“But what’s to stop them from putting us all to sleep and then go around and kill-zap the troublemakers?” Domotor asked.
Nothing. “Then we’d better get control of the computer systems. Logan?”
“It’s going to take a coordinated effort from both uppers and lowers, but it’s doable.” He met my gaze. “And we’ll need to get into the control room.”
“Impossible,” Domotor said.
“Why? We have one upper who works there,” I said.
“All the overrides are there. One person isn’t enough,” Logan said.
I considered. All the high-ranking officers work there and they were all armed. Probably had extra guards, too. No way to walk through the door. Air duct seventy-two was the best way in, but we could be picked off as we dropped down.
“Logan, do you have any anti-kill-zappers?”
“No, but I have Zippy.” He hunted under the table and pulled Zippy from a pile of metal. “I’ve added another feature. Toggle this switch,” he pointed, “and Zippy will emit a pulse that should knock out their weapons.”
“Should?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I haven’t fully tested it yet. And he only has a short range.”
“What about the computer systems?” Domotor asked.
“They’ll be fine.”
A full-out rebellion would take a major amount of luck and coordination. The Tech Nos and Domotor looked at me, waiting. No one else would be able to organize both sides. I drew in a deep breath. We had the technology, the intelligence, and the people—put enough sheep together and you have a herd; a force to be reckoned with. We needed a leader.
“Anne-Jade, how many of those listening/receiving devices do we currently have?” I asked.
“Four.”
“We’re going to need seven more all on the same frequency, plus all the anti-stunners you can make.”
“We’ll need more supplies,” Logan said.
“Make a list, I’ll contact Jacy.” He should be able to find a few skinny scrubs willing to make deliveries through the air shafts.
I made my own mental list of all the steps we would need to take. A daunting effort. Sadness gripped my heart. I wished Cog was here to help. He would be able to motivate the scrubs.
Maximum damage. It was the beginning of the end. Either we would fail or not. At least we could say we tried.
The Force of Sheep planned to declare war on the Travas during week 147,006 at hour sixty-six. After eighty hours of planning, of secret meetings, of setting distractions and false trails and of assembling illegal technological devices, we were ready.
At hour sixty-five, I crouched in air duct seventy-two with Zippy, waiting for the signal. Takia worked at her station, but she vibrated with nervous energy, and kept glancing over her shoulder. The atmosphere throughout Inside had been charged. Those who didn’t know what was about to occur, still sensed the expectation. The Travas had tripled the number of Pop Cops on patrol.
Twice as many Travas had assembled in the control room. Both the admiral and the vice admiral studied maps over the conference table in the far corner. I knew to expect one admiral, but not both.
Banks of computers lined three walls of the room, and uppers sat before them, leaving an open space in the middle for thecaptain’s station. I checked Zippy for the hundredth time. So much rested on the little cleaning troll.
Various stations called in their readiness. Riley and the rest of the uppers had changed their shift times and managed to be at their work stations. Domotor and Logan ghosted in the network. Doctor Lamont prepped for causalities. Anne-Jade, Jacy and his gang waited to overpower the Pop Cops on the lower levels and I prepared to spring a surprise on the control room.
Jacy’s voice sounded in my ear piece. “We go.”
Warning lights flashed on the control room’s panels.
“We’ve received a call for help from Commander Vinco, sir,” an upper said. “Scrubs are revolting.”
The admiral strode over to the captain. “Time to weed out the troublemakers, Captain,” he said.
