Outside In (3 page)

“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 in crease 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.”

“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.