Chapter 8
“And you matched my skin type?” I asked.
Struggling to keep her professional demeanor, Lamont nodded.
Impressive considering I stood less than a meter from her.
The fact we matched, meant I was her daughter.
The daughter she had thought had been fed to Chomper over fifteen hundred weeks ago.
Alive and…not quite well, but living and breathing.
How would I react if Cogan returned from Outer Space but he hated me for leaving him out there? Thrilled and awful at the same time.
But I couldn’t get the image of her standing with Karla Trava in the main control room out of my mind.
She had searched all the faces in the room and didn’t recognize me.
Shouldn’t a mother recognize her own daughter no matter how old she was?
Plus the fact that she had been there with Karla in the first place, cooperating with her, endangering thousands of people for her own selfish desire.
However, if I was being fair, I endangered everyone with our rebellion. Was I being selfish as well?
Too confused to say anything but thanks for the skin cells, I collapsed on the clean bed and closed my eyes. Too much of a coward to meet her gaze.
Riley visited me around hour ten. He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. “How are you doing?”
“Great. I’m ready to go. Do you think your dad would mind if I sleep on your couch?”
“Nice try. But you’re not leaving here until Doctor Lamont gives you permission.” He took my hand gently in his. “Did you even stop and think about the danger to yourself before you rushed in to save Logan?”
“No time. I hope you didn’t come here to lecture me.”
“Actually, I came to see how Sheepy is doing. He doesn’t like sleeping in strange places.” Riley picked up the stuffed sheep and smoothed his gray fuzzy hair made from real sheep’s wool. The little toy had been sharing my pillow.
At my age—1535 weeks or 17.5 years in the old time—it seemed silly to lavish so much affection on a toy. But with the limited amount of play things available while growing up in the care facility with nine others, and the all-work-and-no-free-time structure of my upbringing, Sheepy filled a void.
“Sheepy’s been keeping me company,” I said. “Thanks.”
“He does have an ulterior motive,” he said with a sly smile.
“And that would be?”
“Spying on you. Making sure you’re listening to the Doctor’s orders and not… What’s that?” Riley put Sheepy up to his ear as if listening to the toy. “Not staying in bed? Bothering Logan?” He tsked.
“Anne-Jade really needs to learn the difference between her job and basic friendship.” I grumped. “I don’t suppose she has any suspects for the attack on her brother?”
“She’s questioning the two stink bombers, but that’s all she has right now.” He fiddled with his shirt. “Inside has been locked down. It’s worse than when the Pop Cops had been in charge.”
An outrage on her behalf surged through me. I struggled into a sitting position. “She’s dealing with a very different type of rebel than the Pop Cops ever did. We didn’t blow anything up, or kill any innocents or set fires. The only people to get hurt were our own and a few Pop Cops.”
He refused to meet my gaze. “There has to be a better way.”
“I’m sure she’s open to ideas. Have you talked to her?”
“I would if I had one. I’m more of a support person.” He finally looked me in the eye. “You’re the one who has the knack for coming up with new ideas.”
I flopped back. Not this again. Time to change the subject. “What have you been doing since the fire?”
Pressing his lips together, he swallowed his obvious ire over my dodge. “Once I knew you and Logan would live, I’ve been checking the computer network. Logan said it had been compromised, but I’ve yet to find evidence.”
“Did Anne-Jade search the Travas’s rooms?”
“Yep. None of the computers they found were connected to the network.”
Interesting word choice, I asked, “Do you suspect they have a hidden connection?”
“It’s possible, but not probable. I think we have another person or persons with Logan’s ability to ghost through the network. They would be all but impossible to catch.”
This conversation was familiar, and I wondered if eighteen weeks ago, Karla Trava had a similar discussion with her lieutenants.
The arrival of Lamont to check my vitals was a welcome distraction.
Although she declared they were all strong, she remained vague about when I’d be able to leave the infirmary.
When she went to check on Logan, Riley raised his eyebrows. “You were…civil to her.” He sounded surprised.
“With my tendency to end up as her patient, there’s no sense being nasty. Besides everyone else seems to think she’s okay.”
“Oh no. I’m not going to believe you’d be influenced by others. That’s not the Trella I know. Are you sure it isn’t because she saved your life?”
I shrugged. “Well…it helps.”
“Uh-uh. And how about the confirmation that she’s your mother? Did that help?”
“Not at all.”
“Whew! I was beginning to worry the fire had burned more than your skin,” he teased.
Glad to see Riley smile, I relaxed. Too often lately, our conversations had transformed into…not fights, but arguments. Right before the fire, he had accused me of not caring about Inside, and I had… A memory pulled on the edges of my thoughts.
“The scrub file,” I said.
“What?”
“White light flashed on the screen probably the same time Logan was attacked. Then it erased the list.”
He leaned forward. “Are you sure?”
“You might be able to find evidence of tampering in that file if it is still there. Or perhaps where those files are stored.”
“It’s a starting point.” Energized, he kissed me on the forehead, tucked Sheepy next to me and left the infirmary.
Happy to contribute to his search, I squirmed into a comfortable position. But it didn’t take long for me to miss him and wish for something to distract me from the sting of my injuries. Perhaps I should ask for a pain pill.
I scanned the infirmary for Lamont and spotted Jacy.
None of his goons accompanied him. Guess he didn’t need backup to visit a half burnt scrub.
That or he didn’t want to make an impression on the two ISF officers stationed next to the door.
Now why did I automatically think scrub?
Whenever I saw him, he always reminded me of the time before the rebellion.
Even though he helped, I always wondered why.
Jacy’s life had been better than most under the Pop Cop’s control.
He swiped his bangs from his eyes and sat in the chair next to my bed. “You look terrible,” he said.
“Gee, that really cheered me up. Thanks for visiting.”
He flashed a grin. “You do know the Committee is unhappy with you. Don’t you?”
“I figured they weren’t keen about us keeping our suspicions to ourselves.”
“Keen is such a…mild word.”
“Jacy if you keep trying to scare me, I’m going to have Lamont toss you out of here.”
Not bothered by my threat, he shifted into a more comfortable position. “Just trying to warn you.”
“How about you tell me who’s been endangering our world instead?”
He tapped his fingers on his leg. “Wish I could.”
“You’re lying. You know—”
“Nothing.” The word tore from his mouth as if it hurt him to speak it. “I used to have eyes and ears in every Sector and Quadrant. But my sources turned blind and deaf after I joined the Committee. I have a few loyal supporters, but not enough to discover who set off that bomb in the power plant.”
I studied his expression. He seemed truly disgruntled, but it could be an act. “If you didn’t know, why did you tell me Bubba Boom’s name then?”
“You asked for an expert. You didn’t ask for a suspect.”
True.
Jacy pulled a small bag from his pocket and tossed it on my stomach. I couldn’t open it with the gloves on. When Lamont had changed them earlier, my palms were still raw.
“Your part of our bargain,” he said, pitching his voice lower. “I need you to plant them in air duct seventy-two, ninety-five, and eighty-one.”
His list of ducts targeted all the critical areas of Inside—the main control room, Anne-Jade’s office, the brig, and the sector full of Travas. I hefted the bag, calculating how many listening devices might be inside.
“That’s three different shafts. You only gave me one name,” I said.
“I told you I don’t—”
“I don’t need names. How about locations?”
“Locations of what?”
“If you could have eyes and ears in the lower levels again, where would you want them?”
His expression smoothed as he caught on. “Sector F1, waste handling, and maintenance.”
I waved the bag of mics. “Why not ask me to install these there?”
“Because the scrubs didn’t know about the Transmission, and they don’t necessarily know Logan’s the brains of our operation, so I think they’re just following orders. Besides, I have a limited number of mics.”
“Well, it may be a week or more before I can install these,” I said. “It depends on Lamont and how much help the air plant workers need.”
“Let me know when they’re in place.” He stood, but paused. “I also suspect the explosion in the power plant and the fire in the air plant was done by two separate groups.”
Double the trouble. Wonderful. “Why?”
He spread his hands out. “A gut feeling. Before the rebellion, I dealt with many scrubs that broke the laws, and they get comfortable with one method or one type of defiance and rarely move beyond that. A bomb and a fire are two different methods.”
“But the results were the same.”
He studied me a moment. “No they weren’t. Think about it.”