Freakling (21 page)

“Sir, two of these prisoners are from the dud farm and likely powerless. We have reason to believe the high priest has some interest in them, though. We’ve sent a runner to the temple for further instructions.”

Coveralls man waved a dismissive hand at the guard. “I don’t give a fig. If the high priest wants ’em, he’ll have to come and get ’em. There’s big doings at the temple tomorrow, and it’s my head if the electricity runs out. We got one rule in this place: prisoners turn the turbines. If any of these grunts are powerless, the others will have to work that much harder.” He smiled and showed his stained teeth.

Four more coveralls-clad people, two men and two women, came in. One of the guards removed the psi cuffs, passed each prisoner a dingy yellow jumpsuit, and told them to put it on over their clothes — with their hands.

The other prisoners grumbled at the unnecessary humiliation, but for Taemon, the one without psi, it was a lucky break. He and Amma did as they were told. Their escape plan wouldn’t work if they didn’t make it into the turbine room, so they had to cooperate at least until that point.

“What about the zipper?” one of the prisoners asked. “We need to use our psi for that.”

Taemon studied the fasteners on the jumpsuit. The prisoner was right; they would need to use psi to zip them up. Skies! Why hadn’t he thought to teach Amma about clothing fasteners? She wouldn’t be able to zip her jumpsuit either. They’d be forced to ask one of the guards to zip it for them. Well, he wasn’t going to ask. He let the suit hang open in the front. Who flaming cared?

Taemon looked around and noticed that everyone seemed to be staring at their zippers and frowning.

“I think my zipper’s broken,” one woman said.

“Mine too,” said someone else.

One of the guards rolled her eyes. “Attention, idiots. We don’t use regular zippers in prison. Only the guards know how to zip up the suits. That’s so you can’t take them off whenever you want.”

Another guard snickered. “And you’re going to want. Cha, you will.”

Taemon felt the zipper fasten itself and the jumpsuit become snug around his chest.

Next they were led back to the elevator, which took them deeper into the power plant. When the elevator stopped, Taemon got his first look at the turbine room.

It was just as Solovar had described it: The room was about three stories high. Four big turbines stood like a row of huge tree trunks in the center of the room. Each turbine column looked to be about five feet in diameter. Five small prison cells had been built around each turbine like petals around a stem. A yellow-jumpsuited prisoner stood in each cell, watching the facing turbine column and using psi to turn it.

The guard took Taemon’s group of prisoners across a narrow platform that went along the edges of the room halfway between the floor and the ceiling. “Get a good look at the turbines,” said the guard. “It’s not that hard to see how they work. In a couple minutes, you’re going to be down there turning them.”

Taemon felt a pinch on his shoulder. “Pay attention!” said the guard. “I’m explaining how to do this. You stay in your cell and look at the turbine column in front of you. Use your psi to turn that column to the right. See them vertical stripes painted on the column? When those stripes are moving from the left to the right, it means the turbine is turning and we’re making electricity. We watch those stripes to see how fast you’re turning the turbine. Any questions?”

Taemon cleared his throat.

“You got a question?”

“You explained the stripes on the turbine column,” Taemon said. “But what are the circles at the top?” He was pretty sure he knew what the fist-size circles high above the stripes were, but he wanted to be sure the others knew, too.

“Those aren’t circles, idiot. They’re screws. The turbine has to connect to the generator shaft somehow, don’t it?” The guard shook his head. “Never mind. You grunts have no idea how this thing works. Just forget about the circles. They’re not important.”

Taemon looked at the other prisoners. This was the plan they’d discussed in the hauler. Take the screws out without the guards noticing. Then the turbines would shut down, and that’s when they’d make a break for it.

The guard was still talking. “Now, so you don’t think this is a resort of some kind and not a prison, I’m telling you that if one of us guards sees them stripes aren’t turning fast enough, we will provide you with a little incentive.”

Taemon felt something sharp gouge his back. He flinched. Skies! What was that? He looked at Amma. She was frowning and rubbing her back.

The guard laughed. “Feel that? Those are tiny barbs sewn inside your jumpsuit. Only a prison guard knows where they are and what they look like, so we’re the only ones who can move them with psi. Like I said, a little incentive.”

Taemon let his mind wander inside the jumpsuit. Sure enough, he found dozens of little hooked disks between the jumpsuit’s double layer of fabric. Aptly, the disks had a tiny Jaguar symbol engraved on them. Clever. Unless you knew about the Jaguar symbol, you couldn’t envision the disks clearly enough to use psi on them. The plan just got a lot more painful.

The prisoners were led down a staircase at the end of the platform.

“Spread the new prisoners out,” the head guard said. “Make sure each turbine gets three or four fresh grunts.”

One of the guards pointed to Taemon, Amma, and Solovar. “You three come with me.”

They stopped at the first cell. With psi, the guard opened the cell door and shoved Amma inside.

“Start turning, grunt,” he said to Amma.

The prisoner who was being relieved emerged from the cell and left with the guard. His shoulders drooped, and he could barely keep his feet under him.

One by one, the guard exchanged each worn-out prisoner with a fresh one. Taemon found himself alone in his cell, watching the stripes on the turbine move past. He couldn’t imagine working like this for hours and hours. It had to be the most boring, exhausting work ever.

He wouldn’t be doing it, of course. Not without psi. He wouldn’t be able to pull his share of the workload, which would make it harder for the others. He hoped they could get this done quickly.

If he couldn’t turn the turbines, he could at least act as a lookout and alert the other prisoners if the guards were onto their plan. He looked up through the bars on the top of his cell. He saw the guards on the platform, watching the prisoners. But they had to look down to do that. None of them was looking up, where the screws were.

A sharp pain stung his back. One of those flaming hooks!

“You there!” one of the guards yelled. “Keep your eyes on the turbine.”

He looked at the stripes sliding along and again wished he had psi. He had to rely on the others to ease the screws out silently. Hopefully they remembered what he’d told them in the hauler. One screw at a time. Unscrew it, float it across the ceiling, then hide it somewhere. He really hoped they’d all picked up on his clue about the elevator shaft! They were betting that the power plant might keep a few replacement screws on hand, but not enough to replace all of them at once. The guards would have to stop and hunt for the hidden screws. While the guards were looking for the screws and replacing them, the prisoners would try to escape.

When all of the guards were looking elsewhere, Taemon risked a glance at the top of the turbines. Yes, the screws were noiselessly coming out of position.
Careful,
he thought,
don’t let them clang together.
He wished he could help somehow.

It was nerve-racking, trying to watch without looking up.

Three. Three of the five screws were out, and the fourth one was on its way. The stripes were slowing down. Almost there. He couldn’t see the other turbines too well, but he hoped that the others were doing the same.

“Keep them turbines going, you dirty grunts!” screamed the head guard.

A flash of pain stung Taemon’s back, but the barbs let up quickly.

Then he heard it:
Clink!

Two of the screws had touched in midair.

The guards all looked up at the same time. “The screws!” one of them yelled.

Pain. Pain and noise is what happened next. Pain boring into his back in a dozen places. Taemon groaned. The other prisoners cried out, too. They lost their concentration, and the screws hovering in the air fell to the ground with a deafening noise. Noise and pain.

Taemon sank to his knees. He had failed. Again.

Once the clatter stopped, the head guard called out orders to his subordinates. “Get them screws back in the turbines, men!”

The barbs stopped digging into Taemon’s flesh, but the pain was still there. Now what? Skies, he couldn’t even think anymore.

“What’s going on?” the head guard bellowed. “Somebody’s stealing them screws again. Who is it?”

More pain, but not as much this time. Taemon looked up. One by one, the screws were being floated across the room. As fast as the guards could get the screws from the floor back to the turbines, someone else was taking them out and dumping each one into the elevator shaft, just as they’d planned. But which of the prisoners was strong enough to do that? Everyone in Taemon’s cell was doubled over with pain.

“Hoy, Taemon,” a voice whispered. “I came to get you out of here.”

Taemon turned around and saw someone crouched outside the cell door. “Moke?”

“Cha, it’s me. Well, me and some of my friends. They’re up there now, working on those screws.”

“I don’t understand,” Taemon said. “I thought you were —”

“I didn’t turn you in, I swear. It was my da. Someone squealed on me, told him what I was up to. He made a deal with the authorities. He told them where to find the rebels, and in exchange I went free.”

“Thank the stars.” Taemon felt huge relief knowing that Moke was still his friend. And that he cared enough to come to their rescue.

“We have to hurry,” said Moke. “Can you use that clairvoyance thing to figure out this lock?”

Taemon turned his attention to the locks on the cell doors. He used his clairvoyance to examine the lock and uncover its design. They got lucky. It was something he could describe to Moke. “It’s the Tramden clutch pattern, inverted stump, sixteen pins, pattern three-two-two-one-four,” Taemon said. Moke’s psi wasn’t the strongest, but he could manage that much.

“Got it,” Moke said. The lock released, and Taemon’s cell door opened. “Are they all the same?”

Taemon quickly explored the other locks. “Cha.”

Moke released the rest of the prisoners and waved them all over to a side door. The prisoner in the lead tried to open the door.

“I can’t open it! It won’t budge!”

“It’s locked! We’re trapped.”

Panic was spreading through the group of prisoners. Taemon looked up to where the guards were running around, trying to find whoever was moving the screws.

“Hoy, Taemon!” It was Moke. “Tell us how to unlock this door. Hurry!”

It took all Taemon’s concentration to calm himself enough to let his mind wander into the lock. Once he saw it, he called the pattern out to Moke and the door slid open.

Instantly, red and yellow lights began to flash. Sirens wailed.

“Prison break!” the head guard yelled above the din. “Get the serum!”

The sirens continued their blaring wails.

All the prisoners ran through the door except one. Solovar hadn’t made it yet. Taemon searched the turbine room but didn’t see him. He needed that man to help him get into the temple. He hoped Moke’s friends were okay. He couldn’t see them anywhere, either.

Suddenly Moke was at his side. “Come on, Taemon. Time to go!”

“But Solovar —”

“I’ll make sure he gets out. Now go!”

Moke must have summoned all of the psi he possessed, because suddenly Taemon was pushed through the doorway. He turned back to wait for Moke.

“Down there! That kid without a jumpsuit. Get him!”

A length of metal pipe flew at Moke and pinned him against the wall by the throat. His feet dangled above the ground. He was choking.

“Moke!” Taemon cried. He ran to his friend’s side, instantly feeling the hooks digging in again. He didn’t care anymore. It hurt like flames, but it wouldn’t kill him. Moke, on the other hand — he had to help Moke.

Taemon was desperately tugging on the metal pipe when he heard a voice booming from the platform. “Warden, order your men to stand down! We’ll take it from here.” Flames! It was Elder Naseph.

The pipe came free, and Taemon staggered back while Moke collapsed in a heap on the floor.

The barbs stopped gouging Taemon’s back, but his flesh still felt the fire of their sting.

He knelt next to Moke and was surprised to find that Amma was right beside him. When had that happened?

“Hoy, Moke, it’s Taemon.”

Moke’s eyelids fluttered. A nasty red mark on his neck was beginning to swell. His breathing sounded raspy and shallow. Skies! How badly was he hurt?

Taemon let his mind wander into Moke’s body. Moke’s breathing tube was crushed and torn in one spot. He explored deeper. Blood was flooding the breathing sacs instead of air. The injuries were bad, but they could save him if they hurried.

“Amma! Quick! His breathing tube. You need to fix it!”

Amma sat back on her heels. “You mean the trachea?”

“It’s torn. Just a little psi would knit it together and push it back into shape. Then he can breathe again and cough up the blood.”

Amma eyes became wide. “Taemon, I can’t —”

“You’ve seen it in one of those books, haven’t you? Just do it! Now!”

“I don’t — I —”

“He’s going to die!” Taemon yelled. “Do it!”

“I’ll try.” She stared intently at Moke.

Taemon sent his awareness back into Moke’s injury. “Nothing’s happening!”

Tears rolled down Amma’s cheeks.

“Clear your head, Amma. Do it!”

“I can’t,” she whispered.

“Stop saying that! It’s easy! Try again.”

“I can’t, Taemon!” She was yelling now. “I don’t know what the tear looks like! I can’t see it, and I can’t do it! I’m sorry!”

A sob shook Taemon’s shoulders. Knowledge without power. Power without knowledge. Neither Taemon nor Amma could help Moke.