He sobered. “Will Cogon tell them where I am?”
“How do you know about Cog?” I glanced around. Was someone else coming here? The place appeared to be clean.
“The computer. I can access general information. When I saw Cogon’s shifts had been re-assigned, I assumed he was arrested.”
“He was. But don’t worry about Cog ratting you out. He can be stubborn when he wants.” I explained Cog’s sacrifice to Broken Man.
He closed his eyes and pressed his hand over them. “A martyr. He will be remembered.”
I swallowed the Zippy-sized lump in my throat, and focused on the ground. Broken Man’s chair legs had wheels. “Where did you get the chair?” I demanded.
He wiped his eyes and squinted at me. “Chair?”
“The wheels?”
“Oh. I made it. I found an old tool box and a broken cart. With nothing else to do, I had plenty of time to rig this up.” He straightened in his chair, grinning slightly. “In fact, I’ve gotten pretty good at helping myself. I can take a shower and pull myself into this chair. I guess my muscles are getting stronger.” His posture wilted a bit. “Trella, will you do me a favor?”
I stiffened. What more could he want? “Depends.”
“If you are caught. Tell the Pop Cops where I am.”
“Why?”
“I’d rather be kill-zapped than starve until I expire.”
Good point. “I’ll make sure someone knows where to find you,Domotor.” I promised.
His defeated attitude changed into surprise. “How do you know my name?”
I related my adventures in LC Karla’s office. “…Riley knows I wanted your port, we’ll have to find a way to access the computer without it.”
“Impossible.” He stared into the distance for a few moments. “What are the boy’s family names?”
“Narelle Ashon. Why?”
“He’s Jacob’s boy.” He peered at me. “You never asked me about your family.”
“The familyyouinvented so I would help you?”
“I didn’t?—”
“Doesn’t matter. Even if you were serious, norealfamily would abandon their child in the lower levels, so I have no desire to know anything about them.”
He put his hands up in defeat. “All right. Have it your way. We still need my port, though. Any ideas?”
“I make another attempt.” How remained the problem. Zippy worked, but would tip Riley off again, and the lock impossible to pop. Unless the Tech Nos had another useful device.
“Do it when Riley’s on shift.”
“Why?”
“He covered for you before and might do it again. Hopefully he’s sympathetic to our cause.”
Broken Man’s words reminded me of Riley’s note. He asked me to meet him. And to trust him. I did owe Riley one, and would meet him at hour fifty-eight. But trusting him was out of the question.
CHAPTER 9
The recycling plantfilled the entire quadrant. Piles of discarded and broken items littered the space. Scrubs sorted the heaps of trash into smaller loads. Other scrubs moved around the plant’s machinery, feeding metal into the blast furnace, glass pieces into the kiln, and thread into the looms. And beyond the equipment, another set of workers crafted goods from the melted glass, from the sheets of metal, and bolts of cloth.
