Outside In. Maria Snyder V.
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a shelf and a bench with chains and cuffs bisected the area.
The couch had been removed and a variety of high-tech devices filled the long table. Anne-Jade’s little receivers and microphones made the Pop Cop’s communicators look clunky and old.
While Anne-Jade and her lieutenants fetched Karla, I paced the room. I automatically noted all the points of escape—two air vents in the ceiling and four heating vents near the floor.
When the door banged open, I steeled myself for the encounter. Sitting on the edge of a hard metal chair, I fidgeted with the buttons on my shirt. Wedged between the two ISF officers, Karla’s smirk didn’t waver as they cuffed her to the bench. She had twisted her long blond hair up into a knot on the top of her head. Her gaze swept my face and clothes, sparking amusement in her violet-colored eyes.
Now that I knew the doctors could change a person’s eye color, I wondered if Lamont had tampered with hers.
“We’ll be right outside.” Anne-Jade handed me a stunner. “Just yell if you need us.”
The door shut with a metallic clang that vibrated in my heart, matching my rapid pulse.
Karla laughed. “Still afraid of me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It’s disgust and not fear on my face. You reek of the brig.”
“And you should know, having spent many hours there.”
“Yes, I spent about thirty hours in your custody before I escaped. You’re up to … what? Fourteen hundred at least and counting. Big difference.”
Her humor faded. “We underestimated you. Something that won’t happen again. But who could blame us? Look at you. Leader of a rebellion and you’re still a scrawny little scrub.”
“What did you expect?”
“Better clothes.” It was my turn to laugh, but it died when she said, “And more power. You risked your life for them, yet you have to beg for the Committee’s permission to do anything.”
“Unlike you, I’m quite content with my role as support personnel. I never desired power, just freedom,” I said.
“Uh-huh. And do you have your freedom?”
“Of course.”
She opened her mouth, but I cut in and said, “Let’s skip the small talk crap. We need the names of those who know how to repair the Transmission. What do you want in exchange?”
A sly half-smile teased the corners of her mouth as she leaned back, crossing her legs. “We never had that type of trouble when we were in charge. I think some of the scrubs miss us. And when you combine unhappy scrubs and bored prisoners, you can get an explosive reaction.”
I studied her. Was she guessing about the sabotage? And was her comment a hint of more problems to come? Either way, a quick negotiation didn’t seem likely.
“Should we recycle all the Travas to avoid any more trouble?” I asked.
She shrugged. “You obviously need a few of us to help with unexpected repairs, but this indecisiveness over what to do with us will only cause more problems. Which I’m more than happy to sit back and watch.”
Anne-Jade had been right about her desire to gloat. “Thanks for the tip,” I said. “But I’m here to get names and not a lecture.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes before she returned to acting casual. “Fine. In exchange for fixing the Transmission, we want the people in the brig to be released to our quarters, and we desire trials to determine degree of guilt in your warped little minds. There is no reason the entire Trava family should be confined.”
I hated to admit this, but she had a point about the Trava family. However, releasing the upper officers from the brig would be a mistake.
Karla waved her hand as best she could while cuffed to the bench. “Run along to the Committee now and deliver my request like a good little scrub.”
I couldn’t suppress my grin as I toggled on my button microphone. Repeating her demands to the Committee, I waited as they discussed them. She rested her hands in her lap in an attempt to disguise the fury pulsing through her body, but her rigid posture betrayed her. I slid back in my chair, relaxing.
As expected the Committee was willing to review each family member’s actions prior to the rebellion to determine degree of guilt for each, but they refused to move the brig prisoners. I relayed this to Karla.
“Next?”
She scowled and my heart stuttered for a few beats—an automatic response.
“My terms are not negotiable,” she said.
My temper flared. This had been a waste of time. “Then we’re done.” I stood to leave.
“You have to fix the Transmission.” Karla’s voice held a bit of panic. “The survival of our world depends on it.”
I pressed a finger to my ear as if listening to a message. “The Committee is willing to include those in the brig in the review process.”
“No. We want out of the brig.”
Keeping my hand near my ear, I cocked my head and furrowed my brow. “Okay, then you’ll be taken out of the brig and sent to Chomper.”
Shock bleached her face. “That’s not what I meant. What about the repairs?”
It was hard not to snigger over her reaction. “I’m sure once the others see how we cleaned out the brig, they’ll be more cooperative.”
Her hard stare burned like acid on my skin, but I kept my face neutral.
“You’re lying,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter if you believe me or not.” I strode toward the door.
“Wait,” she said.
I paused but didn’t turn around.
“I’ll tell you the names if you do a review for all the Travas, including those in the brig.”
Glancing over my shoulder, I said, “All right.”
I rummaged for a wipe board and marker and returned to Karla. “Don’t lie,” I said. “If the names are wrong, you’ll be the first to be sent to Chomper. I’ll do the honors myself.”
Karla rattled off three and I wrote them down. I didn’t recognize any of them, but I hadn’t been expecting to. Without saying goodbye, I left the office. Anne-Jade waited in the hallway.
“Well?” she asked.
I handed her the board.
She whistled. “Last I heard, the Committee was waiting for a counter-offer. What happened?”
“She pissed me off.”
Feeling rather satisfied over my meeting with Karla, I changed into my climbing clothes and returned to the Expanse. I found the mark I had left on my last trip. The safety equipment hung nearby, so I strapped it on and made another attempt to reach the ceiling.
The new route looked promising and, after finding plenty of handholds, I climbed higher than ever before. I rested at twenty-three meters above level ten. Craning my head back, I shone my light up into the blackness. Still no ceiling. Logan had found a few diagrams in the computer system, and from them he estimated Inside’s height to be about seventy-five meters, which would put it about two meters above my head. Either the computer or Logan had been wrong.
I yanked on the safety line and guessed I had another couple meters before I was literally at the end of my rope.
When I felt strong enough, I continued and discovered why meter seventy-five was mentioned in the computer. A bottom rung of a ladder started at that point. I grabbed the wide cold bar, hoping the rung would hold my weight. The smooth and rounded shape fit nicely in my hands. And my light illuminated