Outside In Part 3

"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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce, pus.h.i.+ng us toward our destination. With me so far?"

"Yeah. It's moving us through Outer s.p.a.ce."

"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 s.p.a.ce isn't empty. There are ma.s.sive objects called Planets, huge projectiles with names like Asteroids and Comets, and dense b.a.l.l.s 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."

3.

"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 dataa"

"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 cl.u.s.ter 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, s.h.i.+ning 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 s.h.i.+ft 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, rus.h.i.+ng 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 s.h.i.+ft. I'm helping to repair the ductwork between levels three and four."

His shoulders drooped. "Oh. I thought we coulda""

"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, anda""

"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 needa""

"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 s.h.i.+ft, 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.

"aforce 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 s.h.i.+ny cascade.

The family resemblance was unmistakable, and I wondered if they were fraternal twins. They've always known they were relateda"a rarity among the scrubsa"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 Insidea"a cube with the capital letter I on the front sidea"had been st.i.tched 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 s.p.a.ce. 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, Ia""

"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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.h.i.+rt and pants, and weaving my wet hair into a single braid, I debated between food, sleep and Riley.

Riley won. I switched on my b.u.t.ton 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.