Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2)

by J. S. Collyer

  “I’m on it,” Dana said and climbed through.

  “Be careful,” Hugo said.

  “Quiet,” Dana’s command echoed down and Hugo took a breath, nodding for Webb to go next.

  Webb climbed after Dana and then Hugo went after him. His sister was already further up, heading for the car. She had the light tucked in her sleeve and was moving swiftly and surely, using cable housing and structural supports as hand and foot holds. Hugo scanned around again but the only ladder was on the side closest to the internal access hatches. Webb followed Dana, though he moved slightly slower, stretching with one arm more carefully than the other. Hugo winced in sympathy then got a grip above him and started to climb.

  It was eerily quiet with the shaft blocking most of the noise of the battle. Hugo concentrated on pulling himself up after Webb and holding himself still as his friend shimmied up next to his sister. He got as good a hold as he could and leant out to work on the hatch in the base of the car. The only sound was the blade of the knife on the release mechanism and Webb’s heavy breathing.

  With a click, it finally opened. Webb leaned out further, Dana keeping a fierce hold of the back of his coveralls, and swung the hatch up and into the car. He hung there a moment, staring up into the black space, before shaking himself and hauling himself through. He reached down and helped Dana through then Hugo climbed up himself.

  Webb gently clicked the hatch shut again once they were all inside the lift. Dana shone the light on the dark controls but Webb signed for silence then reached and shut the light off.

  They were plunged into complete blackness. Keeping still and silent, Hugo became aware of soft noises. He heard Webb take a step forward and did the same, pressing up against the door and listening. Lowered voices were murmuring to one another. One of them grated and rasped.

  “Paragon,” Hugo breathed.

  Webb didn’t answer. Hugo felt Dana come up behind them and leaned in close.

  “Ariel?” she whispered.

  They all kept motionless and listened for several more minutes. There were grunted commands, the heavy tread of a guard and a burst of panicked reply over a comm, but they couldn’t make out any words. Then silence again.

  Hugo felt Webb tense in the dark beside him and felt frustration coursing through his own body.

  “There’s no way to tell if he’s in there,” Hugo murmured.

  He heard Webb swallow. “We’ll just have to go for it.”

  They all stepped back as one and there was the whisper of fabric and metal as knives were drawn. He heard Webb step up to the doors and took up position behind him. Dana was at his shoulder. He felt and heard the clone release a shuddering breath and then there was the toothy noise of a knife blade being forced between the lift doors.

  XVI

  Webb could taste his own terror. He hated himself for it so much that is almost choked him. His palms sweated around the handle of the long-bladed knife as he jimmied the lift doors open. When Hugo shouldered in next to him to force the doors, some of Webb’s terror fled, though not all. He shut away what was left and heaved.

  Shots were already firing their way. Someone was shouting orders but it was too dark and too muddled to tell how many Ghosts there were. Webb let his instincts take over, diving for the cover of the conference table. Whoever had the guns had fallen back behind the furniture at the fireplace. Shots buried themselves in the lift doors and ploughed into the soft carpet and finally a shot went through the plexiglass.

  Either Ariel and his buddies had never expected to defend themselves against bullets up here, or, more likely, whoever constructed the window presumed the same thing, because it wasn’t bulletproof and the great sheet shattered in a glittering mass with a noise like music exploding.

  Webb covered his head with his arms as glass rained down on him. Someone on the other side of the room was screaming with fury but was ordered to silence. A great draught blew through the room and the noise of the riot filled the air.

  Webb got to his knees, glittering debris falling to the floor. He whispered a prayer of thanks that the blade had gone for a great, solid slab of simulated marble for his conference table. He held his breath and peered between the chairs just as someone ignited a lighting pole and flung it into the middle of the carpet.

  Webb barely had time to make out the tops of Hugo and Dana’s heads ducking behind a sofa when the two guards fired their handguns again.

  “Hold your fire.” Paragon’s rasping shout was almost choked by his rage. “Save your ammo, you idiots.”

  “You can fuck off,” one of the Ghost guards with a bald head and a wonky jaw answered, voice strangled with panic. “I’m not being taken alive to the Elders.”

  “You will do as I say,” Paragon growled. “Keep your weapons ready but hold your fire until I say. Ok you lot,” Paragon raised his broken voice. “You can’t win. Either leave the way you came, and quickly, or we’ll end you all.”

  “It’s over, shrimpy,” Webb called. The Ghosts, eyes wide and hands shaking, span in his direction. Paragon hung behind them, trying to peer through the gloom. “Your whole game is up. Haven’s out for your head.”

  “It’s the clone,” he hissed. “Kill them,” he shouted at the guards. “Kill them all, now.”

  The firing broke out again. Webb scurried to the end of the table as the glass and rock exploded over him. He sat with his back against a chair, took a deep breath and pulled one of the kitchen knives from his belt. He sent up another quick prayer, took a hold of the blade between his fingers, flung himself to his knees, took one precious second to aim and threw it.

  There was a scream and the shots stopped. Someone was gibbering, saying his friend’s name over and over as a gurgling noise ceased. Webb shut his eyes against a rush of guilt. These men weren’t soldiers… just desperate enough to get out of the yards that they’d accepted anything they were offered, illegal weapons and all.

  And under all that lurked the black fog of realisation: he hadn’t heard Ariel’s voice.

  Paragon was muttering furiously. Webb peered between the chairs. The lighting pole showed the bald man bent over the downed one, Webb’s knife protruding from his ribs. Paragon stood over them both, perfect skin flushed and strands of hair worked free from its tail, hanging about his face and stuck to his forehead.

  His voice cracked with panic and frustration as he rallied the remaining Ghost to his defence.

  Webb was just trying to assess another throwing angle when there was a flurry of movement. Hugo was over the sofa, across the carpet and bowling the other guard to the floor. Dana wasn’t far behind him and was going for Paragon, knife drawn.

  Ignoring the pull on his injury, he ran to join them. When he reached the struggle, Hugo was burying a knife up to the hilt in his man’s neck and Dana was wrestling Paragon for the downed man’s gun. Webb dived at Hugo’s man, who, not releasing he was as good as dead, was using his bulk to roll Hugo under him. Webb ploughed bodily into him, side screaming, and the three of them tangled on the floor.

  By the time Webb had shaken the stars from his vision, the guard was dead and Hugo was trying to wipe blood from his eyes and scrabbling for the other gun.

  “Get back,” Paragon growled so loud that Webb froze. Dana was getting to her feet, bloodied about the nose, lips split, with her knife held out to the side. There was a terrible moment of silence when they all panted and stood crouched over the two bodies of the guards. Paragon had both guns, one under one of his boots and the other aimed at Dana’s head. There was nothing left in his handsome face but terror and fury.

  “Where’s Ariel?” It was Dana that had spoken.

  Paragon’s face contorted and the gun in his grip started to shake. “You bastards,” he said, sounding almost pityingly young. “They’ll make me go back to the yards.”

  “No they won’t,” Webb said, surprised at finding his voice steady. “They’ll lynch you. Or drift you, maybe. And your master.”

  As if to back him
up, there came a surge of noise from outside. There was the sound of more shattering glass and groaning metal as well as continuing crashes and shouts. Paragon’s eyes widened and shone with terror.

  “Come with us,” Hugo said. His voice was husky with exhaustion, but the words were calm even as his eyes never left the weapon aimed at his sister. “We’re taking you and your master for trial. You’ll live. That’s the best I can offer you. You won’t get any such offer from your own people.”

  Paragon gave a cracked noise like a sob and swung the weapon round at Hugo. “You,” he croaked. “You’ve destroyed everything.”

  “Not us, sunshine,” Webb said. “You’re the one that helped the Ghosts screw over Haven.”

  Paragon shook his head. “You don’t understand. Ariel is a visionary. You are all heathens. Outsiders. Scum.” He choked and coughed, bending with the force of trying to get air into his damaged lungs.

  Dana took the moment and lunged, shouldering Paragon against the wall. They struggled. Hugo and Webb rushed forward to help. A single shot rang out and then there was the clattering of the gun against the fireplace. Dana yelped in pain and Webb saw nothing but red until he was standing over the crumpled form of the apprentice blade, Dana with blood on her knife and Paragon clutching at his stomach and sobbing into the carpet.

  Webb breathed until the rage subsided. Pity, regret and hatred fought for supremacy in his gut and it made him sick. He looked to Dana who was looking at the downed man with exactly the same war of emotions playing out on her face.

  She looked up and met his eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but then her look slid past him and widened.

  “Kale,” she cried and shoved Webb out the way. “Kale, please, no.”

  Time slowed down. He turned as Dana threw herself on the floor next to her brother, but to Webb it seemed she took an age to reach him. Hugo was on his back, staring up at the ceiling with a slightly confused look on his face. His hands, gloved in blood, were fumbling at his chest.

  Webb blinked. He was suddenly somewhere else. He could smell rock dust and iron. Mining machinery surrounded him and Kinjo was screaming somewhere close by and there was a crushing blackness in his chest.

  He shook his head, tried to pull in a breath to bring himself back from the ghostly memories. He was on his knees next to Hugo, helping Dana pull at his clothes.

  “You stay with me, Kale, do you hear?” Dana was saying, though her voice was thick. “You do as you’re told for once.”

  “Dana, give me a knife,” Webb said, surprised at how calm he sounded. Hugo’s face crumpled as he watched the knife blade get close to his skin. Webb sliced through his shirt with one quick movement. He used a scrap of the fabric to wipe away as much blood as he could.

  “There’s no bubbles,” Webb said, unwinding his scarf. “That’s a good sign. Here, press on this.” He placed Dana’s hands over the scarf. “Press hard, like you did with me. It doesn’t matter if it hurts him.”

  “I know,” Dana spat. Her eyes were brimming and furious. She leant into the compress and looked around the room. “We have to get him out of here.”

  “Stay there. Keep that pressure on.”

  “Where are you going?”

  Webb got to his feet, wiped Hugo’s blood on his clothes and looked around. Reality folded itself into a series of unimportant elements: the commotion outside, the flickering light of fire somewhere in the distance, Paragon curled on the floor panting and moaning with his synthetic hand twitching, the smell of blood. He went to the shattered window and scanned the roof space below until he found what he was looking for.

  “I’m going to get the elevator working,” he called over his shoulder as he forced the lift doors. “Keep him alive, do you hear?”

  The doors snapped shut on her shouted response. Webb forced himself not to think about the expression on her face but clutched the lenslight in his teeth and threw back the floor hatch.

  He climbed down to the opening onto the roof as if in a dream. His side was on fire and felt sticky. He shoved this all away, staggered through the hatch and hit the roof running.

  He didn’t stop to look at the lock on the electric relay house door but kicked it down. The wood was old and the lock rusted. It was dark and dusty inside. For a horrible moment he thought the shed might be disconnected, but he closed his eyes and forced himself to dredge up his electronics knowledge anyway, knowing he didn’t have a choice. A vision rose before him of Rami leaning over his shoulder to point out the finer details in some relay circuitry displayed on one of the Zero’s workstation screens. He shook the wave of bitterness that threatened to take him down with it and just concentrated on the knowledge Webb had gained that day.

  He cast the light around, grabbed a pair of cracked rubber gloves off a hook in the wall and set about searching for any labelled links to any sort of back-up power.

  “There is always some back-up somewhere,” Rami’s voice, along with the smell of her hair, wafted through his mind. “No matter how old or how small the building: if it’s on a colony, there will be a back-up power, even if it’s just there for the atmosphere controls. You can rewire anything to get even part of the building back online, at least for a while.”

  Webb started to sweat as he opened every fuse box and lid in sight. Wires upon wires upon wires swarmed around switches and control boxes. It all blurred in front of his eyes until he found the box he was looking for, tucked in a corner under some thick bundled cables. He read the text on the door, sweat starting to gather in his collar, forcing his brain to do the calculations Rami had taught him from the numbers listed in the faded paint.

  There might just be enough… if the generator, wherever it was, still worked.

  He wiped sweat out of his eyes, glanced around the dusty room, gripped the lenslight in his teeth and wrenched open the front of the box. He took a breath then made himself work and not think, pulling out and reconnecting the wires. The tiny numbers on the connection points were faded or rubbed away. But he didn’t think. Rami’s voice and numbers flashed through his brain. He looked at the colours and thicknesses of the wires and blinked liquid that was either sweat or tears of frustration out of his eyes whilst reading from the tiny, scratched schematic on the inside of the housing.

  It took an age. Hugo must have bled out by now. There was no point. He might as well give up.

  He ignored the thoughts and pushed aside the extra wiring that now dangled loose about the connection switch, took a breath and flicked it on. The wires sparked.

  He didn’t stop to think but got up and ran back to the lift shaft. He let out a strangled laugh when he saw it was lit up from within. He made it back up to the car so fast he thought his lungs and muscles might burst, climbed into it and laughed again when the lighting panels and controls of the lift were all evenly lit. He pushed the button and the doors slid open. They paused part way and the lights flickered off then on again. He ran for Dana, still bent over her brother on the floor.

  Hugo lay still, blinking slowly, hand resting on his sister’s as she clutched at his chest.

  “Come on,” Webb said and stooped to get an arm under his former captain. Hugo cried out when they pulled him up into a sitting position. “It’s a good sign,” Webb said to Dana, trying to believe it himself. “If he can feel things, it’s a good sign.”

  “Wait…please wait,” Paragon’s rasping voice was weak. He was still curled on the floor, darkness pooling on the thick carpet under him, with his real hand stretched out toward them. His eyes flicked around, unseeing. His skin was white. “Ezekiel, please. Take me with you.”

  “Not likely, asshole,” Webb ground out, shifting himself to get Hugo’s arm over his shoulders.

  “I’ll tell you everything,” the young man choked. “I’ll tell you where Ariel is. I’ll stand trial and tell you whatever you want to know. Just, please. Help me.”

  Webb panted with the effort of getting Hugo upright. Dana was under her brother’s other arm, face a rigid
mask. Paragon seemed to focus on them for a moment and shook with pain. His face pleaded as his breath rattled in and out of his body.

  “Too late, friend,” Webb answered. “Far, far too late.”

  They turned away from his whimpering and staggered with Hugo to the lift. Hugo looked around at the lit car, dazed. Dana hit the button for ground and the doors shut. The lift shuddered and the lights went. Webb crushed his eyes shut and prayed and they flickered back on. The lift started down.

  It wasn’t smooth. The power he’d found was not meant for this and wouldn’t last. Dana stared at the numbers counting down and mumbled under her breath.

  “Stay with us, Hugo,” Webb said, hoisting the heavier man further up onto his shoulder.

  “Keep still,” Hugo gasped.

  “That’s better,” Webb said, but then his stomach dropped into his feet when the car ground to a halt and the lights went again. As the sounds of the mechanism died, a riot of noise filled the air.

  “Shit,” Webb said. “Dana, what floor are we on?”

  “Almost ground level,” she said and he heard her boots shift. “Take him.”

  Hugo grumbled and Webb staggered as all of the commodore’s weight was shifted to him.

  “Be careful,” Webb said. “Sounds like there’s some serious shit going down out there.”

  Dana didn’t reply. He heard the sound of her forcing a knife blade between the doors. She made a wordless noise of effort and then there was a creak and a streak of dull light fell in. Dana got her shoulder in the gap and she used her whole body to force the doors apart. Webb muttered more curses as he registered they were several feet from the ground.

  “Quick,” she said, using her boots and elbows to keep the doors apart.

  “You ready, Hugo?” Webb said. “We need to get down off the elevator, but we can do it if we take it slow ok? Just take it easy.”

  Hugo didn’t answer. Webb didn’t allow himself to spend too long examining his friend’s sweat-covered face but got to his knees and helped Hugo do the same. They scrambled to the edge of the car, shimmying under Dana as she held the doors open. Webb looked around the storage bay the lift had opened on with its stoved-in hanger doors and ground strewn with bodies and groups of workers attacking each other with tools and night sticks, then jumped down and eased Hugo down after him. He wobbled on his feet but stayed upright. Dana landed down beside them.