I turned to Ponife. “Why didn’t you try to talk to us? We probably could have worked out an agreement between us.”

“We do not want to be…a part of your world. We want our ship back.”

His answer confused me. “You want to be in charge, right? And make the rules?”

Ponife attempted to smile. I shuddered at the creepy effort and hoped he wouldn’t do it again. “No. We want our ship back and you…gone.”

Oh. No. “As in gone gone?”

“Like your ancestors had done to us.” He gestured to the ceiling. “Put you in transports with little food and supplies and send you all out to die in space.”

My emotions flipped from horrified to terrified and back. “Why did they—”

“It does not matter why!” Fosord shouted, grabbing my shirt and slamming me into the Wall. “No crime deserves such punishment. Your people are…savages. You kill your own and crush them into…pulp.”

I thought it best not to argue with him.

He released me. “Tell her,” he said to Ponife.

“You will help us find everyone,” he said. “Hank says you know all the hiding places. We want everyone gone.”

Even overwhelmed with the information, I still couldn’t help asking, “Even Hank?”

“Yes. Everyone,” Fosord snapped.

Ponife glared at him. Fosord wasn’t supposed to tell me that. Good to know they can make mistakes.

“Does Hank know?” I asked.

“No. And you will not tell him,” Ponife said. He held up the X. “Understand?”

“Yes.” I just needed a little time alone with Ponife and his X. For him to forget to keep his distance from me. Just one lapse in judgment.

Fosord led us onto the lift. It rose up the Wall. Hanging next to it in the bright daylights was my safety rope. We reached the ladder and the pulley remained in place.

“You are certainly resourceful…for a savage,” Fosord said to me.

A section of the ceiling had been removed. The lift shot through the gap and stopped level with the floor. Outsiders milled around the Bubble…er…transport vehicles.

“We are preparing them for your…journey,” Ponife explained.

“Will we know how to operate them?”

“Yes. Several of your people are quite…able,” Fosord said.

“When are we leaving?”

“As soon as the Transmission is repaired. We will not make the same mistake and let you catch us.” Ponife gestured to the bays. “Hank says you did not know this place, or Outer Space existed until recently?” He seemed amused.

“We had a bit of trouble about fifteen thousand weeks ago.”

Ponife and Fosord exchanged a glance. Interesting.

“What trouble?” Ponife asked.

“Another rebellion. According to the records, saboteurs deleted a bunch of computer files. The Trava family defeated them and took over control of Inside to avoid any more issues. We thought the sabotage was a ruse by the Trava family to justify their takeover, but…” I shrugged. “Maybe it had happened. We thought the Controllers were a fabrication as well.”

Another look passed between the Outsiders.

“There is some truth. We controlled all Inside’s mechanical and life systems.” Ponife thumped his chest. “While the nine families bred like rabbits and took care of all the soft jobs…” He cast about as if looking for the right words. “Soft like growing and cooking food, cleaning clothing and raising children. The Trava family were the saboteurs. They wanted more.” His speech had winded him even though, of the two, he had seemed to adjust to our air faster.

I mulled over his story. Fosord mentioned a crime when he had been upset, which didn’t match this explanation at all.

When he regained his breath, I asked, “Why are you working with Karla Trava then?”

“She offered her help,” Fosord answered instead.

“But you can’t trust her.”

“She doesn’t know. The Trava family created a new history and deleted all records of the old. After enough time passed and the following generations grew up learning this false history, no one questioned it,” Ponife said.

Yet they had. Stories of Gateway had persisted. The Controllers had transformed into mythical beings. Beings the Travas listened to. As Logan had explained, the Controllers were Inside’s operating parameters, fail-safes and the keeper of directives set by the builders. If I believed Logan—which I did—then when the Travas took over, they naturally accessed the Controller files to learn how to run our world.

So who were the Outsiders?

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“Once all your people are on the ships, you can tell the others why they have been exiled,” Ponife said.

“Really? Sounds like you’re feeling guilty.” The comment sailed from my mouth without censure. Big mistake.

Their expressions hardened.

“We do not tolerate insolence.” Ponife played with the X, bending the one leg back and forth.

The first wave of pain brought me to my knees. The second jolt forced me to the floor and the third seized my muscles and wouldn’t let go. Each one lasted longer than the last until they all blurred together.

I woke back in my cell. As I lay on the mat, I reviewed everything Ponife had told me. Besides being touchy over the reason for their exile, all I had was their version of the events fifteen thousand weeks ago. I tried to think of a way to counter their plans, but failed to come up with a brilliant strategy.