Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2)

by J. S. Collyer

  Webb blinked, trying to process it.

  “They must have moved it,” Dana said, getting back to her feet and glaring daggers.

  “Or you lied to get information from me.”

  “Listen to me, Nam Webb,” Webb growled. “I’m going to say it slow, so listen. You are fucking crazy, ok?”

  “Webb,” Jazz warned, coming round the other side of the sofa.

  “You’re messed up, woman,” he said, holding a hand up to Jazz but keeping his eye on Nam. “No great wonder. What happened to you would mess anyone up. But, listen to me on this one, we are not the enemy, understand? That lab was on that ship. I’m sorry if they’ve moved it but that really isn’t our problem.”

  Nam’s face crumpled with fury but he could see he’d reached her. She let out a cry and raised her blade. Webb ducked but Nam just buried it in Jazz’s coffee table. Then she fell to her knees, buried her hands in her hair and rocked back and forth, wailing.

  Jazz watched all this with raised eyebrows and a bewildered expression which she then levelled at Webb. Webb shrugged apologetically, throwing a worried glance over his shoulder toward the hallway. He looked to Dana for inspiration and saw her face bright with dawning realisation and a flicker of hope.

  “What?” Webb mouthed but all Dana did was reach out and put a hand on Nam’s shaking shoulder.

  “Nam?”

  Webb started forward but all the woman did was look up through her tear-streaked paint.

  “Nam,” she said again, still softly. “We might be able to help you find the lab.”

  “How?” Nam sniffed.

  “They moved the lab, I’m sure of it,” Dana said. “But you can’t just fly a Service-standard shuttle through Haven and find somewhere to berth it.” She threw Webb a significant glance. “And besides, there was a lot of specialist equipment on there…as well as the cloned organs…” Dana let that hang in the air for a second. Understanding hit Webb like a fist. Jazz was looking at him with an alarmed expression. “They would need to move and store it carefully. For that kind of operation, they would need to use lifting equipment and rent some space. I would say that credit will have changed hands somewhere and Jazz here is a broker.”

  “You are?” Nam said, getting to her feet and looking at Jazz. “That means you can track credit?”

  Jazz caught Dana’s glance and nodded. “That’s right. I should be able to help you find where it’s gone.”

  Webb knew she was talking to everyone in the room.

  Nam looked between them like she could sense there was more happening here than she knew. “Do it then. Now.”

  Jazz nodded and went to her workstation.

  Nam glanced between them all again. “Where’s the other one? The Serviceman?”

  “He’s out,” Webb said quickly. Jazz was already scrolling through data and tapping keys. Dana was at her shoulder, scouring the display. “Tell me, Nam,” Webb continued, trying to keep his tone light. “How exactly did you find us this time?”

  Nam glared at him. “Why should I tell you?”

  “Drop that attitude, ok?” Webb grumbled. “We’re helping you, aren’t we?”

  “Yes and I don’t know why.” She spun the blade in her hand. Webb watched it, rubbing his sternum where the razor edge had bit at the skin through his t-shirt.

  “Because we need you to believe us,” he said. “We’ve got…plans of our own and we could do without you interfering again.”

  Her jaw hardened and she stilled her weapon but he could see she understood. “There’s a roof you can see this apartment from,” she said, finally, nodding out the window. “I tracked you here after the first time you came snooping about and I came back to watch for you.”

  “You saw us land?” Webb asked carefully, making himself not look at the hallway to the back room.

  Nam frowned. “Land? No. I saw you through the window. You flew here?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Webb smoothed over, relief calming his heart again. “Jazz, any luck?” He tried not to sound too keen. Dana had her hand on Jazz’s shoulder and he was sure he could almost see her trying to convey things to the broker without speaking. Nam was watching them too.

  “I think so,” Jazz said. Her fingers stopped typing and she pointed at a string of numbers. “This account that looks like a dummy to me was used to secure a loan of an industrial lifter and some storage on the edges of Sector 4’s shipyard.”

  “Where?” Nam said, coming forward and frowning at the numbers. “Tell me. Tell me now.”

  “Here,” Jazz tapped a couple of things and then pulled out one of the dozens of data thumbs that were plugged into her processor and handed it to Nam. “These are the co-ordinates. It’s as sure as I can be.”

  Nam clutched the data thumb and spent a long time staring between them all. Webb prayed silently and didn’t dare look at the others. He kept his face as calm as possible.

  “Ok, are we done here?” he said, trying to only sound irritated.

  Nam’s jaw worked. She stared at the data thumb then at his face. She threw one more narrow glance at them all then turned and stormed out. Webb waited until her hurried footsteps had faded away then scrambled over the sofa to slam the door.

  “Quick,” he said. “Dana, we need to move. We’ll take the flyer. We can get Hugo to Yoshida before she finds him.”

  “Relax,” Jazz said getting to her feet and folding her arms. “I gave her fake co-ordinates.”

  Webb’s heart sank.

  “You didn't find the shuttle?” Dana said, despair painted clearly on her face.

  “Oh no, I found it alright,” Jazz said. “I just sent that one in the wrong direction. I don’t understand everything that’s happened here…but I think I’ve guessed a lot of it.”

  “Jazz, you are and always will be our saviour,” Webb laughed, coming around the sofa and throwing his arms around her. “Thank you.”

  “If you’re planning what I think you’re planning,” Jazz said patiently, pushing Webb gently away. “You need to hurry. You might not meet Nam there, but he doesn’t have long.”

  “Thank you,” Webb said again. “I mean it.”

  “Stop prattling,” Jazz scolded, waving them through to the hallway. “Get your boots on and take jackets. But go now.”

  Dana gave both him and Jazz an uncertain look then rushed to the hall. Jazz watched after her with a slightly sad expression.

  “She likes you, that one,” she murmured softly.

  Webb rubbed the back of his neck and felt himself blush. Jazz put a finger under his chin and made him meet her eyes.

  “Look after yourself, Ezekiel. And let yourself be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

  “I really am sorry,” he whispered. “About everything.”

  “Get yourself out of here and get yourself a future and you will have more than made everything up to me,” she said with a warm smile. “But Zeek,” she said with a more serious expression. “I want you to be prepared. He may be too far gone already.”

  Cold threaded through his veins and he shook his head. “I can’t believe that.”

  He hurried after Dana. She was folding the blanket back from Hugo. He saw her averting her gaze from padding taped on his chest and the Patches stuck around it, the skin reddened around them. Webb’s breath caught in his throat. He could see the shuddering beats of his struggling heart through his skin.

  “See if you can find something for him to wear,” he said. Dana nodded and went to move past him. He grabbed her by the arm and made her look at him. Tiredness, confusion, fear and hope all warred in her face. “Listen to me. It’s going to be ok. Alright?”

  Dana hesitated before she nodded and swept out.

  Webb adjusted the chair-bed and eased Hugo into a sitting position. His skin was hot to touch. Dana returned, arms laden and Webb rooted through until he found an old sweater, loose with a thousand washes. Dana helped them get it on Hugo and then he grabbed a worker jacket for himself, pr
obably one of his old ones from the yard he did his probation in, and pulled on his boots.

  The boots were uncomfortable to put on again so soon and full of dust and a stickiness he didn’t want to think about. He straightened his aching back, resisted rubbing the itching stitches in his side and got his arms back under Hugo.

  “You didn’t re-dress your cut did you?” Dana muttered as she got her brother’s arm over her shoulders.

  “Big picture, Dana. You ready for this?”

  Dana nodded. “Let’s go.”

  XVII

  The flyer choked and lost power way before they reached Jazz’s coordinates. They dumped it and carried Hugo between them the rest of the way. A report on the flyer’s short-wave radio seemed to suggest that the chaos of the Storage District had sent waves through the whole colony. It wasn’t clear what was happening now, or what the Elders’ plans were to handle it, but it was clear that it wasn't over yet.

  They both stilled when their names and descriptions were reeled off, along with the promise of a reward for reports of their whereabouts.

  “Don’t they have bigger problems?” Dana had muttered.

  Webb found he had no trouble forgetting everything else and just staying focussed on the task in hand. Soon they shambled into a deserted lot at Jazz's coordinates. There was a single squat building with wide gates, locked and barred but recently used judging from the scratch marks in the concrete.

  “He chose a good spot,” Dana muttered, glancing around. They were shouldered right against the colony’s hull. The nearest floodlight was several streets away and there was no indication that any of the other buildings around them were being used.

  “Shit,” Webb said as Hugo started to make low noises. “Is he waking up?”

  Dana touched a hand to his forehead and cheek. His eyelids fluttered. “I don’t know. But he’s burning up.”

  They hitched Hugo up between them and hurried across the dusty lot to the building. Webb scanned the huge gates in despair. It was all silent inside.

  “There,” Dana said, and started pulling them towards a smaller door in the wall. Webb worked the lock in a time he was even impressed with, especially with the dim light, then helped Dana carry Hugo through into a dim corridor.

  “Webb,” Dana said, voice strained. “He’s not breathing.”

  “Keep moving,” Webb ordered and elbowed them through the first door they came to. They stumbled through into a high and wide hanger, lit only by the glow from the interior of a Service shuttle in the middle of the storage space, loaded on an industrial lifter. They approached in silence, though Webb was sure the thudding of his heart was audible for miles. He could hear someone moving around inside the small ship, then the hiss of sliding doors and footsteps on the deck.

  Yoshida came into sight just as they came forward into the light pooling on the floor from the open hatch. They all stood and stared at each other.

  “You are going to keep your mouth shut and listen,” Webb said. “His heart is damaged and you are going to save him. Understand?”

  Yoshida blinked at them a moment longer, taking in their grim expressions and the limp figure of Hugo between them, then carefully set aside the sample tray he was carrying. “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I’ll cut your throat if you don’t.”

  “Dana,” Webb warned. The girl’s black eyes burned. Webb braced himself then bent down and hauled Hugo up out of Dana’s grip. He carried his friend up the ladder to the hatch, muscles screaming, pushed his way past a protesting Yoshida and laid his burden on the gurney in the surgical bay.

  “I can have my guards here in twenty seconds,” Yoshida said, scrambling for a communicator on his workbench.

  “Look,” Webb said, coming forward and putting himself between the flustered medic and Dana who stood in the hatch, bristling. “I think we all know that your Ghost buddies are bit preoccupied right now. So why don’t we all just listen to each other?”

  “Why should I listen to you? You tried to kill me and he-” he stabbed his finger at Hugo’s limp form, “tried to destroy my life’s work.”

  “Well,” Webb said, keeping his voice calm with a monumental effort but unable to keep it from gaining volume, “don’t you think it will be harder for him to hold up his cloning ban if your work saved his life?”

  Yoshida paused, eyes flickering. His hand was on a comm but he stood there in silence. Dana, mercifully, kept silent too. Yoshida’s look slid from Webb to Dana and back. He straightened, then folded his arms.

  “Ok,” he said carefully. “You’ve got my attention. But you need to give me something more.”

  “You mean you’ll do it?” Dana stepped forward. “You’ll give him a new heart?”

  “I have one here,” Yoshida said. “You’re lucky I’ve just cloned one that’s blood-type neutral. Either way, it might not save him, but I will agree to try. On two conditions.”

  “What conditions?” Webb said.

  “One, as you proposed, Commodore and Special Commander Hugo leave me in peace to continue my research legitimately. No more hunting me down. No more restricting my suppliers.”

  “Yes. What’s the second one?”

  “Webb,” Dana put in but he held up a hand.

  “We can persuade him,” Webb said to Dana. “If his life depends on it. And if we can’t, Harvey can. Yoshida. What’s condition number two?”

  The medic smiled at him. “You.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Yoshida stepped up close to him. “You, my friend. I will try and save your Serviceman. You can take him home and I’ll give you the drugs he’ll need to survive the procedure. Providing you agree to return to me afterward.”

  “What for?” Webb asked warily.

  “Study,” Yoshida said. “More research. Your retention of your predecessor’s memories has raised more questions than it’s answered. But with time and study, I believe I can get to the bottom of it all.”

  Dana was shifting about. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. She pleaded with him with her eyes but whether she was begging him to say yes or no he couldn’t tell.

  “Deal,” Webb said, stomach clenching. “Now get to work.”

  “Wait,” Yoshida said holding his hand out. “Shake on it. And don’t shake and lie. I will know and your friend can die on my gurney for all I care.”

  The man’s other hand still held the comm link. Dana’s hand was going to her belt.

  “You can’t hurt me,” Yoshida said smoothly. “Not if you want him to have a chance.”

  “If Webb’s giving himself to you,” Dana choked out. “You will save my brother.”

  “That’s not the deal,” Yoshida said, eyes calmly sliding back to Webb. “I will try. But either way, you’re mine.”

  “No,” Dana said but Webb had reached and gripped the man’s hand.

  “I said it’s a deal,” Webb squeezed the medic’s hand a little tighter than necessary. “Now get on with it.”

  A look of satisfaction spread over the small man’s face and Webb let his hand go. He nodded and glided through to the surgical bay. He started pulling on scrubs and getting monitors and scanning equipment online. Then he pulled a curtain over the doorway. The last thing Webb saw before the curtain was drawn was Hugo’s still and pale face turned their way, eyes fluttering and pain etched into the lines of his brow.

  Shaking set into Webb’s limbs and he sat heavily on the edge of the hatch, staring out into the darkness of the storage unit.

  Dana lowered herself to sit next to him. “What exactly have you agreed to?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They sat there in silence. The greyness of exhaustion starting to mist the edges of Webb’s vision. He was even too tired to pray.

  “We’re too late, aren’t we?” Dana’s voice was small.

  Webb shifted to lean on the edge of the hatch. He put his arm around Dana’s shoulders and pulled her into him. She settled against him but he didn’t a
nswer. He didn’t need to.

  A faint bleeping startled him just as his thoughts had started to swill away to blank nothing.

  “What’s that?” Dana murmured sleepily.

  Webb patted his pockets and pulled out the gaming panel. A light was blinking in the corner of the screen. “Message,” he said.

  “From Rami?” Dana said, leaning in.

  Webb opened up the reply. His throat tightened. “Her ship is on the way.”

  Dana turned her face away. Webb put the panel away and deliberately did not think about the fact that they’d be leaving without Ariel… and possibly without Hugo.

  *

  The noise of a door opening tugged at him from somewhere far away. He didn’t want to come back. He liked it where he was. It was safe and empty. Something warm was pressed against his side and in the drifting fog all he knew was the comfort of that warmth and blissful absence of thought.

  Then there was the sound of feet on metal and Webb blinked his eyes open and pulled in a breath that tasted like bloodgrease, dust and phozone, and everything came crashing back.

  He winced and straightened, Dana muttering as she pulled away from under his arm. She blinked sleepily and for an instant looked peaceful and tousled until everything returned to her, too. He watched her face fall.

  They both turned, swearing with the stiffness of their muscles. Yoshida was pulling off a surgical mask and his bloodied scrubs. His face was unreadable.

  “Well?” Dana demanded, getting shakily to her feet.

  “The procedure is done,” Yoshida said. “His vitals are good and his body has accepted the implanted heart.”

  Tears sprang into Dana’s eyes and she covered her face in her hands.

  “He’s ok?” Webb managed.

  Yoshida pressed his lips together. “Only time will tell that. But for the moment, everything has gone as it should. Here.” He picked up a lock box from the side, went to a locker, keyed in a combination and loaded the box with vials of liquid. He handed the box to Webb. “He will need to be kept on this intravenously for the next four weeks. And this,” he continued, pulling a narrow hand-panel from his pocket, “contains all the information needed for his treatment. Give it to his medic.”