“Did you locate Logan?”

“Not yet.” I lied, but thought the less she knew the better.

I spent the rest of week 147,023 fetching supplies for Logan. Sneaking into his room next to the main Control Room caused my pulse to race. And even though I had been here two times before, I still sweated.

This last trip was for me. I had planted all those mics and they remained in position. Why not listen in? Logan had a device I could use. I also picked up a set of communication buttons and receivers for me and Lamont. Logan would program them so no one could overhear our conversations.

Back in the duct, I used Zippy to haul the supplies. Round with cleaning brushes and a vacuum, he rolled along, pulling the skid. The noise hadn’t bothered anyone so far. I’d encountered a few other cleaning trolls in the air ducts.

I reached Logan’s without incident and opened the vent. The diamond wire had sawed through the bolts and we had rigged them to appear as if they still secured the vent. I dropped the supplies I brought to him, then swung down. He had managed to disguise most of his new toys. I hoped his keepers wouldn’t check under his bed or under the couch.

“Who brings your food? ISF?” I asked him.

“No. The same two guys. Uppers, but not part of the ISF and I would know. Anne-Jade had me check into the background for all her officers to make sure they were trustworthy.” He chuckled. “They’re armed with stunners, but they have no idea their weapons won’t work in here.”

“Any luck?” I pointed to his computer. It looked the same, but according to Logan, he had installed all the important components behind the screen and the keyboard could be hidden before all the locks on the door were opened.

“No. They have built a wall around the important systems. I’m trying to find a way to slip inside without anyone noticing, but it’s been difficult.” He rummaged in the cushions of the couch, pulling out a long glass tube. It resembled a light bulb. He handed it to me. “A Trava computer in Sector D4 has to be connected to the network. Use that to find which one.”

“How?”

“Get as close as possible and if the tube glows green, you’ve found it. Then…” He knelt next to his bed and reached under the mattress. Logan tossed me a small box. “Insert that into Zippy’s undercarriage and he should be able to knock out that computer.”

“Like when I used him to disable all the weapons in the Control Room?”

“Yep.” He straightened and wiped the dust from his pants.

“Why not use a stronger pulse and hit all the computers in Sector D4 at once?”

“It’s too risky over a large area.”

“But after the computer’s zapped, you’ll be able to take back control?”

“Don’t see why not.”

Between sleeping, working for Lamont and searching Sector D4, I didn’t have much time for listening to the mics or for implementing the other part of my plan—talking to Hank and Emek. I tried to think of a better way to organize my time.

Logan picked up the button mic I had brought and fiddled with it. He snapped it onto my uniform. “All you have to do is turn it once to the right and it’ll go to this receiver only.” Dropping a small earring into my palm, he grabbed the other mic, adjusted it and gave it to me. I placed the set into my tool belt.

When he handed me the other receiver, I went into the washroom. The cut on my earlobe had healed, but a tiny hole remained. It wasn’t big enough, but it was better than nothing. I pushed the receiver through my earlobe in one quick motion. It stung and I guess I could have waited until I returned to the infirmary and used lidocaine. Oh well. Waiting had never been one of my best traits. And looking at my reflection in the mirror, keeping my hair neat seemed to be another impossible task.

I contemplated cutting my hair as I untangled my messy braid. The knots in my hair resisted my fingers and I couldn’t find a comb. When I peeked out to ask Logan, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the room with one of his gadgets nestled in his lap. I noticed how he squinted and brought objects up close to his eyes.

The computer beeped. He hopped up and sprinted to the monitor. “Someone’s coming,” he said.

My cue to leave. “See you later.” I crossed the room and climbed up the wall to the open shaft.

“Trella, wait.”

“Why?”

“It’s not my keepers. Look.”

I glanced over and almost lost my grip. On the screen was a moving picture of Anne-Jade and Riley walking down the hallway. They kept peering back over their shoulders as if worried someone followed them.

“Wow, Logan, that’s amazing! How did—”

“They’re here to rescue me,” Logan said. He grinned, but an instant later alarm replaced his excitement. “If they mess with the locks, we’re done. They’re wired to set off an alarm if not opened in the proper order. You have to stop them!”

12

“WHAT’S THE PROPER ORDER?” I ASKED.

“No time and it doesn’t matter.” He waved his arm.

The tracer. How could I forget?

“Hurry,” he said.

I pulled myself into the air shaft and crawled the short distance to the hallway in front of Logan’s locked door. Anne-Jade’s hushed voice drifted up. Without hesitation, I popped the vent open and dropped down almost on top of them.

They both jumped back in surprise. Anne-Jade pulled her stunner. I braced for the sizzle slap of the weapon, but she lowered it.