Zero

by J. S. Collyer

  “This is really him?” the man on his right mumbled when he'd finished swearing but the woman shushed him.

  More glances from the crew lingered on him as they passed. About the third time Webb saw a crescent-moon pin on their jumpsuits, the creeping realisation gathered strength. When he saw ship's name, Tide, flashing on the screen of a workstation he felt his stomach tie itself in a knot.

  The floor shook and the humming of the ship took on a higher note. They passed a viewscreen just in time for him to see Lunar 1 fall away into the inky blackness like a pebble dropped into a pit. A dizzying series of passages later and they took him through a door guarded by a man with a large gun who only nodded them through once his escort had turned up their lapels to show two more crescent-moon pins.

  “You're fucking LIL, aren't you?” he growled and earned another shake.

  “Wait, wait,” someone called behind them.

  “Oh hell,” the man muttered.

  “Be careful!” The shrillness of the voice struck a chord of memory and Webb craned his neck. He recognised the flushed face and small stature of the man from the Medic Centre he had stolen clothes from.

  “Look, doc, you can look at him once he's secure.”

  “What have you done to him?” the small man cried as he ran up to them.

  “Open number three,” the woman called and one of the doors slid open. The cell contained nothing except a hard bench and a camera. Webb was shoved in.

  “Careful,” the medic hissed again. “Look at the state of him.” He tutted as he pulled Webb round to look at him.

  “What the hell is going on?” Webb snapped.

  The medic tutted and took a hold of his chin, turned his face this way and that, looking in his eyes and muttering over the healing cuts on his head and bruising on his face. “This is not good enough. Look at this, and this!”

  “Look, doc,” the woman growled from the door. “The little shit was already in a state when we got him.”

  “And he fights like a rat,” the man added rubbing at scratches on his neck. “You're lucky it's not worse.”

  “Sit,” the medic said, indicating the bench. Webb just glared at him. The little medic looked confused, chewing on his lip. “Sit, please.”

  Webb glanced from the twitchy medic to the two mercenaries scowling in the door and slumped down on the bench. The medic proceeded to poke and prod at him, mumbling to himself in Japanese and entering notes into a pocket-panel. He shook his head sadly. “And he was next to perfect.”

  “Well, doc, maybe you shouldn't have let him escape.”

  “I did no such thing,” the medic grumbled. “This had never been done before. There was no way to predict -”

  “No security, you said,” the woman growled. “He'll wake up like a newborn, you said.”

  The medic span. “I had twenty years of research behind my decision. I also know that when security is involved, this is what happens,” he said gesturing at Webb's face.

  “Hey,” Webb snapped. “I'm a clone, not a moron.” The medic blinked at him and the two LIL mercenaries glowered at him. “Do I even get the courtesy of being told what this is all about?”

  “You know, Ezekiel... I've suffered a lot of disappointment in my life but I think you were the worst.”

  “Fitzroy?” Webb stammered as the short man stepped into his cell. The medic ceased poking at him and backed into a corner, turning his panel over in his fingers.

  The bald man folded his arms and shook his head, a vaguely disgusted look on his face. “You were a pain in the ass then and an even bigger one now.”

  “What is going on?”

  “I gave you, well, him, a chance, Webb. A real chance. He could have been Governor. He could have led the colonies to independence. But no. And now look at you. Even when created from scratch you're still a gutter-shit.”

  “Governor? You were going to make Webb Lunar Governor? That was your plan?” Webb laughed. “Herman, when was the last time you had a psych evaluation?”

  “You know, I really thought you knew. I thought that was why you wouldn't listen or return my comm calls. I figured you knew and were running from it. But you really haven't a clue, have you?”

  Webb frowned, trying to read the piercing eyes whilst a chill continued to spread through his insides.

  “So, Doctor Yoshida,” Fitzroy continued, shifting his focus to the medic. “What do you think? Can he be salvaged?”

  The medic muttered, scanning his notes then blinked over the top of the panel. “There appears to be no permanent damage. I will need to perform a further examination and do a brain scan -”

  “Answers, Yoshida. Can you reset him?”

  “Reset me? What?”

  The medic blinked at him a moment then nodded. “I believe it can be done.”

  “Good,” Fitzroy said, pale eyes taking on a dangerous gleam. “You deliver on this promptly, Yoshida, and our positive opinion of your services may be restored.”

  The two guards at the door grinned and Yoshida paled.

  “Fitzroy,” Webb growled.

  “Relax, Webb,” Fitzroy purred. “Soon you won't remember any of this.”

  Webb blinked, opened his mouth then there was a bleep. Fitzroy frowned at his wrist panel and then his face flattened. He pushed a button. “Yes, Admiral? Yes, we have him. He appears... very well, Ma'am. Yes, Ma'am. Cell 3.”

  Fitzroy mumbled some orders to the two at the door who nodded and left, shutting it behind them. Fitzroy moved over to Yoshida and bent to talk in his ear. Webb just gazed at the wall. The room had started to spin again.

  When the door slid open and Admiral Pharos walked in, standing tall and with a grim expression on her face, all Webb could do was sit there and stare.

  She eyed him critically. “So? This is it, is it?”

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Fitzroy said, falling in next to her.

  “What the hell happened to him?”

  “He appears to have gotten himself into some scrapes since escaping from the Medic Centre, Ma'am.”

  “We will have to get the worst of it healed before we can initiate this part of the plan. Doctor, you're lucky I don't drift you.”

  Yoshida bobbed his head, mumbling over his panel. “I can restore him, Admiral. He will be good as new.”

  “We've waited a year already,” she said, voice dangerously low. “AI have only just managed to scrape through this latest investigation into their production of phozone for your projects, Doctor, as well as the over-production of the equipment they have supplied us with. They will not wait any longer for their return, and neither will I. Every day we delay is another day the Lunar Colonies spend in the Service's stranglehold. I want everything putting in motion today.”

  “Ma'am -” Fitzroy began.

  “We use him-” Pharos indicated Webb with a wave of her hand “-the second he's fit to be seen. But my fleet and troops are on standby. We move today.”

  “Pharos?” Webb finally managed.

  She glared at him. “And get his memory dealt with immediately. Ezekiel Webb has managed to put spanners in all our plans so far. The sooner every trace of his former self is eradicated the better.”

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Fitzroy said. “Can I just suggest one thing?”

  “What?”

  “This clone somehow knows everything he knew. Everything. Points, contacts, deals with bent Service reps, not to mention things Kaleb Hugo might have told him. We may yet be able to turn this setback into an advantage.”

  “I have all the information we need about the Service,” she replied.

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Fitzroy said. “But Webb knew everything you weren't to know. I'm prepared to bet he knows things, say, where top-ranking Colony Enforcers and Service informants are concerned that could prove useful, particularly to bring Lunar 1 to heel.”

  Pharos eyed him again. He tried to scream at her but the rage choked him. “He won't talk. I knew this man. Stubborn doesn't begin to cover it.”

 
“Oh, there are ways though, Ma'am.”

  “No,” cried Yoshida. “No interrogation. You'll ruin him. Admiral, please.”

  Pharos rubbed her chin, her iron-coloured eyes never leaving his. “Do you have a blade you can trust?”

  Webb felt himself pale. Fitzroy smiled. “Ariel can be here from Haven within a few hours, Ma’am.”

  “No, please, Admiral.” Yoshida came forward, clutching the panel and stammering. “You need him to stand tall and strong, he needs to look like a leader. We can't have him broken.”

  “But you can wipe his memory, yes?” the admiral asked coolly.

  The medic swallowed. “I believe so.”

  “Then we break him and start again. So long as the blade is issued instructions to avoid permanent damage, it is worth the extra time to try and retrieve something from this disaster. Call in your blade, Fitzroy. But do it quick. Our timing is crucial.”

  “Why?” Webb managed, though it came out as more a strangled choke. “Why me? Why him?”

  Fitzroy looked at the admiral. Her jaw had hardened. “You deluded fool. You who thought you were so clever, so canny. Didn't you ever wonder why the Zero was commissioned in the first place?”

  “To do your dirty work.”

  The edge of something tugged at the corner of her month. “An added bonus, nothing more. The Zero was commissioned for Webb... to keep him under my eye but out of the eye of the Service. The only person more deluded than he was is that idiot Luscombe. Or perhaps that arrogant fool, Hugo, turning the Zero into his own private chance to prove himself. No, Webb. The Zero was to keep the original you both watched and hidden.”

  “Who was he?” His voice sounded cracked and far away in his own ears.

  “Can't you guess?” Pharos growled. “Even now? Did we not train you better than this?”

  Understanding slammed into his gut. He was left swaying and dizzy and bent over until his forehead touched his knees.

  “He's got it,” Fitzroy muttered..

  “Good,” Pharos said, glancing at her wrist panel. “Maybe there's hope for his capacity for intelligence after all. Now I have to get back to the Resolution. Get it done.”

  “Yes, Ma'am,” Fitzroy said. “I won't let you down.”

  “You had better hope you don't.”

  “You know, Webb,” Fitzroy said into the silence that followed Pharos's departure. “You'd save us all a lot of time and you a lot of unpleasantness if you just told me everything now. You don't really want to protect all those you know about, do you? Remember, you don't even know them. You've never even met them. And tomorrow you won't remember them.”

  “Go to hell,” Webb croaked out.

  Fitzroy sighed. “Very well. You always did choose the hard way.”

  “And to think you call other people deluded,” Webb growled.

  “I see things far clearer than you do, my friend.”

  “Revolution's your answer is it?” Webb spat, sitting up. “After it worked so well the last time?”

  Fitzroy regarded him levelly. “Some things are bigger than the people involved. You should know that. The Orbit would be a very different place right now if Governor McCullough had succeeded.”

  “Yeah. There'd be more debris.”

  Fitzroy's cool expression didn't falter. “Do you want to know what deluded is, Webb? You've crawled through the sewers of this Strip and can't smell its shit.”

  “Well getting everyone in it killed is certainly one way to solve their problems.”

  “Nothing worth having comes without sacrifice,” Fitzroy barked. “I am willing to sacrifice. The Lunar people are willing to sacrifice.”

  “Are they?”

  “Yes. The Service is a cancer. It kills, slowly, from within, without you even seeing it. It strips you of your freedom and identity. It takes away who you are. You've been doing their work for the last fifteen years. You look me right in the eye now and tell me you don't agree.”

  Webb narrowed his eyes at him. “There's one thing you forgot to say about the Service, Fitzroy.”

  “What?

  Webb felt a death's-head grin spread over his face. “It's big. Fucking big. With a lot of guns. And ships. And men.”

  “So are we.”

  “You're insane.”

  “I'm saner than most. Sane enough to see that the only thing worse than a colony in the stranglehold of the Service is one they've left behind to rot.”

  “And the good admiral believes all this too, does she?”

  “Pharos believes in McCullough. In his vision, in the future he planned. The people believed in him too. As they will believe in you. Once we stand united, they won't take us down. Not again.” Fitzroy lifted his hands, smiling. “We've already won. We've got power. We've got faith. And we've got you. The Lunar State will be a reality again. You should be proud.”

  Webb's anger blazed white hot and swamped anything more he could think of to say. Fitzroy's smile in his hairless face widened. “Now...there is one more thing you can do for us in your current incarnation...”

  “Sir,” Yoshida finally found his voice and unpeeled himself from his spot in the corner.

  “No more protests, Doctor. I will allow you to be present to oversee the interrogation. But the information in that head is too valuable to wipe without looking at first.”

  ɵ

  One thing that was in Webb's head, apparently, was how to sink away from his physical awareness. Unfortunately, he also knew why he'd learnt this trick, but steered away from those memories and just concentrated on pulling in deep breaths and sinking himself into the feeling of the cold metal table under his bare back. The steel binders at his wrists and neck holding him down made him shiver but he wrapped himself in the chill, visualised it as an impenetrable blanket around him. Yoshida hovering in the corner, muttering to himself and the hiss of the door opening were only brushes at the edge of his awareness.

  There was a figure moving around the room. He was talking. His voice was nasal. Whiny. There was a question but Webb just stared at the ceiling and breathed.

  Somewhere, there was the prick of a needle and something crawled under his skin... like heat but sharper. It made his heart speed up and goosebumps rise on his skin but he just breathed and stared up, willing the white ceiling to blank out his mind.

  A face came into view. A pale face. Thin lips, darting eyes. Short hair, neat and tidy and fair. So fair it didn't look real, especially set against what seemed like impossibly dark eyes.

  The heat under his skin was strengthening and spreading, searing his body from the inside. It pulled him back from his protective place and made everything sharp and real. The very air felt heavy against him and the binders against his skin began to burn.

  “There now, are you with me?”

  Webb breathed in and out through his teeth, every inch of his body crawling and scalding and stinging.

  “That's better,” the pale man said. “Now. Some of my counterparts like to start with a relatively inconsequential issue and build their way up. There's some argument for the advantages of that process. But me, I like to start with something big and gauge the reaction. There are various schools of thought on the subject, you might be interested to know. But I've always had great success with this method. So...” he hesitated, a faint frown appearing between his white eyebrows. “What shall I call you?” He tapped his lips, staring unblinkingly down at him. “Let's just stick with Ezekiel for now, shall we? It's what you know, as I understand. It should keep you focused. And focus is a big part of this process. So, Ezekiel...” The man pressed his fingertips together, dark gaze boring into his eyes. “Special Commander Hugo. I believe you know... or your former incarnation knew... her son quite well. Let's see what you know that might be of interest. Any offers?”

  “Go screw yourself,” Webb hissed.

  The man shook his head and tutted, pulling a scalpel from his breast pocket. “Very well.” The first cut went down his ribs. Some part of him knew it was on
ly shallow, but with his skin aflame from the inside, it felt like it was gouging right through to the bone. He clenched his teeth together and forced himself to keep from making any noise, shuddering with the effort. The slicing stopped but left a burning trail. The warm blood trickling down his rib cage felt like liquid fire, scalding and peeling away his skin.

  “Shall we try again? Captain Hugo. Let's start with some details of your little jaunt on Lunar 1.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The man frowned again, looking hurt. “Dear, dear. You surely understand how misplaced your loyalty is? I was given to understand you were quite the independent individual. I assure you this is the worst time you could choose to grow a sense of fidelity. Now. Again. Lunar 1. Was Hugo in the team that destroyed the apartment block? Hmm?”

  Webb blinked at the ceiling, wishing his blood would cool on his skin. The blade sighed and bent with the scalpel again.

  “Ariel...” Yoshida had stepped up twisting his fingers together. “Please be careful.”

  “I'm a professional, Doctor,” Ariel said as he sliced another blazing line down his ribs. Webb bit his tongue against the red waves of fire blazing through his chest but at no time did his awareness blur, no matter how much he willed it to. “There will be no permanent damage. Now, Ezekiel my friend. The good LIL Commanders may have given you to understand that they are on a deadline, but such things are of no matter to me. I have a reputation to consider, built on the quality of the information I obtain. Therefore it makes no difference at all to me if we're here ten minutes or ten days. So...” he bent close enough over Webb's face that he could feel his breath on his face. The scalpel hovered next to his eye. “Shall we try again?”

  XVIII

  “He's around here somewhere, sir,” Rami mumbled as they kept their heads down and paced along the crew passage. “They disappeared from the camera feeds right around...”

  Hugo had to back pedal to stop from slamming into Rami who had stopped still in the middle of the passage. Hugo followed her gaze through a window and felt his blood run cold.

  “Quick,” he hissed. “Lieutenant, pull yourself together.”

  Rami visibly gathered herself and Hugo moved past her and palmed the door control. There was a small man with a worried face in a lab coat in the corner. He looked their way almost hopefully as they came in. The very thin man in the gloves straightened from where he was bent over Webb's prone form, fair brows drawn together.