Inside

by Maria V. Snyder

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 anything 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.

  Chapter 7

  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 su
rrounded 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 attempt 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 surger
y. “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.

  “No…thank you. They make me sleepy and I’ve slept enough.” Why was I being so polite? Because this woman saved your life.

  I kept that thought in mind as she changed all the bandages. My extremities fared the worst. When she finished my bedding and gown were soaked, and so were her sleeves. She pushed them up to help me switch to a clean bed and I froze.

  White bandages peeked out from under the wet fabric on both of her arms. I stared at them, knowing what they meant, but not wanting to really believe it. Finally, I pulled my gaze away and met hers.

  “You were going to die,” she said. “We needed to find you a match.”

  Chapter 8

  “And you matched my skin type?” I asked.

  Struggling to keep her professional demeanor, Lamont nodded. Impressive considering I stood less than a meter from her. The fact we matched meant I was her daughter. The daughter she had thought had been fed to Chomper over fifteen hundred weeks ago. Alive and…not quite well, but living and breathing.

  How would I feel if Cogon returned from Outer Space and he hated me for leaving him out there? Thrilled and awful at the same time.

  But I couldn’t get the image of her standing with Karla Trava in the main Control Room out of my mind. She had searched all the faces in the room and didn’t recognize me. Shouldn’t a mother recognize her own daughter no matter how old she was? Plus the fact that she had been there with Karla in the first place, cooperating with her, endangering thousands of people for her own selfish desire.