Haven (The Orbit Series Book 2)

by J. S. Collyer

  Hugo considered this a moment. “How well do you know Webb, exactly?”

  Jazz hesitated before sighing and dropping her gaze to the floor. “He lived with me. Last time he was here. I took him in after…”

  “After what?”

  She paused a moment before continuing. “Just over two years ago I found him in an alley behind a barhouse in Sector 2, OD’ing on Patches.”

  Hugo straightened. It took him a second to find his voice. “He…what?”

  The broker’s face remained steady. Her voice was clinical but he could see pain in her eyes. “He’d been hooked for months before I found him. He was five minutes away from total respiratory arrest.”

  “Why…how did it happen?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and finally let her gaze slide from his. “I don’t know all the reasons. From what I’ve gathered, he drifted from one place to another after he left the Service, but couldn’t find anywhere to…belong. It took him a long way down a dangerous road and he nearly didn't come back.”

  Hugo stood in silence, feeling a knot form in his gut. “What happened then?”

  Jazz shrugged. “I managed to stabilise him…which he did not thank me for at the time, believe me. I took him home and helped him get through probation so he could stay.”

  “You’re a medic?”

  She nodded. “I volunteer at the Sector 2 clinic, but he wouldn’t have made it there.”

  Hugo stood in silence again. Jazz stood by calmly and let him. “What was that argument at the bar then? If you saved his life?”

  Jazz chewed her lip, eyes far away. “We didn't exactly part on the best terms. And, as I said, he wasn’t exactly grateful to be saved at the time.”

  “But he’s alive because of it.”

  Jazz smiled. It was sad. “He was a wreck, Hugo. He’s kicked the Patches and seems to have found some sort of direction. But I don’t know if he’ll ever get his head round what he is.”

  Hugo froze. “You know?”

  Jazz folded her arms and looked at the floor. “That he’s a clone? Yes, I know. I think I’m the only one on Haven who does. Most people that knew the original Webb think he’s the same person.”

  “It was that? It was knowing what he is…it nearly destroyed him?”

  “The mother of all identity crises,” Jazz said, looking back up with another sad smile. “I wouldn’t be telling you any of this, except it’s important you understand what exactly you’ve asked of him, bringing him back to the colony where he tried to lose himself…and nearly succeeded.”

  “He’s getting paid,” he muttered, swallowing the sickly feeling of guilt.

  “That’s not why he’s doing it.”

  Hugo searched the broker’s face for a moment, looking for something to say whilst trying to clear the emotion that fogged his brain.

  “So,” Jazz broke the silence and smiled again. “Why don’t you tell me what you have so far and I’ll see if you can actually be helped?”

  Hugo shifted. “How exactly can you help us?”

  “Are you always this resistant?”

  Hugo ground his teeth and didn’t answer.

  Jazz shrugged and examined her fingernails. “I don’t know that I can do anything. I live here. I hear things. I might be able to put some pieces together. But like I said to Webb: tracking down a blade’s safehouse on his own turf?” She shook her head. “I don’t like your chances.”

  Hugo opened his mouth for a frustrated retort when his wrist panel bleeped.

  “Webb?” he said into the communicator. “Where the hell are you?”

  “Is Jazz there?” came Webb’s tinny voice over the panel speakers.

  “She’s here. What’s going on?”

  “Just both of you stay right there, ok? I’m on my way back.”

  The connection died.

  “Where is he anyway?” Jazz frowned.

  “Your friend Ribble took him away to look at something.”

  “Ribble? The Enforcer?”

  “I guess so. Haven has Enforcers?”

  “Of a sort.”

  “What sort?”

  “The sort not to be messed with.”

  Hugo pushed buttons on his wrist panel. “He sounded like he was on the shuttle.”

  “I guess we sit tight then. I don’t suppose there’s any coffee?”

  Hugo stomach clenched. “I’ve not seen any since I arrived.”

  Jazz sighed and sat herself on the edge of a cot. “Seriously. Next time, we meet at mine.”

  “You have coffee?”

  Jazz’s white smile flashed again. “I think I even have some blask tucked away. Heard you like that. It’s amazing what you can get round here if you know who to talk to. So, Hugo,” Jazz said, pulling a computer panel out of her pocket. “I’m curious. How does Haven hold up to the rumours?”

  Hugo paced to the window. “The rumours don’t even scratch the surface.”

  “Well,” she said, booting up her panel. “Glad to know we don’t disappoint.”

  Hugo watched what he could of the darkened street out the window as Jazz frowned over figures on her panel. Tiredness warred with tension and Hugo began shifting about the room, Jazz’s eyes occasionally following him until they heard footsteps on the stairs. Hugo’s hand went for his gun and Jazz straightened on the cot. Webb came in through the door, panting and flushed.

  “What is it?” Hugo asked.

  Webb shut the door and wiped sweat off his brow with his sleeve. “A Black Cross killing.”

  Hugo’s spine stiffened. “You’re sure?”

  Webb nodded,

  “My God,” Jazz said. “Where?”

  “Sector 2,” Webb said, collapsing on the opposite bunk and pushing hair out of his eyes. “A residential block near your clinic. Messy.”

  “Are you ok?”

  Webb nodded again, smiling at the broker. “Yeah. I’ll not eat for a while, but yeah.”

  “What did they need you for?” Hugo said.

  “Black Cross is a Lunar 1 thing and, as far as they know, I’m from there.” Webb shook his head. “I don’t know, I guess they thought I could tell why it was by done just be looking at it.”

  “Could you?”

  Webb rubbed his eyes. “Of course not. Ribble’s just desperate. No one’s come forward to claim the body so they have no idea who he is, let alone why it happened or if it’ll happen again.”

  “No one at all?” Jazz said, sitting up.

  Webb shook his head. “The poor bastard’s not even had anyone claim association.”

  “What exactly am I missing here?” Hugo put in.

  “Someone dies,” Webb said, “kin and associates claim the body and assets. Nothing goes to waste.”

  “There’s normally too many people claiming what there is, body and all,” Jazz said. “I’ve never known anyone to go unclaimed. What did you say to them?”

  “I just told them the guy’s pissed someone off bad, real bad, and that’s all I could tell. But, Hugo…” Webb paused with his head in his hands, staring into nothing. “It was the guy Sol was fighting with.”

  “The thin man?” Hugo said, pulse quickening.

  “What thin man?” Jazz asked.

  “First night we were here, Sol was fighting with someone right out there,” Webb said pointing out the window. “I figured he was just a Patch User.”

  “He’s not, then?” Hugo asked.

  Webb shrugged. “He’s a User alright: skin sores and red eyes, the works. But he was also someone with no kin, no associates, nothing in his apartment linking him to anyone or any shipyard. I don’t know, it was like he was…”

  “A ghost?” Jazz asked quietly, something flickering in her eyes.

  Hugo paced. “He’s involved with bloodgrease, I’m sure of it. I saw him at the yard with a trader delivering it. Has anyone asked this Patch dealer, Sol, about who he was?”

  “Ribble got Sol on the comm whilst I was there. He’s saying the guy was just a customer, t
hat’s all he knew. I don’t know, Hugo,” Webb said. “It might be nothing. But this is someone with apparently no ties to anyone but has managed to bring a Black Cross down on his head?”

  “This is the break we’ve been waiting for,” Hugo said. “We need to get into that apartment.”

  “They won’t let you in,” Jazz said.

  “Why not?”

  Jazz gestured towards his neck. “Probation. They know you won’t be kin.”

  “So we break in,” Hugo said.

  Webb shook his head. “There’s nothing in the apartment worth breaking in for.”

  “They won’t have looked to see if he has any credit records,” Jazz put in after a defeated pause. “I’d wager on it.”

  “Can you do that?” Hugo asked.

  Jazz smiled. “It’s what I do. But we need to do it now. His assets will go to Reclaim if he goes another shift unclaimed. And someone who knows what he was hiding could show up any minute to make sure it stays hidden.”

  *

  Webb and Jazz sat with their heads bent together on the deserted shuttle, muttering over something on Jazz’s panel. Hugo sat on the seat facing them, trying not to glance around at the few Havenites that drifted on and off at the stops. He watched a different part of Haven roll by the window, blinking to keep his eyes open: more concrete, more metal. He glimpsed another shipyard between some of the buildings, again with a star-specked backdrop of nothing behind another huge vacuum shield which framed the bustling activity.

  “If this guy is a member of a new, secret gang,” Hugo mumbled. “What then?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Webb said, still with eyes fixed on Jazz’s panel. “We don’t even know what we’re going to find yet.”

  “What are you likely to find on there?” Hugo muttered.

  Webb frowned but Jazz just said smoothly: “I’ve found another reason why the Elders will be concerned.”

  “And what’s that?”

  She glanced around to make sure no one was looking their way then handed over her panel. It had a building schematic on the display and a list of the specifications down the side. “That’s the building they found him in, in an apartment in the basement after an anonymous tip. You know where a worker lives, you can find out who lets it to him. From there, you can get where he works, sometimes who he deals with.”

  “And?”

  “There’s nothing,” Jazz said, reaching forward and flicking the display through several pages that showed different floors of the building. “The building is mostly allotted to workers from the recycling levels. But his basement apartment was registered vacant.”

  “The guy really is a ghost,” Webb said, then frowned as Jazz’s face tightened. “What is it?”

  “It’s that word…ghost,” she murmured.

  “What about it?” Hugo said, handing her the panel back.

  Jazz leaned forward, lowering her voice. “You asked about rumours of new gangs. I’m sure I’ve heard the word Ghosts.”

  Webb raised his eyebrows. “Do you remember what you heard, exactly?”

  “No…” Jazz said. “But this whole situation is very strange. This man, he’s…no one. It’s like he never existed.”

  “Someone knew who he was,” Hugo pointed out.

  “Yes,” Webb said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Or knew what he did.”

  “We’re here,” Jazz said, tucking the panel away.

  Sector 2 was, if anything, even darker than Sector 4. The ceiling curved at a much greater angle so that none of the green glow from the track lights filtered down to street level. Floodlights illuminated the main avenues but the alleys and between-ways were so gloomy Hugo had to use his lenslight.

  Eventually Webb stopped at a corner, waving at them to be quiet and for Hugo to shut off his light. They peered around the corner to another dimly-lit alley that looked the same as all the others.

  Webb ducked back. “There’s an Enforcer at the entrance,” he whispered. “They can’t know we’re here. Follow me. Quietly.”

  Webb stepped out from their hiding place, checking the alley for a long moment before waving for them to follow. Hugo stuck close, staying in the shadows. He could just make out Webb’s figure, hugging the wall below a garbage disposal that took up most of the alley mouth. Hugo stopped still when an Enforcer wandered into view, but he only gave the alley a glance before turning and pacing out of sight.

  Hugo hurried on into the dark and felt someone grab his jacket. “Hush,” Webb hissed in his ear. “Where’s Jazz?”

  “I’m here,” Jazz whispered as she joined them. “You two have done this before, haven’t you?”

  Webb shushed them. Hugo held his breath. The silence stretched on.

  “Why have we stopped?” Hugo murmured.

  “We’re being followed,” Webb breathed in his ear. Hugo scoured the alley. All was quiet in the dark.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Jazz,” Webb mumbled. “Watch the Enforcer.”

  “There,” Hugo muttered, pointing towards a stack of crates. “I heard something.”

  “Jazz, go,” Webb whispered and Jazz slipped past them. “Hugo, you go left. And stay quiet.”

  Webb began edging towards the crates. Hugo did the same from his side, pulling his gun out his waistband as he went, keeping it close to his body. There was a clink of something being knocked over and a shadow darted out from the shelter.

  Hugo cursed and Webb gave chase. Hugo hurried after them and skidded around the corner to the sound of a scuffle and muffled cry. Webb was wrestling the smaller person against the wall. The light spilling from the alley mouth fell across her face as she struggled.

  “Let her go,” Hugo hissed, tucking the gun back out of sight before Webb saw. “Webb, let her go. Now.”

  Webb frowned, glancing at the stranger’s scowling face, black eyes burning and close-cropped dark hair mussed, then released his grip on her jacket.

  “Dana,” Hugo spat, fury riding through him like fire. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “There’s been a Black Cross killing, you moron,” she scowled, straightening her jacket. “I’m investigating.”

  “Investigating what?”

  “The same thing you are,” she hissed. “Except I actually intend to get somewhere.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “Hey, hey,” Webb hissed again, waving his hands and glancing back down towards the street. “Keep it down. What the hell? You know this girl?”

  She bristled, turning her glare on Webb. “This is him, is it? This is Webb?”

  “We’re heading back to the shuttle.” Anger made Hugo’s words grind out. “Now.”

  Dana started hissing protests and Webb gestured for silence again.

  “Tell me what the hell is going on here,” he whispered fiercely. “Quietly, for the love of Christ.”

  “What’s happening?” Jazz had come up behind them and took in the scene with a frown. “Who’s this?”

  Dana folded her arms and levelled her dark glare at them. “Midshipman Dana Hugo. I’m here ensuring justice is done for Marilyn Harvey.”

  Webb blinked, rubbing his eyes. “What…?”

  “My sister,” Hugo said, fists clenched.

  “Your sister?” Webb gaped.

  “If you can be here, so can I,” the dark-eyed girl returned, burning gaze locked on Hugo.

  “Actually,” Jazz murmured, reaching out and turning down Dana’s collar to reveal smooth, unblemished skin. “You can’t.”

  Dana shrugged her collar out of Jazz’s grasp with a glare.

  “How did you even get on board?” Hugo growled. “Actually, I don’t care. Webb, call dock control and tell them we’re launching. We’re leaving the minute we get her on board Nod.”

  “Hugo, this guy’s assets could be seized any minute.”

  “I don’t care. Dana is leaving. Now.”

  “I am not,” she retorted. “If you can ditch all responsibility
to get even, Kale, so can I. Except I might actually get something done since I’ve not got my head up my own ass.”

  “Stop smiling,” Hugo growled at Webb. “And I didn’t ditch anything.”

  “You left Marilyn to wake up alone in a hospital and try to piece together who she is.”

  “She’s not alone. Rami - ”

  “Rami’s her doctor,” Dana snarled, leaning in closer. “She needs you.”

  “Christ in Heaven,” Webb said, voice strained. “Look, this family reunion is touching and all, but we’re under a little pressure here. She’s coming with us, Hugo. Stow it,” Webb held his hand up and Hugo clamped his mouth shut again. “Whatever shit you want to sort out you can do later. Unless you want to give this whole thing up?”

  “No,” Hugo and Dana said at the same time, before scowling at each other.

  “I came to nail that blade to the wall,” Dana said. “And I’m not leaving until I do.”

  “Zeek,” Jazz murmured as she peered down the alley. Webb followed her gaze to where the Enforcer was standing, craning his neck and looking towards the noise. Webb swore under his breath.

  “This way,” he breathed, bending double and shuffling back into the deepest shadows. “Dana, you too.”

  Hugo held his tongue as his sister threw him a triumphant look and crawled after Webb. He cursed under his breath and joined them. They all crouched under a shuttered window and breathed in the smell of rubbish from the disposal for several minutes until the Enforcer moved on. Webb stood and checked they were clear before climbing on a crate and began fiddling with the catch on the shutter.

  “Here,” Hugo whispered, pulling Tag’s tools from his pocket.

  Webb raised an eyebrow but said nothing and used a screw-pick to work the catch open. He raised the metal shutter painfully slowly, pausing every time there was a creak. The patrolling Enforcer didn’t re-emerge. When the shutter was up, Webb climbed through. Jazz gestured for Hugo to go ahead of her, but he instead took a moment to glower at his sister. She turned her back on them both and hauled herself through.

  “Does the Special Commander know you’re here, Midshipman?” Hugo said as he caught up with Dana in the corridor.

  “Why should she?”

  “You two,” Webb said over his shoulder. “Quiet.”