Outside In Part 5

"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'sa""

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 gla.s.s 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. Some one had set off a bomb, killing people on purpose, risking all our livesa"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 s.p.a.ce 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 s.p.a.ce 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 upper's dining room next door in Quad G3, but my skin-tight 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 gla.s.s, metal and clothing filled most of the floor s.p.a.ce. The recycling plant in Quad I1 remelted gla.s.s 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.

She shrugged. "Not here. If you want clean clothes, you have to do them yourself."

"How long has it been like this?" I asked.

"Where've you been?" The woman paused to look at me for the first time. "In the upper levels, I'd bet." She swept her hand out. "The laundry scrubs stayed for a few weeks, but none of the uppers came down to help them. Eventually they stopped. They're not was.h.i.+ng the uppers' clothes. We're all supposed to be equal, but as far as the scrubs are concerned nothing's changed."

I bit back my reply about the lack of Pop Cops patrolling the hallways and kill-zapping dissenters or about not having to report to the hundred hour a.s.semblies. Instead I said, "You have to be patient. It's going to take some time to get every one organized. And we outnumber the uppers ten to one."

"So? Can't a few come down and help? How hard can it be?"

Opening my mouth to respond, I closed it. She had a point. But it wasn't like the uppers sat around doing nothing. Yet another problem for the Committee to address.

The woman waited for my reply.

"The Committeea""

"Has caused more problems than they solved. This is a big s.h.i.+p, right?"

Confused by the change in topic, I said, "Sort of, buta""

"We had a captain, right?"

"Captain James Trava. But he was relieved of duty. All the Trava officers were." We also had an admiral and a fleet admiral. Although I didn't know why since one s.h.i.+p didn't equal a fleet.

"So? Appoint another."

I smiled. "Just like that?"

"Why not? Can't be any harder than taking the Travas out, right? Unless you're afraid?"

My humor died. "I'm not afraid of anyone."

"I don't doubt that, young lady, but I wasn't talking about a person."

"Then whata""

She poked a finger at a bin half hidden behind the washers. "You'll find clean clothes in there. They're too small for most of the scrubs." Scooping up an armful of clothes, she added them to the washer. Conversation over.

I sorted through the uniforms and jumpers. Finding a few s.h.i.+rts and a pair of pants the kitchen scrubs wore, I tucked them under my arm. The nearest washroom was in Sector E1, which also housed the barracks, along with Sectors D1 and F1. Bluelights lit the rows and rows of bunk beds stacked three high.

Unlike the laundry and recycling areas, many scrubs lounged in the barracks. Some gathered in groups, others slept despite the noise and a few played cards. The place was packed and the stench of them nearly knocked me over. I hurried to change my clothes in the washroom, but as I dashed through the barracks on my way out, I spotted a number of ISF officers patrolling the barracks.

I felt as if I had just slammed into a wall. Why were they here? The scrubs didn't like their presence either. They threw snide and nasty comments at them, mocking and taunting them. Horrible. I wondered if Anne-Jade knew what was going on down here. Or was she like me, avoiding the lower levels? I hadn't been on levels one or two in weeks and I didn't have a good reason either.

Sick to my stomach, I paused in the corridor and breathed in the clean air until my heart slowed to normal. Going with a hunch, I braced for another a.s.sault on my senses as I entered the barracks in Sector D1. Jacy used to hold court in a corner.