We waited an hour for Quinn and Solomon to return from their assignment for the day—securing the final shipment of ammunition we needed for the more high-powered rifles that Owen had secured—and sat down to discuss the operation once again.
It was fairly simple, although separating into two teams to secure one objective was a bit of a gamble. I had brought up the point with Owen a few days ago, and he had agreed, but there wasn’t any better solution—I knew because we had talked all the options out.
The plan was for Owen, Quinn, and Amber to go into the warehouse to search for Viggo’s laser, while Solomon and I were supposed to be inside the office building doing the same. Because we weren’t sure which place it was located, lots were drawn to see who would go where. It was frustrating, because I wanted to be the one who found the laser, but there was no telling where it was. Ultimately, whoever found it would notify the others, and we would move to stage two.
Solomon and I were supposed to sneak out the side door of the office, avoid the guards, and come around to open the back door of the warehouse, meeting up with the other three. We would return together to the rendezvous location at the top of the hill.
All of that sounded simple, but we all knew that nothing ever went according to plan. However, it was impossible to plan for every contingency, so if things went bad, good communication was the only way to keep us all alive and have any hope of achieving our directive.
Owen passed out an ear bud and a black piece of fabric to all of us. He explained to me that it was a subvocalizer, a piece of tech that would allow us to talk to each other without articulating the words out loud. Securing these would have been very difficult, and very expensive. The electrical parts had been tucked into the black fabric, which was made from the same material our suits were—this meant the subvocalizer would vanish along with us after we activated the suits.
I put the bud in my ear and the piece of fabric around my throat. Immediately, a warm tingle spread out from where the two metal contacts pressed against my skin. I tried to speak—but my vocal cords were frozen and locked in place.
I looked around the table toward Quinn and the others. Amber smirked at me and placed her own ear bud in, and pressed the fabric against her throat.
It’s part of the function, she subvocalized to me. I could hear her voice as loud as if she were speaking right next to me.
Feels weird, but kind of cool, I replied, and she grinned at me as she lowered her hand. I undid the bit of fabric and placed it gently on the table.
“All right—we’ve got an hour before sunset,” Owen said. “Getting to the facility will take three hours by truck, so we need to get all the gear packed up and in the van.”
I held up my hand and Owen paused. Leaning forward on the chair, I threaded my fingers together. “What exactly is the plan if we encounter resistance inside?”
“There won’t be anyone inside,” chirped Thomas, condescension thick in his voice.
“Right, but if this is a warehouse they want kept from the public eye…”
“They use it for storage,” Thomas exploded, his face turning a violent shade of red. “They don’t care what’s inside, only that the outside is secure. If you can achieve complete obfuscation when you enter, they will have no cause to be inside! Your suits will help you with that, and after that, all you have to do is get to the rendezvous spot!”
I sighed. “Right. Just out of curiosity, what are the odds for success, Thomas?”
His expression calmed and he wet his lower lip. “Factoring in for a margin of error… I’d say about eighty-six percent.”
I turned to Owen who shrugged. “We’ve had worse odds and beat them,” he said, and I leaned back in my chair, trying to find an argument with eighty-six percent.
“Still… if there are people inside, you promise we won’t kill them?” I asked, knowing Viggo would never be comfortable with us killing people in order to save him. I was also in that camp, so I wanted to be sure.
Owen blew out a deep breath and nodded. “Everyone knows that we shoot to wound, not kill. Let’s just hope we don’t have to pull the trigger.”
I nodded, feeling relieved.
We worked in silence after the meeting was done. I inventoried the weapons, and stuck stickers on the stock to color-code them for each person. We had taken a little trip into the sewers a day earlier to set the sights on them. I wasn’t very knowledgeable about guns, so Solomon had to explain to me why I should never pick up a random rifle to shoot.
Most people who were trained with the stronger weapons, like the rifles we were using, were taught to adjust their sights on the back of their gun to their own personal preferences. It took a little while for me to figure out what my settings were, but once I got the hang of it, Solomon explained that any other gun would feel strange to look down.
Hence the reason for the stickers—we didn’t want to mix up weapons when we were distributing them. I also dutifully marked off every piece of equipment we were assigned. It felt a little bit like micro-managing, but I saw the need for it. With each piece of equipment marked off and assigned to an individual, we would know immediately if something was missing, and could adapt accordingly.
As I finished, Owen, with Amber in tow, snagged me and led me back to Amber’s and my tiny room.
“You’ll need to don the costumes now—Quinn, Solomon, and I will load up the gear. You’ve got twenty minutes.”
He spun on his heel and exited the room, pulling the door closed. Amber and I looked at each other and then scrambled around the room, frantically grabbing what we needed to complete our costumes. Twenty minutes wasn’t much, especially since Amber would be going in dressed like a man this time.
We were in the middle of wiggling into our body suits when Thomas strolled in. Amber shrieked and moved to cover herself, causing me to laugh. We were both still in the special Liberator uniforms—there was no need for her to react like that.
She realized that at the same time, and flushed a deep red that was almost as bright as her hair.
Thomas—for his part—wasn’t even paying attention to us. His face was angled downward toward a file he was holding.
“Owen wanted me to tell you to bring your gear for The Green. If all goes according to plan, you won’t be coming back here.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks, Thomas.”
He lifted his hand in a half-forgotten wave as he left. I hobbled over to the door and shut it behind him.
“He really is a weird little guy,” Amber said, as she shimmied into the suit.
I had opted for a pulling technique on my own, my arms straining as I tried to force myself into the suit as quickly as possible. “I feel bad for him,” I grunted.
“Really? Why?”
“Because… well… c’mon. Y’know, right?”
Amber blinked at me, her eyes wide and empty. “What are you talking about?”
I started sliding my arms into the padded sleeves. “You mean you had no idea he was a beta?” I asked, unable to keep the thread of amazement out of my voice.
Amber stared at me, her face reflecting her inner confusion. I resisted the urge to laugh in her face—it would be rude, and probably make her feel like I was Matronizing her. After a moment, her face turned contemplative, and her eyes lit up as realization set in.
“Holy cow!” she shouted, her voice a smidge too loud in my ears.
“Calm down,” I said, shushing her. I had managed to get the padding on, as well as the slacks. I was buttoning up my shirt when she pushed my hands aside and fastened them for me. “He’s just a person, like anyone else. Besides… who knows what he’s been through.”
Amber frowned as her nimble fingers did up the buttons. “Yeah…” she breathed, her voice small. “No wonder he hates people.”
I didn’t respond to that, because I didn’t know how. A part of me didn’t think Thomas hated people. If anything, I thought he craved more time around people. Just people who didn’t hurt him.
I didn’t have any evidence to support it, just that look in his eye when he looked at Owen. A deep yearning to connect with someone—anyone—if only for a moment.
Owen rapped on the door, reminding us of the time, and we rushed to finish getting ready, the conversation forgotten for the moment.
10
Violet
The van rumbled to a halt and I leapt into action, handing out equipment. Owen squeezed between the two seats up front and squatted in the middle of the van floor. I handed him his gun, which he systematically checked. The five of us began reviewing our gear in absolute silence.
The excitement I had been feeling before we left slowly drained in the long van ride, leaving a nervous tension that seemed to wrap around my spine and spread into my shoulders and neck. There was so much riding on this mission, it was impossible to not feel nervous. Dozens of scenarios ran through my head of every possible way things could go wrong, and it took every ounce of my willpower to set them aside and keep my focus on the task ahead.
My mind produced an image of Viggo’s face and I drew a deep breath, using the lines of his smile and the peculiar color of his green eyes to anchor me. I would look at those eyes again. He would smile at me again. I would feel his breath on my face as he leaned close to kiss me.
I slapped the magazine into the gun and opened my eyes, feeling steady and sure.
Nothing was going to keep me from saving him.
Everyone looked at me expectantly, and I nodded. I’m ready, I subvocalized.
Good, came Owen’s reply. Solomon slid open the side door and one by one we exited the van. We had parked next to a hill that overlooked the target—we were planning on approaching a kilometer to the southwest, and then fall back to the van in groups of two and three.
I’m going to be killing the power in five minutes, came Thomas’ voice. Get into position.
Owen raised his hand to motion us forward, and we followed him. He was in front, flanked by Solomon and Quinn, and followed by Amber and me. We had shed our costumes shortly after leaving the busy streets of the city. It was inconvenient, the constant changing in and out of disguises, but once again, I understood the reasons—being spotted in the short trip between the exit of the sewers and getting into the van was still too risky. However, shedding all of that stuff in a moving van was no picnic either.
We crested the hill and gazed down on the factory. It was bathed in darkness. There were single lamps over the doors and under a few windows to the structure, cutting the darkness with little yellow cones. I could make out a few shadowed shapes of wardens roaming the perimeter. None were in the immediate area we had chosen for insertion.
We’re in position, subvocalized Owen as he dropped to one knee, his gun against his shoulder. I count… six guards walking the perimeter. We will have a window for another ninety seconds.
Solomon knelt in the damp grass next to him. I stared at the office building that contained my target. It was a single story, with large windows running the length of the building. According to the blueprints, the windows were completely sealed, which meant we couldn’t open them without making a lot of noise. There were two doors—one in the front and one at the rear. Our goal was the front entrance.
Ten seconds until I blow the power, Thomas responded.
Solomon looked at me. Nervous? he asked. I gazed around, thinking he had asked the entire group the question, until I realized he had directed it only to me. The subvocalizers had that ability.
I smiled self-consciously and raised my hand to my collar, clicking the button that allowed me to speak solely to Solomon. Of course, I replied.
Really? His face reflected his surprise. That’s weird… this isn’t your first time on a mission, is it?
It wasn’t—and he knew it. I had hoped that this kind of work was behind me, but it was clear it wasn’t. It’s not, but it doesn’t matter—I’m always nervous before stuff like this. It helps to keep us alive.
Just then, the entire field of buildings before us went dark, preventing Solomon from answering. I clicked back over to the main channel.
Go, now, Thomas commanded. Ninety seconds before the back-up generators restore power.
Owen was already in motion with Quinn and Amber following close behind. Solomon tapped me on the shoulder, and I pulled down the night vision goggles. Immediately, the world changed to a bright green. Solomon did the same, and we began to move in long loping strides down the hill. We both kept low—just in case the moon came out and gave our position away—and moved quickly.
A glaring light caught my attention when we were halfway down. I reached out and grabbed Solomon, pulling him back as gently as I could without making him fall on the slick grass. He slid to a stop and dropped to one knee in front of me.
Guard to my right, I announced on the subvocalizer as I squatted down next to Solomon. Approximately one hundred feet away, two o’clock.
Everyone hold positions—Solomon, be ready to take him out, came Owen’s reply.
I felt my jaw clench—I had told Owen that we absolutely needed to avoid killing people—and looked at Solomon. His gaze was trained on the warden and where he was walking. He had shouldered his rifle, and his finger was on the trigger. I could see that he’d already taken the safety off.
Slowly, I moved forward and placed my hand on the stock of the rifle. Solomon looked at me, and I shook my head, trying to indicate that we weren’t killing this man. His jaw clenched and he shot me a warning look, but I shook my head again and kept my hand firmly on the stock, pushing it down. After a moment, he lowered it a fraction of an inch, and I turned my gaze back to the warden.
The warden held his light out directly in front of him, lighting up his path. He didn’t swing it around, just kept it straight forward. I counted the seconds until the power came back on, my forehead sweating. I held my breath as he passed about fifty feet from where we were crouched in the darkness. He didn’t even look our way.
Once he had passed, I counted ten more seconds, and then nodded to Solomon. We couldn’t afford to wait any longer.
He’s moved, I said as I started to head toward the door. I kept one eye on the warden, and made sure to make as little noise as possible, but he never even looked back. It was sloppy, but if it kept him and us from being in a firefight, then I was all for it.
Even with the delay, it took us sixty seconds to get from the top of the hill to the door. Once there, I pressed my back against the wall, letting out a slow, controlled breath. The gun felt heavy in my arms, but I kept it tucked to my shoulder while I scanned the area and Solomon jammed the automatic lock pick into the lock.
The machine whirred softly in the silence, making me flinch. I knew the sound wouldn’t carry that far, but any sound, as far as I was concerned, was too much. The whirring stopped almost as suddenly as it had started, and Solomon gripped the small black box and twisted. The door clicked open. He moved inside, tapping me on the shoulder. I took another last glance around before entering and closing the door behind me, then yanked off my night vision goggles.
The lights flicked back on just as I pulled the door closed and I breathed a sigh of relief. Turning around, I stared down the hall and froze.
At the end of the room was a warden, and he was staring right at us.
I hesitated as he reached for his gun, his young face reflecting his panic. From the corner of my eye, I saw Solomon raise his gun to his shoulder, leveling out. I didn’t even have the opportunity to hiss, “No!” before Solomon pulled the trigger. The gunshot made a small sound, like pressurized gas escaping in a brief puff.
Red bloomed on the warden’s chest where Solomon’s bullet had caught him. The impact of the bullet sent him spinning like a top before tumbling to the floor with a sickening thud. Fury flared in me—I had not wanted anyone killed on this mission. Viggo would be sickened if he knew.
But I had to put it aside—anger didn’t change the fact that the man was dead, his blood already spreading out onto the white l
inoleum floor. Regret wouldn’t bring back the light in his eyes. Nothing would now.
We encountered guards inside, I subvocalized to Owen.
There was a pause, and then Owen replied. Yeah, we found a few ourselves. Thomas’ information appears to be wrong.
I was not wrong—there were no signs that they had guards posted inside! Thomas shot back over the line.
I sighed. It doesn’t matter. Owen, are we aborting?
There was a long pause before Owen spoke. No. We’re here—let’s just keep on track, and improvise when it’s called for. We’ll keep with the original rendezvous point—meet back at the van in ten minutes. Don’t be late.
Solomon and I exchanged looks, and I raised my hand to my collar, clicking the link over to Solomon’s channel. Keep moving, I said and he hesitated. What is it? I asked, nudging him.
There weren’t supposed to be guards in the building, he said, shifting his weight.
So? Owen gave us the green light. Let’s go.
Still, he didn’t move, and my patience was wearing thin. He risked a glance over his shoulder at me. Protocol is that we bug out. We aren’t supposed to die over this.
And then I saw it—for all of Solomon’s quiet confidence, he was afraid. I was too, but I had a clear image of what was at stake. I couldn’t wait around for him to decide, and I didn’t have time to waste in convincing him.
You do what you like, I told him, turning my gaze from him to the hall that stretched out before us. I’m getting Viggo’s cure.
I started to move past him, but he held out an arm, stopping me. There was a long pause before he subvocalized, I’m with you then. He shifted and began moving down the hall. I followed, placing my feet as quietly on the floor as possible and trying to keep my feelings of relief at bay. I meant what I had told him—I was going to get Viggo’s cure.
The Gender Lie Page 6