Outside In (7 page)

“It can’t.”

“Why not?”

“There are backup systems and everything has been saved in protected files.”

“But what if they’re compromised as well?”

He dismissed my concerns. “Won’t happen. And you’re trying to distract me so I don’t teach you how to navigate through the network.”

“I’m not. I’m just worried another bomb might blow apart the network.”

“Don’t worry, there are many safeguards in place. Unless you want me to have Logan explain—”

“No! I trust you.”

He clutched his hands to his chest. “She… Gasp… Trusts me! Call for medical aid stat!”

I swung at him, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet.

Snaking his arms around my waist, he said, “We need to celebrate this momentous occasion.”

“What are we celebrating?” Jacob Ashon, Riley’s father, asked from the doorway.

I pushed Riley away to greet his father. But the damage had been done. He grinned at us like an idiot. Joy beamed from his brown eyes as his gaze went from Riley’s wet hair to mine. I suppressed a groan.

“We’re celebrating Trella learning the computer system,” Riley said.

The wattage from his grin dulled a few kilos. His slightly disappointed expression reminded me of Riley. He had his father’s solid build, sense of humor and mannerisms, but, according to Jacob, Riley’s black hair, blue eyes and stubbornness had been inherited from his mother, Ramla Ashon.

She had been another casualty of the failed Force of Ten rebellion along with Nolan Garrard, Blas Sanchia and Shawn Lamont. Four brave souls who would be honored with a plaque or memorial along with Cogon once our world settled back into… What? Not like we would return to life before. I guessed just when our society settled into a new routine.

“Oh,” Jacob said then recovered his brightness. “Don’t teach her too much. She tends to leave a wake of trouble behind her, and I don’t want to spend hours trying to decipher the carnage.”

“Not funny,” I said, plopping back down in the chair. The diagram of file names on the screen hadn’t gotten any more understandable with Riley’s explanation.

Riley attempted another round of frustrating instruction before giving in and swapping places with me. I paid attention for a few minutes, but soon lost interest. As he worked, I studied Jacob. He straightened the mess of wires and gadgets Riley had strewn about the room, collecting them into a neat pile.

Jacob had been thrilled to be reunited with Blake, Riley’s younger brother. Having to send a child to live in the lower levels must be difficult especially since Jacob reveled in the whole family experience. I wondered if Blake’s decision to return to living in the barracks upset him. If I did test my blood to determine if Nolan and Lamont were my parents, I knew Jacob would be happy. Despite Lamont’s first betrayal costing him his wife, and the second one almost killing his son, he stayed friends with her. Crazy.

“…paying attention, Trella?” Riley asked.

“Uh…”

“You’re impossible. Here’s the file you need.” He stood. “
You
can search through it.”

Back in front of the computer, I scanned the directory of names with birth weeks, barrack locations and other stats listed next to them. The file contained all the lower level scrubs. All eighteen thousand and change. Ugh.

As I scrolled down the page, Riley asked his father why he was late.

“I visited your brother,” Jacob said. “The Committee heard rumors of the kitchen workers threatening to cook only enough food for themselves. I thought I’d check into it and see if I can resolve the issue.”

I tuned out their conversation, glad I no longer had to deal with the Committee’s problems. Concentrating on the list, I thought there must be a reason why the names had been put in this particular order. It wasn’t alphabetical, by barrack location, birth week, by Care Mother or by care unit. At the end of the stats for each were the same letters: AS.

When my name jumped out, I stopped. Did AS mean air scrub? I didn’t recognize the other names with AS, but I hadn’t learned the names of my fellow workers either. After I scrolled a few more pages the AS turned into a CS and I found my Care Mother’s name in that section.

The list had been organized by work area and they had been alphabetized. I quickly bypassed the other workers until I reached the hydroponics scrubs. Sure enough, Ivie was listed. After I wrote down her stats on a wipe board, I found Kadar and copied his as well.

They had been care mates. No surprise. They were also a few centiweeks older than me, putting them closer to Cog’s age. And they slept in Sector D1, Jacy’s barrack. I tapped the marker against my teeth. This information didn’t mean anything other than they existed. Bubba Boom could have picked their names at random.

To really find out what’s going on, someone would need to follow those two around. I couldn’t do it as I was too recognizable with my blue eyes and small stature. The best way would be to recruit someone not in Jacy’s network and who I could trust.

“Trella?” Riley interrupted my train of thought. “Did you hear what’s going on in the lower level kitchen?”

I turned. “A little. I found those names, and I think we—”

“There might be a food strike. Don’t you care?”

“Of course I do, but your dad and the Committee know about it. They can deal with it. Plus they have Blake to…”

Riley crossed his arms. A danger sign. “To what?”

“To warn them.” And he would be perfect to spy on Ivie and Kadar for me. “Does Blake come up here often to visit?”

“Why?” When I hesitated, he said, “I recognize that look. Tell me what you’re planning.”

By the tension rolling off Riley, I knew to tread carefully. “We need a reliable person to keep an eye on Ivie and Kadar for us. I thought Blake cou—”

“No. You’re not putting him in danger.”

“It won’t be that dangerous.”

“What if Ivie and Kadar are the bombers and they notice Blake’s interest in them? He could be their next target. Besides, he’ll be needed to report to the Committee about the food situation. Trella, you’ve got to keep in mind the big picture, not just the next thing you want to do.”

The big picture. I almost laughed, remembering what I had said to Jacy about being a big picture girl. Drawing in a deep breath, I held it along with a sarcastic reply. My search for the saboteurs was important, but I suspected his ire went deeper than the recent kitchen crisis, and I had no energy to fight with him. The climb to the ceiling of the Expanse had sapped my strength.

Instead, I swiveled back to the computer screen. Not sure how to log out, I picked up the wipe board. Before I could stand, a bright whiteness flashed on the monitor, erasing the list. Then it faded to black. It seemed odd, but when I glanced at Riley, his attention remained on me.

I stood and waved the wipe board. “I’ll find someone else to help me with my problem.” Hurrying toward the door, I had almost reached the handle when he called my name.

“Who are you going to recruit?” he asked.

“I’m sure Anne-Jade knows a trustworthy person. I’ll see you later.” I slipped out of the room before he could say any thing else.

When the door clicked shut, I leaned against the hallway’s wall and considered my next move. No one was in sight. The corridors in the upper living sectors never had much traffic and they tended to be a bit of a maze. I was already on level four and Anne-Jade should be working in her office in Quad A4. Pushing off the wall, I headed to the right and froze.

Gray smoke rolled along the thin carpet. I recovered from my shock and ran, following the clouds. They thickened and blackened as I drew closer to the air plant in Quad I4. Halfway there, the shrill fire alarm sounded, assaulting my ears. Soon shouts and shrieks joined in the cacophony.

The smoke blocked my vision as it stung my eyes. I dropped to the floor and crawled to the entrance of the plant. The heat reached me first. Then I gawked at the fire. Erupting from the units that housed the air filters, flames licked at the ceiling. Water rained down from the sprinkler system, the streams hissed and steamed on the hot metal, but nothing sprayed from the nozzles directly over the air filters.

A few workers ran past me, emptying the room. About to do the same, I spotted a figure sprawled on the floor near the control panel. His legs draped over pieces of a broken chair. It looked as if he had fallen backwards. Dead?

I strained to hear any sounds that meant the fire response team had arrived, but the roar of the blaze dominated. Then he rolled to his side and I saw his face.

Logan.

WHAT THE HELL WAS LOGAN DOING IN THE AIR PLANT?
His shoulders shook as he coughed and I realized the flames burned closer to him. It didn’t matter why. All that mattered was saving him.

I ripped two strips of fabric from the hem of my shirt. Lying on the floor, I pulled myself toward him as if I squirmed through a tight air shaft. When I encountered the warm puddles of water from the sprinklers, I rolled, soaking my clothes and dipping the strips in them. I tied one around my nose and mouth.

Logan’s lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he shouted. Blisters peppered his face. He squeezed his eyes closed as another coughing fit racked his body.

Sliding as fast as possible on my belly, I finally reached Logan. He jerked in surprise when I touched him. At this distance, the heat from the fire was almost intolerable and breathing was all but impossible.

“It’s Trella,” I yelled in his ear. “Can you walk?”

He clutched my arm. “Yes, but I can’t see!”

“Here.” I wrapped the other strip around his face to filter the smoke. “Stay low and keep—” Hot air choked me. Thick black smoke engulfed us and stung my eyes. A brief thought that perhaps I should have waited for the fire response team flashed. But the air cleared for a nanosecond and I tugged Logan toward the entrance.

We crawled, rolled and stumbled. The heat intensified, evaporating the water from the sprinklers before it reached the floor. The hot metal seared our skin. Halfway there, Logan collapsed and I yanked him another meter before I joined him.

Air refused to fill my lungs and my throat burned. Blackness danced in my vision, swirling with white sparks. It reminded me of the brief glimpse I had of Outer Space before Cogon floated away. Except then it had been ice cold and this time it was my turn to drift off.

A blast of water hit me, rousing me and rolling me over. Strong arms peeled me from the floor, carried me. Voices yelled and admonished, but I had no breath to respond. Tucked against my rescuer’s chest, I stared as the walls of Inside streaked by.

Then the familiar curtains of the infirmary surrounded me. I was laid on a bed as a mask covered my nose and mouth, forcing cool air down my lungs. I sucked it in despite the sharp pain in my throat. My skin felt like the flames still licked at it. The small prick in my arm a mere nuisance in comparison to the rest of my body.

Only when the dizziness started did I realize what the prick meant. Too late to resist, I let my world spin out of control. It wasn’t a new feeling. Not at all.

At least when I woke, the pain was gone. But the mask remained—a good thing since my lungs strained to breathe. My arms and legs had been wrapped in bandages. Soft white gloves covered my hands. Faces came and went as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I recognized Lamont’s frown, Riley’s worry and Bubba Boom’s scowl. I understood the words
painkillers, idiot, brain damage, reckless
and
growing skin grafts.
But I didn’t see the one face I worried about or hear the one voice I wanted to hear or heck, I’d even settle for someone mentioning his name. Logan.

Without him, Inside would be lost. Besides the high-ranking Travas, he alone knew how to run this ship. The Captain in all but name. I suspected he had been the primary target of the fire for just that reason. I tried to yank the mask off to ask, but Lamont slapped my hand and threatened to inject me with a sedative if I touched it again.

Hours or weeks later—hard to tell—I woke into the quiet stillness of bluelights. They shone through the fabric of the privacy curtains. I no longer felt as if a person made of solid metal sat on my chest so I removed the mask, but kept it close just in case.

Sheepy was tucked in next to me. Smiling, I moved him so he wouldn’t fall on the floor as I struggled to sit up. The effort winded me. I sucked a few deep breaths from the mask. Moving with care so I wouldn’t make a sound, I slipped through the overlap in the fabric. I paused to let my eyes adjust and my legs solidify under me. The clock read hour ninety-two, which would mean I had been out of it for sixty hours. Losing hunks of time just had to stop, I felt as if I spent more time in the infirmary than anywhere else.

A robe hung over a nearby chair as if someone suspected I’d be creeping out of bed—Riley probably. Wrapping it around my shoulders, I scanned the other beds. A couple of patients slept in the next two, but the third had also been isolated from the room by the curtains. Logan’s, I hoped.

I shuffled-stepped—all I could manage with my bandage-wrapped legs and tight skin—over to the hidden patient. Ducking under the curtain, I almost fainted with relief. Logan slept in the bed. Or at least I think he was sleeping. Bandages covered his eyes and a mask rested over his nose and mouth.

He tugged it away from his face. “Who’s there?”

“Trella,” I whispered.

Logan reached with his free hand and I took it in mine. He also wore the special white gloves. “Thanks,” he said.

I shrugged, but realized he couldn’t see the motion. “I just got you closer to the door. Someone else did the true life saving.” And I would need to find out his name. “Besides, you’d have done the same for me.”

“Probably.” His smile didn’t last long.

“What’s the damage?”

“Ten air…filter bays. The computer—”

“I meant you.”

“Oh. Burns over fifty percent—” he puffed “—of my body.” He pressed the mask to his face and inhaled deeply for a few minutes. “Lost my vision…but it might be…temporary.”

Horror swept over me and I squeezed his hand. “Might? That’s vague.”

“Doctor Lamont…will know better…in time.”

“How much time?”

He shook his head. “Don’t know.”

I waited as he drank in more of the oxygen-rich air flowing from the mask. “I have a million questions, but I’ll ask you them later. Just answer this one. Do you think the fire was an act of sabotage or an attack aimed at you?”

“Both.”

The news inflamed the burns on my skin, sending a hot surge of fear. “Why aren’t you surrounded by guards?” “He’s protected,” Anne-Jade said. She poked her head in between the curtain’s overlap.

I jumped. “How long have you been listening?”

“I’ve been here the whole time.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

She smiled. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Yeah right. You were hoping to overhear something juicy.”

Parting the fabric, she stood next to her brother’s bed. Anne-Jade glanced at him and then me. “And just how much juice do you think I could get from a couple of overcooked mutton chops like yourselves?”

Logan’s laughter turned into a coughing fit.

“Okay. Point taken. Who else knows about the attack?”

“The Committee has been informed of both sabotages and the attempt on Logan’s life.”

She gripped the rail on Logan’s bed as if a great weight rested on her shoulders. All humor fled her eyes and I realized she teetered on the edge of exhaustion.

Even though I was reluctant to ask, and I could probably guess the answer, I had to hear it from her. “And the Committee’s response?”

“Lockdown and search of all levels.”

Now I had to grab the rail or risk falling to the floor. We had come full circle. Instead of Pop Cops policing the lower levels, we now had ISF officers. They would confine everyone to their barracks until they could do a thorough search for evidence. At least, they included the upper levels.

Anne-Jade said, “Do you have any better ideas? We can’t let them keep blowing and burning up vital life systems. We also brought Ivie and Kadar in for questioning.”

“How did—”

“We found your wipe board in the hallway outside the air plant. I remembered the names from our discussion with Bubba Boom.”

“But you don’t have any proof they’re involved. Just his suspicions.”

“Doesn’t matter. There could be another explosion or at tempt to get to Logan or you.”

“Me? Why would they—”

“To prevent you from discovering any more surprises. They’re still reeling from the fact we’re in a big ship and we have all this extra room to spread out.”

Good thing I’d kept the bubble monster to myself.

Anne-Jade then asked me how I had gotten to the air plant so fast. “Did someone ask you to meet there?”

“No.” I explained about leaving Riley’s, but omitted the fact I had been going to find her. Any chance to discover what Ivie and Kadar had been up to had been ruined. And if they had been working with anyone, it would be impossible to find out now.

“A lucky coincidence,” Anne-Jade said. She smoothed Logan’s hair. “By the time the fire response team arrived they could only go a few meters into the plant. If you hadn’t dragged Logan closer…”

“Who pulled us out?”

“Bubba Boom carried you and Hank from maintenance grabbed Logan.”

“How’s the plant?”

“Bad. Smoke spread throughout Inside and made a bunch of people sick. Half the air filters are burnt to a crisp. The air workers are rigging up a temporary cleaning system, but it won’t last long. When you’re feeling better, they’re going to need you to help install filters in the air ducts. It’s another temporary measure.”

Logan lifted his mask again. “Plant fire also…a distraction.”

“And a lure to get you in harm’s way,” Anne-Jade said.

“No. A distraction from…computer.”

Dread twisted and I wished I had stayed in my bed. “What’s wrong with the computer?”

“Compromised.”

My chest felt as if my body had gotten stuck in a tight pipe. “How bad?”

“Don’t know…I need to…see.”

I considered. Besides the burning from the smoke, my vision hadn’t been affected by the heat. “Logan, was there an explosion in the air plant before the fire?”

“No. Light exploded from—” Another coughing fit seized him. “From…the computer monitor. It burned…my eyes.”

Anne-Jade and I shared a horrified look.

“Who could…?” I couldn’t even say the words.

“I could,” Logan said.

“Who else?” his sister demanded.

“A few…of the Travas. Maybe Riley.” He drew on the mask for a few breaths. “Domotor. Trella’s father.”

“Nolan’s been fertilizer for over fifteen centiweeks,” I said, dismissing him.

“According to…Karla Trava.” He shrugged. “She didn’t recycle you—”

“We don’t know that for sure.” I squelched any and all hope. It was ludicrous. “Besides, he would have revealed himself after the rebellion.”

Another shrug. I mulled over his list. Not Riley and I doubted Domotor, so that left the Travas. “Are there any working computers in Sector D4?”

Anne-Jade scowled at me. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“We disabled them,” Logan said.

“Could they have hooked them back up?” And before Anne-Jade could snap at me, I added, “They don’t have anything else to do. And you and Logan made a number of amazing devices just from recycled parts so it’s a valid question.”

She scratched her arm absently. “I guess it’s possible. I’ll have a team go in and check.” Huffing in annoyance, she slid her hand under her sleeve and rubbed harder.

Logan reached out blindly and touched her arm. “Stop it. Doctor Lamont said…to leave it…alone or it’ll get infected.”

“But it itches,” she said between gritted teeth.

“What happened?” I asked her.

She pushed up her sleeve, revealing white bandages like the ones on Logan and my arms. “I donated skin so the Doctor could grow my brother a new coat.”

Logan smiled. “I’m covered with girl germs…don’t tell Riley.”

“Maybe you’ll be smarter now,” she quipped. “I’d like to think you will appreciate having a sister more, but I doubt it.”

I remembered he had said he had been burned on over fifty percent of his body. “He needed skin grafts from you to live. Didn’t he?”

“Yes. I matched his skin type, which doesn’t always happen with siblings.”

Glancing at my own bandaged arms, I wondered how badly I had been burned. I met Anne-Jade’s steady gaze.

“You weren’t as bad as Logan, but you needed skin grafts to survive as well,” she said.

She shifted her stance as if challenging me to ask her who donated skin cells for me; either that or she prepared for a fight. I didn’t have the energy to deal with either so I said goodbye and shuffled back to my bed.

The effort to visit Logan had exhausted me. Grateful for the flow of clean air, I inhaled large lung-filling breaths from my mask. Funny how I had taken something as vital as breathing for granted—not paying it one bit of attention until it had become a problem.

The next time I woke, the daylights brightened the infirmary and half of my curtain had been pushed back. Lamont rolled a small table toward me. Stocked with clean bandages, salve, a bowl of water and a sponge, I grimaced in anticipation. She planned to change my dressing and clean the burns.

Hour two glowed on the clock. Another ten hours lost to injury. Another week gone. We were now on week 147,022.

Lamont tried a smile, but thought better of it. She kept her tone and mannerisms all business. Doctor to patient. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been stuffed into an oven and twice baked.”

Amusement flashed on her face. She tucked a long strand of her hair that had escaped her braid behind her ear. Wearing her light green shirt and pants, she looked ready for surgery. “You know I need to—”

“Just get it over with…please.”

With deft fingers, she peeled the bandages from my left arm, starting at the wrist. “You might not want to see your skin. It’s not fully healed yet and will look like…”

I waited.

“Raw meat. But it will return to normal healthy skin. I even removed the scars on your arms and legs from…before.”

“You can do that?”

“It’s considered cosmetic surgery. I normally wouldn’t do it for arms or legs. Faces, yes. But since you needed so much skin already…”

“Oh. Thanks.”

Without the dressing the air stung my skin. I braced for the touch of water and it didn’t disappoint, feeling like liquid fire as it ran down my arm. I hissed in pain.

“Do you want a pain pill?” she asked.