

All of whom would want to share in the discovery.

Atlas closed his eyes. There was only one man he trusted not to steal this from him. One man who owed him a favour.

"Now, I'd like to introduce you to the new owner of the Second Chance Saloon, Hercules!" Prometheus burbled.

Hercules.

It seemed Atlas was going to the pub tonight, after all.