Outside In Read online

  According to Domotor and a few others, I had my father’s eyes. They also claimed my father was Nolan Garrard. Unlike Lamont’s name, his didn’t make me cringe. In fact, I would be proud to be his daughter. Even though the Force of Ten’s attempt to change our world failed, his final defiance by saving those ten files had been vital. Without them, we wouldn’t have found Gateway. And their existence impressed Logan—hard to do when it came to technology.

  Perhaps settling the matter of my birth parents wouldn’t be so bad. So what if Lamont’s my mother? It’s not like I’d be forced to live with her or to forgive her. Nothing would change.

  I hurried to dress before Riley’s dad returned. Riley already sat at the computer in the living area. The apartment had one bedroom, a washroom, a small space for the computer, a table and couch. Posh accommodations from a scrub’s point of view, but still not the huge suite of rooms I had imagined when the Pop Cops kept us from going above level two.

  Riley typed for a few minutes before relinquishing the chair. “I logged you on. You’ll need to pull up the population records to search for those names.”

  Reluctance kept me from claiming the seat. “Can’t you look them up for me?”

  “Sit.” He pointed. “You need to learn how to access the computer files.”

  Not happy, I plopped in front of the screen. He leaned over me as he explained how to navigate the network. I might look like Nolan Garrard, but I didn’t have his knack with computers.

  After more than a few frustrating minutes, Riley almost growled at me. “Think of the network as a map of Inside and the files are stored in different Sectors and Quadrants. In order to find the right file, you need to know the location.”

  “But what if it isn’t there? Logan said—”

  “That the files had been jumbled, but I’m used to them that way. If I can’t find what I’m looking for, I request a search.”

  “From who?”

  “The computer.”

  “Oh. Like from the Controllers in the network?”

  “No. Yes.”

  I turned my head to see him. He squinted at the screen as if in pain.

  “Which one is it?”

  Riley ran a hand over his face. “We learned that the Controllers are really just an operating system. It connects all the information in the network, lets you know if you can do something or not. It protects certain areas. And it will search for files and tell you where they are.” He swept his arm out. “Everything in Inside is all connected to the network. Technically, I could run all the systems from one computer.”

  This fact seemed to impress him, but, considering the recent sabotage, it scared me. “What happens if the network breaks down?”

  “It can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “There are backup systems and everything has been saved in protected files.”

  “But what if they’re compromised as well?”

  He dismissed my concerns. “Won’t happen. And you’re trying to distract me so I don’t teach you how to navigate through the network.”

  “I’m not. I’m just worried another bomb might blow apart the network.”

  “Don’t worry, there are many safeguards in place. Unless you want me to have Logan explain—”

  “No! I trust you.”

  He clutched his hands to his chest. “She… Gasp… Trusts me! Call for medical aid stat!”

  I swung at him, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet.

  Snaking his arms around my waist, he said, “We need to celebrate this momentous occasion.”

  “What are we celebrating?” Jacob Ashon, Riley’s father, asked from the doorway.

  I pushed Riley away to greet his father. But the damage had been done. He grinned at us like an idiot. Joy beamed from his brown eyes as his gaze went from Riley’s wet hair to mine. I suppressed a groan.

  “We’re celebrating Trella learning the computer system,” Riley said.

  The wattage from his grin dulled a few kilos. His slightly disappointed expression reminded me of Riley. He had his father’s solid build, sense of humor and mannerisms, but, according to Jacob, Riley’s black hair, blue eyes and stubbornness had been inherited from his mother, Ramla Ashon.

  She had been another casualty of the failed Force of Ten rebellion along with Nolan Garrard, Blas Sanchia and Shawn Lamont. Four brave souls who would be honored with a plaque or memorial along with Cogon once our world settled back into… What? Not like we would return to life before. I guessed just when our society settled into a new routine.

  “Oh,” Jacob said then recovered his brightness. “Don’t teach her too much. She tends to leave a wake of trouble behind her, and I don’t want to spend hours trying to decipher the carnage.”

  “Not funny,” I said, plopping back down in the chair. The diagram of file names on the screen hadn’t gotten any more understandable with Riley’s explanation.

  Riley attempted another round of frustrating instruction before giving in and swapping places with me. I paid attention for a few minutes, but soon lost interest. As he worked, I studied Jacob. He straightened the mess of wires and gadgets Riley had strewn about the room, collecting them into a neat pile.

  Jacob had been thrilled to be reunited with Blake, Riley’s younger brother. Having to send a child to live in the lower levels must be difficult especially since Jacob reveled in the whole family experience. I wondered if Blake’s decision to return to living in the barracks upset him. If I did test my blood to determine if Nolan and Lamont were my parents, I knew Jacob would be happy. Despite Lamont’s first betrayal costing him his wife, and the second one almost killing his son, he stayed friends with her. Crazy.

  “…paying attention, Trella?” Riley asked.

  “Uh…”

  “You’re impossible. Here’s the file you need.” He stood. “You can search through it.”

  Back in front of the computer, I scanned the directory of names with birth weeks, barrack locations and other stats listed next to them. The file contained all the lower level scrubs. All eighteen thousand and change. Ugh.

  As I scrolled down the page, Riley asked his father why he was late.

  “I visited your brother,” Jacob said. “The Committee heard rumors of the kitchen workers threatening to cook only enough food for themselves. I thought I’d check into it and see if I can resolve the issue.”

  I tuned out their conversation, glad I no longer had to deal with the Committee’s problems. Concentrating on the list, I thought there must be a reason why the names had been put in this particular order. It wasn’t alphabetical, by barrack location, birth week, by Care Mother or by care unit. At the end of the stats for each were the same letters: AS.

  When my name jumped out, I stopped. Did AS mean air scrub? I didn’t recognize the other names with AS, but I hadn’t learned the names of my fellow workers either. After I scrolled a few more pages the AS turned into a CS and I found my Care Mother’s name in that section.

  The list had been organized by work area and they had been alphabetized. I quickly bypassed the other workers until I reached the hydroponics scrubs. Sure enough, Ivie was listed. After I wrote down her stats on a wipe board, I found Kadar and copied his as well.

  They had been care mates. No surprise. They were also a few centiweeks older than me, putting them closer to Cog’s age. And they slept in Sector D1, Jacy’s barrack. I tapped the marker against my teeth. This information didn’t mean anything other than they existed. Bubba Boom could have picked their names at random.

  To really find out what’s going on, someone would need to follow those two around. I couldn’t do it as I was too recognizable with my blue eyes and small stature. The best way would be to recruit someone not in Jacy’s network and who I could trust.

  “Trella?” Riley interrupted my train of thought. “Did you hear what’s going on in the lower level kitchen?”

  I turned. “A little. I found those names, and I think we—”

 
“There might be a food strike. Don’t you care?”

  “Of course I do, but your dad and the Committee know about it. They can deal with it. Plus they have Blake to…”

  Riley crossed his arms. A danger sign. “To what?”

  “To warn them.” And he would be perfect to spy on Ivie and Kadar for me. “Does Blake come up here often to visit?”

  “Why?” When I hesitated, he said, “I recognize that look. Tell me what you’re planning.”

  By the tension rolling off Riley, I knew to tread carefully. “We need a reliable person to keep an eye on Ivie and Kadar for us. I thought Blake cou—”

  “No. You’re not putting him in danger.”

  “It won’t be that dangerous.”

  “What if Ivie and Kadar are the bombers and they notice Blake’s interest in them? He could be their next target. Besides, he’ll be needed to report to the Committee about the food situation. Trella, you’ve got to keep in mind the big picture, not just the next thing you want to do.”

  The big picture. I almost laughed, remembering what I had said to Jacy about being a big picture girl. Drawing in a deep breath, I held it along with a sarcastic reply. My search for the saboteurs was important, but I suspected his ire went deeper than the recent kitchen crisis, and I had no energy to fight with him. The climb to the ceiling of the Expanse had sapped my strength.

  Instead, I swiveled back to the computer screen. Not sure how to log out, I picked up the wipe board. Before I could stand, a bright whiteness flashed on the monitor, erasing the list. Then it faded to black. It seemed odd, but when I glanced at Riley, his attention remained on me.

  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 any thing 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.

  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 cov
ered 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 surrounded 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?”