Outside In. Maria Snyder V.

Outside In - Maria Snyder V.


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clothes, you have to do them yourself.”

      “How long has it been like this?” I asked.

      “Where’ve you been?” The woman paused to look at me for the first time. “In the upper levels, I’d bet.” She swept her hand out. “The laundry scrubs stayed for a few weeks, but none of the uppers came down to help them. Eventually they stopped. They’re not washing the uppers’ clothes. We’re all supposed to be equal, but as far as the scrubs are concerned nothing’s changed.”

      I bit back my reply about the lack of Pop Cops patrolling the hallways and kill-zapping dissenters or about not having to report to the hundred hour assemblies. Instead I said, “You have to be patient. It’s going to take some time to get everyone organized. And we outnumber the uppers ten to one.”

      “So? Can’t a few come down and help? How hard can it be?”

      Opening my mouth to respond, I closed it. She had a point. But it wasn’t like the uppers sat around doing nothing. Yet another problem for the Committee to address.

      The woman waited for my reply.

      “The Committee—”

      “Has caused more problems than they solved. This is a big ship, right?”

      Confused by the change in topic, I said, “Sort of, but—”

      “We had a captain, right?”

      “Captain James Trava. But he was relieved of duty. All the Trava officers were.” We also had an admiral and a fleet admiral. Although I didn’t know why since one ship didn’t equal a fleet.

      “So? Appoint another.”

      I smiled. “Just like that?”

      “Why not? Can’t be any harder than taking the Travas out, right? Unless you’re afraid?”

      My humor died. “I’m not afraid of anyone.”

      “I don’t doubt that, young lady, but I wasn’t talking about a person.”

      “Then what—”

      She poked a finger at a bin half hidden behind the washers. “You’ll find clean clothes in there. They’re too small for most of the scrubs.” Scooping up an armful of clothes, she added them to the washer. Conversation over.

      I sorted through the uniforms and jumpers. Finding a few shirts and a pair of pants the kitchen scrubs wore, I tucked them under my arm. The nearest washroom was in Sector E1, which also housed the barracks, along with Sectors D1 and F1. Bluelights lit the rows and rows of bunk beds stacked three high.

      Unlike the laundry and recycling areas, many scrubs lounged in the barracks. Some gathered in groups, others slept despite the noise and a few played cards. The place was packed and the stench of them nearly knocked me over. I hurried to change my clothes in the washroom, but as I dashed through the barracks on my way out, I spotted a number of ISF officers patrolling the barracks.

      I felt as if I had just slammed into a wall. Why were they here? The scrubs didn’t like their presence either. They threw snide and nasty comments at them, mocking and taunting them. Horrible. I wondered if Anne-Jade knew what was going on down here. Or was she like me, avoiding the lower levels? I hadn’t been on levels one or two in weeks and I didn’t have a good reason either.

      Sick to my stomach, I paused in the corridor and breathed in the clean air until my heart slowed to normal. Going with a hunch, I braced for another assault on my senses as I entered the barracks in Sector D1. Jacy used to hold court in a corner.

      Not as bad as E1, there were less people and ISF officers. Also the general mood seemed stable and not as tense.

      Sure enough, Jacy and a few of his followers huddled together. When I approached they broke apart.

      “Hello Trella,” Jacy said, but his tone was far from welcoming. “What’s the emergency?”

      “There isn’t one. Why would you think that?”

      “You’re here with the scrubs so it must be something big.”

      I ignored his snide comment. “Did you mention what’s going on down here to the Committee?”

      “And just what is going on?” He acted innocent.

      “The piles in recycling and the dirty laundry. How no one is doing their jobs.”

      “Of course.”

      “And?”

      “And nothing. It’s not a high priority. The Committee thinks once the extra levels are completed and the scrubs get more space, everyone will be happy to return to work.” His sarcastic tone implied otherwise.

      “Is it the same for all the systems?”

      “Except for maintenance and security, they’re busy and productive. Why? Do you care now?”

      I laced my hands together to keep from punching Jacy. “Okay, tell me. What should I be doing?”

      He jerked as if I surprised him. “Truthfully?”

      “Always.”

      “Disband the Committee. Appoint a few people to be in charge.”

      I laughed. “Is that it? And here I was ready for something that would be hard to do.”

      “You asked.” He kept his expression neutral.

      “I don’t have the power to appoint people. I’m just a—”

      “A scrub?”

      “No. A citizen of Inside. I’ve done my part. It’s time for other people to step in and set up a better system. I wouldn’t know the first thing about running a society.”

      “Uh-huh.” Jacy leaned against a bunk. “And you’re here because …”

      “I need to talk to you.”

      “So talk.”

      I glanced around. There were too many people nearby who seemed interested in our conversation. “Some place private.”

      He frowned with annoyance then snapped his fingers at his men. They cleared a wider space around us. Impressive.

      “Better?”

      “Yes.” But I hesitated. His hostility worried me. Plus he acted like he had before the rebellion—as if we were enemies. Yet he had been a key member, rising to the occasion and being invaluable. I suppressed my doubts and asked him if he knew or heard of an expert in explosions.

      He whistled. “You think someone damaged the power plant on purpose?”

      Trust Jacy to put the pieces together so quickly. “Let’s just say I’d like another opinion.”

      “Uh-huh. And what if this expert is the one you’re searching for?”

      “There is always that possibility.”

      He tapped his fingers on the bunk’s metal support beam as he considered my request. “I do know one scrub that would be regarded as an expert, but you need to do something for me in return.”

      No surprise. “And that would be …”

      “Remember those microphones you planted for me in air duct seventy-two?”

      “Yes.”

      “I need you to plant more in another air duct.”

      “Why?” I asked. “The Pop Cops are gone and you should know everything that’s being decided from the Committee meetings.”

      “Let’s just say I like another opinion. Deal?”

      “Yes, I’ll plant the mics for you.” But I didn’t say where I would.

      “Good. I’ll get them to you soon.”

      “And


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