Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2)

by J. S. Collyer

Hugo bit his tongue as they crept further down the corridor.

  “This is it,” Webb said when they reached a door with no number. He knelt to start picking the lock. Hugo kept his breath steady, listening for any movement but all was quiet around them.

  “Webb?” he whispered as the seconds ticked by. “What’s the hold up?”

  “Keep your shirt on,” Webb said, blowing into the keyhole and trying again. “It’s been a while.”

  Jazz shook her head when the lock clicked and the door opened onto a set of stairs going down into shadow. “This is the sort of thing the Service taught you?”

  “Hardly,” Webb said, putting his lock pick back in his belt. “Webb learnt this on Lunar 1. Come on.”

  Jazz shook her head again and followed Webb through the door. Jazz led the way with a lenslight. There was another door at the bottom, also locked and again Webb picked it open.

  The apartment smelt of damp and something sharp…chemical. It was unnervingly quiet. Jazz found the light switch and they all stood blinking around a small room with a bare concrete floor, one chair at a workstation in the corner, a side with a sink and a microwave and nothing else.

  “No place like home,” Webb muttered. “Jazz, think you can get in?” he said, nodding towards the workstation. “Looks like there’s nothing else to search.”

  “I’ll see what I can find,” Jazz said, booting up the workstation and peering at the blinking screen.

  “Where is he?” Dana said. “The victim?”

  “In the bedroom,” Webb said, nodding towards an open door.

  “Stay here,” Hugo said, moving past her.

  “You don’t get to order me around.”

  Hugo turned on his sister, face burning. “Yes I do. Of all the stupid things you’ve done, Dana, this is the most dangerous and the most stupid.”

  “Did you just call me stupid?” Dana said, taking a step closer, black eyes flashing.

  “Guys,” Webb growled. “Seriously?”

  “And you can keep out of this too,” Dana said, stabbing a finger at Webb. “You have no idea -”

  “He knows enough to be my Sponsor,” Hugo said. “He knows enough to have gotten us this far. I don’t know how you’ve got here, but you have no idea what you’re doing.”

  “You are so hypocritical you don’t even know it.”

  “This is not a game,” Hugo seethed.

  “Game?” she returned. “Let’s talk about games. Sure, I’m dodging the probation system, but I’m doing it to bring that blade to justice for Marilyn. You are screwing the system, and your supposed friend,” she pointed at Webb again, “for your pride and nothing else.”

  “Children,” Webb said, raising his hands. “This is not the damn time.”

  “Have you even told him?” Dana said, hands on hips. “This man who you’ve had risk everything? Have you told him why you’re doing all this? Why you feel so guilty?”

  Hugo ground his teeth. “He knows.”

  “Does he?”

  “Hugo,” Webb said with a frown. “What’s she talking about?”

  They all stared at each other, Hugo feeling his skin burn but unable to untangle his tongue.

  “You,” Dana said to Jazz who was watching over her shoulder. “Keep working.” Jazz raised an eyebrow and turned back to the workstation whilst Dana faced the clone. “So, tell me, Webb. Did your captain tell you who gave Harvey this assignment? Who it was that ordered her to investigate bloodgrease traders?”

  Webb frowned.

  “She wanted to,” Hugo said, voice cracking.

  “She should have been given a team,” Dana said. “She should have had Analyst input, armed backup, a partner, anything. But no. She was all on her own. So they came for her, knowing she was the only one who knew anything. That’s why he got suspended. Gross Misconduct.”

  “I’m not justifying myself to you, Dana,” Hugo finally loosened his throat. “I’m here, making this right. You’ve gone AWOL from the Academy and snuck aboard the most dangerous colony in the Orbit, without a plan and with no field experience. You do not get to talk to me like I’m the irresponsible one.”

  “The worst part is you can’t even see,” Dana said. “I bet he told you he was doing this for you, right? To give you a chance to get your own back?” Dana said to Webb who was looking pale. “Sorry, friend. He’s appeasing a guilty conscience and a bruised ego. That’s all that’s happening here.”

  “Enough,” Hugo said. “Webb -” he said as Webb turned away towards the bedroom. “Webb, don’t listen to her,” he said, hurrying after him “She’s always twisting the truth.”

  “Must be a family trait,” Webb muttered, stepping through to the bedroom and turning on the light.

  Hugo stopped on the threshold. The thin man’s body was on the bed, tangled in the sheets with limbs splayed. His skin was a sickly grey except where it was purpled with bruises from the struggle. His red-rimmed eyes were wide open and staring. His mouth hung at a broken angle. What was left of his throat was a tattered and bloody mess. The spray of blood went up one wall and spattered the ceiling over the bed. His face, nightshirt and bed clothes were saturated. The smell of old blood was cloying and cold. Daubed on the wall in thick black paint was a large cross.

  “It looks…different,” Hugo managed.

  “The cross?” Webb tore his eyes from the body to examine the mark. “It wasn’t a spray-and-run, like we did. They took their time. But whether it was before or after they cut him -”

  “Before,” Dana said as she joined them. She was a little pale as she took in the scene but kept her voice steady and her expression blank. “There’s blood on top of the paint, there.” She pointed.

  “How did they paint the cross without waking him?” Hugo said.

  Webb swallowed. “Very carefully.”

  “Or he was drugged,” Dana murmured, leaning over the body and looking into the eyes.

  “Hey,” Jazz called from the next room, stopping Hugo from dragging Dana away from the dead man. “I think I’ve found something.”

  “What…?” Webb started to ask when they all stopped still. There were voices in the stairwell.

  “Quick.,” Hugo whispered, pointing to another door off the bedroom.

  Jazz switched off the workstation as Hugo shut off the lights and Dana and Webb hurried through the door. Hugo and Jazz joined them in the tiny bathroom a second later and pulled the door to in the dark. Hugo held himself still and willed his breathing to calm. There was the sound of the apartment door unlocking and then voices in the apartment.

  “…when can you take him?” a deep voice said, as the lights came on in the other room. The patrolling Enforcer stepped into sight through the bedroom doorway.

  “I’ll get a wagon over by the end of next shift. Poor bastard,” someone replied whilst turning on the bedroom light. The man, stocky with some bruising on his brow and wearing grimy coveralls with a knife in the belt, came forward, shaking his head.

  Hugo sensed Webb flinch in the dark .

  “Isn’t that Sol?” Hugo whispered as the man stepped towards the bed. Webb nodded.

  Sol stood over the body, looking entirely too composed. “What a way to go. He should have stuck to dealing with me. I don’t carve what’s owed out of your neck.”

  “You reckon this was a bad debt then?” the Enforcer said.

  “That’s what I heard. Don’t worry, I’ll give him a send off and Reclaim can have his stuff.”

  “What should I tell my Elder?”

  “Just tell him it’s sorted.”

  The Enforcer grunted. “Fine. Get rid of him so we can reassign the apartment.”

  “Don’t you worry,” Sol said, following the Enforcer out of the bedroom. “I’ll take the computer bit now and bring the wagon in the next few hours for him.”

  There was some shuffling in the next room during which they talked on about the disgrace of the unclaimed killing, then all the lights went out and the apartment door clicked shut
.

  “I have a real bad feeling,” Jazz said as she pushed her way back out the bathroom and turned on the living room light again. “Yep,” she said, examining the workstation. “He’s taken the data drive.”

  “Webb,” Hugo said, staring at the gap in the workstation’s base unit. “I thought you said Sol knew nothing about this man?”

  “That’s what he said,” Webb said. “He said the guy was just a User. I heard the comm call with me own ears. He swore he was nothing to do with him.”

  “Well, clearly, he was,” Hugo said, kicking the workstation. “And just didn’t want an Elder to know he was connected.”

  “Who was he?” Dana asked, looking at the door.

  “Sol’s no-one,” Webb said. “He’s a Catiline Patch dealer and a rat.”

  “It’s been a few years since you knew him,” Hugo said. “Do you think he’s turned killer?”

  “Why come back again for the data drive?” Jazz said.

  “Sol’s no killer,” Webb mumbled. “He hasn’t the balls for something like this.”

  “So he hears one of his Users is dead, waits for the hype to die down, then turns up saying he’ll organise the Reclaim and takes the guy’s data?” Jazz said, brows drawn together.

  Webb shook his head. “This makes no sense.”

  “We don’t care who killed this guy, or why Catiline want his data,” Dana said. “We only care if this guy was a Ghost and, if so, how to use him to find Ariel.”

  “What did you say? If this guy’s a what?” Hugo said, turning on his sister.

  Dana folded her arms. “A Ghost. It’s what they’re calling the members of this new gang.”

  “I’d heard the word,” Jazz murmured. “I didn’t know what it meant.”

  “No one knows anything about them,” Dana said. “What they call themselves, who they are, anything. But they’re gaining power. And credit. Havenites are scared.”

  “How do you know all this?” Hugo muttered.

  “Marilyn actually talked to me.”

  Hugo bristled but Webb stepped forward. “What did she find on them?”

  “Not much,” Dana said. “That’s what scared her.”

  “What did you find on the workstation?” Hugo asked Jazz.

  “It may be something. It may be nothing. But let’s get out of here first.”

  Webb checked the stairwell and corridor before waving them out. They slipped out the open window and closed the shutter then slunk away through the shadows.

  Hugo stopped at the first lit street they came to. “This is as far as you go,” Hugo said, turning to Dana. “Webb, where’s the nearest shuttle to the docks?”

  She bridled. “I’ve already said I’m not leaving.”

  “This is an order, Midshipman.”

  “I don’t have a rank here,” Dana said “And neither do you.”

  “Kaleb and Dana, for the last time, shut the hell up,” Webb said. “First thing’s first, we’re getting off these streets. We stick out a mile hanging around in the middle of a shift. Until we’re out of sight, you need to stop drawing attention to us.”

  “This way,” Jazz said, turning left. “My apartment’s nearby.”

  Hugo followed Jazz, uneasily glancing up the streets that were still mid-shift ghost towns. Dana walked ahead, keeping her back to him. He fought the urge to grab her by the collar and drag her towards the shuttle stop. Webb wasn’t looking at him either. Hugo swallowed his frustration, kept his head down and followed. Jazz turned off the main street. Steam was billowing from ventilation grids in the floor and there was a hum nearby of some unseen machinery.

  Webb stopped so suddenly that Hugo nearly ran into him. “What is it?”

  Webb shushed him, still peering into the steam gathered in a gap between the buildings.

  “Webb?” Jazz whispered but Webb shook his head.

  “Nothing. Let’s get moving,” he said and waved them on. Hugo passed the shadowy gap feeling a shiver run over his skin and hurried after Webb as he took the lead around the next corner. The clone pulled up short and flattened against the wall, waving them to get past. Even Dana obeyed, keeping still and quiet while Webb looked back around the corner.

  “There’s no chance any other family members might be tailing you, right, Hugo?” he murmured.

  “What’s going on?” Hugo breathed.

  “Someone’s back there.”

  Hugo scanned the dark alley but all he could see was the swirling vapour. “I don’t see anything.”

  Webb stood a minute more, watching and listening before waving them on.

  “You’re paranoid,” Dana muttered as Jazz took the lead again, but Webb ignored her, increasing his stride and stopped them at every junction to look around the corners. Hugo took up the rear, listening and checking every shadow and doorway.

  “Quiet,” he muttered, dragging Dana down a dark ginnel, shushing her protest. Jazz and Webb ducked in next to them, squashing single file in the narrow space that smelt like copper and smoke.

  “You heard something too?” Webb muttered.

  “Keep her here,” Hugo breathed and padded back to the street, drawing his Fourshot. There was a sharp intake of breath from the others but he ignored it, tightening his hand on the weapon.

  “Hugo,” Webb hissed, scrambling after him. “Are you crazy?”

  Jazz was whispering fiercely too but Hugo stepped out onto the street, weapon ready. He had expected the same small figure with fierce blue eyes that drilled right through him, even in his memory. But there was no one there.

  “You idiot,” Webb growled and hauled him bodily back down the ginnel. “A gun, Hugo? A gun?”

  “Let me go,” Hugo said, shrugging himself free of his grip. Webb’s face was stormy but Jazz and Dana were staring at his gun with wary expressions. “Yes, I brought a gun. This mission is too dangerous and too important to be hindered by some primitive honour system -”

  “Honour?” Webb said. “You think this is just about honour?”

  “Commodore Hugo,” Jazz said. Her voice was heavy, her expression grave. “You need to dispose of that immediately or I’m going straight to the Elders.”

  Hugo made a wordless noise of frustration. “I don’t care what you do,” he said, tucking the Fourshot back in his waistband. “I’m here to get a job done, I refuse -”

  “Hugo,” Webb snapped. “Just shut off your Service brain for a second and think. Why do you think they have the rule?”

  “You said it was a justice thing,” Hugo muttered, very aware of the loaded way Jazz was still looking at him.

  Webb gave an incredulous laugh. “Yes, it’s a ‘justice thing’. If you want to hurt someone you have to get close, you have to look them in the eye and know why you’re doing it. It also means you’re only likely to take down the person you meant to and not any innocent bystanders.”

  “I’m a good shot,” Hugo argued.

  Webb rubbed his eyes and growled. “Hugo, what does this whole fucking colony run on?”

  “What?

  “Bloodgrease, Kale,” Dana put in, voice full of disdain. “The life support, the yards, the recycling levels, the street sweepers, everything. You’re never more than a few feet away from a fuel line or storage vat full of it.”

  Hugo went cold. He looked back at Webb who was watching his face.

  “There, now you get it,” Webb said. “One stray shot, just one, and you could take a whole street or, hell, a whole sector with you. So no guns. Ever. Now hand it over. We’re getting rid of it before it gets you lynched or the entire district blown into drift.”

  Hugo went cold. The Fourshot that until a few minutes ago had made him feel like he had some measure of control, now felt heavy and chill against his skin. The look that was etched into Jazz’s normally placid face was enough to make Hugo realise just how badly he’d blundered. He took out the gun and gave it to Webb who visibly wilted with relief.

  “Jazz,” he said. “What’s the best way -”

&
nbsp; “Give it to me,” she said holding out her hand. She wasn’t looking at Hugo.

  Webb handed it over, looking drained. Jazz tucked it inside her jacket and brushed past them, back to the street.

  “Jazz,” Hugo said as he caught up to her. “I’m sorry.”

  She stared at him for a long moment as they paced along, then nodded and dropped her gaze. Hugo wished she’d say something but she didn’t speak again. Dana managed to refrain from saying anything more but the looks she sent him were disgusted. Webb just appeared tired and followed on Jazz’s heels, hands in pockets and head down.

  VIII

  More of Haven’s dark streets went by in a blur. Hugo was just beginning to feel like he would go mad with the sameness of it all, when Jazz turned into some open doors on the ground level of a tall building. An Enforcer with no eyebrows, dark coveralls and a very large knife at his side was stationed just inside. His feet were on the desk in front of him and he was watching some monitors on the wall. He looked up as they came in.

  “Ms. Jasmine,” he nodded, looking over them all. “Mr. Ezekiel. You have guests?”

  “Workers off-shift from Sector 4, Arn,” Jazz said with a disarming smile. “Thought I’d treat them to a real coffee.”

  The man nodded and they carried on, though Hugo could feel the man’s eyes all the way to the bank of lifts at the back of the lobby. He let go a breath he didn’t realise he was holding when the doors shut and the lift juddered upwards.

  They stood in silence. Webb stared at the floor. Dana leant against the wall and glared at the wall. A mix of hot anger and cold defeat were swirling in Hugo’s gut. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself blurting the hundreds of frustrated things that were clamouring in his head. Jazz looked at no-one and the silence stretched on.

  The lift seemed to take forever but then the doors opened and Jazz led them out and down a windowless corridor. She reached a door at the end and pulled out a keycard, opened it up and they filed in.

  The apartment was more like loft space that had been filled with mismatched furniture than somewhere meant for someone to live. Broad plexiglass windows made up most of one wall and looked over the rooftops and gridded alleys of the sector. The dull green of the track lights gave everything a murky tinge, even after Jazz had turned on the lights. In the corner was a workstation the like of which Hugo had never seen, with four or five processors balanced on top of one another and half a dozen displays of varying sizes, ages and states of repair, all scrolling data in an endless stream. Jazz went to check the readings as Dana stared around and Webb shrugged himself out of his jacket.