“Bad dream?”
“What’s happening?”
Webb flicked the light on. “We’ve got four hours before the next shift starts. If we leave now we can stop off somewhere on the way to the yards and I can try and ask a few questions.”
“Questions?”
Webb drummed his fingers together, not looking at Hugo. “The guy we saw fighting earlier...”
“The gang member?”
Webb nodded. “Sol. He’s from Sector 2. I don’t like that he’s turned up at our back yard.”
Hugo was rubbing his temples but then went very still. “You think he knows what we’re up to?”
“What can he know?” Webb grumbled. “We don’t even know what we’re doing ourselves yet. But people tend to stick to their sectors. If Sol’s dealing out here, well…I don’t know that it means anything at all. But it’s worth checking. And it’s a way to start asking questions about Catiline.”
“What about leaving people’s business between themselves?”
“There’s a difference between collaring a gang member in the street and shaking Ariel’s whereabouts out of him and a few discreet enquiries about a local Patch dealer. Now, come on. You’re the one that wanted to get started so bad.”
Hugo rubbed his face, palm scratching against the bristle of hair along his jaw. “Anywhere to get cleaned up?”
“Shower room is on next landing down. Don’t shave, though.”
“I know, I know,” Hugo grumbled, throwing the blankets back and stretching. He paused at the door and looked back at Webb. Webb looked up finally from his examination of the opposite wall and saw something unnerving flickering in Hugo’s eyes.
“What?”
“Have I thanked you yet?”
Webb raised his eyebrows. “You haven’t paid me, if that’s what you mean.”
“You know it’s not.”
Webb rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t thank me yet. Go get washed up. Time to get started.”
*
Hugo followed Webb through the dark streets, rubbing his eyes to try and make himself focus. He felt like he hadn’t slept at all but forced his mind away from why and concentrated on ghosting along in Webb’s shadow. He had them moving quickly and quietly through alleys, across bridges over gaping blackness with the clanking of unseen machinery below and noxious smells rising, or between buildings shunted so tightly against one another they had to move single file between them. Again there was an eerie silence over everything and most windows were darkened. When they passed a working wall chrono, Hugo stopped long enough to adjust the time on his wrist panel to sync with Haven’s thirty-hour day before Webb hurried them on.
They cut a straighter path through the sector than the shuttle rails took, the maze of alleys and roads dizzying, until the sound of voices, bustle and some music started to rise in the distance. There was light up ahead too.
So suddenly that it made Hugo blink they stepped around a corner into a wide square that was thronging with people. There were flood lights at every level of the mismatched buildings and people came and went between their open doors, some laughing, some quarrelling, some staggering. Music spilled out of doorways and windows, as did more shouting and laughter. Webb hurried them on just as another fight started up nearby, a small gathering collecting as if on cue to stand witness.
“What is this place?” Hugo asked, looking around the busy square.
“What passes for a rec district on Haven,” Webb said as he steered around a couple clinging to one another as they staggered across their path.
“What sort of recreation?” Hugo asked, eyeing a man stumbling out of a building, wiping his sleeve across his mouth before weaving his way across the yard and into another.
“Movie houses. Bars,” Webb said, striking out across the square and round a group of people huddled around crates playing cards. “Not much. It’s not like you get much time off to enjoy them.”
“Hey!”
Webb froze in response to the shout and looked around. A man with shoulders like a bull was striding toward them, a dark look on his meaty face. “Webb? Ezekiel Webb?”
“Who is it?” Hugo hissed, seeing Webb’s jaw tighten.
“Just keep your mouth shut, ok? And don’t do anything. I’ll handle this. Ribble,” he greeted the square-jawed man as he came up to them. “Long time no see.”
The man punched Webb across the face before Hugo realised what he was doing. Webb staggered back, clutching his mouth and Hugo surged forward to grab the man by his black coveralls.
“Hugo,” Webb growled through his hand. “Let him go.”
“You’ve got a nerve,” the man snarled, shoving Hugo off him and looking only at Webb. “I heard you were dead. You’re gonna wish you were.”
“Ribble, hold on, pal,” Webb said, straightening back up, wincing and wiping blood from his split lip. “I’ve not come to cause any trouble.”
“Well, you’ve got trouble,” Ribble growled, taking another step toward the taller man.
“Hugo,” Webb snapped again as Hugo moved to intercept. Out of the corner of his eye Hugo saw Havenites beginning to form a cluster close by. He stayed where he was with an effort. Ribble gave him an angry up-and-down then turned his attention back to Webb.
“Go on. Explain yourself. What’s your cowardly ass doing back here?”
“Ribble,” Webb said holding out his hands. “I know I was a shit better than anyone. But, pal, is it really any of your business?”
The man bristled. Hugo fidgeted but Webb threw him a warning glare. “Certain people have a right to be angry,” Webb continued to the Havenite, coolly. “And I’ll accept judgement from them. But not from you.”
Ribble’s face grew stormy and he glanced toward the witnesses. He snarled again and pointed a finger in Webb’s face. “You were lucky, this time. But I’m going to make damn sure she knows you’re back. Then we’ll see…”
Ribble stormed away. The witnesses disbanded, muttering amongst themselves. Webb slumped and swore, touching his mouth gingerly.
“Who was he?” Hugo asked, watching the retreating figure.
“He’s an Enforcer from Sector 2,” Webb said, looking around and starting back off across the square. “An old buddy.”
“‘Buddy’?” Hugo said, hurrying after him.
“Well, you know,” Webb hedged. “At one time. Come on, we’re wasting time.”
“Where are we going?”
“To a bar. Any bar,” Webb said, glancing around then headed over to one of the buildings. He climbed some creaking stairs on the outside and Hugo followed. There was a door at the top, propped open with a crate and Webb paused for a moment to peer in then gestured for Hugo to follow and ducked inside.
Hugo stood blinking on the threshold to let his eyes get used to the dark. The door opened onto a large room, lit only by projections that scrolled on every inch of wall space, reeling numbers and charts. Hugo frowned at them, trying to figure out what the data was but it was like no feed the Service used. As they moved towards a manned bar, he remembered the fifteen-hour shift time structure and started to decipher that the figures were work timetables and maintenance schedules. Each of the four walls had its own sector on display.
Some of the patrons at the tables were huddled together over panels. Some had hard-copy schematics laid out in the meagre table space, weighted down by flasks at the corners. Even the ones laughing loudly with no work in sight were still dressed in coveralls and had wrist panels to hand.
“Work never stops here, does it?”
“Haven never shuts. Hey pal,” Webb put his elbows on the bar, “Couple of whatever’s on.”
The man with a long ponytail and an eye missing filled a couple of metal flasks from a keg behind the bar and handed them over with a nod.
“Thanks. Say,” Webb leaned over the bar, and lowered his voice. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in these parts. Know where a welder could get hold of a Patch or two?”
“It’s just until I get used to the shifts again.”
“Sure,” the barman grunted, frown twisted by the scarring over his eye socket. “And you’re not gonna have the Elders on my ass or nothing.”
“Do I look like a rat?”
The man did a deliberate up-and-down of Webb. “Well you sure don’t look like a welder.”
Webb let out a noisy sigh, glancing about again. “Fine. They’re for him,” he jerked his head at Hugo. The man swivelled his calculating look Hugo’s way, eye lingering on the brand at his neck. “Didn’t want it getting about that I got my proby on Patches. But he’s struggling.”
Webb dug an elbow imperceptibly into Hugo’s ribs. “The shifts are…hard,” Hugo mumbled, not having to fake despondency.
“Friend, you can’t handle shifts, you shouldn’t be here.”
“He’s trying,” Webb said. “He’ll get there. He just needs -”
The barman held up his hand. “You guys finish your beer and go. I don’t want nothing to do with folks cheating probation.”
Webb ducked his head. “No problem, man. I understand. We’ll finish these and be on our way.”
The barman nodded and Webb led Hugo to a table.
“Don’t worry,” Webb mumbled into his flask as they sat down. “Just wait. Drink.”
Hugo took a mouthful. It was beer, at a close approximation, but only just.
“What are we waiting for?”
“Trust me.”
Hugo frowned and took another mouthful of his drink. He smoothed the grimace off his face when he noticed a young man at the bar watching him.
“Just relax,” Webb said as the youth wove his way toward them, draining his flask as he came. He strode up to the table, glanced once back at the bar to make sure the bartender’s attention was elsewhere, then leant and talked into Webb’s ear, eyes fixed on Hugo. Webb listened and nodded.
“Stay here,” Webb said to Hugo as the young man moved away.
“Where are you going?”
“Just stay here, will you? I’ll be right back. Don’t talk to anyone.”
Hugo watched Webb follow the youth to a table in the corner where two men sat nursing near-full flasks and scanning the room. They looked up as Webb and the kid arrived and after they spoke for a moment they made a motion for Webb to sit. A glance or two slid Hugo’s way and he felt his skin prickle. The barman was busy serving a rowdy group that had just come in, but Hugo still felt horribly exposed.
He was so busy trying not to meet anyone’s gaze that he didn’t notice someone had sat down beside him until she spoke.
“Hey there. You’re Kaleb Hugo, huh?”
Hugo swung round, heart jumping up his throat. A woman a little younger than himself was sitting in the chair Webb had left, a broad smile on her mild face. She was slight but even sitting Hugo could tell she was tall for a Havenite. Her face was unscarred and her hazel eyes clear. Her sandy hair was cut short at the sides but long on top, styled back from her face. If Hugo didn’t know any better he would say it was cut to look good, rather than be practical like ever other worker he’d seen. Her clothes too, though faded and long-wearing, were not coveralls or utilities trousers but a well-fitted jacket over a shirt that didn’t even look mended.
Hugo gathered himself, panic warring with anger as the woman kept smiling. “What did you say?”
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not a rat,” her gaze flickered from Hugo towards Webb. Hugo looked in his companion’s direction but Webb was sat with his back to him, still in earnest conversation with the men at the table. “Whatever you’re doing here I’m sure it’s none of my business.”
“Who are you?”
“Old friend of Webb’s. Been a while since I’ve seen him, mind. Nice look, by the way,” she said, looking him up and down. “I honestly wouldn’t have recognised you if you’d come in alone.”
“How do you know who I am?”
The woman’s pleasant smile widened but then Webb was back.
“Jazz,” he said, eyes wide as he took in the newcomer.
“Zeek,” the young woman said, standing. “Long time no see.”
“You heard from Ribble already?”
A small frown creased Jazz’s brow. “Ribble? Not for a while.”
“What are you doing here then?”
Jazz raised her eyebrows. “Since you’re on my colony and in my bar, Ezekiel, I think that’s my question.”
“Your bar?”
Jazz nodded, folding her arms and glancing around. “A business deal fell through a while ago, you see. I had to find alternative investment.”
Webb’s jaw tightened again and a flush rode high on his cheeks.
Hugo stood as well. “Webb, who is this?”
“Go on. Tell him, Zeek. Who am I?” Jazz wasn’t smiling any more.
Webb stood in silence, the flush on his cheeks paling again. “Hugo, this is Jasmine…Jazz…Leon. A credit-broker from Sector 2.”
“That’s all I am, huh?” Jazz said after a pause, but there was no anger in her face. If anything, Hugo thought she looked disappointed.
Webb just stood there, jaw working, looking more and more uncomfortable.
“Well, luckily, I don’t need him to introduce you,” Jazz said, turning to Hugo again. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Commodore. Shall I call you Kaleb? No disrespect meant but I’m sure Webb is right to try and keep you from being noticed as far as is possible. He can be forward-thinking. Occasionally.”
“Alright, Jazz. Over here.”
“What for? Not keeping secrets from your new partner, are you?”
“Enough,” Webb growled and took her by the elbow to lead her away. Hugo watched them go, Jazz throwing an almost apologetic look over her shoulder as Hugo’s worry was smothered with confusion. The pair stood out of earshot, heads bent together and whispering, Webb seemingly getting more and more agitated whilst Jazz stood with her hands behind her back, shrugging and replying coolly. Hugo frowned, trying to recall if he’d ever seen Webb truly flustered in this way before.
Just as he was wondering whether to intervene, Webb came back to the table and drained his flask. “Come on, Hugo, we’re leaving.”
“Who is she?”
“We’re leaving,” he repeated. “Now.”
Hugo followed Webb back out the bar, Jazz’s cool gaze on them the whole way.
“She says she’s an old friend.”
Webb laughed bitterly as he clattered down the stairs. “Something like that.”
“Is she dangerous?”
Webb stopped at the bottom to lean against the wall and rub his eyes. “Dangerous? No.” He let out a breath that shuddered out of him and Hugo frowned.
“She’s not going to break my cover?”
Webb shook his head, blinking out over the brightly lit square but not looking like he was seeing anything.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are you just going to tell me it’s not my concern?”
“Got it in one,” Webb said, straightening up. “Come on. We better get ourselves to the yards.”
He strode off across the square and Hugo fell in beside him.
“Did you actually find out anything useful in there?” Hugo said, increasing his pace to match the other man’s as they turned right and left the light of the square behind them.
Webb nodded. “The guys I was talking to were Patch Dealers. Sol is ranging into their territory. They’re not best pleased by the sound of it, but were more friendly in their bartering after I mentioned I might deal with him as I heard his deals were better.”
“Is any of this relevant?”
Webb shrugged. “I don’t know. Sol’s Catiline. He gets labour for the bloodgrease refineries in payment for his Patches. Whether his interests range any further than his own security I doubt. But it gave me the ch
ance to ask a question or two about what’s happening with gangs doing off-colony trading.”
“And?”
Webb shrugged again as they turned towards a shuttle stop. “Catiline seem to still be the same petty dealer-ring they’ve always been: they control a few refineries, their members fence bloodgrease and they have a lot of members working in the yards to control supply. They’re not popular.”
“No?”
Webb shook his head. “None of the gangs are. They act in their own interests and not that of the colony. But they keep themselves to themselves just enough that they’re not worth the Elder’s trouble.”
“Did they mention any other trading rings? New ones?”
“Not exactly,” Webb said as he stopped them by the shuttle rails under a floodlight. Half a dozen workers stood hunched nearby, not looking their way. Webb eyed them anyway and lowered his voice. “I asked, but they wouldn’t answer me. Which is weird. People might not rat each other out, or not often, but dealers and fences aren’t above smearing rivals for the chance of a sale. But those guys were definitely not wanting to talk about any new boys in town. Which proves one thing at least: there are some, somewhere. Though God knows what it is about them that’s got those guys so twitchy.”
A shuttle pulled in, rails rattling and engine coughing as it slowed. They boarded and when it pulled away Hugo watched as the light from the rec district faded into the distance. He held the hand rail a little too tight and was so lost in his thoughts that Webb had to repeat his question.
“Hey, Hugo, wake up.”
“Huh?”
“What can you actually, like, you know…do?”
“What do you mean?”
Webb rolled his eyes. “We’re about to try and get you some yard work. What can you do?”
Hugo rubbed his eyes, trying to think. “We did Engineering and Mechanical Theory at the Academy up to graduate level.”
Webb raised an eyebrow. “But have you ever actually, you know, worked? With your hands?”
Hugo shook his head. “I was an officer.”
“‘Was’?”
Hugo looked back out the window and didn’t answer.
Webb shook his head. “Whatever. Fine. We’ll find something. Look,” Webb sighed through his nose. “Just get through this first shift, ok? People need to see you working. We’ll see what more we can dig up after that.”
Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2) Page 8