He typed on the keyboard for a minute. The screen changed to tables and charts that meant nothing to me.
“The explosion in the power plant was caused by sabotage,” Logan said.
“That’s—”
He cut me off. “It’s the only explanation. My first clue was the location of the blast. Damage to the plant itself was minimal, but it hit the Transmission in the perfect spot.”
“The Transmission?” Riley asked.
Logan glanced at me. “Didn’t you tell him?”
“You made me promise not to.” I shot Riley a look. “And I keep my promises.”
“Oh. Well you could have told him,” Logan said.
“Then next time you swear me to secrecy, you need to include that exception.” I quickly explained the Transmission to Riley. “Did you fix it yet?” I asked Logan.
“No.”
“What about being on a collision course?” Riley asked.
“We should have plenty of time to avoid it. As I was saying, the Transmission’s controls were damaged, but not the equipment. Repairs should be easy if we knew how the controls worked.”
“I could look at it for you,” Riley offered.
“It couldn’t hurt,” Logan said.
“How do busted controls lead you to sabotage?” I asked.
“Second clue is this.” He pointed at the screen.
Riley bent closer, but I wasn’t going to try and decipher it. “And?”
“Operating data for the plant right before the explosion,” Riley said.
“And?”
“All the machinery was operating within normal parameters,” Logan said. “There is nothing here to warn of an impending explosion. No spike in power, no jammed valves, no fire or anything unusual.”
“But the computer might not have registered it in time. Did you examine the plant?”
“Of course. Went over it with a couple of the supervisors. They’re equally puzzled about the cause.”
“But that isn’t enough to suggest sabotage,” Riley said.
Logan uncovered a glass container. “Final clue. At the explosion site, I found an oily residue coating the walls, and pieces of a timer and switch. And before you try to explain them, I tested the residue and it’s a flammable substance not found anywhere in the power plant. It’s used in the recycling kilns on level one.”
Riley picked up one of the twisted hunks of metal from the container. As he examined it, a shocked horror filled his eyes. “This could detonate a bomb.”
A bomb. Spoken aloud, the words slammed into me. Someone had set off a bomb, killing people on purpose, risking all our lives—thousands of people. I let the stunned outrage roll through me. It took me a few minutes to pull my emotions together and think.
“Who did this? Why?” I asked.
“Who would have to be someone who knew about the Transmission, and had enough knowledge to make and place the bomb so it didn’t blow a hole to Outside,” Logan said. “As for why, I can only guess. Since the Transmission was the target, either someone doesn’t want us traveling through Outer Space or someone wants to get our attention.”
“Do you think they will make demands or threaten to damage another system if we don’t comply?”
“I’ve no idea, Trell. This is all new territory for me.”
“If they plan to make demands, it should be sooner rather than later,” Riley said. “Actually, if they do contact Logan or the Committee, we might be able to find out who they are.”
“Have you informed the Committee?” I asked Logan.
“No.”
“Why not?” I demanded.
“I just connected the clues. And this information needs to be handled with care. Knowing we’re dealing with a saboteur gives us an advantage. If nothing is said, maybe the person will relax and give himself away.”
“And if word gets out, there could be panic,” Riley added.
“This is too big. The Committee needs to know.”
“Nineteen people can’t keep a secret. It’s statistically impossible,” Logan said.
“What if the saboteur makes a demand?” I asked.
“The Committee will know then, won’t they?”
I huffed in frustration. “You need to tell someone,” I said.
“I did.”
“Besides us.”
“I think that’s unwise.”
“Do you have any suspects?” Riley asked.
“Don’t encourage him,” I said.
“He’s right and you know it.”
“I can pull together a list of all those who know about the Transmission for you and Trella,” Logan said. “Us?”
He ignored me. “Anne-Jade is still trying to find out which Travas worked on the Transmission equipment. Once we have those names, I’ll add them to the list. It’s doubtful the Travas pulled it off, but one of them could have given the information to someone who isn’t under constant surveillance.”
“I can talk to the maintenance scrubs, see if they know more than they’re letting on,” Riley offered. “Are you going to tell Anne-Jade?” I asked. “Of course. She can be trusted.”
Still not convinced we were doing the right thing, I knew when I was outnumbered. “We’re going to need Jacy’s help. He has kept his network of contacts.”
“Is he trustworthy?” Riley asked. “He’s on the Committee.”
Remembering how he had bartered and traded for services and favors, I said, “I’ll talk to him.”
From the air shaft, I searched for Jacy among the Committee members’ offices in Sector H3. Each of the nineteen had been given a small space and computer to use when they weren’t sitting in meetings. Using the ducts had been a cowardly act on my part. I didn’t want to encounter any of the other members. I didn’t want to be questioned about why I left or guilted into returning.
Jacy’s office was empty. I debated waiting or leaving a note. Neither appealed to me, so I found a vent in the main corridor between Sectors and dropped down. He could be in the upper’s dining room next door in Quad G3, but my skin-tight jumpsuit would draw everyone’s attention. Since I needed regular clothes anyway, I headed down to the laundry in Sector B1 via the stairs in Quad I.
When I reached level one, I almost tripped. Huge mounds of glass, metal and clothing filled most of the floor space. The recycling plant in Quad I1 remelted glass and metal and turned clothing back into thread. Usually a busy place with scrubs sorting and carting items to the kiln or the furnace or to Chomper, only a few people worked among the piles.
I put my moccasins on, but was still careful to avoid the sharper objects as I skirted the heaps. The recycling scrubs were required to wear thick boots for a good reason.
After the mess in the recycling plant, the condition of the laundry room failed to surprise me. Bins overflowing with soiled garments and uniforms had been lined up. The line snaked around the room. Rows of washers and dryers stood silent and unused. The bins for clean clothes were empty. One person loaded a washer. Another folded clothes. A few picked through the dirty bins, searching for sizes. Otherwise the place was empty.
I crossed