“Sorry,” Tag said, though he didn’t look it. He stretched up to Hugo, holding out a small wrap of tools. “These are mine. Grandpa’s aren’t all that great. I keep telling Ma I can fix this thing but she won’t let me on the ladder.”
“She’s probably wise,” Hugo muttered, eyeing the bend in the metal halfway down. “Thanks,” he added, taking the tools. He bent back into the filter. When he didn’t hear the sound of Tag leaving he looked back down. “What?”
“I think I know you. Are you a pilot?”
Hugo blinked. “No. Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“You should be careful who you talk to.”
Tag’s eyes widened. “I’d love to be a pilot. Imagine being able to go anywhere you want in the whole wide Orbit.”
Hugo bent further into the unit, unscrewing a burnt-out wire connection in hopes the boy would get the hint.
“Have you ever been to Earth? I’ve seen pictures of places covered in plants.”
“Covered in…do you mean trees?”
“Uh-huh. And they say the air tastes so clean you don’t even notice it.”
Hugo leant back and blinked at the boy. There were freckles on his cheeks and his hair was an unruly mop of brown. There was also a small scar on his chin and his hands were bony and raw from work.
“Parts of Earth are…nice,” Hugo murmured. “But a lot of it isn’t.”
Tag’s face fell slightly but when he opened his mouth to reply the door swung open.
“Tag,” Foreman Michalski entered in her house gown, brow clouding as she took in Hugo. In the interior light he could see she had brown hair like her son. She, too, had scars, one over her eye and an old burn on her neck. Her shoulders and arms were strong-looking under the thin gown but there were more lines on her face that Hugo suspected her age warranted. “How many times have I told you not to pester the guests?”
“But Ma -”
“Go back to the apartment. You should be in bed. Breakfast shift’s in four hours.”
Tag muttered something and trudged out. Michalski stayed, eyes hard. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk to my son.”
Hugo frowned. “He’s the one talking to me.”
“I understand that,” she said. “But I would like it if you didn’t encourage him. Service idealism has no place here.”
“Believe me, I’m not someone that’s likely to impart it.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard, if you are who I think you are.”
“I might be,” Hugo said, keeping his tone cool to disguise the flush of worry he felt wash through his stomach. “But either way you heard wrong.”
She stood there a moment longer. Hugo held her gaze, trying to figure out if she was offended or too drained to care. She broke the eye contact, stepping back towards the door.
“Thank you. There’s new burn connectors out in the shed if you need them.”
“Foreman,” Hugo called.
She paused at the door. “Off-shift you can call me Lola,” she said.
“Lola,” Hugo said and came down the ladder. He clutched his lenslight in his hand whilst she stood weighing him up. “Can you tell me about bloodgrease?” he said, before he could stop himself.
She frowned. “Tell you what, exactly?”
Hugo glanced at the closed maintenance room door, feeling his heart rate creep up. “Can you tell me how you find the traders?”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
Hugo made himself stand still and hold her gaze. “I could help them. On the outside.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You could?”
“I know all about the new security measures the Service is using. And how to get round them.”
She folded her arms. “Why in the name of hell would you want to help Haven off-colony traders?”
“They bring credit in, don’t they? For the colony?”
“Yeah. Some of them.”
Hugo managed a shrug. “This is my colony now. I want to help.”
Lola was silent. Hugo felt his heart hammer against his ribs and willed his face to stay blank. “Have you asked your Sponsor about this plan?”
“He’s being cagey.”
“He’s right to be.”
“Look,” Hugo said, fighting back frustration and willing his voice to be calm. “This is one of the few things I have. I want to be useful.”
Lola weighed him up a moment more then sighed. “Bryce. There’s a guy called Bryce. He runs a workshop in the grounds of Sector 4’s refinery. All bloodgrease deals from there go through him. You can try your luck, if you’re serious.”
“What about at the refinery itself?”
Lola raised an eyebrow. “You really need to talk to your Sponsor more. No one goes in or out of a refinery. There’s no one to deal with except the reps like Bryce. I’m done. That’s all you’re getting from me.”
Hugo nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” she said, turning away. “Getting involved with the refinery dealings isn’t something I’d thank anyone for.”
He stood still after Lola had left, turning Tag’s tools over in his hands. He shook his head and climbed back up the ladder and leaned into the filter. He put the tools aside and pulled out his computer panel, booted up Harvey’s and the Service’s reports on the investigation and searched for any mention of anyone called Bryce.
When nothing came up and the Analyst’s case images of Harvey’s injuries set his vision blurring, he put the panel away again and attacked the rusty connections until all the dead components were stripped away.
It was Webb’s second shout of his name that pulled him out of his daze. He pulled his head out of the filter to find Webb stood propping open the door.
“How’s it going?”
“I’ve got us a lead.”
Webb frowned. “You what?”
Hugo came down the ladder, wiping sweat from his brow and stepped close to Webb. “I have a starting point.”
“Hugo, I was talking about the filter. What the hell are you talking about?”
“How long until next shift?”
“We need to get on a shuttle within the hour. Tell me what you’re on about first.”
Hugo pulled Webb into the room and shut the door. “We need a shuttle stop near the refinery. I’ve found a name of a fence that deals for the bloodgrease refinery.”
“Hugo…what have you done?”
“I talked to the foreman. She told me we need to talk to someone called Bryce.”
“You did what?” Webb went pale. “Hugo, what did I say? What did I specifically say about you and doing stupid things?”
“Quiet,” Hugo hissed as there was the sound of footsteps in the hall. They quietened down again and Hugo went to the door. “Come on, let’s go.”
“First, just, no,” Webb said, grabbing Hugo’s sleeve. “And second, have you lost your mind?”
“It’s fine,” Hugo growled, pocketing the tools. “I had a story. She doesn’t suspect - ”
“Not right now she doesn’t. But what if she speaks to someone, who’s spoken to someone else, who’s spoken to someone more? You don’t understand the way it works round here. People watch out for each other but keep a closer watch on everyone else.”
“I’m not sitting by any longer without doing something.”
“Yes you are,” Webb hissed “Besides, I know that Bryce guy. He is not someone we want to be messing with. And either way, we’re due on shift.”
“If you think I’m slaving on a beating line for the next fifteen hours when I could be making headway - ”
“Listen to me,” Webb growled, leaning in close to his face. “You can’t not show up for your second ever shift. Michalski will know and that will be us done here. Done. Deported. Or worse.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes at the younger man but saw nothing but earnest concern in his face. The bald worker’s words from earlier came back to him and he ran his hands through his h
air. “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “We’ll go to the yard again. But after that, we go to this refinery workshop and see what we can find.”
Webb rubbed his mouth. “Maybe.”
“Maybe? Webb, we have nothing else to start on.”
“Yes, we do. Jazz is meeting us here next down-shift. We’re going to go through everything with her. And she, unlike you, soldier-boy, actually knows how to find shit out without landing in it. So wait, please. Listen to what Jazz says. Then, if we’re still stuck, I promise, we’ll check it out. Ok?”
Hugo scowled. “Fine.”
Webb’s shoulders tensed. “I’m not doing this to be an ass, Hugo. I’m doing it because this is the way it works. From the second we land to the second we leave, no one, and I mean no one, can know what we’re really doing here.”
“Except this Jasmine?”
Webb’s face cleared. “We can trust her. But that’s about it. Believe me. Now, come on, we better grab some breakfast before it all goes.”
VII
If anything the second shift was even more soul draining than the first. Hugo got the same cranky beater and the same cracked ear protectors. It was the same pilot in the next machine. The only thing that was different was the section of bulkhead in the holding frame. Lola Michalski stopped by on her moped for a quality check and they stopped for a Nutripak and some water at the seven hour mark. And then it was back to the rattling, pounding, heat and noise.
He was wobbly again when he climbed off his beater as the shift-end call boomed out what felt like an eternity later. He met Webb near the shuttle rails, looking equally grimy and exhausted. They didn’t speak as they joined the flow of workers heading back to the shuttle.
Hugo was trying to figure out how to broach the subject of Bryce again, when he felt eyes on him and paused. Someone grumbled as he blocked the way and people had to surge around him.
“Hugo?” Webb said, looking in the direction Hugo was staring. “What is it?”
Hugo stepped out of the flow of workers, but the figure he’d thought he’d seen by the gate, standing stiff, pale face with keen eyes turned his way, was gone.
“What are you looking at?”
Hugo shook his aching head and rubbed his eyes. “There was a man…watching us…there.” He pointed toward the gatepost.
Webb followed his gesture. “There’s no one there. You’re seeing things.”
Hugo didn’t reply. He hoped Webb was right, but he still checked every face nearby as they all crowded onto the shuttle. No piercing eyes and neat, black hair among any of them.
He put the image out of his head and instead peered out the shuttle windows to try to get a better look at the refinery as they passed, but it still looked like no more than a misshapen black cutout against a smudge of red light. He wiped his misted breath from the window and stared until it was out of sight, not liking the feeling that it looked as impenetrable as this mission was beginning to feel.
Webb checked his wrist panel as they stepped off at the shuttle stop. “Jazz’ll be at the boarding house in an hour. I say we get some food -”
“Webb? Hey, Webb!”
They turned to see the broad-shouldered figure of Ribble in his dark coveralls bearing down on them through the departing shuttle traffic. This time he wore a belt with a large nightstick hanging from it and a knife holster strapped on his arm.
“Shit, Ribble, wait,” Webb said, raising his hands. “Just wait a second, big guy.”
“Relax, Webb,” Ribble grunted as he drew level. “I’ve spoken to Jazz. You’re off the hook. For now.”
“Hallelujah,” Webb tried for a grin but it looked haggard with the shift’s dirt and weariness heavy on his face and the cut and bruise from Ribble’s punch clear through it.
Ribble glowered. “That’s not to say I’m happy, mind. But, either way…who’s this then?”
Hugo clamped his mouth shut as Webb shifted slightly in front of him to block him from view. “My proby. What’s going on?”
“I need you to take a look at something,” Ribble said, dismissing Hugo and turning his attention to Webb. “We’ve had a death in one of my buildings. There’s something weird going on. I need you to take a look.”
“Why me?”
“Just come, will you? Need to get you in before Reclaim come for him.”
“Webb, what is this?” Hugo asked.
Webb shook his head. “Damned if I know. Look, Ribble, it makes me fuzzy inside that we’re pals again, really. But I just got off shift -”
“Elders’ orders, Webb,” Ribble said, face darkening.
Webb ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Anything for the Elders, I guess. Hugo, head back to the boarding house.”
“Webb - ” Hugo started to protest.
“I’m not arguing with you,” Webb started but Hugo grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him to the side.
“We can’t have any more delays,” Hugo said in a low voice. “You said we’d meet Jazz and I’ll meet her. But we’re behind schedule as it is.”
“I have to obey the Elders,” Webb growled. “If we’re to keep up appearances - ”
“Damn keeping up appearances, already. What’s this place done to you that you’re so afraid of it?”
Hugo regretted the words the second they left his mouth. But the clone quickly recovered, smoothing away the tight look and hissed in his ear, “Do as I say, goddammit. I’ll be quick as I can.”
“What about Jazz?”
“Just tell her I’ll be back soon. Go. Now.”
Ribble was watching them. Webb gestured for the Enforcer to lead the way and followed him to a moped parked nearby. He climbed on behind the big man, throwing Hugo a warning look as he did so and then Ribble started the engine and drove them away. Hugo glanced around as the shift workers dissipated. None of them seemed to have noticed the exchange.
Hugo bristled as he made his way home to Michalski’s, but remembered to keep his head down. His feet found the way on their own, skin crawling the whole way. It was difficult to know if he felt more exposed when the streets were busy or when they were dead. The doorway opposite the entrance to the boarding house was empty. He was too tired to decide if that meant anything so went to the shower room to wash some of the grime from his hands and face.
In the dining room a couple of the other residents nodded to him as he took the same stool against the wall as yesterday. The bald worker from the maintenance room was sitting with them but just gave him a long stare.
Tag brought him a tray of something unidentifiable in a greyish sauce. The synthetic protein was tasteless but hot and helped his belly feel less like a hard knot inside him. He finished quickly then plodded back to the room, trying to push his brain into planning his next move, but it refused to co-operate.
He didn’t know he’d fallen asleep until a knock on the door woke him. He started up, cursing a crick in his neck. The knock came again, loud enough to bring him back to himself but quiet enough that it wouldn’t be heard down the stairs. Hugo retrieved the Fourshot from his pack. He kept it behind his back as he opened the door a crack.
“Kaleb,” the young woman greeted him with a warm smile. “Good, I got the right place.” Hugo stood examining her a moment longer and her sandy brows drew together, though her smile never faltered. “Ezekiel here?”
“No.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Well. He asked me to come by.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes. “Who exactly are you?”
Jazz sighed through her nose. “I’m a friend, Commodore. I promise. Now, can I come in? It might be best if no one sees me.”
Hugo hesitated but Jazz just stood there, head on one side, holding his questioning gaze calmly with her cool, hazel eyes. Hugo sighed, hid his gun in his waistband and pulled the door open. Jazz nodded and stepped inside, looking around the tiny room with the faintest trace of a frown on her face.
“You should have come and stayed with me.”
“It didn’t seem like Webb was hoping to see you,” Hugo ventured, watching the broker closely as she looked around the room.
“Yeah, it seems he does that a lot.”
“Does what?”
“Hides,” Jazz said. She shrugged off her jacket and dropped it on the bed before leaning on the wall and examining the cracked ceiling tiles.
“You don’t look like most of the other people I’ve seen here,” Hugo said, pulling his t-shirt over the gun to better conceal it, but keeping his hand near it.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Why is that?”
“I work with computers. It means I do my shifts in my own apartment and I still have all my fingers.”
Hugo searched her face for a while longer, feeling a question start to gather in his mind that he didn’t want to ask. She put her head on one side again, questioning, perhaps seeing the struggle in his face. “Look, Miss Leon - ”
“Call me Jazz. Leon was the ship I was born on. I don’t own that name any more.”
“Fine. Jazz…” He looked at the floor, rubbing his mouth a second. “I need to know something,” he eventually said, looking up and watching her face. “About Webb…” She continued to regard him coolly. He continued, keeping his voice void of emotion. “I lost track of Webb after the Uprising. I know enough to know he’s been on Haven, but he won’t talk about what happened.”
“Does he need to?”
“Whatever he’s not telling me seems to be affecting him. I’m worried it might be impacting his judgement.”
“I doubt that.”
“You do?”
Jazz nodded. “Webb knows what he’s doing. If his past is influencing your investigation it’s because it needs to. He understands this colony, better than most other Outsiders.”
“How much has he told you?”
“About what?” she asked, mildly, still watching his face.
“About why we’re here?”
“Oh, I doubt he’s told me everything. But he’s told me you’re after that blade, Ariel.”
Hugo blinked. “You know about Ariel?”
“I know what he did to Webb. From the scars.”
Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2) Page 11