Inside

by Maria V. Snyder

  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.”

  Chapter 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?”

&nb
sp; “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 uppers’ dining room next door in Quad G3, but my skintight 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.