Outside In

by Maria V. Snyder

  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 lo
ok 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 fin ished, 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.