Inside Out (22 page)

The effort left me winded. After a few huffs of air, I stepped over Vinco’s unconscious form and knelt by the heating vent. Nothing visible through the bars, I slid my hand inside. My fingers brushed cloth and I pulled a narrow bag from the duct. Tied with string, the sack contained a
number of useful items—a sparkly metal cutter, Logan’s decoder, bandages, a bladder of water and a handful of protein nuggets.

I ate the nuggets and downed the water. My stomach rebelled for a moment, but I kept the food down by pure force of will. I would need the energy.

Pulling off my mangled uniform, I wrapped the bandages around my arms, legs and torso. I stole Vinco’s shirt. It fell to my knees. I also snatched his knife and stunner, leaving the kill-zapper on his belt.

Coated with diamond dust, the metal cutter sawed through the bars. I worked as fast as I could, but it still felt as if hours had passed. Every sound caused me to jump. Finally I finished the last bar and slid into the vent. Making sure I didn’t leave a bloody trail, I hurried to…where?

Only one place to go—Doctor Lamont’s. The warm air inside the shaft sucked at my energy. I used our storeroom on level four to switch to the air shafts and then to the Gap. The space between levels felt as it always did, hollow and unoccupied. I thought the Travas would have it filled with Pop Cops by now.

I dropped into Doctor Lamont’s office, thumping hard on the ground. She showed little surprise when she came to investigate.

She bent over me. “Can you walk to the treatment table?”

Now that I had arrived, all my cuts throbbed and burned for attention. I nodded and she helped me stand, keeping a hand on my elbow as I wobbled to the table and collapsed on top of it.

Starting with my legs, the doctor unwound the bandages.
She clucked and tsked and cleaned the cuts. I, in turn, cringed and winced and hissed in pain.

“Four need stitches, and that’s just your legs.” She crossed to her supply table and filled a metal tray with various instruments, including a needle and thread. “This first.” Handing me a glass of water and a small white pill, she gestured for me to swallow it.

“What’s it for?” I asked.

“Sleep. Unless you want to be awake when I stitch your injuries?”

I popped the pill into my mouth, wasting no time. After all the hours spent with Vinco’s knife, I had no desire to feel metal sliding through my skin ever again.

It didn’t take long for the room to soften and for shadows to gather in the corners of my vision. Soon a blanket of black settled over me as I slipped into a dreamless heavy sleep.

LC Karla’s voice woke me. I nearly groaned aloud. My escape had just been a dream! But through slits in my eyelids, I discovered I still lay on the exam table. However, I had been wheeled into surgery. A sheet covered my body up to my neck. Blood stained the cover in the area around my midsection, and a mask rested over my nose and mouth. Some kind of soft cap held my hair.

Doctor Lamont argued with the LC beyond the double doors. “You can
not
go in there,” she said. “You are not sterile and could cause a horrible infection.”

“We have a dangerous scrub on the loose and you’re worried about an infection?” Karla asked in amazement.

“I haven’t seen this scrub. I told you no one is here but me and my patients. And Ella, of course.”

“Why is she in surgery?” Karla demanded.

“Appendicitis. In fact, if I don’t finish the surgery soon, she could die.”

“Then you should want to cooperate fully with our search.” The surgery doors banged open and Karla’s voice sounded right next to me. “I’ll be quick, Doctor, so you can return to your patient.”

I LAY STILL AND KEPT MY EYES CLOSED. KARLA’S HEAVY
footsteps sounded all around me followed by the clang of metal hitting metal.

Doctor Lamont pressed her fingers into my neck as if checking my pulse. “Do you want to search the
incision,
Karla?”

The sheet near my hips bunched as if she gripped it. I held my breath, terrified Karla would call Lamont’s bluff, but at the same time impressed by the doctor’s courage.

“I’m not amused. You should be offering your assistance to find this scrub. Remember your history,
Doctor.
Cooperation saves lives.”

“Why should I cooperate? I don’t have a child for you to hold over me anymore. You’ve seen to that.”

Interesting. It explained why Lamont hated the LC so much.

“I’m sure I can find another you care for. Your intern perhaps? How long can she survive with a burst appendix?”

“Get out.” Lamont’s icy voice sliced as sharp as a scalpel.

“I’ve hit a nerve. Kiana, you’re way too caring of others.
No one will miss a few of them. We have plenty more below.”

I wasn’t sure of Lamont’s reply because my thoughts reeled over Karla calling the doctor Kiana. But I was sure there had to be more than one person named Kiana in the upper levels. The lower levels had a number of scrubs with the same name. Plus the coincidence would be too great.

Of course the clues all added up. The doctor’s queasy expression when I named the spy during the first Force of Sheep meeting. Her pointed glance with Riley’s father. The fact she was a friend of Jacob’s from their training days. But the odds I would be the one climbing around the pipes and getting involved in the search for Gateway and that I would find Riley were huge. Unless…

It wasn’t a coincidence. Domotor had sought me out, claiming my reputation as Queen of the Pipes drew his notice. It had been a setup from the start.

I had lost track of Karla and the doctor. The room remained quiet and I risked a peek. No one. I waited and soon enough Lamont entered. Her flushed face and tight grimace softened once she saw me.

“Karla and her cops are gone. How long have you been awake?”

I pulled the mask from my mouth and sat. “Long enough,
Kiana
. Were you going to rat us all out at once or wait until I’d healed enough for Vinco to have fresh skin to gouge?” Wrapping the sheet around me, I tried to slide from the table.

She blocked my way, pushing me back. “Oh, no, you don’t.”

“You can’t stop me.” I struggled to sit up.

Kiana jabbed me with a needle. “Yes, I
can
stop you.”

Liquid fire coursed through my veins, erasing all desire to fight. I wilted and dropped into oblivion.

I knew I hated examination tables for a reason. When I woke from my drug-induced sleep, I was strapped to the table and unable to move. A few of the cuts on my body pulsed with pain, but otherwise I felt all right. For now.

Voices murmured in the infirmary, and I wondered if I should call for help. Knowing my luck, it would be Karla and Vinco so I kept my mouth shut.

I turned my head at the sound of footsteps and was shocked by Riley’s arrival. He looked ill at ease, tugging his shirt and glancing everywhere but at me. I closed my eyes to keep from crying. How many times have I been wrong? You would think I’d cease to be surprised.

“Ella, are you all right?” he asked.

“My name is Trella. My friends…” I swallowed. Yes, I had friends, damn it. “Call me Trell. How long have you been planning this?”

“Ah…She just contacted us. Doctor Lamont said she needed us to help you understand. Understand what?” he asked.

My eyes flew open and I gaped at him.

He gasped. “Is it about your eyes?”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“They’re blue.”

Alarmed, I asked “What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know!”

“He is owed an explanation, too,” Jacob said as he entered the room with Doctor…Kiana following.

“So why isn’t he strapped to a table?” Sarcasm rendered my voice sharp.

“Because he isn’t full of new stitches,” she said.

“What did you do to my eyes?” I demanded.

“I returned them to their original color to help disguise you. Riley said you might be an upper sibling. Since the reversal drops worked, you must be.”

“Why would you bother? Is it going to make you feel better when you betray us?” I asked.

“Dad, what’s going on?”

Riley’s father sighed. “You both know about the Force of Ten and Domotor. What you don’t know is exactly how the group was betrayed nearly eighteen hundred weeks ago.”

“Nolan…my mate…” A hitch interrupted the doctor’s words before she continued. “Nolan grew too confident. He had discovered the information about Gateway and Outside and was putting it into protected files when the Travas found out. He was…arrested and tortured but refused to name anyone else as an accomplice even when the Travas threatened me and our daughter.”

I turned my head to stare at the wall, bracing for the rest of the story.

“I wasn’t so strong. Lieutenant Commander Karla, who was an ambitious lieutenant back then, merely threatened to recycle my daughter and I blabbed. Told her about Domotor and agreed to spy for them to keep my mate and daughter alive. When the arrests were made, they…”

Silence. Then Jacob picked up the story. “Karla didn’t keep her bargain. Father and child were recycled as well as three others. Riley, you should know Domotor named me
as a member, but your mother convinced the Travas she’d used my port and was working alone.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Riley asked.

“She made me promise to keep you safe and to not put crazy ideas into your head. Ramla didn’t want you to know.” He huffed in tired amusement. “She knew any more attempts by the uppers would fail. Yet look at what has happened from a chance encounter.”

I glanced at Jacob. He looked hopeful.

“Why don’t you call yourself Doctor Garrard?” Riley asked.

“The name is too painful for me. After Karla recycled Nolan, I returned to my mother’s family and used her name.” She met my gaze. “I’m trying to amend my past deeds by helping you. I knew once you heard my real name, you wouldn’t listen to me. That’s why I invited Riley and Jacob here.”

I mulled over their story, searching for hints of deceit. “I’m not so sure about the chance encounter. Domotor did seek me out in the lower levels.”

“That’s because you knew how to travel through the pipes,” Riley said.

The others nodded as if this explained everything.

They didn’t know I was Kiana’s daughter. They didn’t know I was alive. Still, the story seemed too pat. “But what about the loose vent cover in the storeroom? Someone had to sabotage it.”

Riley flushed. “That’s my fault.”

We all stared at him and his cheeks reddened.

“Uh…I wanted to meet one of the cleaning scrubs, so I…I did push the couch underneath, but even though you missed it you didn’t get hurt…well, not too bad, and…” At a loss for words, he finally stopped.

I glanced at them. But couldn’t decide whether to trust them or not. Not like I had any other options at the moment. Although I planned to keep the information about my birth parents to myself. Even with my eyes blue, Kiana hadn’t recognized me. For once I knew something the rest did not.

When I had healed enough for the doctor’s approval, I entered the air shafts and headed toward Domotor’s room. I brought as much food as Lamont could smuggle without raising any suspicions. The duct was free of RATSS because the scrubs kept the Pop Cops busy with small revolts.

Jacy relayed the details of the resistance to me through the earring/receiver. Interesting how the Pop Cops generated more problems when they clamped down harder on the scrubs. The scrubs also stopped working and cleaning. Dirty laundry spilled over bins in Sector B1, piles of fertilizer and items to be recycled grew into large mounds.

I arrived at Domotor’s room without any trouble. The prophet sat on the couch surrounded by bits of metal. Anne-Jade and Logan worked together at the table. They all stared at me as if seeing a ghost.

Logan whooped and ran over to me. “You escaped!” He hugged me.

“Easy,” I said as his arms brushed several healing cuts.

“We thought you didn’t. What took you so long?” Anne-Jade asked.

“Overprotective doctor.” I tried to explain about the uppers and the Force of Sheep, but they already knew more than I did. “What’s been going on?”

“I’m getting good at traveling through the ducts,” Logan
said, “and Anne-Jade’s been wearing the Pop Cop uniform so much the others are calling her Ensign Mineko.” His brow creased. “They keep close track of the scrubs, it would make sense that they would keep even closer track of their own people.”

“They’re glad to have the extra help,” Anne-Jade said. “Besides, just because the Travas have control of Inside doesn’t mean they are smart enough to know all their weaknesses.” She smiled with a predatory glint in her eye. “Weaknesses we can exploit to the fullest.”

“But don’t get too cocky,” I said, thinking of my father. “The Pop Cops have, and see what’s happening?”

“But it’s all noise,” Domotor said. “Travas control the computer systems. Despite these anti-stunners—” he flourished the metal piece in his hand “—another outright revolt will fail again. Although this time they might use poison gas instead of sleeping gas to subdue us.”

“Won’t happen,” I said. “They need us.”

“But what’s to stop them from putting us all to sleep and then going around and kill-zapping the troublemakers?” Domotor asked.

Nothing. “Then we’d better get control of the computer systems. Logan?”

“It’s going to take a coordinated effort from both uppers and lowers, but it’s doable.” He met my gaze. “And we’ll need to get into the Control Room.”

“Impossible,” Domotor said.

“Why? We have one upper who works there,” I said.

“All the overrides are there. One person isn’t enough,” Logan said.

I considered. All the high-ranking officers work there and
they were all armed. Probably had extra guards, too. No way to walk through the door. Air duct seventy-two was the best way in, but we could be picked off as we dropped down.

“Logan, do you have any anti-kill-zappers?”

“No, but I have Zippy.” He hunted under the table and pulled Zippy from a pile of metal. “I’ve added another feature. Toggle this switch—” he pointed “—and Zippy will emit a pulse that should knock out their weapons.”

“Should?” I raised my eyebrows.

“I haven’t fully tested it yet. And he only has a short range.”

“What about the computer systems?” Domotor asked.

“They’ll be fine.”

A full-out rebellion would take a major amount of luck and coordination. The Tech Nos and Domotor looked at me, waiting. No one else would be able to organize both sides. I drew in a deep breath. We had the technology, the intelligence and the people—put enough sheep together and you have a herd, a force to be reckoned with. We needed a leader.

“Anne-Jade, how many of those listening and receiving devices do we have?” I asked.

“Four.”

“We’re going to need seven more all on the same frequency, plus all the anti-stunners you can make.”

“We’ll need more supplies,” Logan said.

“Make a list, I’ll contact Jacy.” He should be able to find a few skinny scrubs willing to make deliveries through the air shafts.

I made my own mental list of all the steps we would need to take. A daunting effort. Sadness gripped my heart. I wished Cog were here to help. He would be able to motivate the scrubs.

Maximum damage. It was the beginning of the end. Either we would fail or not. At least we could say we tried.

The Force of Sheep planned to declare war on the Travas during week 147,006 at hour sixty-six. After eighty hours of planning, of secret meetings, of setting distractions and false trails and of assembling illegal technological devices, we were ready.

At hour sixty-five, I crouched in air duct seventy-two with Zippy, waiting for the signal. Takia worked at her station. Even through the vent I could feel her nervous energy, and I willed her to stop looking over her shoulder. The atmosphere throughout Inside had been charged. Those who didn’t know what was about to occur, still sensed the keyed-up feeling of expectation. The Travas had tripled the number of Pop Cops on patrol.

Twice as many Travas had assembled in the Control Room. Both the fleet admiral and the admiral studied maps over the conference table in the far corner. I knew to expect one admiral, but not both. Surrounded by computers, the captain occupied the center of the room. I checked Zippy for the hundredth time. So much rested on the little cleaning troll.

Various stations called in their readiness. Riley and the rest of the uppers had changed their shift times and managed to be at their workstations. Domotor and Logan ghosted in the network. Doctor Lamont prepped for casualties. Anne-Jade, Jacy and his gang waited to overpower the Pop Cops on the lower levels and I prepared to spring a surprise on the Control Room.

Jacy’s voice sounded in my ear. “We go.”

Warning lights flashed in the Control Room’s panels.
Banks of computers lined three walls of the room, and uppers sat before them, leaving an open space in the middle for the captain’s station.

“Call for help from Commander Vinco, sir,” an upper called. “Scrubs are revolting.”

The fleet admiral strode over to the captain. “Time to weed out the troublemakers, Captain,” he said.

“Send reinforcements, alert the air controllers to prepare the poison gas canisters,” the captain ordered. He typed on his keypad. “I’ve had it with these bothersome scrubs.”

A spinning feeling of panic grew in my stomach.

“Sir? The air controller on duty just told me to blow the gas out my ass.” Shock whitened the upper’s face.

I suppressed a chuckle. Logan’s voice sounded. “We’re in.”

All I needed to hear. I finished loosening the screws on the vent cover and pulled the cover inside the duct. No need to mask my noise as the upper workers reported one by one to the captain that the mechanical systems failed to respond.