Logan smirked. “Don’t need a port. Where’s your terminal?”
Riley failed to look reassured, but opened a metal curtain just like the one in Broken Man’s hideout. He pulled over one of the chairs and gestured for Logan to take a seat.
“What about your port?” I asked. “If you’re too close?—”
“Took it out and put it in a metal box.” Riley rubbed his right jaw as if unused to having it missing.
Logan wasted no time. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “This is going to take a while. I have to distract the Controllers and take a circuitous route in. Don’t want anyone to know I’m in here.” He flashed us a wild grin.
Riley and I stood next to each other, looking over Logan’s shoulder. The strange symbols popping up on the screen meant nothing to me. Riley, though, frowned. Time to distract him.
“How about a tour?” I asked. “I’ve never actually been inside an upper’s suite.”
He turned his displeasure on me. “Really? But you’ve spied on them from above?”
For a moment, I wished for the goofy Riley. The one who mussed my hair and communicated telepathically with stuffed sheep. “I don’t spy on anyone. I avoid the living areas, they’re too dangerous. The places I’ve been on level four are the storeroom and Karla’s office.” And the holding cells, but I didn’t think it would be wise to tell him. I pointed to a half-open door on the opposite wall. “Is that a bedroom?”
Still unhappy, Riley showed me his room. The tiny interior had two beds with a table between them and two desks. A few metal sculptures were propped against the light blue walls, and circuit boards littered the one desk, the other was neat. Same with the beds, one was made, the other was heaped with blankets.
He followed my gaze. “I share the room with my father. He’s always harping at me to make the bed and clean up my stuff.”
No other items decorated the space. “Where’s Dada Sheepy?” I asked.
A half smile flicked on his lips before sadness dragged it down. “With my brother.” Turning away, he strode into theliving room and opened the door next to Logan. “Standard washroom.” He waved at the remaining door. “Suite entrance.”
Except for the small peephole and extra locks, it mirrored the other two.
“There. That’s the grand tour,” he said.
“That’s it?” Surprise tainted my voice.
“Yep.”
“But I thought the uppers lived in apartments with lots of rooms.”
“The admiral and vice admiral’s families do, but most have suites like mine. If my mom was still alive, we would have two bedrooms and a small kitchenette. But since it’s just us, we get this and a refrigerator.”
The rumors about the uppers living quarters had been exaggerated. I wondered what else had been blown out of proportion. “What happens if you…want a family?”
“If I find a mate, my father would be re-assigned to share a suite with another single man unless he finds a mate then I would move.”
“Does he want another mate?”
“No.”
The whole mate thing was odd to me. Scrubs hooked up with others and stayed together for as long as they desired then moved on. Any children from the pair went to the care facility. A few couples have never parted. The Pop Cops tracked the pairings, and would break them apart if their bloodlines were too close.
Logan whooped with joy. “I’m in!”
Riley stood behind him and watched the screen.
“Do the uppers mate for life?” I asked Riley, hoping to pull his attention away from the computer.
“Most do, but if a union isn’t working then they’ll split.”
“What do you do for fun?”
Riley glared at me. His stiff posture radiating his ire. “Trella, I know what you’re doing. You haven’t asked questions about the uppers unless it was directly related to yourmission. You have a very strong opinion about the uppers, and you haven’t shown any interest in us before. But I do know the systems your friend is accessing can only be seen by people with level ten security clearance. So unless he’s a vice admiral, he’s neck-deep in serious trouble?—”
