Текст книги "Inside Out"

Автор книги: Maria V. Snyder

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

9

THE RECYCLING PLANT OCCUPIED THE ENTIRE II quadrant. Piles of discarded and broken items littered the space. Scrubs sorted the heaps of trash into smaller loads. Other scrubs moved around the plant’s machinery, feeding metal into the blast furnace, glass pieces into the kiln and thread into the looms. And, beyond the equipment, another set of workers crafted goods from the melted glass, from the sheets of metal and the bolts of cloth.

I wore the shapeless coveralls of the workers, blending in with ease. A few Pop Cops wandered around, and I practiced my cover story in my mind just in case.

Heat from the machines thickened the air, and a film of fine grit formed on my clothes and skin. A hot metallic smell dominated. I pushed through the noise and activity, looking for Logan and Anne-Jade.

The reason thick-soled boots were required for this area crunched under my feet, and I skirted piles of kitchen utensils and torn clothing. Nothing was wasted. Everything was recycled and reused. Human waste and food traveled to the waste-handling system to be turned into fertilizer for hydroponics. Water looped through the water-treatment plant and air blasted through a series of tanks and scrubbers.

Even people contributed when their life ended. Their lifeless bodies were sent to Chomper’s Lair—a room next to the solid-waste facility—to be transformed into…I wasn’t sure. Wild rumors and creative speculation circulated about the place. Not many scrubs were allowed in there—well, not alive anyway. A few called the room the Final Gateway.

My thoughts drifted to Cog. When a well-loved person died, scrubs would line the corridors to Chomper’s Lair to pay their respects. I yanked my morose thoughts away. They distracted from my mission.

Anne-Jade and Logan sorted a number of small circuit boards. I joined them. Anne-Jade shot me an annoyed look, but Logan smiled in welcome. In order to appear to be working, I moved items around.

“What are you doing here?” Anne-Jade asked. The words hissed.

“I need your help.”

She scanned the Pop Cops nearby. “Couldn’t you wait until our shift is over at sixty?”

“No, I work the even shifts.”

Logan leaned close. “Did Zippy help you?”

“Sort of.”

They waited, and I explained about the power drain being noticeable to the electrical systems manager.

“That is a problem. We will have to install a—”

“Not now.” Anne-Jade’s long golden hair swung as she shook her head in exasperation. “What do you need?” she asked me.

“I could use a new-and-improved Zippy and something to open locks.”

“Zippy’s it for now. If I had some time…” Logan stared into the distance, probably reassembling Zippy in his head.

“How much time?”

He shrugged. “A week.”

“Too long.” I considered. Since I knew where to find Broken Man’s port, I could reduce my time spent in Karla’s office and be gone by the time the spike registered. “What about the lock?”

Logan flashed me a bright smile. He pulled a narrow timer from his pocket and handed it to me. “I thought you would need this. Place it below the keypad and press the button. Instead of the time, the display will show the code for the lock in about three to four seconds.”

I marveled at the device. “How?”

“Do you really want to know?” Anne-Jade asked.

“No. This is wonderful.”

“Anything else?”

I hesitated. Broken Man had said it was impossible, but, with these two, impossible could be possible. “Do you have a device to access the uppers’ computer network?”

Anne-Jade and Logan exchanged a glance. Once again, she scanned the room before asking, “Like a port?”

I nodded.

Another significant look flashed between them. “That’s the ultimate goal of a Tech No,” Logan said. “I managed to hack into the uppers’ computer system about as far as I can go without one. All I need is a port to open the door, then I would own the system. Own it!”

“Has anyone achieved that goal?” I asked, wondering just how many Tech Nos there were.

“No, but…” He sought Anne-Jade’s permission. She waved him on, despite the strain lined on her face.

Logan stepped close to me. “But, we’re almost there.”

“How soon?”

“Twenty weeks, maybe more.”

Too late to help me. “Any chance you could speed it up?”

Anne-Jade turned on me. “No. Crafting these devices takes an immense effort. And it’s just us. You’re looking at the entire Tech Nos. The Pop Cops have decimated our group, and the only reason we’re still alive is because we move slow and proceed with the utmost care. So far, we have out-smarted the uppers.” Twin circles of red spread on her cheeks.

“We know we’ll be found out eventually,” Logan added. His tone remained flat as if he discussed a routine event. “We just want to impart the maximum damage before we’re fed to Chomper.”

With Zippy leading the way, I crawled through the air shaft on level four. The trip here felt routine. Bad sign. Before Broken Man, I had limited my trips into the upper levels to once every five or ten weeks. Now I popped up here every off-shift.

I turned Zippy off as we neared Riley’s room. No sense alerting him to our presence even if hour fifty-eight was only minutes away. Peering through the vent, I searched for Pop Cops.

Riley sat on the edge of the couch. After a moment he stood, glanced at the clock, smoothed his shirt and adjusted his headset. Nervous or bored, I couldn’t tell for sure. The Pop Cops could be waiting in the corridor for Riley’s signal. And why would he be wearing his headset?

Now or never. I reached the vent above the couch and removed the cover. Riley jumped at the sound. I suppressed a grimace. He was nervous. Because of a trap or because of me? At least he wasn’t armed.

I dropped Zippy onto the couch and climbed down the ladder. Keeping my feet on the lowest rung, I prepared to bolt at any sign of trouble.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” Riley said.

He appeared older. No longer in training, he wore a plain gray shirt and black pants. Fresh scratches marred his cheek and neck, and his left sleeve was torn and bloody.

“What happened?” I asked, gesturing to his arm.

A wry smile twisted his lips. “Extra duty with Commander Vinco. The commander delights in knife fighting and uses his unarmed helpers for target practice.”

I couldn’t resist. “Unarmed?”

Impishness lit his face. “So far, I’ve managed to survive the duty, much to his annoyance.” He rubbed his shoulder as the humor faded from his expression. “But he’s getting creative, which is not the reason you’re here.” He stared at me for a moment.

Warmth flushed through me. I imagined I was quite the sight. Wisps of brown hair had sprung from my braid long ago and clung to my sweaty face. Stains and tears marked my one-piece cleaning uniform, which felt rather tight all of a sudden. Bare feet roughened with calluses completed the picture. I don’t know why I cared about my appearance. I hadn’t before.

“Aren’t you going to come down?” Riley pointed to the couch.

“I’ll stay here.”

“You still don’t trust me even after I covered for you?”

No sense sugarcoating it. “Yep.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I owe you one.”

“Wonderful,” he muttered. He crossed his arms and frowned. “You might as well go then. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me.” Riley turned to leave.

Not the reaction I expected. “Help me with what?”

He paused. “Getting Domotor’s port.”

“Why?”

Riley faced me with a challenge in his blue eyes. So used to the various shades of brown in the lower levels, the color still amazed me.

“If you want to know why, then have a seat.” He swept his arm wide.

Curiosity was a lethal trait. Scrubs learned in the care facility not to ask too many questions or challenge what you were taught. To accept and agree meant more privileges, fewer punishments and a decent work assignment. A few had learned this lesson quicker than others. A few still hadn’t accepted it.

My Care Mother followed the Pop Cops’ rules, but she lacked the inner conviction. She punished because she had to, not because she agreed with the rules. If one of us found a loophole, she honored it and applauded our inventiveness.

Unfortunately, my talents in creative explanations had been limited. And the faded scars crisscrossing my body reminded me I should squelch all curiosity. But should didn’t mean I would. I settled on the couch next to Zippy.

Riley pointed to the little cleaning troll. “Is that what you used to keep the motion detectors silent?”

“I’m not answering anything until you tell me why you want to help me.”

He swallowed his first comment, drew a deep breath and said, “After meeting you the first time, I searched for more information about life in the lower levels. My interest triggered a warning. Good thing I was still in training, the warning was sent to my trainer who’s also my father instead of the Controllers.” He touched his left arm. Blood still welled from a number of cuts.

“What happens when the Controllers are alerted?”

A wince flashed across his face. “You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. You’re an upper. How bad can it be?”

He paused. “Interesting. The ignorance goes both ways.” Balanced on the couch’s armrest, his gaze slid past my shoulder. “Makes sense, though. The Trava family wouldn’t want uppers and lowers to unite.” Riley’s focus returned to me.

“Nor would we. You uppers think we’re filthy livestock bred for one purpose. To work.”

“I see the propaganda has worked. You believe the Pop Cops.”

I jumped to my feet. “I’m not like those sheep. I don’t listen to all that bull.”

“Really?” He raised one eyebrow in a mocking sneer. “Where did you acquire your vast knowledge of life in the upper levels?”

“In the care facility.”

“Which is run by the Pop Cops.” Smugness replaced his scorn.

I preferred the sneer. “So your purpose in inviting me here was to prove I’m an ignorant scrub?”

“No.” The word ground out as if it originated deep within him. He held up both hands in a stopping motion. “I’m trying to understand why you automatically assumed I’m a spoiled brat. And I wanted you to think about where you’ve gotten your information. It’s either from the Pop Cops or from the computer system, which is run by the Controllers. Both can’t be trusted.”

“Gee, thanks for that little nugget of advice. I wonder how I survived all these weeks without it.” I headed to the ladder. What a waste of time.

“Wait.” He grabbed my arm.

I yanked a screwdriver from my tool belt. He let go.

“Please listen,” he said to my back. “This isn’t going the way I thought it would. When my father asked why I was so interested in the scrubs, I told him—”

I rounded on him. “I knew this was a trap! Is your father waiting outside with a troop of Pop Cops?”

“No.” This time the word growled. Riley’s hands shook as if he fought to keep from grabbing me again. “I told him I wanted to help the scrubs, to do something…anything to ease their horrid living conditions.”

“Really?” Disbelief tainted my voice.

“Yes.” He practically shouted the word.

“Why?”

“Because of what you told me when you…er…visited last week. Before you dropped in, I thought scrubs were…” His arms moved in a vague all-encompassing gesture. “Were like your little device there, but bigger. We’re taught nothing more about scrubs than they clean and work. We’re threatened to be exiled to the lower levels if we do anything really bad. It’s implied that if we survived, the rest of our weeks would be filled with hard physical labor.” He held a hand up, stopping me from contradicting him. “Look. There are no pictures in our training computers. Truthfully, I hadn’t really thought about who lives in the lower levels at all. But there you stood, a real human being. My age, with…” He dropped his arms, slapping his hands against his legs. “Never mind, you wouldn’t believe me. My father said there was nothing I could do to help. He was right until Domotor went missing and I caught you in LC Karla’s office.”

“Caught?” I feigned innocence—all I could manage. His speech rolled around in my mind, and I couldn’t quite grasp the significance. “Don’t you mean found?”

“No. Caught. You didn’t see the petrified look on your face when you turned around. It was gone in an instant, but I’ll never forget it.” He smiled at the memory.

He could smile. He wouldn’t be fed to Chomper if caught. “Is there a point to all this? My work shift starts in an hour.”

“My father had told me about a few uppers who’d tried and failed to circumvent various security systems in the computer network long ago. Domotor was rumored to be trying again before his accident and banishment to the lower levels. When you showed up looking for Domotor’s port, I guessed you know where he is and you’re helping him.”

“Why would I care if Broken Man is trying to bypass computer systems?”

Riley stepped closer. “If the other upper families regain control of Inside, then we can make life in the lower levels better.”

I studied his expression for signs of deceit. Broken Man had said the upper families wouldn’t want to help. Or did he tell me that so I would focus all my energy on finding Gateway? Riley seemed sincere and he already knew most of it. How much worse could it be for him to know?

“You’re right. I’m here to fetch Broken…Domotor’s port.”

“You’ll let me help?”

He managed to downplay his triumph. Impressive. I nodded.

“I’m monitoring the electrical usage for level four during the next shift. I can’t disable the motion sensors because it would be recorded, but I can hide the spike from your device.” He glanced at the little cleaning troll. “Smoke was coming out of it before. Will it work?”

“Yes.” Logan had repaired Zippy before I left.

“Good. I wasn’t able to find the code for the lock. How do you plan to get into the evidence closet?”

“I have another…ah…device.”

He raised his eyebrows, inviting me to elaborate.

“It’s better you don’t know.”

“As long as it works fast,” he said. He slid his hand into a pocket.

I tensed, but relaxed when he withdrew a port. He handed it to me.

“What’s this for?” I examined the white interface. The size and shape mimicked three molars in a row, but underneath a square-shaped metal piece stuck out. Small numbers had been etched into the metal box. It was hollow except for a line of copper pins. I guessed the bottom piece was inserted into a person’s jawbone to anchor the port.

“To exchange for Domotor’s. An empty spot will alert LC Karla. Do you know his ID number?”

“Yes, but what about the LC? She’s also scheduled to work the next shift.”

“All the high-ranking officers have a meeting in the Control Room at hour sixty. It lasts about an hour. She’s usually there.”

“Usually?”

“Wait to enter her office until a few minutes past sixty. The computer lists the whereabouts of important people so if there’s ever an emergency they can be contacted. If she’s not listed in the meeting room, I’ll flash the lights in her office to let you know.”

“Do you always know where she is?”

“No. I only have second degree security clearance. The hour sixty meeting and its attendees are general knowledge.”

General knowledge to the uppers. The scrubs hadn’t a clue, and what we did know was doubtful. So much for reporting to my shift on time.

“Get in position now,” Riley said. “I don’t want to open the door until you’re hidden from sight. Just in case someone is out in the hall.”

“How come you’re the only one who uses this room?”

“It’s hard to find and has been forgotten. I doubt anyone is outside, but it never hurts to be too careful.”

I agreed with him, being extra careful should be our motto. Turning away so Riley couldn’t see my smirk—our motto, like we were a gang—I opened the heating vent and slipped inside, taking Zippy with me.

Riley crouched down to help replace the cover. But before setting it in place, he touched my arm. This time I didn’t flinch as the heat from his hand sizzled in my blood. I met his gaze.

“Be careful,” he said.

Cog constantly told me to be careful, but Riley’s voice sounded different. I wondered if it was fear or genuine concern.

“You, too,” I said.

He nodded then replaced the vent’s cover. Rolling Zippy ahead of me, I slid through the tight space toward Karla’s office, but my mind reviewed the strange conversation with Riley as I traveled. Could the Controllers be as bad as the Pop Cops? It was hard to imagine and yet I couldn’t shake the image of blood dripping from his arm, nor could I forget the warmth that still lingered on my skin from his touch.

I reached Karla’s office and slowed. Creeping toward her vent, I listened for any noise. The soft bluelight shone through the vent cover, signaling an empty room. My body was so used to the ten-hour system, I felt rather than knew when it was hour sixty. I hoped my supervisor wasn’t looking for me.

The glow remained steady. After a few minutes, I removed the vent’s cover. Another couple passed before I turned Zippy on and pushed him out. When the alarm failed to sound, I hurried over to the gray evidence closet. Opening the doors, I pulled out Logan’s device and placed it under the keypad, pressing the button.

It hummed and a series of numbers filled the small screen. Typing in the code, I braced for an alarm, but the bolt slid back. I exchanged the fake port for Broken Man’s, checked the ID numbers twice, then relocked the closet.

The room’s daylights flashed a few times. I grabbed Zippy and dove into the vent. Voices sounded beyond the office door. The vent cover stuck in the hole. I tugged on it as the pings of someone entering a code rang. It jerked free. I placed it over the vent as the door opened.

“Alarm off,” Lieutenant Commander Karla said.

Daylights swept over the blue glow, trapping me and illuminating a frowning Karla. I couldn’t ever recall seeing the woman smile.

“This had better be important,” she said to the lieutenant following her into the room.

“Our detainee just gave us a clue to Domotor’s location. I need your permission to assign a search team,” the lieutenant said.

“Has he implicated anyone else?”

“No, sir.”

“Hard to believe he managed to hide a physically disabled man without help.” Frustration tainted her voice.

“He’s strong and has a high pain tolerance, sir.”

My heart stumbled. Only one way to discover how much pain a person could tolerate.

Karla grunted. “But he’s too big to fit in the air shafts. Another scrub had to be involved.”

“But we have no real evidence, sir. That cloth bag could have been blown down to the floor. It’s light enough to have been sucked up by the return air.”

“No. I know a scrub was there, and I’ll find out who was in the air shaft,” she vowed. “No scrub gets away from me.”

“What about the search team, sir?”

“Take team four and report back to me immediately. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant strode from the room.

The LC scowled at his retreating form. She stood gazing at the door as if lost in thought then left her office, pausing only to reactivate the alarms.

I waited a few minutes to ensure she was gone. The need to act pulsed in my body. Cogon suffered while I wasted time. I headed toward Riley’s room with reckless speed. Even knowing Riley wouldn’t be there, disappointment still jabbed me when I reached the place. I hid Zippy under the couch and hurried to Domotor’s room. My shift be damned. Cogon would not suffer in vain.

10

I HELD DOMOTOR’S PORT BETWEEN MY FINGER AND thumb, flourishing the unit.

The prophet pumped a fist in the air and grinned. “Good work!”

“How long to get the information?”

“It’ll take about forty to fifty hours,” Domotor said.

I groaned aloud.

“If I’m not careful, I’ll alert the system to my presence and we’ll be discovered.” He studied my face. “Trella, get a few hours’ sleep. You look terrible.”

I ignored his remark, but thought about Riley’s comment about circumventing computer systems. “Are you going to tell me your real agenda?”

He fidgeted in his chair. The ecstatic expression faded and wariness touched his eyes. I hadn’t given him the device.

“Are you really seeking Gateway’s location? Or was that my incentive for retrieving the disks and your port?”

“It’s complicated,” he said.

“Meaning a dumb scrub wouldn’t be able to understand?” My hand fisted around his port.

“No.” He pushed the hair from his eyes. The long blond strands hung loose. “Meaning you don’t know enough about the upper levels to realize that even if we find Gateway, we might not be able to unlock it without gaining control of key computer systems.”

“Do you even believe Gateway exists?”

“Yes, I do.” His gaze remained steady.

Damn. Either he was a good liar or he told the truth. “How do you gain control of the systems?”

“Through the computer network, but I need to find out who the real Controllers are.”

“You mean which Travas?”

“No. All the upper families think the admiral, vice admiral and captain, who are all Travas, are the Controllers. But I found a command flow chart in a forgotten file that put the Controllers above the admiral.”

“Then who are the Controllers?”

“No one knows. Not even the Travas. But I’ve overheard them speculating, and they believe the Controllers live Outside and send instructions through the computer. Sort of a divine influence.”

Shock rolled through me. The thought of people or even a divine being dictating what we did Inside from Outside was hard to grasp.

“Just because the Travas believe it doesn’t mean it is true.”

“Do they know what is Outside?”

“No. No one does. It’s all speculation. A few Travas think the divine presence lives in the computer network. Others think the computer itself has become intelligent.” He shrugged. “Knowledge of before was erased from the computer system thousands of weeks ago. Something has to be beyond our walls. The Controllers must know.”

I mulled over the information. “Gateway could just be a computer link to the Controllers, and not a physical exit.”

“It’s possible. And you’re holding our only chance to find out.”

I unfurled my fingers. His port rested in my palm. Cog’s life in exchange for this. No turning back now. I would stay the course until the end.

He snatched his port as a hungry man would grab food. Relief washed the worry from Domotor’s expression. He inspected the device and then inserted it into the gap on the right side of his lower jaw. I wheeled him over to the computer.

“Get some rest,” he said half-distracted. “You’re welcome to use my bed.”

A few hours remained in my shift, and I needed to put in an appearance. But I entered the kitchen first to inventory his food. Not much left. A few lonely bowls of casserole occupied the small refrigerator. More than thirty hours remained to the next assembly, and I doubted I could cough my way into the kitchen again. The prospect of standing in line multiple times for extra food seemed daunting.

I straightened the dishes and checked his bedroom. The clicks and taps from the keyboard followed me. His sheets hung to the floor and his blanket was a balled-up wad. Must be hard to make a bed when you couldn’t use your legs.

Pulling everything off, I remade the bed with clean linens. A mistake. The fresh sheets called to me. My body ached. My thoughts pushed through a numb fog. A sense of loss pressed between my shoulder blades. I settled on the edge of the bed and rested my head in my hands.

What had I expected? Give Domotor his port and voilà! Directions to Gateway would appear in a matter of minutes. Huffing in tired amusement, I admitted that, yes, I had been expecting instantaneous results despite all my efforts to believe Gateway didn’t exist and to not get my hopes up. I guess a part of me really desired a true exit to Outside. Now the possibility of a computer Gateway instead of a physical Gateway sucked all hope away.

I should be happy. Domotor’s discoveries would prove me right. Yet the possibility of the Controllers not living with us or even being a person caused a finger of fear to brush my spine.

Morbid thoughts circled and conversations replayed in my mind. To escape them, I laid down. I would rest a few minutes.

“Lousy son-of-a-Trava!” Domotor’s curses woke me from a dreamless sleep. Hours and not minutes had passed. So much for my shift. I hoped my supervisor hadn’t checked on me. I stretched and padded to the living area.

Domotor scowled at the computer monitor. He punched a few keys then slammed his fist on the table.

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

“New security systems have been installed.”

“And?”

“I might not be able to get around them.” He typed a few words. “The program is…odd. The Controllers aren’t usually this…creative. They stick to what they know and what has worked.”

“Perhaps your earlier forays into the system alarmed them?”

“Possible. But this other program should work. It’s just complicated.” His attention returned to the screen.

I left him to his work and showered. My stomach growled with urgent need and I resigned myself to spending the next five hours gathering food for me and Domotor.

He grunted when I said goodbye. I traveled through the heating vents until I reached one of the main hallways. The scrubs traveling through the corridor ignored me. No curses. No taunts. I joined the flow and aimed for the cafeteria in Quad G2.

Standing in line, I noticed the stiffness of the people around me. It was well known I didn’t like them and they didn’t like me. They called me Queen of the Pipes, believing I thought I was better than them. Used to glares and sneers, I now had scrubs avoiding eye contact. Different. And the ones who met my gaze, nodded. A few smiled in encouragement. Stranger still was the muted hum in the room. Pop Cops patrolled the aisles between tables, and a mist of fear hung in the humid sweat-scented air. Yet a sense of purpose emanated as if no matter how afraid they were, the scrubs were determined to endure the Pop Cops’ scrutiny.

I pushed my tray along the metal track and pointed to a vegetable casserole. The scrub spooned a ladle-full into a bowl then added in a second scoop. I glanced at the man in surprise.

“There’s a clog in the kitchen’s air shaft,” he said. “Can you clean it out for us?”

It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me. “Report it to the kitchen manager.”

He stared at me. “I did. She said to have someone check the shaft at hour eighty.” He returned to filling bowls and the press of the scrubs waiting behind me propelled me toward the tables.

Odd. The whole exchange worried me. The scrubs couldn’t know about me. Could they? No. They’d rat me out in an instant. I shoveled the food into my mouth, but didn’t taste a thing.

There had been plenty of chances for scrubs to gain favor by implicating me. Yet here I sat with a double portion. Enough for Domotor and me. Instead of standing in line again, I stored the leftover food and checked the cleaning schedule.

My next shift started at hour eighty. Air shaft twenty-two was the first job listed on my sheet. Twenty-two crossed over the scrubs’ kitchen. I licked my dry lips. The man had said there was a clog. Could it be an ambush? No. Why go to all that trouble? A simple anonymous note to the lieutenant commander would do the trick.

Something was going on. I searched for Jacy. He held court in his corner of the barracks. A tone signaled the end of a shift. I hung back, waiting for the crowd to thin. He spotted me and soon the scrubs hurried away.

After scanning the barracks, he pulled two round disks from his pocket and handed them to me. “The listening devices,” he said.

I remembered my deal to plant them in air shaft seventy-two. The metal felt cold in my hands. About a quarter inch thick, the silver circles fit within my palm. An inner circle of gold-colored mesh coated the one side, and a black magnet clung to the other.

“Stick them close to the vents. They won’t come loose even when the cleaning trolls go through,” Jacy explained. “Put one in the Pop Cops HQ and the other over the Control Room.”

I hid them in my tool belt. “I have another question.”

“Goody. I have more listening devices.”

“Not that type of question. At least I think the answer wouldn’t be worth anything.”

He brushed away his hair, revealing his dark eyes. “Now, I’m intrigued.”

“I just want to know the latest gossip, what rumors are circulating.”

Jacy studied my face. “You never cared before. Why now?”

“The lower levels feel…odd.”

“With twice as many Pop Cops patrolling, people are scared and nervous.”

“I get that, but…” How to word my questions without giving too much away? “But they have the chance to…make their life better, and I don’t know why they don’t take it.”

“You should know why. Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

I nodded.

He shook his head. “It’ll cost you two more devices.”

Figures. “Only if it isn’t some bull.”

“It’s not. This is serious.” He stepped toward me and lowered his voice. “Despite what you think, scrubs aren’t stupid. We put it together. One missing prophet, Cogon arrested for hiding him and LC Karla asking questions about you.” He held up three fingers. “If we rat you out to the Pop Cops, then the prophet is found and you and Cog are recycled.” His fingers curled in and formed a zero with his thumb. “We’re left with nothing. No hope, Trella, is worse than fear. Right now, we hope you’re up to something that will benefit us all.”

All feeling drained from my body. Logic leaked from my brain and panic filled the empty space. “And if I’m not?”

“No one will believe you. See we know something big is going on. Big enough to cause the Queen of the Pipes to come down from above and mingle with her fellow scrubs.”

“But…but…” My vision turned to static. I drew in a few breaths. The air smelled musty and damp with a hint of body odor. “But what if I fail?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

He gave me a sad smile. “It’s the effort, not the results that matter.”

Coming from the man who was all about getting something in exchange for his information and services, I didn’t believe him. The scrubs were either holding out for a better offer from the Pop Cops or waiting for me to perform a miracle for them. Sheep don’t risk their necks for other sheep.

Yet my conviction faltered when I discovered what clogged the air shaft above the kitchen a few minutes past hour eighty. Food containers filled the duct. Enough food to feed me and Domotor for weeks.