I needed to ascend to the fourth level, then enter the heating system. Aiming for the abandoned storeroom, I hoped Riley wouldn’t be there. As I moved through the air shafts with Zippy tied to my tool belt, my thoughts turned to the young upper I had surprised.
Riley’s comments replayed in my mind. He used the storeroom to escape assignments and avoid having to pledge loyalty to the Travas. Perhaps his life wasn’t as easy as I had thought.
I slowed when I reached my destination. Peering through the air vent, I scanned the room below with care. The furniture had been rearranged again, but no one was there. The green-and-brown couch was now located right below the hole, and a metal stepladder leaned against the side wall. Riley must have moved it for me. I smiled, but then dismissed the notion. An upper caring about a scrub? No way. And I wouldn’t let myself believe it. Stick with the plan, I chanted under my breath.
Hanging from the air duct, I dropped onto the couch. I waited a moment. When no one rushed into the room, I slipped into the tight heating vent. Pressing Zippy’s on button, I counted to ten. He hummed and chugged along the duct as I pulled myself by my elbows and pushed with my feet.
I hoped any noise I made would be dismissed as the regular cleaning. Even if he didn’t work, having Zippy along would help my cover if I was caught.
By the time we drew near LC Karla’s office, sweat soaked my uniform and my arms ached. Switching Zippy to Neutral, I examined the room through the vent’s cover.
From my limited vantage point, a large desk dominated the space. I counted three computer monitors. On the wall opposite the vent hung a variety of weapons and handcuffs. My heart stuttered for a few beats, before settling into a fast pace.
Again, I waited and listened for sound. LC Karla was supposed to be off duty, but Jacy had warned me the schedule wasn’t completely reliable.
I wiped slick hands on my uniform, unscrewed the cover and pulled it slowly into the vent. According to Broken Man, the Pop Cops motion sensors would be in the four corners of the room for maximum coverage.
Nothing else left to do, I pushed Zippy through the opening and held my breath, preparing to flee. He rolled a couple feet and stopped. His hum transformed into a low chug. When the alarm failed to sound and no Pop Cops burst through the door, I eased from the vent.
I searched the desk and opened all the drawers as fast as possible. Karla’s office also contained a long worktable, a couch and a bench with chains and cuffs. A sudden vision of me secured to the bench while the LC questioned me jumped into my mind.
Shelves filled with RATSS decorated another wall. I ignored their mechanical stare, yet prepared to dive back into the heating vent if one moved.
My desperation increased. No sign of Broken Man’s port anywhere. Closing my eyes for a moment, I drew in a few deep breaths. Think. Where would you put his port? I scanned the room once more. A gray closet in the corner drew my attention.
My joy when the closet’s door swung wide disappeared in a heartbeat. A metal mesh gate covered shelves filled with various items—evidence, probably—and was locked. A small keypad had been installed on the lock’s outer plate. None of the tools in my belt would be able to bypass the bolt. I would need a code to open the gate.
The third shelf down held a row of ports. Broken Man’s must be among them, sitting mere inches from me. So close.
“Don’t move,” a voice ordered from behind.
Chapter 8
I closed my eyes as a hot flush of terror liquefied my muscles for an instant.
“Put your hands where I can see them. Slowly,” he ordered, but his voice squeaked a bit. Either from nerves or youth.
Perhaps I could talk my way out of this. I moved my hands to the side.
“Turn around. Slow.”
I faced him. My surprise transformed into suspicion. “Did you follow me?”
Riley lowered the stun gun. “No, I— What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Unless you’re Lieutenant Commander Karla’s assistant? Why didn’t you tell me you’re a Pop Cop?” My bold response seemed to have the desired effect as Riley struggled to answer questions I had no authority to ask.
“I’m not.… I monitor the electrical system.” He gestured to his headset. “There was an electrical drain coming from here. I came to investigate.”
“All right then. Investigate.” I swept my hand, indicating the room. “I’m finished cleaning the ducts.” Picking up Zippy, I headed toward the open vent. The little troll was hot.
“Wait.” Riley stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. He still held the gun, but he aimed it at the floor. “You’re not cleared to be on this level.” He glanced at the open evidence closet. “Why are you here?”
I dodged the question. “How do you know I’m not cleared?”
“I checked.”
“But you don’t know my name.” And unlikely to find it.
“I pulled up the approved list. Assuming your birth week is close to mine, I only found one scrub under sixteen hundred weeks old, but I forget his name.”
“I’m on special assignment this week. The records haven’t been updated yet.” The heat from Zippy grew intolerable. I dropped him by the vent and crouched to enter the duct.
“Stop or I’ll stun you.”
I looked over my shoulder. He pointed his gun at me. By the intensity radiating from his blue eyes, I knew he was serious. And he seemed taller than before. Why hadn’t I noticed his muscular build?
“You’re not going to tell me why you’re here, right?”
“Right,” I said.
He sidestepped to the closet, keeping his weapon trained on me. A quick glance at the shelves, then his focus returned. I met his gaze. He squinted as if his thoughts raced.
“There are weapons and devices free for the taking, but you stood here. You want a port. Except you wouldn’t be able to use it. No scrub can.”
Riley was smarter than I had thought. Too smart.
Hoping to throw him off, I said, “I was just curious, seeing what would be important enough to be locked away. I stopped in here to fix my cleaning device.” Zippy’s hum increased and small tendrils of smoke reached for the ceiling. Good boy.
“No. I’ve been learning about the lower levels. Being caught in the upper levels is bad enough, but to be found in Karla’s office…to risk your life… Wait. Something big is going on in the lower levels. Someone can’t be found.” His eyes unfocused as he followed the logic.
No time left. I spun Zippy. The metal burned my hand.
He snapped his fingers. “You want Domotor’s port!”
I switched Zippy off and raised my arm, triggering the motion sensors. A shrill clang pierced the air. Distracted by the noise, Riley sought the source. Without hesitation, I shoved Zippy into the vent and followed the troll, pushing him as fast as possible through the narrow space despite the heat searing my fingertips.
“Listen!” Riley shouted after me.
An odd request. I craned my neck to look back. His hand grabbed the vent’s cover and slammed it closed. After a few moments, the alarm cut off in midclang. Damn. I wanted the noise to mask my retreat. As I debated how much sound I was willing to risk, the rumble of many feet and the crash of a door reached me.
Reinforcements. Crap.
I had managed to crawl three meters from the vent. All the Pop Cops had to do was send one of Karla’s RATSS after me and I would be caught in no time.
“What’s going on here?” Karla demanded.
Her voice stopped my heart and I wondered, if she kill-zapped me, would it resume beating?
“Sensor malfunction, Lieutenant Commander,” Riley said.
“But the alarm—”
“My fau
lt. I accidentally triggered it while repairing the device. I apologize for any inconvenience to you, sir.”
“Inconvenience! Your accident disrupted our meeting and woke every off-duty officer on level four. You’ll have to be reported. Name?”
“Riley Narelle Ashon.” His voice remained calm. Impressive, considering how terrifying Karla’s scrutiny could be.
“Narelle? What are you doing monitoring security systems?”
Good question. Only the Trava family had access to the security network.
“I’m with electrical, sir. When the device malfunctioned it sent a spike through my workstation and I came to investigate. I thought I could fix the sensor, sir.”
“You thought wrong. What’s your birth week?”
“It’s 145,414, sir.”
Ha. He was only seventy-three weeks older than me.
“You’re just out of training. How did you get assigned electrical?”
“It was my choice, sir.”
“Your choice? Oh. Top of your class. Well, you obviously need more training. Report to Commander Vinco Trava for extra duty.”
Extra duty meant the dreaded red cuff and hard physical labor in the lower levels. The uppers were probably assigned a boring or mindless task nobody else wanted to do.
“Yes, sir,” Riley snapped.
After a few seconds of quiet, it dawned on me. Riley hadn’t reported me again. Even faced with a punishment, he still kept quiet. A strange sensation rolled through me—relief mixed with… I couldn’t name it. Odd.
“You’re dismissed, Mr. Ashon. Lieutenant Arno, your unit can return to their stations, but I want you to stay,” she ordered.
The shuffle of feet faded and the door clicked shut. I decided to wait. No sense alerting Karla to my presence. I wondered how long I would be stuck here.
“Where were we, Arno?” Karla asked.
“Discussing the situation below,” Arno said.
“Anything?”
“No. No one is talking. The scrubs are terrified. They’re ratting out their friends. We’ve uncovered more illegal activities this week than in the past thirty weeks. Caught a woman who was raising her own children. A whole family unit.”
“That’s new. What did Vinco do?”
“The kids were too old for the care facility. They would remember a mother and might band together. He sent them to Chomper, and the woman was assigned to the sheep breeders.”
He reported the demise of three children in a bored voice. Enraged, I wanted to strangle him.
“Harsh.” A hitch cracked her voice, but then she continued speaking without emotion. “But appropriate. It would be dangerous if the scrubs formed loyalties.” She paused. “You’ve increased the pressure to find Domotor and still no results?”
“Yes, sir.”
Domotor? Riley had mentioned his name, too.
“Cogon’s our best suspect, but he’s had dozens of scrubs vouch for him.” She paused.
Dozens? Wow. I knew he was well liked, but didn’t think so many would risk their lives for him.
“He knows something, I can feel it,” Karla said. “What about our informers? Have they heard any rumors?”
“No. Everyone’s keeping quiet. No speculation. No gossip. It’s as if Domotor never existed. Usually when a prophet disappears, there are rumblings of unease and talk of martyrs. This time nothing.”
Domotor must be Broken Man’s real name.
“What about the young girl…Trella?”
All of a sudden it felt as if the air shaft tightened around my body. I struggled to draw a breath.
“I had a few of my men ask about her,” Arno said. “Keeps to herself. No absences. No reprimands on her record. No friends except Cogon.”
“There’s an interesting connection. Arrest them both. Perhaps Cogon will be more informative if we threaten Trella’s life and vice versa. Put them each into an interrogation room. Inform Commander Vinco when they’re there.”
“Yes, sir.”
I had to warn Cog. He needed to disappear. But where could I hide the big man? With Broken Man? No. Cog had sealed his door.
Arno left the office, but Karla remained. No more time. Risking capture, I slid through the vent, pushing Zippy ahead. Cooler to the touch, the little troll had worked. I wondered if Logan and Anne-Jade had invented a device to open locks. I bit down on a laugh. I would be lucky to survive the next ten hours let alone make another attempt to steal Broken Man’s port.
I reached Riley’s storeroom. No sounds, but I paused for a few precious minutes before opening the vent’s cover. The place was empty. However, the ladder had been set up underneath the air shaft, and a wipe board rested on the couch. A note for me written on the surface.
It read “I’ve covered for you, now it’s your turn. Meet me here at hour fifty-eight.”
I erased the message with a corner of my sleeve. By hour fifty-eight, I would either be in custody or on the lam. It was doubtful I could meet him. A tweak of disappointment surprised me. I repeated my mantra. Never trust the uppers, the Pop Cops or the scrubs. It all boiled down to survival.
As I climbed the ladder I wondered, was survival enough?
“Shouldn’t you be in an air shaft working?” Cog asked. He was elbow deep in a piece of machinery in the Waste Handling Plant. Black goo smeared his coveralls and dripped onto the floor. A fetid stench fogged the air.
“The Pop Cops are coming to arrest you and me.”
He ceased tugging. “How do you know?”
“Overheard Lieutenant Commander Karla. They’re going to threaten to recycle me if you don’t tell them about Broken Man. You need to hide. Now.”
Instead of pulling his arms out, he resumed his work.
“Cog!”
“Hush a minute. I need to think.”
“I thought it out. We both hide and then…”
“What? We live like fugitives for the rest of our days? Or do we find Gateway and leave? Do you believe in Gateway, Trella?”
“I believe something is going on in the upper levels. I believe the Pop Cops are lying to us.”
“No kidding. You need to answer my question. Do you believe in Gateway?”
“It doesn’t matter. We need to get you somewhere safe first and then we’ll worry about the next step.”
Cogon grunted and pulled a wad of black cloth. “Contraband.” He unrolled the mass and a bottle fell. “Flushed through the waste system during a Pop Cop raid.”
“Cog!” My panic increased. He acted so casual.
“It does matter if you believe or not.”
“Why?”
“Because there is nowhere for me to hide. They’ll find me pretty quick and keep searching for you. I’m going to let them arrest me, and I’m going to confess to killing the Pop Cop on my own and clear your name. And I’m going to eventually tell them I hid Broken Man, sending them to various hiding spots. And when they don’t find him, I’ll confess to killing him, too, and dumping his body in a number of tanks and feeding bits of him to machines. Hopefully they’ll investigate each and every claim.”
I stared at Cog as my body numbed with horror.
“See, Trell? It does matter. Because for me to endure, I need to know you believe in Gateway and know you’re searching for it. To know I am helping by keeping the Pop Cops occupied while you find it.”
“But you’ll be fed to Chomper!”
“I don’t have a problem with that.”
“But I do.”
“It’s not your decision.”
“You think finding Gateway is more important than your life?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
“Why? Aren’t you happy with the status quo
? You smile at everyone. You have a ton of friends.”
He held up his filthy foul-smelling hands. “This is the rest of my life. Nothing is going to change unless we do something. I’ve been waiting for the right circumstances. This is it.”
One of the maintenance scrubs hustled over. “Cog, a group of Pop Cops are looking for you. Want us to distract them?”
“No thanks. Go back to work.” Cogon met my gaze. An unanswered question still hovered between us.
“I don’t know if I believe in Gateway or not. But I won’t stop searching for it until I prove beyond a doubt it does or doesn’t exist. Will that help you?”
Shouts and loud voices reached us.
He smiled. “Yes. Now, shoo.” He waved me toward the heating vent. “Won’t help my story if you’re found in here with me.”
“What about the maintenance scrub?”
“He’ll cover for me.”
I raced for the vent and scrambled through. The Pop Cops must have been prepared for a fight. Surprise laced their voices when Cog agreed to go with them. Sure enough, the other scrub never mentioned me. He could have used the information in exchange for a better position. Proof of Cog’s uniqueness.
Lying in the warm duct, I felt truly alone for the first time in a long while.
If Cog was going to sacrifice himself, the least I could do was report to my work shift and pretend nothing had happened. Catching up on the three hours I’d missed, I toggled the troll to move faster, reminding me of Cog.
We had been care mates. My earliest memories involved a confusing array of new faces, being upset and longing. Even though Cog was two hundred and sixty-eight weeks older than me, he befriended me. Life in the noisy and chaotic facility was bearable with him. Then Cog had his fourteenth centiweek celebration and “graduated” from the care unit, leaving me.
I had known he would go, but I hadn’t been prepared for the devastation inside me. He visited and he was reachable, but his new life and friends kept him busy. The change from having him as my almost constant companion to seeing him for an hour every two weeks left me distraught and an easy target.
Inside Page 8
