Outside In

by Maria V. Snyder

  “You’ve been trying to get yourself killed since Cog’s death. At least this time I won’t have to wait for news or wonder if you’ll survive your injuries. If this thing blows, we’ll both go.”

  “I’m not trying to kill—”

  “I think I know how to disarm it,” Bubba Boom said.

  “Think or know?” Riley asked.

  “It’s a basic mixing design. The glass containers are filled with two stable chemicals. When the counter reaches zero, it removes the barrier between the liquids. They’ll pour into the bigger pipe and mix together, creating a highly explosive combination. The counter will then create a spark and good bye half of waste handling.” Bubba Boom met my gaze. “As long as the bomber didn’t get cute with the wiring, it should be easy to disarm.” He handed me a pair of wire cutters.

  Once again, I wriggled underneath the collector. Ten minutes left. My guts twisted and knotted with each second that disappeared.

  “Pull the counter gently away from the pipes to expose the wires behind it,” Bubba Boom instructed.

  My hands shook, but I eased the box out from where it was nestled between the glass containers. I moved the mirror so he could see.

  “Interesting.”

  “Good or bad?” Riley asked. I recognized the tight tension in his voice.

  Bubba Boom ignored him. “Trella, I need to see where the second wire on the left ends.”

  All the wires were covered in black. I pointed to my guess. “This one?”

  “No. One over. That’s it,” he said when I touched the next wire.

  Running a finger along it, I followed it until the end and repositioned the mirror. I rubbed my sweaty palms on my uniform.

  “Well?” Riley asked.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Eight minutes left,” I said.

  “Not helping. Riley, I need a wipe board to draw out the circuit.”

  “Emek’s office,” I called, remembering the neat stack of them on the corner of his desk.

  The desire to scream at him to hurry lodged in my throat. His pounding feet faded then returned. Through the gap in the machinery, I watched Bubba Boom draw on the board. Riley peered over his shoulder. Dark gray sweat stains covered his gray shirt and strands of damp hair clung to the side of his face.

  Bubba Boom instructed me to move the mirror a few more times. He discussed the circuits with Riley as they figured out how to cut off power. I clamped both hands over my lips to keep quiet. The need to urge them to move faster filled my mouth and pushed against my teeth.

  Finally Bubba Boom told me to cut the wire I had traced for him. I placed the wire in the cutters and drew in a deep breath.

  “Stop!” Riley yelled. He argued with Bubba Boom. “Trell, you need to cut that wire and the one on the other end at the exact same time,” he said.

  I found the other wire. “This one?”

  “Yes,” Riley said.

  “No,” Bubba Boom said. “He’s wrong. Cut only the wire I told you.”

  “No, don’t. I’m right, Trell. He’s going to get us all killed.”

  My fingers refused to work. Who to trust? Bubba Boom, the explosives expert or Riley, the electrical expert. Less than two minutes left. I listened to Bubba Boom and cut his wire.

  The numbers stopped counting down, but they flashed red. The box started to beep.

  “Break the glass on one of the containers,” Bubba Boom yelled. The beeping increased its pace. “Now!”

  “Avert your face,” Riley shouted.

  I rested the wire cutters on the glass with the clear liquid. Turning to the left, I covered my face with my arm and then struck the container as hard as I could. The glass shattered. Shards rained as the chemical splashed on my chest and stomach.

  Yanking me out by my ankles, Riley picked me up, threw me over his shoulder and ran toward the shower in Emek’s washroom. Shoved under the cold spray, I caught on and helped Riley tear off my chemical-soaked uniform. He ripped his shirt off and we scrubbed our skin, removing the last traces of the acidic substance before it could burn holes into our bodies.

  I shivered and hugged my chest. “I’ve been wanting to take another shower with you,” I said. “This wasn’t quite how I imagined it.”

  His lips quirked into a brief smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And it disappeared just as quick. Turning his back on me, he grabbed a couple of towels, handing me one without looking at me.

  I dried off, then wrapped the towel around my body. Riley’s shirt lay in a heap on the shower’s floor tangled with my ruined uniform. They needed to be disposed of properly so I stuffed them into a hazardous waste bag.

  “Trella, I…can’t do this anymore,” Riley said.

  Cold dread stabbed me. “Do what?”

  “Me and you…us.” He gestured between us with both his hands.

  Shivers raced across my skin as I realized Riley wasn’t just angry at me for trusting Bubba Boom over him. This ran deeper.

  “Trella, you have no qualms risking your life for Inside, sweeping in to save people, yet you don’t want to stick around and deal with the cleanup. You’d rather let others come in and decide how to organize our world. It’s frustrating and terrifying for me. I keep hoping the Queen of the Pipes will return and put a stop to all the Committee’s nonsense. Only you can help them focus on the real issues.” Riley dropped his hands. “Plus you don’t need me. You’ve been pushing me away since we won control of Inside. Since you accepted my pendant.”

  “That’s not true,” I said.

  “Really? How about when you discovered the fire in the air plant? I was right around the corner. You could have easily turned on your mic and called me to help, but you didn’t.”

  “There wasn’t any time,” I tried, but knew by his cold expression he thought it was a lame excuse. “I called you when I found the bomb.”

  “You ordered me to fetch Bubba Boom. If he had his own receiver, I doubt you would have bothered and we would be having this conversation in the infirmary while you once again grow new skin. Every time I try to get close to you, Trella, you turn to someone else. You only need me to clean up after you. You don’t trust me. I’m sorry, but I can no longer be with you. It’s too…painful to watch you self destruct.”

  Did he believe I cut the wrong wire on purpose? Shocked over his announcement, I couldn’t form a coherent response.

  Riley left Emek’s office and the waste handling plant, ignoring Bubba Boom and Emek who waited for us.

  Before they could question me about Riley or before I could fall apart, I asked, “What about the bomb?”

  “Crisis averted.” With a chagrined expression, Bubba Boom said, “Riley was right. Both wires should have been cut.”

  “I got that,” I said, letting sarcasm edge my tone. “Do you know who built it? Who planted it?”

  “I don’t recognize it. I’ll take it apart and see if I can learn anything.”

  “Did you get a good look at the man?” Emek asked me.

  “Just his back and the side of his face. Short brown hair. No facial hair. Average build. Between 1800 and 2200 weeks old.”

  “That’s a big help.” Emek’s turn to be sarcastic.

  I bit back a nasty reply. “Now what?”

  “The Committee’s looking for you. And Anne-Jade wants to talk to you,” Emek said. “I’m surprised she isn’t here now.”

  The thought of being questioned by Anne-Jade and the Committee made diffusing a bomb seem like a pleasant task. Then I remembered the ISF wanted me to finger Sloan and his friends, which I was loath to do. Add that to Riley leaving me and all I craved was to curl up in a little ball in the quiet solitude of an air duct.

  Rat fetched a set of clothes for me from the laundry. He had grabbed the green shirt and pants that the infirmary workers wore. I dressed in Emek’s office. Anne-Jade’s voice pierced my haze of exhaustion. She waited for me beyond the door.

  Glad I had taken my tool belt with me, I strapped it on, placed
Emek’s chair on his desk and climbed into the air shaft. Once again I was avoiding confrontation. I didn’t go far. Dropping down into the middle of the recycling plant, I scattered a group of workers. I apologized and headed straight for the stairs. Others had also clumped together and from the bits of alarmed conversation I caught, they discussed the evacuation and bomb.

  News of the attempted bombing could either work in our favor or ignite panic. If everyone kept an eye out for unusual activity and strange devices, it might stop the bomber from trying again, which would be good. Panic would bring nothing but trouble and more destruction.

  I reached the infirmary without encountering any ISF officers. Unfortunately Lamont took one look at my face and accosted me.

  “Trella, what happened?”

  “It’d be easier to tell you what didn’t happen,” I said.

  She swept my hair from my face and, for a second, I wanted to press her hand against my cheek. “I need to put a suture in your earlobe.” Inspecting my face, she frowned. “Who hit you?”

  “Did you hear about the riot?”

  “Of course. I needed to be ready in case there were injuries. Were you caught in the riot?” She tried to keep her tone professional, but alarmed concern dominated.

  “Sort of. I…uh…started the riot.”

  Lamont paused. “You’re serious.”

  “Yep.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “All right. Come back to the exam room and I’ll fix your ear.”

  As I followed her, I passed Logan’s empty bed. “Where’s Logan?”

  She waited until I sat on the examining table before saying, “He’s in protective custody.”

  “Arrested? The riot was my fault. Not his.”

  Her eyebrows rose, but she smoothed them. “He’s not in the brig. With all the troubles, Anne-Jade felt he’d be better protected in a more secured location.”

  Lamont filled a needle and approached. I flinched away instinctively.

  She stopped. “It’s lidocaine. If you’d rather not—”

  “Go ahead. Numb my earlobe please. I’ve had enough pain.”

  “Little pinch and I’m done.”

  Compared to the slap, falling to the floor, being doused with an acidic chemical and Riley breaking up with me, the pinch barely registered.

  As she prepped the sutures, I tried to focus on something besides myself. “What about Logan’s vision? Isn’t he under your care?”

  “I can’t do anything more for him. It’s just a matter of time.”

  “Will he regain his sight?”

  “His progress is promising, but I can’t guarantee it.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “No.” Lamont looped two stitches to close the tear in my lobe.

  By this time, I could have fallen asleep on the exam table. Lamont trailed behind me as I headed toward my room. I stopped at the threshold. She hovered, rubbing her hands together. I had spent enough time with her to recognize her anxiety.

  “No mothering. Remember?”

  Although she didn’t look happy about it, she nodded.

  “I just need to sleep for about a hundred hours. If anyone comes looking for me, can you tell them I’m not here?” I asked.

  “Even Riley?”

  My hands shook. Doubtful he would be looking for me. “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’ll keep everyone out.”

  “Thanks.” I collapsed onto the bed, crawling under the covers and muffling my sobs. Eventually, I would seek out Anne-Jade and tell her everything about the riot.

  Too bad she found me first.

  Startled from a deep sleep, I stared at Anne-Jade through puffy eyes. Confusion clouded my mind and her words failed to make sense. I rubbed my face in an effort to focus. My cheek throbbed.

  “…hear me?” she asked. Grabbing my arm, she yanked me from the bed. “Do you even know how much trouble you’re in?”

  I swayed on my feet, but straightened real quick when I spotted her two lieutenants standing behind her. “I—”

  “No excuses, Trella. I have orders from the Committee to arrest you.”

  Wide awake now, I said, “But—”

  “You had your chance to explain down in waste handling, but you chose to run away.”

  “I—”

  “Running is an act of a guilty person. I had no choice. Yuri, secure her.” Anne-Jade stepped back to let Yuri closer.

  With nowhere to go, I could only appreciate the speed in which Yuri slapped a handcuff onto my left wrist, spun me around and snapped the other cuff onto my right. With my arms pinned behind my back, my sore shoulder ached.

  “Anne-Jade, the cuffs aren’t necessary,” I said.

  “I disagree. Let’s go.”

  She gripped my arm, propelling me forward as if I would resist. With a lieutenant in front of us and one following, they marched me from my room. Lamont hovered in the sitting area. Hour three shone on the clock.

  “You could have at least waited to call Anne-Jade until I got more sleep,” I grumped at Lamont.

  “Give us some credit, Trell,” Anne-Jade said. “No one called us. You weren’t that hard to find.”

  True. If I had known she’d arrest me, I’d have slept in the ducts. She’d been to our storeroom and the small control room where we had hidden Domotor. That was back when I could trust her. I needed to find a new hiding place. The image of the bubble monster sitting on top of the Expanse filled my mind. No one would find me there.

  Our little parade entered the lift and went up to level four. When the door swished open, a horrible possibility struck me. I resisted Anne-Jade’s pull.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re not taking me to the brig, are you?” I couldn’t keep the panic from my voice. The thought of being there with Karla and Vinco, even in separate cells, caused me to sweat.

  “It’s up to you. The Committee has a number of questions for you. If you refuse to cooperate, they’ll send you to the brig to think over your decision.”

  We bypassed Anne-Jade’s office and walked down the main corridor to Quad G4. Inside didn’t seem so big until I was handcuffed and stared at by every single person we passed in that hallway. The time it took us to reach the conference room off the main Control Room felt like hours.

  My relief to be out of the public’s eye disappeared in a heartbeat when I faced the nineteen Committee members. They sat around the long oval conference table. Domotor’s wheelchair faced the front of the curved end. Scanning the faces, I did a quick calculation. Five members gave me encouraging nods, twelve people wore a variety of unhappy expressions from pissed off to mildly annoyed, one wouldn’t meet my gaze— Riley’s father—and one kept his face blank—Jacy.

  Anne-Jade pushed me into the empty chair at the end opposite Domotor. I perched on the edge since my hands were still cuffed. She stood behind me as if I might try to escape or harm someone. I would have laughed, but I couldn’t miss the heavy tension that filled the room. The lines of strain, dark circles and signs of fatigue were the common denominator from all eighteen members. Jacy wasn’t giving anything away, and that scared me more than anything else.

  Domotor took the lead. It was a good sign as he had been one of the encouraging nodders. The mics sat on top of the bag on the table. Computers were another new feature on the table. Each member had a small monitor in front of them.

  Domotor started asking me questions about the riot.

  I was honest to a point. Admitting I planted the mics, I got a little creative with why. “I hoped to overhear the saboteurs.” Which was the truth.

  “Why didn’t you and Logan tell us about them?” Domotor asked.

  I noted the lack of Anne-Jade’s and Riley’s names. They were both aware of the sabotage and failed to inform the Committee. Funny, I had been the one to argue to tell the Committee. “The evidence was circumstantial. We didn’t want to accuse anyone without proof.” Also true.
r />   “Where did you plant these mics?” he asked.

  “The air shafts about Sectors E1 and F1.” I pointed my chin at the mics. “I planned to do more, but was…interrupted.”

  “She means caught,” Anne-Jade said. “The scrubs in Sector F1 heard her in the air shaft.”

  “I haven’t climbed through the ducts in weeks. I’m a little rusty,” I said in my defense.

  A few Committee members smiled at my play on words. I wouldn’t go as far to say I was winning them over, but it was better than nothing.

  Anne-Jade wanted to know who pulled me from the air shaft and incited the riot.

  “I started the riot. It all happened so fast, I didn’t get a good look at him.” Just because I protected the bastard who slapped me, didn’t mean I would forget him. Oh no. I owed him a visit. I just didn’t need the scrubs to think I was an informer as well as a traitor.

  The questions then turned to the bomb in waste handling. Those I answered with complete honesty. Jacy relaxed back in his chair. His gaze contemplative. Probably wondering why I hadn’t told them about his request to plant his mics over sensitive areas. Right now they assumed Logan provided the mics. I’d like to say I had a grand scheme in mind, but at this point, I operated on pure instinct.

  When all the questions had been answered, Anne-Jade escorted me out to the main Control Room so the Committee could discuss…I wasn’t exactly sure what.

  We waited near the door. “Thanks for not mentioning me,” she said in a quiet voice. “I owe you one.”

  “Great. Take off these damn cuffs,” I said.

  “Not until the Committee gives me permission. Sorry.”

  I stared at her. “Come on, it’s me. You can’t be happy with how they’re running our world.”

  “Do you really think I like being called the Mop Cops?” She balled her hands into fists. “I worked so hard to not be the Pop Cops and look what happened. Bombs, computer failure and someone tries to kill my brother. It’s a mess and I wouldn’t even know how to fix it at this point.” Anne-Jade punched the wall. The Control Room workers glanced at us as the loud bang vibrated. “It’s our fault, you know.” She rubbed her knuckles absently. “The Force of Sheep gave them the power. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”