“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 upper’s 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’ve 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 jumpsuits. Finding a few shirts and a pair of pants, I tucked them under my arm. The nearest washroom was in Sector F1, which also housed the barracks, along with Sectors D1 and E1. 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 jerked to a stop, stunned 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 F1, 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.”
