She turned her back and he was manha
ndled out of the room and down the corridor. They went through a door and another and then he was bundled into a room so bright it made his head ache. There was a table and chairs, a wall display and a camera. They locked the door behind him.
Dizziness overtook him and he sat down heavily on the floor. He sat with his forehead pressed to his knees, not even
able to summon the will to have a look at the door lock. There was the sound of someone coming in and something being put on the table but he didn't raise his head until they'd gone.
He made himself get up. There was a tumbler of water, a hard biscuit and a couple of ration bars on the table. He made himself eat slowly,
fumbling a little because of his bound hands and sipped the water. He felt his head clear and his insides stop aching. He stole glances at the camera as he ate and his fingers itched for a multitool.
Swallowing the last mouthful he wandered to the wall
and turned away from the camera, pretending to examine a digiprint of a starscape. He took a deep breath then folded his thumb in until it strained against its joint and pulled, taking care to try and not let the exertion show across his back. The tendons in his wrist and hand screamed and the skin split but the blood helped slick his wrist. He twisted it a little, biting down on the inside of his cheek and with a jerk he nearly didn't manage to disguise, his right hand slipped free. After taking a second to breathe through the pain of his thumb slipping back into place, he wandered to the corner furthest away from the camera and slumped to the floor with his hands in his lap and his forehead on his knees. He kept still enough to look like he'd fallen asleep but sat and listened, his breathing shallow.
He needn't have strained his hearing. The heavy boots
of the approaching spacers could be heard well before they opened the door.
“
That's it?” someone grunted. “Jesus what a pathetic sack of shit. They've got their work cut out for them, that's for sure.”
“
Alright you,” a woman's voice commanded, and then he felt the muzzle of a gun poking him in the shoulder. “Up you get.”
Webb leapt to his feet and wrenched the gun from the woman before she even had time to swear, then kicked her feet from under her and fired at the second mercenary. But his aim was sloppy and the man ducked out the way. Webb ran for the door. One of Evangeline's hulking bodyguards was in the room beyond but Webb managed to duck under his grasp and then was pelting down the corridor.
Shouts and swearing clamoured after him. He wove down the corridors, finding a metal stairway down to the lounge of the
Seven Sisters
. He burst out a door behind the bar, someone nearby shattering a glass as he vaulted over it and made for the exit.
He was so focused on the open door
s that he didn't see the second of Evangeline's guards stood in the shadows until it was too late. He tried to skitter to the side but tripped and the man brought him down and pinned him to the floor. The wind was knocked right out of him and spots danced before his eyes. More hands grabbed at him and he kicked and punched and scratched, blind and furious, but there were too many and he was too dizzy and someone landed a blow on his temple that sent him reeling.
When he came to, head pounding, he was being
shoved into the back of a large flyer with the mercenaries, each with a gun ready.
“
Don't even fucking think it,” the man hissed, seeing him coming back to himself. This time his hands were bound behind him and it was all he could do just to stay upright.
When his vision had stopped swimming he tried to get a closer look at his captors, but nothing about their clothes, faces or flyer gave him any sort of clue of who they might be. He peered out the window but his head hurt too much to make sense of their direction..
He must have passed out again because the next thing he was aware of was the clunk of the flyer engine shutting down and being manhandled out the door. He blinked up and around the huge hold he was in, packed with flyers, fighters and cargo. Crewmen and technicians watched them as they passed and their heavy gazes sent a finger of fear crawling up his spine.
He was forced out of the hold and down a corridor, though his escort had to support him as he struggled to get his feet under him, cursing and shaking him as they did.
“You do that all you want,” he mumbled at their feet. “But I'm telling you now, when I hurl it's going on your shoes.”
“
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, m
umbling 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.”