Книга - Outside In

Outside In
Maria V. Snyder


There’s something Outside It wants In. And I’m supposed to stop it?I’m Trella. I used to be a scrub, cleaning the pipes and corridors of Inside. Then I found a whole world beyond the cube we live in and accidentally led a revolution against the Uppers. Now everyone is trying to figure out what happens next. Except me. The fight’s over and I want my life back.I need to explore the new world I’ve found and work out exactly what’s going on with Riley, the Upper who helped me win the war. But there’s something Outside. And I need to step up. Because once a leader, always a leader. It’s coming. Am I strong enough to stop it?Featured in Peter’s Gazette Librarian’s pick of ‘What’s Next’ FOR FANS OF THE HUNGER GAMES












Praise for New York Times bestselling author MARIA V. SNYDER


“Inside Out surprised and touched me on so many levels. It’s a wonderful, thoughtful book full of vivid characters and a place—Inside—that is by turn alien and heartbreakingly familiar. Maria V. Snyder is one of my favourite authors, and she’s done it again!”—New York Times bestselling author Rachel Caine

“A compelling new fantasy series.”

—SFX magazine on Sea Glass

“… the story as a whole is peopled by convincing and well realised characters”

—Total SciFi on Fire Study

“Storm Glass is accessible, unusual and most of all fun. If you’re looking for a quick, entertaining summer read, you couldn’t do much better.”

—Deathray

“This is one of those rare books that will keep readers dreaming long after they’ve read it.”—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Poison Study

“This rare sequel to live up to the promise of its predecessor, Magic Study is a wonderful combination of romance and fantasy”—Audible.com Editor’s Pick

“Snyder has constructed a work that I see as the beginning to a new and fantastic series”—yaReads.com

“Snyder delivers another excellent adventure, deftly balancing international and local hostilities against Yelena’s personal struggles”—Publishers Weekly on Fire Study




Outside In

Maria V. Snyder







www.miraink.co.uk (http://www.miraink.co.uk)


To Mary-Theresa Hussey, for her editorial excellence and

extreme patience. Thanks for the help, encouragement

and smiley faces!




INTRODUCTION


MY WORLD CHANGED IN A HEARTBEAT. THAT’S HOW it felt to me. As if one second ago, I was Trella the lower level scrub, cleaning the air and water ducts of Inside, and now I am Trella the victorious leader of the Force of Sheep rebellion. Yes the name sounds ridiculous, and I still can’t believe we named a major life changing event after livestock—or actually a stuffed animal—but it made sense at the time.

Why? Because I once thought my fellow scrubs were sheep, passive and content with the status quo. I was wrong and learned if you put enough sheep together you have a herd—a force to be reckoned with. A force that turned our world upside down and inside out.

Of course, it really didn’t change in a second. It took six weeks, which in Inside time is six hundred hours (one hundred hours per week). But if I compared it to how long we’ve been living here in Inside—147,019 weeks—it’s a mere four thousandths of a percent. And here’s the kicker, we have another 852,981 weeks to go before we reach our destination. Mind-boggling!

Where are we going? Good question. According to Logan, our computer expert, our metal cube-shaped world is traveling through Outer Space. And since Outer Space is incredibly huge, it will take us a total of a million weeks to get to a planet where we can go Outside and live. We’re not sure what exactly Outside is since many of Inside’s computer records have been deleted.

According to our remaining records, another so-called “rebellion” happened around week 132,076 when Admiral Trava reported saboteurs had tried to destroy the computer systems with magnets, erasing all the historical files. But Logan says it’s bogus and he suspects the Trava family deleted those files so they could rule the people of Inside.

Before that first rebellion, Inside was ruled by a Committee comprised of all the nine families, but the Trava family didn’t want to share. Since they were in charge of security, they had the weapons and they took control. Each family had been responsible for the different systems that keep us all alive. Air, water, hydroponics, shepherds, recycling, the infirmary, the power plant, and the kitchen. Yeah that’s a lot, but when you’re living in a big metal cube in the middle of Outer Space, you need every one.

The Travas separated the people into uppers and lowers (a.k.a. scrubs), and kept us confined to our levels (uppers on levels three & four, scrubs on levels one & two). They sowed the seeds of distrust and created the Population Control Police (a.k.a. Pop Cops) to make sure we all followed the rules. Their propaganda worked. The scrubs, including me, thought the uppers were living in big apartments with big families and cushy jobs, while we lived in overcrowded barracks with no privacy and were forced to clean and maintain the systems (after all, rust and dust are the twin evils of Inside).

It worked. The scrubs hated the uppers and the uppers hated us.

Now back to our rebellion. It started with an upper named Domotor. His first attempt at overthrowing the Travas failed, but he discovered the location of Gateway—the mythical Gateway to Outside—and saved the info on disks.

This is where I come in. Domotor hid his disks in an air duct above his rooms on level three. Later, Domotor recruited me to retrieve his disks and I did. This one event set off a whole heap of trouble for me. And my best and only friend Cog was arrested for covering for me.

Now I’m not going to detail everything that happened. If you want to know all about it, you can go to your computer and read through this file: ISBN-978-0-373-21006-0.

But I will summarize. I discovered the uppers didn’t have it any better than scrubs, and I met one I really liked named Riley. He helped me, along with Logan and a few others, to find Gateway. Unfortunately when Cog and I opened it, we learned Outside was really Outer Space, a big black freezing nothing that sucked my friend out. Cog’s very last act was saving my life.

So much for freedom in Outside. But the others didn’t let the disappointment stop them. Riley, Logan and a few uppers—the rest of the Force of Sheep—still wanted to restore power to all the families. And we did. The Travas were arrested and a temporary Committee was formed.

Even with this new Committee, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to change our ways. And with four levels, Inside was still too small for our population.

I had a hard time sitting through meetings, so I escaped to explore the ducts every so often. Without having to worry about the Pop Cops, I could really search places I had only briefly passed.

And guess what? I discovered that Inside wasn’t just four levels high. There was a vast space above level four. Plenty of room for many more levels. We could spread out!

After this breakthrough, I thought Inside was done with trouble.

Too bad, I thought wrong.




1


MY FINGERS ACHED AS MY LEG MUSCLES TREMBLED. Beads of sweat snaked down the skin on my back, leaving an itchy trail. I clung to the almost sheer metal wall and breathed in deep. When my heart slowed to a more normal rhythm, I relaxed my right hand’s grip and stretched for the next hand hold—a short piece of pipe. Then I repeated the motion with my left, climbing another meter higher.

Far below, spots of daylight illuminated the half completed construction on level ten. Distant voices floated on the stale dusty air. I had passed the last of the bluelights. Nothing but blackness remained above me.

I cocked my head, sweeping the flashlight’s beam across the wall in search of another pipe to grab. Logan had designed a special helmet equipped with a light to keep my hands free.

“Trella?” Riley’s voice startled me.

I lost my grip. Falling, I cursed my own stupidity for not switching my earring/receiver off.

“I know you can hear me,” he said with an annoyed tone. “Where are you?”

Getting one hell of a rope burn, I grabbed my safety line and squeezed to slow my fall. After what felt like a thousand weeks, I reached the end of the rope and jerked hard, biting my tongue. I swung, tasting blood and lamenting the slip. That had been the highest point I or anyone else had attained. Ever.

Riley grunted in frustration. “Trella, you can go exploring later. You’re late for the Committee meeting. They’re waiting for you.”

He wasn’t the only one frustrated. For the last twelve weeks, I’d been promised time to go exploring the Expanse. All my previous forays had lasted about an hour before I’d been summoned to another important meeting. This time, I had been determined to ignore everyone, only to forget about the receiver.

I had hoped to reach the ceiling of the Expanse, but the effort needed to re-scale the wall would be too much for my tired muscles. Resigning myself to yet another delay, I stopped my swing by dragging my hand along the wall.

The construction workers wanted to build a ladder up the side of the Expanse, install daylights and find the ceiling. But the Committee insisted they first finish the six new levels for the citizens of Inside to spread out. I agreed, yet my curiosity would not be satisfied until I knew the height of the Expanse.

Pressing the top button on my shirt, I said to Riley, “Tell the Committee I’ll be there in an hour. They can start without me. They don’t need me there to quibble over every minor detail.”

“You’re right,” Riley said. “They need you when they quibble over the insignificant details, the worthless details and the waste-of-everyone’s time details.”

While understandable, his sarcasm was too harsh for someone as even-tempered as Riley. “What happened?”

“I can’t get a work crew to fix the faulty wiring in level five. It’s a mess, but they’re too busy with level six. We’ve lived in those four levels for the last one hundred and forty-seven thousand plus weeks, it won’t kill us to wait a few more.”

Overcrowding in the bottom two levels had been insufferable, but now that the uppers and lowers were united, there should be more room. Except the uppers wouldn’t consider any plans for the scrubs to move into their levels. They insisted it would be a wasted effort since the new levels would be ready soon.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said. I transferred my weight back onto the wall and unclipped the rope from my safety harness. Climbing down two meters to the roof of level ten, I glanced up. Next time, I would need a longer rope.

By then, level six would probably be finished. I walked over to the access stairs. It was so nice not to squeeze between levels. But before I reached them, the construction foreman called my name.

I waited for him to join me and smiled in recognition of the burly man. “Hi Hank, how’s it going?”

“Lousy,” Hank said. He had buzzed his gray hair to a stubble on his head. Holding a wipe board in one hand, he tapped the board with a marker. “I’ve a list of repairs for levels one to four, but no one will do them. And I’m losing construction people every hour.”

“Losing how? ”

“They take a break and never come back.” My alarm must have shown on my face, because Hank rushed to assure me. “It’s not like that. They’re angry the uppers aren’t doing any of the work. My crews are being difficult, showing up late, leaving early or not coming at all.”

A passive resistance. Wonderful. “Why won’t anyone fix the repairs?”

“Same reason. The uppers aren’t doing their share.”

I suppressed a sigh. The Pop Cops had threatened the uppers with exile in the lower levels in order to scare them into cooperating. They had thought life below would be nothing but hard physical labor. Since they had run all the systems in Inside, their jobs involved sitting in front of a computer, and telling the scrubs what to do. Changing their perception of the scrubs was still ongoing, and I believed would be one of the hardest tasks. But not impossible.

“Okay, Hank. I’ll tell the Committee.”

He looked doubtful. “That Committee can only agree on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“To disagree.”

I laughed, but Hank didn’t. “Oh, come on. It’s not that bad. We don’t have Pop Cops anymore.”

“Maybe we should.”

Hank’s words followed me as I descended to level three. He had to be joking. No one … well, no scrub—and Hank had been one for maintenance—would ever wish for the return of the Pop Cops. I dismissed his comment as being melodramatic and hurried to my room.

Since it had only been twelve weeks since the rebellion, I still slept in the extra room in the infirmary in Sector B3. It had been designated for the Doctor’s intern, but, so far, no one could handle the job. I wouldn’t mind—a place of my own was a luxury I’ve never had—except I shared the suite’s washroom and kitchen with Doctor Lamont. Also known as Kiana Garrard. Or as I liked to call her, the Traitor.

Unfortunately, I remained in the minority. The Committee had reviewed her actions during the rebellion. They decided she had been duped by Lieutenant Commander Karla Trava and her betrayal had minor consequences. Of course, the two infirmaries full of wounded from the revolt had nothing to do with their ruling. And the limited number of doctors hadn’t been a consideration, either. Yeah, right and I was Queen of Inside.

The Traitor tended to a few patients in the main room of the infirmary. Which consisted of two rows of beds lined up along each side. Curtains hung from U-shaped tracks in the ceiling for privacy and a narrow path cut through the middle. A high counter full of medical supplies covered half the back wall. Next to the counter was another door that led to the Traitor’s office, the exam room and the surgery. Beyond them was the apartment.

Without looking at her, I hurried past the beds, aiming for the far door.

“Trella,” she called.

I paused, but kept my back to her.

“I have a surgery scheduled for hour sixty. I’ll need your assistance.”

“What happened to Catie?”

“She passed out when one of the construction crew came in with a bloody gash on his forehead that exposed the bone.”

Closing my eyes, I suppressed the accusation that she purposely tried to gross out the people I found to help her. Yet another item for my long to-do list—find the Traitor an intern. “I’m busy. You’ll have to find someone else to help.” I glanced at the clock. Hour fifty-five.

“I can’t train them in five hours, Trella. You have experience and an iron stomach. Plus …”

I waited.

In a softer voice she said, “Plus you’re good. You have a natural talent that shouldn’t be wasted. You must have inherited that from me.”

Whirling around, I confronted her. “Now you decide Karla wasn’t lying. Does thinking I’m your daughter help you with the guilt over betraying us? Am I supposed to feel special that you risked all we had worked for and died for because of motherly love?”

She stepped back in surprise, clutching a tray to her chest as if it were a shield. Her long hair—the same color as mine—had been braided into a single plait that hung to her waist.

I hadn’t meant to be so nasty, but since the rebellion, she had never once acknowledged the possibility of our relationship, insisting it had been another one of Karla’s twisted tricks. I agreed. Riley, though, had speculated that if she believed I was her offspring, then the enormity of what she had done would have overwhelmed her. He had tried to explain it, to help me see it from her point of view.

But a traitor was a traitor in my mind. No need to waste time justifying her actions. I had enough to do.

Despite my personal feelings, we did need her doctoring skills. “What about Doctor Sanchia?”

“Busy with his own patients and the scrub … the caretakers in the lower levels …” She hesitated.

A ripple of unease lapped against my stomach. “They refused?”

She met my gaze. “Not in so many words. They just won’t answer my requests, and when I go down there, they ignore me or give me the runaround until I give up and leave.”

Dark circles, new wrinkles and streaks of white hair aged her. She appeared older—closer to fifty centiweeks than forty.

“How critical is the surgery at hour sixty? Can it be delayed?” I asked.

“It’s Emek’s appendix. If I don’t remove it soon, it will burst and kill him.”

“All right, I’ll help you. For Emek’s sake.” I headed to my room. My thoughts returned to the Committee. They would need to investigate why the lower care workers were ignoring requests for help.

My palms stung as I washed up. I had forgotten about the rope burns. Grabbing a tube of antiseptic, I rubbed it on the abrasions. Abrasions? I needed to find another place to sleep before I started spouting medical lingo like a pro.

Riley’s father had offered to move from their apartment, but it was too soon for us to go that next step. Since the rebellion, Riley and I had little to no time to get to know each other better. I touched my silver sheep pendant—a gift from Riley. Perhaps I could live in our storeroom and spend more alone time with Riley. Only a few members of the Force of Sheep knew of its existence. Which made staying there even more appealing.

The Committee met in the large conference room next to Inside’s main Control Room, both within Quadrant G4. I had argued for the new levels to be built in a different configuration than the existing levels without success.

With so many changes happening so fast, the Committee thought a new design would just confuse everyone. So level five resembled levels one through four—a three by three grid, like a Tic Tac Toe board. The four corners were labeled Quadrants and the middle sections were Sectors. Starting from the top row on the left, the first Quadrant was A, then Sector B and Quadrant C. The middle was Sectors D, E and F and the last row had Quadrant G, Sector H and Quadrant I. Just add the level number and any idiot could find a location.

I arrived at the meeting two hours late. Slipping into an empty seat beside Jacy, I glanced around the long oval table. The Committee had been comprised of one representative from each of the nine upper families and one leader from each scrub area like hydroponics and waste-water. Eighteen in all. Since an even number could cause problems when members voted, a nineteenth spokesperson had been added.

Despite repeated requests that I become the nineteenth member, I refused, preferring to be a part of the Committee as a consultant only. Less responsibility. Riley had been asked next, but he’d quipped that the Committee didn’t need both him and his father and he’d claimed that he would be more useful as support personnel.

They finally elected Jacy.

After my initial surprise at his appointment, and, when I thought it through, it made sense. He had taken over the organization and leadership of the rebellion when I had been captured by the Pop Cops. Plus he was well connected through his network of people in the lower levels.

I leaned close to him. “What did I miss?”

“They’re trying to decide which group can move into level five.”

“Group?” That was new.

“Once all six new levels are completed, the Committee thinks the nine families can share five levels and the scrubs, broken into groups by areas, can live in the other five.”

“That won’t work.”

“I know and you know, but try and explain it to those eighteen.” He swept his hand out. “They’re still thinking in terms of uppers and lowers.”

Which reminded me. “Are you aware of the labor strike?”

Jacy stared at me with a guarded expression. “Yep.”

“How do we get the workers back?”

“By having the uppers get their hands dirty for once.”

And Jacy just proved he also thought in terms of uppers and lowers. If I was being honest, I did as well. That was the problem. But I couldn’t figure out a solution.

Why should I? I’d done my part and found Gateway, led the rebellion and discovered the Expanse. The multiple scars on my arms, legs and torso from Pop Cop Commander Vinco’s knife proved I had sacrificed for the citizens of Inside.

I had also lost my closest friend, Cogon. He had acted more like a brother, and I missed him so much my insides felt rusted and brittle. Cog would have loved organizing the construction crews. He’d have insisted on perfection before moving on to another level.

Slouching in my chair, I let the Committee’s voices roll over me. They didn’t need me. The Committee would take us to the next stage.

After listening to the sixth scrub area representative list the reasons they should be the first to move into level five, I willed the clock to move faster. These meetings were a waste of my time. I could be spending these hours with Riley. The session went on and on. Assisting the Traitor with surgery grew more appealing with each minute. I lasted until hour fifty-nine.

“I’m outta here. I’m helping the … Doctor Lamont,” I whispered to Jacy.

“Will you be back before the vote?” he asked.

“Why? Nothing I say changes their minds.” Frustration and weariness welled, but I swallowed them down.

“You’ve given up, Trell. That’s not like you.”

“Sitting in endless meetings for twelve weeks isn’t like me either. I’m a big picture girl.” I tried a smile, but Jacy kept his frown. I made a sudden liberating decision. “Tell the Committee I’m resigning as a consultant and going back to what I do best.”

Shock, anger and censure warred on Jacy’s face. His lips moved for a moment before he spoke. “And what do you do best?”

“Explore. We have no idea how high up the Expanse’s ceiling is. What if I find another hatch at the top? There could be another Expanse filled with supplies. That’s just as important as arguing over who gets to move into the new levels first.”

I left before he could respond. For the first time since the rebellion, I strode through the bland white corridors of Inside feeling light as air. I couldn’t wait to tell Riley!

My good mood dissipated once I arrived at the infirmary and spotted Emek’s colorless face. Grimacing with pain, he clutched his sheets in tight fists. He wouldn’t respond to my questions. His skin felt cold and clammy. The Traitor wasn’t in the main room so I raced to the back.

She prepped for surgery. “You’re early.”

“Emek looks bad. When’s the last time you checked on him?”

Pushing by me, she ran to him. I caught up to her as she probed the skin below Emek’s waist with her fingers. He screamed.

“His appendix has burst.” She kicked off the brakes on the bed. “Move!”

I helped her roll him into surgery and we transferred him to the operating table. Then she issued rapid-fire orders. The experience, which usually passed by in a blur of blood and frantic activity, slowed this time. Even with the emergency, I anticipated her needs a few times and handed her instruments without being asked. Despite my resistance, I was learning.

As she worked to save Emek’s life, I no longer viewed her as the Traitor, but as Doctor Lamont. According to Doctor Sanchia, Lamont was the best diagnostician in our world and a skilled surgeon as well. More reasons she was here and not locked in the crowded holding cells with the Travas.

After sewing up Emek’s incision, Lamont told me to dress the wound as she adjusted the anesthesia. It didn’t take us long to finish. I wheeled him into the recovery room, which also served as the examination room.

Once the new levels were completed, the infirmaries on levels two and three would be combined into one large medical facility, spanning two grids. This had been an easy decision for the Committee. A shame they all weren’t.

Keeping an eye on his vital signs, I stayed with Emek until he stabilized. When he roused, we moved him to a regular bed in the main room. I ensured he was comfortable, helped him sip a glass of ginger water, then tucked him under a blanket as he drifted off to sleep.

I turned and met Lamont’s measuring gaze. She had watched me, but instead of commenting on my nurturing instincts, she checked Emek, nodded and returned to the operating room to clean up. Knowing the importance of a sterile area, I helped. We worked in silence, but the tension between us wasn’t quite as thick. When the surfaces gleamed and the place smelled of antiseptic, I tossed the dirty rags into a special medical bag and sent it down the laundry chute.

“You did well,” she said. “Thank you.”

I grunted a reply, heading to my room. The rush from the emergency surgery fizzled and exhaustion soaked into my bones.

“There’s a package on your bed from Logan,” Lamont said as I pushed open the door.

Good thing she had mentioned Logan’s name. Because if I hadn’t known he brought it here, I would have assumed it was from Lamont. Then I would have carried it to Lamont’s office and smashed the thing to little pieces. Instead, I set the vampire box on the table. The device had been used by the Pop Cops to test the scrubs for illegal drugs and pregnancy by taking blood samples. It could also settle the issue of my birth mother, determining if Lamont was indeed my parent. It had been Logan’s idea to use the box.

I stretched out on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, I wondered why Logan sent it now. He knew I had no desire to prove the relationship. Lamont hadn’t acknowledged me—that was proof enough. Guess I would need to visit Logan and ask him.

Eventually I drifted to sleep. Floating in a sea of blackness and surrounded by nothing, I strained to reach solid ground. But my body thinned. My arms turned translucent. My legs disappeared. I dissolved into a void.

Sound and touch returned with a vengeance. A roar woke me. The noise rattled the floor and my bed lurched so hard it tossed me across the narrow room. I slammed into the wall along with the table. The vampire box clipped my forehead as it shattered against the sheet metal.

Loose items spun around and knocked into me as if the contents of my room had been stuffed into one of the huge laundry dryers and turned on.

The bluelight died, plunging me into darkness. Then it all stopped. I ended up sprawled in a heap on the floor amid a pile of debris. Dazed and confused, I stayed still, trying to clear my head.

Then the silence hit me. As familiar as the beat of my own heart, the Hum had always rumbled throughout Inside. A comforting constant noise noticed more on a subconscious level than noted on a conscious level.

The Hum meant the power plant was doing its job, producing electricity and heat, keeping us alive.

Silence meant the opposite. Until that moment, I hadn’t known true terror.




2


IN THE BLACKNESS OF MY ROOM, I UNTANGLED FROM the heap and stood. A wave of dizziness hit, spinning me back onto the ground. Pressing my fingers to my temple, I touched a tender spot covered with a sticky wetness—blood. I probably had a concussion.

Unable to trust my legs, I crawled, shoving aside debris as I moved toward the door. Or so I hoped. In the darkness, direction was hard to determine.

My hand touched a round dome, and I picked up my exploring helmet with a cry of triumph. Funny how the small things become important in an emergency. I donned the helmet, toggling on the light.

I faced the wrong way and the room was a mess—no surprise. A thick glass splinter jutted from my right forearm—a surprise since it didn’t hurt. Of course once I stared at the blood welling from the wound, pain shot up my arm. Basic first aid instructions that I’d learned when I lived in the care facility replayed in my mind. I left the glass in place.

The crushed innards of the vampire box crunched beneath me as I reached the door. Despite my refusal to use the box, the damn thing had still gotten my blood via the glass shard.

I stumbled through the door and illuminated another disaster area. The sitting room appeared as if a giant had upended all the furniture. I checked Lamont’s bedroom. It mirrored mine, but at least she wasn’t trapped under debris.

The sudden understanding that whatever had shaken Inside most likely caused major injuries and maybe death, cleared the confused fog from my mind in a microsecond. Energized, I wove through the carnage of the apartment. Ignoring the disaster area that used to be her office and exam room, I reached the patient area.

I swept the light around the broken beds. Emek waved a bloody hand from underneath a pile. Digging through the debris, I uncovered him.

“What happened?” he asked.

“No idea. Are you injured?”

“I woke up on the floor.”

“Any pain?”

“Don’t think so.”

I righted a bed, returned the mattress and helped Emek lie down. A groan sounded across the room. I followed it to the other patient. She had a gash on her cheek, but I couldn’t find any other injuries.

“Is Doctor Lamont all right?” she asked.

“I haven’t seen her,” I said.

“She was right here before …”

What to call it? The Big Shake? Then the thought of Lamont being one of the casualties sent panic, fear and … grief? … shooting through my heart. It triggered another horrible possibility—Riley. He could be hurt or worse.

My first impulse was to run to his apartment and check on him, but he could be anywhere. The ten-hour shifts had ceased after the rebellion and no other schedule had replaced it yet. Once I settled my out-of-control pulse, I decided to stay here. Riley knew my location. He would come to me. If he could.

I searched the infirmary and found Lamont unconscious and bleeding from a nasty gouge on her head. Something like relief flowed through me, but, if asked, I would deny the feeling. After I hefted her into a bed and bandaged her wound, I worked to get ready for the inevitable arrival of the injured.

As I rushed to clean up, redlights came on. I skidded to a stop. Redlights? That was new. And creepy. I’d never seen it before or even heard stories from the old-timers. In Inside, bluelights stayed on for sleeping or in temporarily unoccupied areas. Daylights brightened occupied rooms and work places. Darkness stayed in places like the Gap between levels, and closed rooms. In the Expanse, there had been a couple rows of bluelights in the Expanse, marking the walls.

I switched off my light and removed the helmet. The eerie red glow gave enough illumination to see, which meant I had little to no time before my “guests” showed up.

At first, they trickled in, coming in pairs or by themselves, seeking medical treatment. The trickle transformed into a stream then a deluge. I recruited those who had carried friends. We divided the injured into three groups—bad, really bad and dire. The first two groups were taken next door to Quad A3—a common area. The last stayed in the main infirmary.

Then the emergencies arrived. Panicked, I flipped the switch that called Doctor Sanchia even though I knew he would be swamped with his own problems up on level four. I tore through the piles on the floor under the supply cabinets, searching for smelling salts to wake Lamont.

When I found them, I broke the package open and waved it under her nose.

She jerked away, but opened her eyes. “Trella? What—”

Her eyes cleared as I rushed to explain. By the time I finished, she was on her feet and issuing orders. Every ablebodied person was pressed into service. She took one look at the glass shard in my arm and yanked it out.

“Wrap it for now. We’ll deal with it later,” she said.

The hours blurred together. It seemed complete and utter chaos was but a moment away, yet somehow Lamont kept us on track. I sewed stitches until my fingers turned numb. Set bones until my arms ached. The bandage around my forearm dripped blood, but I had no idea if it was mine or not.

At one point a mechanical voice boomed. Everyone froze for a second as an announcement played. “Citizens of Inside, please do not panic.”

Too late.

“All life support systems are fully operational,” it continued. “Please remain at your posts. Those off-duty, please remain in your barracks and apartments. Anyone with medical experience is asked to report to the infirmaries on levels four, three and two. More information will be relayed when available.”

We all stared at each other for a moment. Who was speaking, the computer or one of the Committee members? Before the rebellion, only the Travas had made announcements. However, nothing like this had happened when the Travas held power.

Just like the redlights, the mechanical voice was probably an automatic safety measure. After another minute of stunned silence, activity resumed and I gave up keeping track of anything.

But all through the frantic hours, bits and pieces of what had happen started to emerge. From half caught conversations and comments, I learned the power plant had caused the Big Shake. The plant occupied Quadrant C on all four levels. And the most severely injured were from Sectors B, F and a few from E. All shared a wall with Quad C. Which explained why the infirmary—Sector B3—had been in such disarray.

At some point, the daylights returned, which meant we had power again. Eventually, the flow of patients eased and dribbled. I filled a tray with glasses of water and handed them out. A numb exhaustion had soaked into me, muting my emotions and slowing my reactions.

For the first time since the … accident, I saw faces. Before I had focused on the injuries. But now I searched for those I recognized.

Half of me was relieved not to see Riley among them, but the other half was terrified that his lifeless body was in the pile on level one, waiting to be fed to Chomper. Other horrible scenarios danced through my tired mind. His body hadn’t been discovered yet. He clung to life in level four’s infirmary. He was trapped, pinned under a heavy piece of machinery.

I reached for another glass, but my tray was empty. Staring at the ripple pattern on the metal, I tried to remember what I should do as I swayed. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders from behind and guided me to my room. The bed had been cleared and the hands encouraged me to lie down.

My weak protests were ignored. Unable to resist, I collapsed onto the mattress and through a slit in my heavy eyelids, I saw Doctor Lamont. She pulled a blanket over me. And the touch of her lips on my forehead was my last memory.

Familiar voices woke me. They argued. I tried to produce the energy to care, failed and rolled over to return to sleep.

But my mind wouldn’t cooperate. It mulled and tugged until it plucked the proper memory from the depths, exposing it in a series of images. The Big Shake. The injured. Beds filled with people. Blood everywhere.

I lurched to my feet and ran from my room. My sudden exit surprised the two people on the other side of my door. Not caring I almost knocked Lamont down, I flung myself into Riley’s arms.

He squeezed me as I clung to him. Questions poured from my mouth. “Are you all right? Where have you been? What happened?”

“I’m fine. I’ve been helping Doctor Sanchia. Logan—”

I pulled back. “Is he …” The word stuck in my throat.

“He’ll be all right.” Riley swept my sleep-tousled hair from my eyes. “He looks better than you.” He rubbed his thumb lightly over the cut on my forehead. “This needs a few stitches. Want me to sew you up?”

I studied his face and realized he was half serious. “Doctor Sanchia let you suture wounds?”

“He didn’t have much choice. We were swamped with people.” Riley feigned nonchalance, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just a needle and thread. I’ve repaired rips in Sheepy before so I was more than qualified.” Humor sparked in his blue eyes.

My mouth formed an automatic smile whenever I thought of Sheepy and his mother. The stuffed animal family had a special place in my heart. “I hope Sheepy and Mama Sheepy weren’t damaged.”

“They’re fine. I checked on them before coming here. I do have my priorities straight,” he teased.

I swatted him on the shoulder and he winced. Yanking his collar down, I exposed a fist-sized purple bruise.

He peeled my fingers from his shirt. “It’s okay. No broken bones.”

“How did you get hurt?” I asked.

“I was inspecting the wiring on level five with Logan and the floor just heaved, tossing us across the room. He hit his head, but it’s a minor concussion.”

“Heaved?”

“An explosion happened in the power plant and we stood directly above it,” he said.

“Does anyone know what set it off?”

“No. That’s for another week.” He straightened his shirt and smoothed his black hair. Since the rebellion, Riley had let it grow. It smelled of shampoo. “Right now attending to the wounded and finding missing people is the main concern.”

“Have you slept?”

He nodded to the couch. “I arrived just after you went to bed. I didn’t want to wake you, so I showered and slept here. I’ve been helping Doctor Lamont.”

Which reminded me. I stepped away from him, glancing around, but Lamont had left. “I should …”

Riley stared at me in horror. Not my face, but my clothes. Dried blood stained almost all the white fabric, which had stiffened.

“Relax, it’s not mine.”

He pointed to a wet patch on my forearm. “And that?”

“Just a cut. I need to shower and—”

Unwinding the tattered bandage, he exposed the gash. I hissed in pain when he touched it.

“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me from the apartment.

Patients recovering from their injuries lay on the floor in Lamont’s office and in the exam room. Only a thin walkway remained free. At the examination table, Lamont finished with a young girl. The girl’s mother, who hovered nearby, swept the girl into her arms and carried her out.

“Since you refused to get some rest, you might as well do Trella next,” Riley said to Lamont.

He had been more forgiving of her betrayal. Which didn’t make sense to me. His mother had been recycled when he was little because of her. Well, not directly. But with Lamont spying for the Pop Cops, the Force of Ten had failed. The consequences had been high. My father—if Karla Trava had been telling the truth about me—Riley’s mother and two others had been recycled.

Lamont claimed she had spied to protect her daughter, Sadie, which would be me if Karla’s word could be trusted. Except Karla said she recycled Sadie along with Lamont’s husband afterward. The lesson that should have been learned—don’t trust Karla or her word.

Yet when the rebels were on the verge of winning, Karla told Lamont her daughter had really been living in the lower levels as a scrub. Once again Karla threatened to harm Sadie unless Lamont helped Karla stop the rebellion.

How could such an intelligent woman fall for the same trick twice? When Karla had pointed to me as the long lost Sadie, Lamont had refused to believe her. It had been too coincidental. And I agreed.

“Sit up on the table,” Lamont said to me.

I stared at her. Deep lines of exhaustion etched her pale face. She moved as if she’d shatter at any harsh sound.

“You’re in no condition. Go to bed before you do more harm than good.” I snapped my mouth shut before I said “again.” As a doctor, she might be one of the best, but as a decent, reliable person, she failed.

“But your arm—”

“I can do it.”

“One handed?”

“Riley will help. We’ll keep an eye on everyone for you. If there’s an emergency, we’ll wake you.” I gave Riley a significant look.

Understanding my hint, he released my hand and led Lamont back to her bedroom.

I sorted supplies. Since the majority of the injuries from the accident had been cuts, we were low on sutures. I would need to restock them.

“Why did she listen to you and not me?” Riley asked when he returned.

I shrugged. “She thinks I’d be a good doctor.”

“Like her?”

“Don’t start.” I almost growled at him.

He kept pestering me to test my blood. I couldn’t make him understand that the result wouldn’t change my opinion of her.

“We’re running out of supplies. Has anyone opened all the crates found in the Expanse?” I asked.

“Not yet.”

“Somebody should go through the crates and inventory them.”

“Good idea, you should bring it up at the next Committee meeting. Oh, wait.” He smacked his head as if remembering something. “Since it’s a good idea, it will be promptly ignored.”

“They have a ton of decisions to make. Just give them time to sort everything out.”

“You’re defending them?” Riley cupped my cheek. “Are you feeling ill? Headache? Fever?”

I swatted his hand away. “I’m serious.”

“And this change in opinion is due to …”

“I realized they have a tough job and I shouldn’t be so critical. Especially since I’m no longer a part of the Committee.”

He gaped at me. “What did you just say?”

“I resigned. They don’t need me. I’m going to explore, and now I’ll have time to go through those crates.”

“I think that’s a bad idea.”

“What? Inventorying the crates or exploring?”

“Resigning.”

“Why? I’ll have more time for …. Sheepy. I’m sure he misses me.”

“Sheepy can wait. You’re the voice of reason. You’ve seen both sides.”

“They don’t listen to me. I’m too young.”

“You led the rebellion.”

“And almost all the people who were involved are on the Committee—Domotor, Hana, Takia, Breana, Jacy and your father. If you really think about it, I started it, but Jacy, Anne-Jade, Logan and the rest finished the rebellion. This is the same thing. The Committee has it covered. I’m just in the way.”

Riley tried to argue, but I didn’t want to dwell on how useless I was in those meetings. I handed him the antiseptic and pointed to the gash on my arm. He grumbled, but helped to clean and then suture the cut. Although a bit awkward, he didn’t balk when it was time to pierce my skin with the needle. That part tended to unnerve potential interns. I shouldn’t be surprised. He had assisted Lamont with surgery in our storeroom when a Pop Cop had knifed me. Maybe he should be the one to train with Lamont.

When he finished tying the last stitch, I examined his handiwork. Yet another scar on my arm. Between Vinco’s knife and my various injuries, I resembled one of those striped tigers listed in the computer files. A wild animal we had left behind. Why we left, I’d no idea, but I was sure Logan’s efforts to find the original files for Inside would be successful. Then we would know everything.

After Riley and I finished checking on all the patients, I showered and changed into clean clothes. Since I no longer traveled through the air ducts and pipes, I wore the comfortable light green V-neck shirt and pants Lamont and the other caretakers wore. Yes, I realized the irony, but since I was only 1.6 meters tall, only a few uniform types fit me—unless I wanted to wear the student jumpers. And I wasn’t about to go around Inside wearing my air scrubbing uniform or the surgery whites—a special white fabric worn during an operation that allowed the blood stains and other fluids to be easily bleached clean.

After my shower, I returned to the infirmary and organized the mess left by the Big Shake. Riley went to search for his father. Their rooms were located in Sector E4, cattycornered to the power plant, but he wasn’t too worried.

“He didn’t come to the infirmary on level four,” Riley had said. “I doubt he’s hurt, but I want to make sure.”

As I worked, people stopped by to look for loved ones and to visit the injured. Everyone seemed dazed, and I wondered how long it would take them to recover.

Hana Mineko arrived to record the names of the injured. She carried a portable computer—one of Logan’s new devices. Not only a member of the Force of Sheep, she had also been involved with Domotor’s first effort to regain control of Inside from the Trava family. Now she was a member of the Committee.

Her black curly hair, usually fixed in an intricate knot, hung in messy clumps. Dirt smudged her cheek and scratches marked her petite nose.

When she finished, I asked her how bad it was.

Pressing a few buttons on her computer, she said, “So far, I’ve listed five hundred and three.” Hana glanced at my forehead. “Make that five hundred and four injured and sixty-six to be recycled.”

My heart lurched and I put a hand to my chest. “That many are going to Chomper? Are you sure? The blast wasn’t that strong.”

“The number is unfortunately accurate and bound to increase slightly. It could have been worse,” Hana said. “The explosion happened between levels four and three. The hardest hit areas were Sectors F3 and F4, which houses apartments for the uppers. If the blast had been in the lower two levels, the scrub barracks in Sectors F2 and F1 would have been in the line of fire, and thousands would now be waiting for Chomper.” She swept a hand, gesturing to the far wall of the infirmary. “Another piece of luck, the energy went south. If it had gone west, this place would have been torn to bits. You and Doctor Lamont would be waiting for Chomper. And if it had blown to the east or north …”

Horrified, I stared at her. “Was it strong enough?”

“To punch a hole to Outside?”

A disaster that would cause the end of our world. “Yes.”

“We don’t know yet. Maintenance is looking into it.”

At the start of week 147,020, another announcement played. It had been thirty hours since the accident—looking at how much we’ve done in the meantime, thirty hours seemed an impossibly short time. The mechanical voice—which I had been correct in assuming was the computer’s automatic safety system—informed us maintenance had bypassed the damaged sections of the power plant and operations have resumed.

Once again electricity and heat were being generated and we would be up to full capacity in a matter of hours.

A new voice, sounding like Hana, requested helpers to assist with cleanup in Sector B4. One of the water storage tanks had ruptured. I imagined rust growing on the walls and floor of B4, spreading like a disease.

During the week, the infirmary emptied as people healed. About mid-week, I finally had a few hours to myself. I decided to inspect the damaged areas, starting with Sector F3.

In the back of my mind, I knew the force of the blast had been significant. But to see a huge jagged hole, crinkled metal and scorch marks was a whole other experience. A number of apartments had been destroyed. Wires hung to the floor and water dripped and pooled. The ceiling had been peeled back, exposing the Gap between levels three and four.

Using the buckled metal wall, I climbed up into the Gap. At this location, I could stand, but normally I would have to crouch in the one and a half meter space. The damage to level four resembled level three, except the floor had been ripped apart instead of the ceiling. The water pipes and air conduits that criss-crossed this space looked like broken toys.

Climbing higher, I found Logan in the plant’s main Control Room on level four. He pounded on a keyboard, muttering and cursing to himself. A white bandage covered his left temple and eyebrow. Dark purple and red bruises colored his left cheek.

“How bad is it?” I asked him.

He jerked. “Where the hell did you come from?”

It took me a moment to respond. Riley had said Logan looked better than me, but I’d slept since the explosion. Logan’s haggard oval face and bloodshot eyes told me it had been a long time since he’d rested.

“Where else would I come from? Outer space?”

He grunted and his focus returned to the computer screen.

“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. However you look like Chomper’s been chewing on you. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“No idea. What time is it now?” Logan cursed and slammed his fist down.

I pulled his chair away from the console.

“Hey!” He braced his feet, trying to scoot back.

“No.” I swiveled him to face me. Nose to nose, I gave him my best scowl. “You need food and sleep.”

“But—”

“Inside has power and heat.”

“But—”

“Whatever you’re working on will still be there when you return.”

“But—”

“You can’t think straight without rest.”

He clutched the chair arms as if I had threatened to pick him up and carry him to the cafeteria. No need. I would roll his chair if I had to.

His words rushed out in a panicked burst. “But this is important!”

I straightened and crossed my arms. Keeping a stern expression, I said, “This had better be good.”

Logan’s wild gaze flicked to the door and back to me. “Promise to say nothing?”

“I can’t".

“For now. Just for now. Until I confirm it.”

“Logan, you’re starting to worry me.”

“Promise to keep quiet for now?”

“Okay, okay. Now spill.”

Once again he checked the door. He pointed to the top button on his shirt. “Is your microphone off?”

“Yes.” I almost screamed the word at him.

“The power plant wasn’t the only system to be damaged by the explosion.”

“All the systems were affected by the electrical outage. Why is this a secret?”

He rubbed a hand over his face. “We didn’t even know this system existed until ten weeks ago.”

“Oh. An Outer Space system?”

“Yep. And not a minor one like Gateway. This one is called the Transmission. In simple terms, it takes a portion of the energy produced by the power plant and transmits it to Outer Space, pushing us toward our destination. With me so far?”

“Yeah. It’s moving us through Outer Space.”

“Right. Except the explosion wrecked it. Without the Transmission operating, we can’t go faster or slow down or maneuver.”

“And why is that so upsetting?”

He raked his fingers through his brown hair. “Outer Space isn’t empty. There are massive objects called Planets, huge projectiles with names like Asteroids and Comets, and dense balls of burning gas named Suns. If we don’t crash into one of them, all these things exert a force that can either slow us down, push us off course or trap us. In other words, we’re dead in the water.”




3


“ARE WE IN ANY IMMEDIATE DANGER?” I ASKED Logan.

“I don’t think so.” “Think?”

“Sorry, some well-meaning scrub interrupted me before I could finish my calculations,” he teased, but his humor didn’t linger.

“Can we fix the Transmission?”

“I don’t know. The maintenance scrubs didn’t perform the routine cleaning and upkeep on it. I’ve a terrible feeling the Travas had been in charge.”

Not good. Since Inside had a limited number of holding cells, most of the Trava family had been confined to their quarters in Sector D4.

“Can I go back to work now?” Logan asked. “You can finish your calculations,” I said. “You’re not going to leave, are you?” “Nope.”

I stood behind him as his fingers flew over the keyboard.

After twenty minutes Logan whistled in relief, relaxing back against his chair.

“Good news?” I asked.

“We’re not about to crash into anything in the next four weeks.” He turned and met my gaze.

“But?”

“We might be on a collision course.”

“Might?”

Logan gestured weakly to the computer. “I need to search through the data … ”

“Not now. You need to eat and sleep.” I cut off his squawk of protest as I yanked him from his chair. Marching him down to the upper’s cafeteria in Quad G3, I stayed with him while he ate. Then I escorted him to his little suite next to Inside’s main Control Room. The small cluster of rooms had been used by the Captain so he would be nearby in case of an emergency.

We didn’t have a new Captain yet, but Logan came close. With his technical knowledge and familiarity with the computer systems, he had his fingers on the pulse of our world.

Since the rebellion, the uppers kept doing their jobs, monitoring the life-support systems. I realized the scrubs hadn’t. They didn’t want to clean and perform the mindless tasks anymore. I didn’t blame them, but those tasks were vital to our existence. How could we convince them?

I tucked Logan into bed. “Don’t leave until you’ve had a few hours of sleep. Do you understand?”

He gave me a tired salute. “Yes, sir.”

As I headed to the infirmary, I mulled over the problem of dividing up the work. No brilliant idea sprung to mind. I wondered how the people had done it before the Travas took control and separated us into uppers and lowers. Logan had discovered hidden files about the history of our world. Perhaps our ancestors had found a perfect balance. They must have had a system worked out. Once this crisis was over, perhaps Logan could cull this information from those files and show it to the Committee.

I stretched as far as I could, groping for the next hand-hold. It remained just out of my reach. Resting my sweaty forehead against the cool metal, I let the disappointment roll through me. At least I had gone an additional five meters higher than my previous climb. I would have to find another path to reach the top.

Sliding down the rope, I returned to the half-completed roof of level ten. Work on the new levels had ceased until the power plant repairs were finished. I was used to the sounds of construction and the bright daylights, so the Expanse felt desolate. I walked the perimeter of the completed section, shining my light over the metal wall, looking for another potential route to the Expanse’s ceiling.

Hank had suggested I use magnets to climb. A great idea, except I needed a way to hold on to the magnets, and they couldn’t be too strong or I wouldn’t be able to move them as I climbed. He offered to build me a set, but I couldn’t ask him now. Hank was one of the few who volunteered to help clean up the mess from the explosion and to repair the damage. Even though it’d been over a week, the work progressed at a slow pace.

When I found a promising place to climb, I marked the spot with paint. My shift started at hour ten and I needed to change. I hurried back to my room. Riley waited for me in the sitting area. He sat on the couch, but didn’t look relaxed as he rolled my earring/receiver between his finger and thumb.

“Forget something?” he asked.

“No. I left it here.” Wrong answer. I braced for the lecture.

“Out exploring without it?”

“It’s distracting.” I pointed to the transmitter pinned on my collar. “I can still call for help. And I have my pendant.” The necklace Riley had given me always hung around my neck. If I squeezed the little metal sheep, it would broadcast a signal, reporting my location.

“What if I or Logan needed your help?” He studied my expression. “Didn’t think of that, did you?”

“I’ll take it with me next time. Okay?” I held my hand out for the earring.

Riley dropped it into my palm. “Promise?”

I swallowed my retort. Riley’s overprotectiveness grated on my nerves at times. For more weeks than I could count, I had climbed all over Inside without any way to signal for help and without any trouble either. Cogon had warned me of the danger, but I had ignored him. Good thing, too. Without my knowledge of the ducts and my ability to travel through them, our rebellion wouldn’t have succeeded.

“I promise,” I said, rushing past him.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To change. I’m late.” I closed my door on his reply and switched the drab gray overalls the recycling workers wore for my skin-tight climbing clothes.

When I returned to the sitting area, Riley blocked my exit. “Late for what?”

I gestured to the ceiling. “My shift. I’m helping to repair the ductwork between levels three and four.”

His shoulders drooped. “Oh. I thought we could—”

“I’m done at hour sixteen. I’ll meet up with you later.” I slipped around him and waved.

“It’s always later, Trella.”

I rounded on him. “This is important.”

“And so is exploring and the Committee meetings before that, and—”

“I quit the Committee to spend more time with you. I wasn’t counting on an explosion. But I’ll remember to factor that in for the future.” I mimed writing on my palm. “Riley first, emergencies second. Got it.” I saluted him, rushed from the room and almost plowed into Lamont.

She said, “Trella, I need—”

“Find someone else,” I said. “I can only do so much.”

My anger cooled as I reported for work. I regretted my nasty comment to Riley. He had been putting in long hours, too. One of a few. The same handful of faces kept volunteering. Each time, they looked more and more exhausted.

During my shift, we fixed airshaft number fifteen. A small accomplishment, but that didn’t stop us from cheering.

After I organized the tools for the next group, I found Logan and his sister, Anne-Jade, arguing in the corridor near the power plant.

“… force them. I’m not a Pop Cop,” Anne-Jade said. Her dainty nose was identical to Logan’s as well as the light-brown color of her long hair. It hung past her shoulders in a shiny cascade.

The family resemblance was unmistakable, and I wondered if they were fraternal twins. They’ve always known they were related—a rarity among the scrubs—perhaps they knew who their parents were.

I hung back and waited for them to notice me.

“We need more people. I don’t care how you get them,” Logan said.

Anne-Jade fiddled with her belt buckle. She wore a modified Pop Cop uniform. The silver stripes down the sleeves and pants had been removed as well as any rank insignia. Her weapon belt held a stunner only, and the symbol representing Inside—a cube with the capital letter I on the front side—had been stitched onto her right collar.

After the rebellion, Anne-Jade had volunteered to organize a security force comprised of both uppers and lowers.

“What about the Trava family? They’re not doing anything but taking up space. And we could force them to help,” she said.

“No.” I jumped into their conversation. “They can’t be trusted.”

“To do what?” she asked. But she didn’t let me answer. “We have all the weapons and lock codes. I can post guards. It won’t be hard to do.”

By the thoughtful hum emanating from Logan’s throat, I knew he mulled over her suggestion. Between the two of them, Anne-Jade had all the common sense. As Tech Nos, they had needed to hide their activities from the Pop Cops. When they had built their illegal technology, she disguised their gadgets as everyday items. Those devices had played a critical role in winning the rebellion.

Sensing her brother’s agreement, Anne-Jade added, “And we can inject tracers in them. So even if they climb into the pipes to escape, we can track them.”

“Tracers?” I asked.

She grinned. “Tiny little bugs that are injected under the skin. They emit a signal we can pick up.”

“What’s to stop them from cutting it out?” I asked.

“They won’t know it’s there. We’ll use vampire boxes, but instead of taking blood samples, we’ll inject the tracer. They won’t know the difference. At least the civilian and lower ranked Travas won’t suspect anything.” An impish spark lit her greenish-brown eyes.

“Why not the upper ranks?” Deemed too dangerous, this group had been incarcerated in the holding cells.

“Because it was their idea,” she said. “I found notes on the project in Commander Vinco’s office. Although his tracer was twice the size of ours.”

Logan corrected his sister. “It was four times the size. Humongous. The scrubs would have panicked, thinking the lump on their arms was a tumor.”

I marveled over their skills. “How do you make your devices so small?”

“When I was experimenting with a circuit board, I—”

“You can tell her later, Logan,” Anne-Jade interrupted. “I need to know if you want me to schedule the Travas for repairs.”

“Do you have enough tracers?” he asked.

“Enough for a small group. Once we know if they’ll work, I can make more.”

“Then go ahead. Keep me informed.”

Logan’s grown-up, decisive tone surprised me. He usually deferred to her opinion.

As Anne-Jade turned to leave, I said, “Wait a minute. Shouldn’t you get permission from the Committee first?”

“No,” Logan said. “They put me in charge of the repairs. And time is critical.”

Using Travas to rush the repairs didn’t sit well with me. Perhaps the Committee could entice people to help by offering them first choice of the living space in the new levels. It was a good idea, which meant it would be ignored along with all my other ideas. Riley had called me the voice of reason, but the Committee remained deaf to me.

I returned to the infirmary, slipped past Lamont who was preoccupied with a patient and took a long hot shower. Half expecting Riley to be waiting in the sitting room when I finished, I felt a pang of disappointment over the empty couch. After donning my comfortable green shirt and pants, and weaving my wet hair into a single braid, I debated between food, sleep and Riley.

Riley won. I switched on my button microphone and turned it to Riley’s frequency. “Hi Riley. Where are you?” I asked.

No response. I tried reaching him two more times before giving up. He must be asleep. I heated a bowl of soup. The kitchen was another reason I stayed in Lamont’s suite. So nice not to fight the crowds in the cafeteria.

Unfortunately my enjoyment ended when Lamont entered. I tried to ignore her, but she sat next to me and clanged her plate on the table.

I glanced up, catching her staring at me. “What?”

She didn’t flinch. Her frank appraisal sent warning signals. Ever since the explosion, Lamont’s confidence had grown. Not as a doctor, she had never hesitated when working, but in her interactions with me. Before, her guilt made her uncertain around me, which it should. She was a traitor after all. Her actions during the rebellion had almost gotten me and my cohorts sent to Chomper.

“What?” I asked again.

“If you plan to keep living here, you have to help me in the infirmary. If you don’t want to work for me, then you need to move back into the barracks.”

I gaped at her.

“The extra room is supposed to be for an intern,” she said. “Off-hour emergencies are harder to respond to if I have to wait for my assistant to come from another level or Sector.” She leaned forward and her voice softened. “I’ve been thinking about Karla’s claims about you.”

Snorting in disgust, I stood.

Lamont jumped to her feet and blocked my path. “You’re not running from me. Not this time. Sit down or I’ll—”

“What? Strap me to a gurney again?”

“If that’s what I have to do to get you to listen to me, then I will.”

A hard determination settled on her face as if her skin had turned to metal. The woman was serious. She seemed to have two separate personalities, Kiana and Doctor Lamont. I was facing the Doctor right now.

“You can’t. Not when—”

She brandished a syringe and a “try me” stance.

I stepped back, bumping into wall. Damn. “Where did …” She had planned this little chat.

“Sit down.”

If she knocked me out, I could have her arrested for assault. But would Anne-Jade’s new Inside Security Force (ISF) even charge her? Probably not. Especially not since she proved to be invaluable after the explosion.

Unwilling to make this easy for her, I crossed my arms, sat and glowered. “I’m listening.”

“Good.” Lamont remained on her feet with her weapon pointed toward me. “For the last 1,430 weeks my heart has ached for my daughter and husband. And yes, I betrayed all of you just for the slim chance to hold Sadie in my arms again. Karla knew my weakness. And she had the comb I had hidden in Sadie’s diaper. It was wrong, and stupid, and I regret it. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is atone for my mistakes. Karla might not have lied about you. Why would she send a hundred-and-two-week-old to Chomper? I’d like you to take a blood test.”

I surged to my feet. “No blood test.”

“It would settle the question once and for all. And if you’re Sadie, you can stay here.”

“But if I’m just plain old Trella, I need to leave?”

“No. You’re still welcome to be my intern and stay.”

“I’m not interested in being your intern or your daughter.” As I brushed past her, I braced for the needle’s prick. Would she stoop to knocking me out and testing my blood? Not yet. Unharmed, I hurried into my room and stopped. I wore my pendant, earring and transmitter. Besides my tool belt and moccasins, there was nothing here I needed.

Changing back into my air scrub uniform, I buckled my belt, secured my mocs to a loop, climbed up to the air vent, opened the cover and entered the air ducts. I wasn’t about to give Lamont another chance to trap me. After securing the vent, I followed the familiar twists and turns, deciding which way to go.

The abandoned controller’s room in Quad C1 remained empty. Domotor had hidden in there during the rebellion, but it was next to the power plant and the heat and dirt made it less than ideal. However, it did have a small kitchen and bathroom.

Despite the amenities of the controller’s room, I headed toward the storeroom on level four. The place where I first met Riley. It had a comfortable couch—all I needed. I’d eat in the uppers dining room in Quad G3, and use the scrub washrooms on level two. It’d be just like old times. Well, without the constant fear, which was a bonus.

And just like the past, I’d have to use the air ducts to get to the storeroom. Since the room was located deep within Sector D4, I couldn’t use the hallways. I wanted the room to remain forgotten by all but a few people, and Sector D4 was patrolled by the ISF to keep the Travas in their quarters.

When I reached the room, I peered through the vents. The bluelights were on, and I couldn’t spot any signs of recent activity. Opening the vent, I swung down and dropped onto the couch. Dust puffed and I sneezed. The daylights snapped on, triggered by my motion. Riley hadn’t disconnected the motion sensor and I wondered if my entrance would signal him.

By the film of dust on all the furniture, I knew Riley hadn’t been here since the rebellion. I tried to contact him again. No response. Perhaps he was still mad at me.

I cleaned the room as best as I could. Finally exhausted, I switched back to bluelights, dumped my tool belt in a corner, curled up on the couch and fell asleep.

The sudden brightness of the daylights woke me. I stared at my surroundings for a few seconds in confusion until I remembered my location. According to the clock, it was hour twenty-five of week 147,021. Riley leaned on the door to the hallway, but his posture was far from relaxed. His black hair hung in his eyes, obscuring half of his expression.

I sat up and pulled my legs in close, making room for him to sit down.

He didn’t move. “What are you doing here?”

“Lamont kicked me out. It was either this, the pipes or the barracks.”

“Dad and I have a couch.” His flat tone held no emotion.

I sensed I trod on thin metal. One wrong word and it would buckle underneath me. “Last I heard, your brother had claimed it.”

“Blake moved back to the barracks weeks ago. He couldn’t stand the quiet.”

Which made sense. Growing up in the lower two levels, we had been assaulted by the constant noise of the other scrubs. For most of the scrubs, the clamor soothed and comforted. For me, the racket grated and drove me into the pipes, seeking privacy and distance from the noise.

“I tried to contact you a couple times,” I said in my defense.

“I know.”

Not good. “Riley, I’m sorry for getting angry. I’ll skip my next shift and we’ll spend time together.”

His muscles relaxed just a bit. Progress.

“Why did Doctor Lamont kick you out?” he asked.

“She gave me an ultimatum.” I told him about the argument.

As I talked, he moved away from the door and closer to me. “I’m surprised she didn’t tell you to leave sooner.”

“Why?”

“You’re nasty to her at every opportunity. And I suspect the only reason you stayed there is to make her suffer for her actions during the rebellion. Her guilt was probably why she put up with you as long as she did.”

I wanted to correct him, but I suspected he was right. “I like helping the patients.” Weak.

“You could have interned with Doctor Sanchia.” Riley sat next to me.

“I wasn’t that nasty. More like grumpy and a little surly.”

“Sorry, but no. Nasty is the right word.” He held up a hand to stop my protest. “Consider your refusal to take a blood test. She still grieves for her daughter and you could ease her pain.”

“What if I’m not Sadie?”

“Then she’ll know Karla lied and there’s no hope.”

“Wait a minute. Karla could be telling the truth and Sadie is living in the lower levels right now.”

“Doctor Lamont already tested every girl born close to Sadie’s birth week. All fifteen of them. No match. You’re the last one.”

Oh. “Are you going to counter all my comments?”

“Yes.”

“Why? Her betrayal could have sent us all to Chomper, including your father.”

“You keep forgetting, she didn’t tell Karla everything. Her information made it difficult for us, but we won.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs from his eyes. Riley stared into the past. “Besides, if Karla had offered me the chance to see my mother again, to hug my mother and tell her I love her … I would have been mighty tempted. And you had been ready to exchange your life for Cogon’s. Remember? Lamont’s actions aren’t as despicable when you look at it that way.”

I grumbled, but couldn’t respond. He had a point.

“Will you at least think about it?”

“I will. Later.” I scooted closer to him and he hooked his arm around my shoulder.

“Do you want to stay with us?” Riley asked. “You’ll have a shower close by.”

I glanced around the storeroom. “Eventually I’ll want to, but right now this place is … comforting and familiar. Do you understand?”

He smiled and I realized just how much I missed his smile. This was the first time in weeks that we had complete privacy.

“Yes, I do. And so does Sheepy. He was just reminiscing about those hours we spent in here with you before the rebellion.” Riley turned to me. “In fact your uniform is bringing back those memories of the first time I met you.” He trailed his fingertips along the slippery material of my arm as he cocked his head, considering. “Something’s not quite right.”

Reaching around with both hands, he pulled my hair from its braid. His touch sent shivers through me. When he finished, he mussed my hair. “There, that’s better. Now you look like the wild scrub that fell into my life.”

“Because you loosened the vent’s screws.”

“Best. Decision. Ever.” He combed his fingers through my hair and laced them behind my neck, pulling me in for a kiss.

Heat burned inside me as he deepened the kiss. I snaked my arms around his shoulders and pressed against him. The thin material of my uniform chafed and when he tugged at the zipper along the back, I broke our kiss long enough to whisper an encouragement for him to keep pulling. Reclaiming his lips, I worked on unbuttoning his shirt.

He peeled the top of my uniform down, exposing my breasts. One of the benefits of being on the smaller side—no uncomfortable support garment. His surprise at encountering nothing but smooth skin lasted mere microseconds, before his thumbs sent tingling waves through me.

This was farther than we’ve ever explored before, but I wasn’t about to complain. I yanked his shirt off and ran my hands along his muscular arms. He abandoned my lips to nibble on my neck, pushing me back so I reclined on the couch.

“Trella, are you there?” Logan’s voice squawked from my earring. I groaned in annoyance and was about to switch it off when Logan said, “Trell, I need you at the Power Plant’s control room now.” Logan’s panic rang loud and clear.

Riley pulled away. Concern creased his forehead.

I fumbled for the transmitter clipped onto my uniform. “What happened?” I asked.

“Sabotage.”




4


ALL TINGLY WARMTH FLED MY BODY. “SABOTAGE?” I asked. “I didn’t feel—”

“Come to the control room, and I’ll explain,” Logan said.

“Why can’t you tell me now?”

“This frequency isn’t secure.”

The click from Logan switching off sounded in my ear. I met Riley’s resigned gaze. He buttoned his shirt. I pulled up the top of my uniform and zipped it.

“Promise me we’ll continue this … conversation later.” Riley’s mournful tone made me smile.

“That’s an easy promise to make.”

I glanced at the air vent in the ceiling. Riley’s broad shoulders would never fit. Gesturing toward the door, I asked, “Did anyone see you come in here?”

“Nope.”

“The corridors should be patrolled by ISF officers.”

“They are. I told them I was checking the wiring. As soon as they lost interest in me, I ghosted down our hallway.”

“Ghosted? You’ve been hanging around Logan too much.”

“I’d rather be … exploring with you.” He ran his hands down my sides and rested them on my hips. “There may be other surprises under your jumpsuit just waiting to be discovered.”

I slipped from his grasp and stood. “Key word, waiting.”

He groaned. “If Logan’s exaggerating, I’ll pound him.”

Picking up my tool belt, I clipped it into place. “Can you leave here without being seen?”

“Yep.”

“Great. I’ll meet you in the control room.” The ladder I had used before leaned against the far wall. I set it up under the air vent and climbed. Before I pulled myself into the duct, I caught Riley staring at me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just wondering.”

“About what?”

“If you’ll keep your promise.”

“When have I ever broken a promise?”

“What about leaving the Committee?” he asked.

“I didn’t promise them anything, just offered to help.”

“I didn’t mean the Committee members, but the people of Inside. By freeing them from the Travas’ control, you promised them a better life.”

“First off, the Force of Sheep freed them, not me. And second, they have a better life. No Pop Cops, grueling work schedules and we’ll soon have plenty of room. How could you possibly see that as breaking a promise?”

“There wouldn’t have been a rebellion or the Force of Sheep without you. You started everything and you need to finish it.”

Words jammed in my throat. How could he think I didn’t finish it? I shook my head. “We can argue about this later. Logan’s waiting for us.” Before he could reply, I slid into the air duct, heading toward the control room.

Riley’s voice followed me, echoing through the metal shaft. “Logan called you, Trell, not me about the sabotage. Think about that.”

As I traveled in the duct, I dismissed his comment. It was a matter of semantics, nothing more.

I arrived at the control room and took a few seconds to see who worked below. Logan sat in front of a computer, frowning at the monitor. Riley hadn’t arrived. No one else was in sight.

The noise from opening the air vent should have alerted Logan to my presence, but the poor guy jumped a meter when I landed behind him.

“Would you stop doing that?” he asked. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“You knew I was coming.” I studied him. He still had bags under his eyes, but he no longer looked as if a hundred-week-old could knock him over.

Logan flinched when the door opened, but relaxed when he spotted Riley. Something had him rattled.

“Time to explain,” I said.

He typed on the keyboard for a minute. The screen changed to tables and charts that meant nothing to me.

“The explosion in the power plant was caused by sabotage,” Logan said.

“That’s—”

He cut me off. “It’s the only explanation. My first clue was the location of the blast. Damage to the plant itself was minimal, but it hit the Transmission in the perfect spot.”

“The Transmission?” Riley asked.

Logan glanced at me. “Didn’t you tell him?”

“You made me promise not to.” I shot Riley a look. “And I keep my promises.”

“Oh. Well you could have told him,” Logan said.

“Then next time you swear me to secrecy, you need to include that exception.” I quickly explained the Transmission to Riley. “Did you fix it yet?” I asked Logan.

“No.”

“What about being on a collision course?” Riley asked.

“We should have plenty of time to avoid it. As I was saying, the Transmission’s controls were damaged, but not the equipment. Repairs should be easy if we knew how the controls worked.”

“I could look at it for you,” Riley offered.

“It couldn’t hurt,” Logan said.

“How do busted controls lead you to sabotage?” I asked.

“Second clue is this.” He pointed at the screen.

Riley bent closer, but I wasn’t going to try and decipher it. “And?”

“Operating data for the plant right before the explosion,” Riley said.

“And?”

“All the machinery was operating within normal parameters,” Logan said. “There is nothing here to warn of an impending explosion. No spike in power, no jammed valves, no fire or anything unusual.”

“But the computer might not have registered it in time. Did you examine the plant?”

“Of course. Went over it with a couple of the supervisors. They’re equally puzzled about the cause.”

“But that isn’t enough to suggest sabotage,” Riley said.

Logan uncovered a glass container. “Final clue. At the explosion site, I found an oily residue coating the walls, and pieces of a timer and switch. And before you try to explain them, I tested the residue and it’s a flammable substance not found anywhere in the power plant. It’s used in the recycling kilns on level one.”

Riley picked up one of the twisted hunks of metal from the container. As he examined it, a shocked horror filled his eyes. “This could detonate a bomb.”

A bomb. Spoken aloud, the words slammed into me. Someone had set off a bomb, killing people on purpose, risking all our lives—thousands of people. I let the stunned outrage roll through me. It took me a few minutes to pull my emotions together and think.

“Who did this? Why?” I asked.

“Who would have to be someone who knew about the Transmission, and had enough knowledge to make and place the bomb so it didn’t blow a hole to Outside,” Logan said. “As for why, I can only guess. Since the Transmission was the target, either someone doesn’t want us traveling through Outer Space or someone wants to get our attention.”

“Do you think they will make demands or threaten to damage another system if we don’t comply?”

“I’ve no idea, Trell. This is all new territory for me.”

“If they plan to make demands, it should be sooner rather than later,” Riley said. “Actually, if they do contact Logan or the Committee, we might be able to find out who they are.”

“Have you informed the Committee?” I asked Logan.

“No.”

“Why not?” I demanded.

“I just connected the clues. And this information needs to be handled with care. Knowing we’re dealing with a saboteur gives us an advantage. If nothing is said, maybe the person will relax and give himself away.”

“And if word gets out, there could be panic,” Riley added.

“This is too big. The Committee needs to know.”

“Nineteen people can’t keep a secret. It’s statistically impossible,” Logan said.

“What if the saboteur makes a demand?” I asked.

“The Committee will know then, won’t they?”

I huffed in frustration. “You need to tell someone,” I said.

“I did.”

“Besides us.”

“I think that’s unwise.”

“Do you have any suspects?” Riley asked.

“Don’t encourage him,” I said.

“He’s right and you know it.”

“I can pull together a list of all those who know about the Transmission for you and Trella,” Logan said. “Us?”

He ignored me. “Anne-Jade is still trying to find out which Travas worked on the Transmission equipment. Once we have those names, I’ll add them to the list. It’s doubtful the Travas pulled it off, but one of them could have given the information to someone who isn’t under constant surveillance.”

“I can talk to the maintenance scrubs, see if they know more than they’re letting on,” Riley offered. “Are you going to tell Anne-Jade?” I asked. “Of course. She can be trusted.”

Still not convinced we were doing the right thing, I knew when I was outnumbered. “We’re going to need Jacy’s help. He has kept his network of contacts.”

“Is he trustworthy?” Riley asked. “He’s on the Committee.”

Remembering how he had bartered and traded for services and favors, I said, “I’ll talk to him.”

From the air shaft, I searched for Jacy among the Committee members’ offices in Sector H3. Each of the nineteen had been given a small space and computer to use when they weren’t sitting in meetings. Using the ducts had been a cowardly act on my part. I didn’t want to encounter any of the other members. I didn’t want to be questioned about why I left or guilted into returning.

Jacy’s office was empty. I debated waiting or leaving a note. Neither appealed to me, so I found a vent in the main corridor between Sectors and dropped down. He could be in the upper’s dining room next door in Quad G3, but my skin-tight jumpsuit would draw everyone’s attention. Since I needed regular clothes anyway, I headed down to the laundry in Sector B1 via the stairs in Quad I.

When I reached level one, I almost tripped. Huge mounds of glass, metal and clothing filled most of the floor space. The recycling plant in Quad I1 remelted glass and metal and turned clothing back into thread. Usually a busy place with scrubs sorting and carting items to the kiln or the furnace or to Chomper, only a few people worked among the piles.

I put my moccasins on, but was still careful to avoid the sharper objects as I skirted the heaps. The recycling scrubs were required to wear thick boots for a good reason.

After the mess in the recycling plant, the condition of the laundry room failed to surprise me. Bins overflowing with soiled garments and uniforms had been lined up. The line snaked around the room. Rows of washers and dryers stood silent and unused. The bins for clean clothes were empty. One person loaded a washer. Another folded clothes. A few picked through the dirty bins, searching for sizes. Otherwise the place was empty.

I crossed to the lady shoving sheets into a washer. She wore the drab green jumper that the scrubs wore when off-duty.

“Where’s everyone?” I asked. By necessity, the laundry had the most workers in the lower levels.

She shrugged. “Not here. If you want clean clothes, you have to do them yourself.”

“How long has it been like this?” I asked.

“Where’ve you been?” The woman paused to look at me for the first time. “In the upper levels, I’d bet.” She swept her hand out. “The laundry scrubs stayed for a few weeks, but none of the uppers came down to help them. Eventually they stopped. They’re not washing the uppers’ clothes. We’re all supposed to be equal, but as far as the scrubs are concerned nothing’s changed.”

I bit back my reply about the lack of Pop Cops patrolling the hallways and kill-zapping dissenters or about not having to report to the hundred hour assemblies. Instead I said, “You have to be patient. It’s going to take some time to get everyone organized. And we outnumber the uppers ten to one.”

“So? Can’t a few come down and help? How hard can it be?”

Opening my mouth to respond, I closed it. She had a point. But it wasn’t like the uppers sat around doing nothing. Yet another problem for the Committee to address.

The woman waited for my reply.

“The Committee—”

“Has caused more problems than they solved. This is a big ship, right?”

Confused by the change in topic, I said, “Sort of, but—”

“We had a captain, right?”

“Captain James Trava. But he was relieved of duty. All the Trava officers were.” We also had an admiral and a fleet admiral. Although I didn’t know why since one ship didn’t equal a fleet.

“So? Appoint another.”

I smiled. “Just like that?”

“Why not? Can’t be any harder than taking the Travas out, right? Unless you’re afraid?”

My humor died. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”

“I don’t doubt that, young lady, but I wasn’t talking about a person.”

“Then what—”

She poked a finger at a bin half hidden behind the washers. “You’ll find clean clothes in there. They’re too small for most of the scrubs.” Scooping up an armful of clothes, she added them to the washer. Conversation over.

I sorted through the uniforms and jumpers. Finding a few shirts and a pair of pants the kitchen scrubs wore, I tucked them under my arm. The nearest washroom was in Sector E1, which also housed the barracks, along with Sectors D1 and F1. Bluelights lit the rows and rows of bunk beds stacked three high.

Unlike the laundry and recycling areas, many scrubs lounged in the barracks. Some gathered in groups, others slept despite the noise and a few played cards. The place was packed and the stench of them nearly knocked me over. I hurried to change my clothes in the washroom, but as I dashed through the barracks on my way out, I spotted a number of ISF officers patrolling the barracks.

I felt as if I had just slammed into a wall. Why were they here? The scrubs didn’t like their presence either. They threw snide and nasty comments at them, mocking and taunting them. Horrible. I wondered if Anne-Jade knew what was going on down here. Or was she like me, avoiding the lower levels? I hadn’t been on levels one or two in weeks and I didn’t have a good reason either.

Sick to my stomach, I paused in the corridor and breathed in the clean air until my heart slowed to normal. Going with a hunch, I braced for another assault on my senses as I entered the barracks in Sector D1. Jacy used to hold court in a corner.

Not as bad as E1, there were less people and ISF officers. Also the general mood seemed stable and not as tense.

Sure enough, Jacy and a few of his followers huddled together. When I approached they broke apart.

“Hello Trella,” Jacy said, but his tone was far from welcoming. “What’s the emergency?”

“There isn’t one. Why would you think that?”

“You’re here with the scrubs so it must be something big.”

I ignored his snide comment. “Did you mention what’s going on down here to the Committee?”

“And just what is going on?” He acted innocent.

“The piles in recycling and the dirty laundry. How no one is doing their jobs.”

“Of course.”

“And?”

“And nothing. It’s not a high priority. The Committee thinks once the extra levels are completed and the scrubs get more space, everyone will be happy to return to work.” His sarcastic tone implied otherwise.

“Is it the same for all the systems?”

“Except for maintenance and security, they’re busy and productive. Why? Do you care now?”

I laced my hands together to keep from punching Jacy. “Okay, tell me. What should I be doing?”

He jerked as if I surprised him. “Truthfully?”

“Always.”

“Disband the Committee. Appoint a few people to be in charge.”

I laughed. “Is that it? And here I was ready for something that would be hard to do.”

“You asked.” He kept his expression neutral.

“I don’t have the power to appoint people. I’m just a—”

“A scrub?”

“No. A citizen of Inside. I’ve done my part. It’s time for other people to step in and set up a better system. I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a society.”

“Uh-huh.” Jacy leaned against a bunk. “And you’re here because …”

“I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.”

I glanced around. There were too many people nearby who seemed interested in our conversation. “Some place private.”

He frowned with annoyance then snapped his fingers at his men. They cleared a wider space around us. Impressive.

“Better?”

“Yes.” But I hesitated. His hostility worried me. Plus he acted like he had before the rebellion—as if we were enemies. Yet he had been a key member, rising to the occasion and being invaluable. I suppressed my doubts and asked him if he knew or heard of an expert in explosions.

He whistled. “You think someone damaged the power plant on purpose?”

Trust Jacy to put the pieces together so quickly. “Let’s just say I’d like another opinion.”

“Uh-huh. And what if this expert is the one you’re searching for?”

“There is always that possibility.”

He tapped his fingers on the bunk’s metal support beam as he considered my request. “I do know one scrub that would be regarded as an expert, but you need to do something for me in return.”

No surprise. “And that would be …”

“Remember those microphones you planted for me in air duct seventy-two?”

“Yes.”

“I need you to plant more in another air duct.”

“Why?” I asked. “The Pop Cops are gone and you should know everything that’s being decided from the Committee meetings.”

“Let’s just say I like another opinion. Deal?”

“Yes, I’ll plant the mics for you.” But I didn’t say where I would.

“Good. I’ll get them to you soon.”

“And that expert?”

Jacy grinned. “His name is Bubba Boom and he works for maintenance.”

“You got to be kidding me.”

“Nope. He probably had a real name when he was born, but his care mates gave him that nickname at a young age. Bubba Boom can set fire to anything, and he loved setting off little explosions. Drove his Care Mother crazy, burning up various things in the care facility. He was the youngest scrub to be a member of the fire response team since he’s equally adept at extinguishing fires.”

He sounded familiar. “Is he the guy who rigged that container of casserole to explode?”

“Yep. He had to help the kitchen scrubs clean green goo from the walls and ceiling for a week.”

I remembered hearing about his pranks. My care mates used to delight in telling the stories, but I had never learned his name. By the time I graduated from the care facility, he had stopped his mischief. “Did working for the fire response team settle him down?”

“Nope. The Pop Cops took care of that.”

Understandable. Vinco could convert anyone after a couple sessions with his knife.

Hank worked on repairs to the pipes below the blasted section of the power plant between levels three and four. He shouted orders and the others rushed to follow them. A few faces weren’t familiar and I hoped that meant more of the lower level citizens had volunteered. My optimistic assumptions burst when I spotted a number of armed ISF officers nearby.

Anne-Jade didn’t waste time. She had mentioned using Travas for the repairs a mere twelve hours ago and here they were.

When Hank took a break, I asked him about Bubba Boom.

He chuckled. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. We just call him Bubba and he’s up on level four welding the ruptured water tank.”

I thanked him and headed for the water storage tanks located in Sector B4. When I entered, the humid air reminded me of hydroponics except there was nothing living growing here—only rust. The spilled water had been cleaned, but not before some of it had dripped down to the infirmary.

The crackle and hiss of a torch sounded in the corner closest to the explosion. Sparks flew, pointing out Bubba even though he wore a metal shield over his face. He worked on a long crack along the seam of the metal tank. Wearing gray maintenance coveralls streaked with dirt and peppered with holes, his large frame reminded me of Cog.

Looking at the damage to the tanks, I wondered how Cogon would have reacted to the explosion. He would’ve been angry and upset and I would have had to force him to take breaks. He’d have every single person of Inside helping until the damage was repaired, and they would have been happy to do it for him.

Not for the first time, nor for the last, I thought it should have been me, not him that floated away into Outer Space.

I waited until Bubba finished before I cleared my throat, letting him know I was there. He pulled off the shield, revealing messy light brown hair that seemed to stand on end. Sweat trailed down the sides of his face and freckles sprinkled his cheeks and nose. Close to my age, I figured he couldn’t be more than a hundred weeks older than me.

“Need something?” Bubba Boom asked.

Going with the second opinion ruse, I asked him if he had a chance to see the point of the blast.

The edges of his mouth dipped as a guarded expression covered his face. “Everyone in maintenance has looked at it. I wondered when one of you would start asking about it.”

“One of us?”

“Committee upper.”

“I’m not …” Correcting him would be a waste of time. Since Lamont had changed my eye color back to its original blue, I had difficulties convincing people I had been raised in the lower levels like them. “Are all your colleagues wondering or just you?”

Again he masked his emotions. “Just me.”

“And you didn’t say anything to Hank?”

“No.”

I waited.

Wiping the sweat off his chin with his shoulder, he jabbed the torch in my direction. “I knew this would happen if I said anything.”

Just in case he decided to attack me with his torch’s white-hot flame, I planned which tool I would grab from my belt. Hopefully, my outward calm remained. “This?”

“Stop with the dumb act. You figured out a bomb set off the explosion, you talked to Jacy, and now I’m your primary suspect.”

Guess I needed to work on my investigative skills. Even though I wasn’t an expert in reading people, I noted the edge in his voice when he said Jacy’s name. “You would have looked less guilty if you reported your concerns to Hank.”

He shrugged, but there was nothing casual in the movement. “Force of habit. I’ve learned to keep a low profile.” Bubba Boom absently rubbed his hand along the bottom of his rib cage.

“If you didn’t build that bomb, who did?”

I surprised a laugh from him. “I don’t know. And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not? You like welding up ruptured tanks? Sanding out rust spots and re-painting the walls? What if he sets off another one? What if someone you care for dies in the next blast? What if he blows a hole to Outside and—”

“Impossible.”

“Which one?”

“Damaging one of the Walls. We measured them, they’re two meters thick.”

“How?”

“Cogon’s Gateway. That inner room between the doors is as wide as a Wall.”

Interesting and good to know. “My other points are still valid. There might be another explosion.”

“And I still wouldn’t squeal on a fellow scrub.”

“You do know the Pop Cops are no longer in charge, right?” I didn’t wait for his answer. “The worst thing we’d do is incarcerate the saboteur. He wouldn’t be fed to Chomper. And he wouldn’t be tortured into submission either.”

A stubborn tightness hardened his gaze.

I couldn’t say when I decided he wasn’t guilty; it was an internal instinct. “You think I’m an upper.”

A slight confused nod.

“My clothes and eye color gave me away.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think being called an upper is better or worse than my old nickname of Queen of the Pipes?” I asked him.

He stared at me.

“I like Queen of the Pipes better. It doesn’t have any prejudices or wrong assumptions associated with it. And the best thing, the Pop Cops didn’t give me that name. I earned it. Just like these …” I pulled up the bottom of my shirt, and showed Bubba Boom the line of round scars that followed the edge of my ribcage where Commander Vinco had gouged out my skin. “And if I knew the bastard who was blowing holes in our home, he wouldn’t need to worry about Chomper. Oh no. He’d need the ISF to protect him from me.”

Bubba Boom’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Or she would need protection. Even the Queen of the Pipes can make wrong assumptions.”

I smiled. “Never said I was perfect. And I’m not going to accuse an innocent.”

He held up a hand to stop me. “I didn’t get a chance to fully examine the blast site. Did you find any shrapnel that looked like it didn’t match any of the surrounding equipment?”

“Shrapnel as in pieces of the bomb?”

“Exactly.”

“Yes.”

He set his torch and mask down. “Okay, I’ll look at the site first, and then I’ll need to see what you found.”

I followed him to the blast location. He squinted at the damage, ran his fingers along the scorched marks, sniffed the wreckage, and sorted through the rubble. Filling his pockets with odd bits of metal and wires, he straightened and asked to see what we had collected.

The control room was empty when Bubba Boom and I entered. I showed him the pieces Logan found. He set everything out on a table, including the fragments he had gathered. Arranging and turning the bits, he scrutinized each one.

Logan arrived, but I hushed his questions. He stood next to me as we waited for Bubba to finish.

“This doesn’t look familiar,” Bubba said. He held the biggest chunk up to the light.

“Not one of yours?” Logan asked. His tone was almost nasty—very unusual for him.

“I stopped building these. You know that better than anyone,” Bubba said.

These two had a history. Wonderful.

“The Pop Cops aren’t around. You could have returned to your old ways.”

Bubba Boom huffed in exasperation. “You’re still mad at me? I never told the Pop Cops about you and your sister. That was more important than the fact I stopped helping you design your little gadgets.”

“Those gadgets—”

“Logan, that’s enough,” I said. “He agreed to assist us with finding the bomber.”

Giving me an odd look, Logan said, “How did you find out about him?”

“Jacy.”

Logan and Bubba exchanged a glance.

“What?” I demanded.

“A distraction?” Logan asked him.

“Could be.”

Fear sizzled up my spine. “Another bomb?”

“No,” Logan said. “More like keeping you busy and away from the real culprit.”

“Why would Jacy do that?” I asked.

“Don’t know,” Logan said. “He’s hard to read.”

“Anything that doesn’t have numbers scrolling across it is hard for you to read,” I teased.

“Real funny. At least I didn’t fall for Jacy’s disinformation.”

“Not quite,” Bubba Boom said.

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“Just because I stopped playing with fire, doesn’t mean I ignore what’s going on around me.” He held up a twisted piece of metal. “I recognize this.”




5


“DO TELL,” LOGAN SAID. I swatted Logan on the arm. “Cut it out.” He acted like a two-hundred-week-old, and I wondered if he had looked up to Bubba Boom only to be disappointed when the man caved in to the Pop Cops.

“There’s a couple of scrubs,” Bubba said. “I wouldn’t call them Tech Nos as their devices are rudimentary, but they’ve gotten together and built a few incendiary apparatuses.”

“Could they be responsible for the damage in the power plant?” I asked.

“Possible. One of them works in the wastewater treatment plant, the other in hydroponics. As far as I know they’ve only set off a couple stink bombs. One time they cleared everyone out of Sector E2 due to the stench.” He smiled at the memory. “They also helped keep the Pop Cops occupied while you were busy rebelling.”

Which meant Jacy knew about them. “What are their names?”

Bubba Boom squinted at the warped metal in his hands. He turned it over and over. “What if they’re innocent?”

“Then we keep searching. We’re not like the Pop Cops,” I said.

“Really? Then why are there ISF goons patrolling the barracks all the time?” he asked.

“Because of the fights,” Anne-Jade said from the doorway. “They’re not working so they’re bored. Nine times out of ten boredom leads to trouble. We did our share of proving that theory didn’t we, Bubba?”

A wide grin spread on his face, matching Anne-Jade’s. “We sure did,” he said.

Logan’s displeasure deepened. “As much as I’m not enjoying this little reunion, we need the names of the two stink bombers.”

Bubba Boom met Anne-Jade’s gaze. “Promise me you won’t do anything rash? That you will be one hundred percent sure they’re guilty before you arrest them?”

“When have I ever done anything rash?” Anne-Jade asked.

He gestured to me. “When you risked everything helping her.”

“That wasn’t rash,” she corrected. “Risky, dangerous and suicidal, but not rash. We studied the situation carefully before offering our assistance.” She winked at me. “Stubborn scrub almost turned us down, but it worked in our favor.”

Bubba Boom tapped the metal piece against his leg as he considered. “All right. Kadar works in waste management, and Ivie is one of the gardeners in hydroponics.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Can you keep our … suspicions quiet for now? I don’t want people to panic.”

“Sure.” He hesitated and glanced at Anne-Jade before leaving the control room.

“He’s full of sheep’s manure,” Logan said. “A woman named Ivie who just happens to work in hydroponics. Come on, how dumb does he think we are?”

“At least he didn’t say Crapdar,” I said.

Logan laughed. “Close enough.”

Anne-Jade frowned. “I think he’s telling the truth.”

“You would,” he said.

“What’s that suppose to mean?”

Before they could launch into an argument, I asked Logan, “Can you look up those names in the population records, see if they do exist?”

“I don’t have the time, but you can do it. It’s easy,” he said.

I tried to object, but Anne-Jade said, “I need you first.”

Her tone didn’t give me a warm feeling. “For what?”

“None of the Travas will tell me who worked on the Transmission.”

Cold fingers gripped my stomach as I braced for the rest of her news.

“However, ex-Lieutenant Commander Karla Trava is willing to cooperate. But she’ll only negotiate with you.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“I think it’s obvious,” Anne-Jade said. When I failed to respond, she added, “Gloating over our problems for one, and just being difficult because she can. Plus she sees you as her ultimate enemy. If it wasn’t for you, she would still be in command of the Pop Cops.”

“Does she know I don’t have the authority to grant anything she asks for? That I would need the Committee’s approval?”

“Yes. And that may be part of the gloating.”

“Wonderful,” I grumbled. “Do I have to talk to her in the brig?”

“No. We’ll bring her to my office and secure her, then give you two privacy.”

This kept getting better and better. “When?”

“Now.”

The thought of negotiating with Karla Trava sapped my energy. I rubbed my hand over my eyes.

Logan said, “Trella, each second we stand here brings us closer to a collision. We need to fix the Transmission.”

“All right.” Let the fun begin.

Anne-Jade had commandeered half of Karla’s office in Quad A4, including her large desk and multiple computers. The other side held two smaller worktables for her lieutenants. The room remained almost the same from when Karla occupied it. Weapons and handcuffs hung from the side wall, Remote Access Temperature Sensitive Scanners (RATSS) lined a shelf and a bench with chains and cuffs bisected the area.

The couch had been removed and a variety of high-tech devices filled the long table. Anne-Jade’s little receivers and microphones made the Pop Cop’s communicators look clunky and old.

While Anne-Jade and her lieutenants fetched Karla, I paced the room. I automatically noted all the points of escape—two air vents in the ceiling and four heating vents near the floor.

When the door banged open, I steeled myself for the encounter. Sitting on the edge of a hard metal chair, I fidgeted with the buttons on my shirt. Wedged between the two ISF officers, Karla’s smirk didn’t waver as they cuffed her to the bench. She had twisted her long blond hair up into a knot on the top of her head. Her gaze swept my face and clothes, sparking amusement in her violet-colored eyes.

Now that I knew the doctors could change a person’s eye color, I wondered if Lamont had tampered with hers.

“We’ll be right outside.” Anne-Jade handed me a stunner. “Just yell if you need us.”

The door shut with a metallic clang that vibrated in my heart, matching my rapid pulse.

Karla laughed. “Still afraid of me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s disgust and not fear on my face. You reek of the brig.”

“And you should know, having spent many hours there.”

“Yes, I spent about thirty hours in your custody before I escaped. You’re up to … what? Fourteen hundred at least and counting. Big difference.”

Her humor faded. “We underestimated you. Something that won’t happen again. But who could blame us? Look at you. Leader of a rebellion and you’re still a scrawny little scrub.”

“What did you expect?”

“Better clothes.” It was my turn to laugh, but it died when she said, “And more power. You risked your life for them, yet you have to beg for the Committee’s permission to do anything.”

“Unlike you, I’m quite content with my role as support personnel. I never desired power, just freedom,” I said.

“Uh-huh. And do you have your freedom?”

“Of course.”

She opened her mouth, but I cut in and said, “Let’s skip the small talk crap. We need the names of those who know how to repair the Transmission. What do you want in exchange?”

A sly half-smile teased the corners of her mouth as she leaned back, crossing her legs. “We never had that type of trouble when we were in charge. I think some of the scrubs miss us. And when you combine unhappy scrubs and bored prisoners, you can get an explosive reaction.”

I studied her. Was she guessing about the sabotage? And was her comment a hint of more problems to come? Either way, a quick negotiation didn’t seem likely.

“Should we recycle all the Travas to avoid any more trouble?” I asked.

She shrugged. “You obviously need a few of us to help with unexpected repairs, but this indecisiveness over what to do with us will only cause more problems. Which I’m more than happy to sit back and watch.”

Anne-Jade had been right about her desire to gloat. “Thanks for the tip,” I said. “But I’m here to get names and not a lecture.”

Annoyance flashed in her eyes before she returned to acting casual. “Fine. In exchange for fixing the Transmission, we want the people in the brig to be released to our quarters, and we desire trials to determine degree of guilt in your warped little minds. There is no reason the entire Trava family should be confined.”

I hated to admit this, but she had a point about the Trava family. However, releasing the upper officers from the brig would be a mistake.

Karla waved her hand as best she could while cuffed to the bench. “Run along to the Committee now and deliver my request like a good little scrub.”

I couldn’t suppress my grin as I toggled on my button microphone. Repeating her demands to the Committee, I waited as they discussed them. She rested her hands in her lap in an attempt to disguise the fury pulsing through her body, but her rigid posture betrayed her. I slid back in my chair, relaxing.

As expected the Committee was willing to review each family member’s actions prior to the rebellion to determine degree of guilt for each, but they refused to move the brig prisoners. I relayed this to Karla.

“Next?”

She scowled and my heart stuttered for a few beats—an automatic response.

“My terms are not negotiable,” she said.

My temper flared. This had been a waste of time. “Then we’re done.” I stood to leave.

“You have to fix the Transmission.” Karla’s voice held a bit of panic. “The survival of our world depends on it.”

I pressed a finger to my ear as if listening to a message. “The Committee is willing to include those in the brig in the review process.”

“No. We want out of the brig.”

Keeping my hand near my ear, I cocked my head and furrowed my brow. “Okay, then you’ll be taken out of the brig and sent to Chomper.”

Shock bleached her face. “That’s not what I meant. What about the repairs?”

It was hard not to snigger over her reaction. “I’m sure once the others see how we cleaned out the brig, they’ll be more cooperative.”

Her hard stare burned like acid on my skin, but I kept my face neutral.

“You’re lying,” she said.

“Doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” I strode toward the door.

“Wait,” she said.

I paused but didn’t turn around.

“I’ll tell you the names if you do a review for all the Travas, including those in the brig.”

Glancing over my shoulder, I said, “All right.”

I rummaged for a wipe board and marker and returned to Karla. “Don’t lie,” I said. “If the names are wrong, you’ll be the first to be sent to Chomper. I’ll do the honors myself.”

Karla rattled off three and I wrote them down. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I hadn’t been expecting to. Without saying goodbye, I left the office. Anne-Jade waited in the hallway.

“Well?” she asked.

I handed her the board.

She whistled. “Last I heard, the Committee was waiting for a counter-offer. What happened?”

“She pissed me off.”

Feeling rather satisfied over my meeting with Karla, I changed into my climbing clothes and returned to the Expanse. I found the mark I had left on my last trip. The safety equipment hung nearby, so I strapped it on and made another attempt to reach the ceiling.

The new route looked promising and, after finding plenty of handholds, I climbed higher than ever before. I rested at twenty-three meters above level ten. Craning my head back, I shone my light up into the blackness. Still no ceiling. Logan had found a few diagrams in the computer system, and from them he estimated Inside’s height to be about seventy-five meters, which would put it about two meters above my head. Either the computer or Logan had been wrong.

I yanked on the safety line and guessed I had another couple meters before I was literally at the end of my rope.

When I felt strong enough, I continued and discovered why meter seventy-five was mentioned in the computer. A bottom rung of a ladder started at that point. I grabbed the wide cold bar, hoping the rung would hold my weight. The smooth and rounded shape fit nicely in my hands. And my light illuminated the ladder which continued up with more rungs disappearing into the darkness.

I climbed on the ladder another meter, confirming the metal hadn’t rusted or deteriorated with time. Squinting, I shone my light higher, but the ceiling still remained out of sight. However, I thought I spotted a dim gleam of a reflection. Wishful thinking or my imagination, it didn’t matter. It was enough to justify my decision to unhook my harness from the safety line.

Despite the cold, sweat soaked the fabric of my uniform. I rubbed my moist palm on my arm before grasping the next rung. Continuing up the ladder with slow and careful movements, I tested each before allowing it to bear my weight. In the silence of the Expanse, my breath sounded loud and mechanical. My heart thudded with urgency as it reminded me of the danger. One slip, and … I wouldn’t think about it.

Instead, I focused on keeping a tight grip and my balance on the rungs. Concentrating so hard on my hands and feet, I bumped my head on the ceiling. I clung to the ladder in surprise, and when my muscles stopped trembling, I scanned the flat expanse of metal over my head. Finally!

I checked the altimeter. Inside was eighty meters high, which meant we could build six more levels for a total of sixteen. Wow. That was mind-numbing. I hoped our systems could service all those levels. And what about keeping them clean and in good condition? And when did I turn into such a worrier?

Eventually, someone would need to explore the entire ceiling. Logan had read about another Outer Space Gateway in the computer files. By the way he described the file system, it had sounded as jumbled as the infirmary’s supplies after the explosion. Between the Travas’ attempts to erase files and the sheer amount of information, Logan had said—with his usual glee over a technical challenge—that it was an utter mess.

With one last look upwards, I steeled myself for the descent and stopped. Moving the beam of light slowly, I searched for the almost invisible indentation I thought I spotted from the corner of my eye. I swept the beam back and forth over a square meter-sized section. When I was just about to give up, the light skipped over a line.

I found a near-invisible hatch! Pleased over my discovery, it took me a few seconds to understand the full ramifications of my find. Above each of the four levels we have been living in, was a near-invisible hatch to the Gap between levels. This meter and a half space housed pipes and wires and room for someone like me to move between levels without being seen.

I had thought I reached the ceiling. But the presence of a near-invisible hatch meant there was something on the other side.




6


SOMETHING ON THE OTHER SIDE. I REPEATED IT IN MY mind in order for the logical side of my brain to catch up. No black rubber ringed the hatch, which meant it wasn’t a Gateway to Outer Space. There could be another Expanse and room for additional levels. I laughed, but it sounded strained and metallic as it echoed. I had thought sixteen levels incomprehensible.

Only one way to know for sure, I hooked my legs through the rungs on the ladder to anchor my body. Stretching my hands up, I felt for the release.

The pop-click reverberated through the bones in my arms. I pushed the hatch. The metal groaned and creaked, setting my teeth on edge. A dusty stale smell drifted down.

When the opening was big enough for me to fit through, I shined my light inside. The ladder continued another meter before stopping. Odd shapes decorated the wall. Taking a risk, I climbed into the space. The floor seemed solid so I stepped down, but still held on to the ladder just in case.





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