The Gender End

by Bella Forrest

  I nodded again, and then forced myself to move through the doors the guards had just run through, the doors that weren’t ricocheting with fading gunfire. I turned my subvocalizer off long enough to whisper, “Change to channel K,” and turned left down the hall, following it, my gun drawn and my adrenaline surging.

  Morgan, checking in on channel K.

  Violet—confirmed.

  Our words were mechanical, automatic. We were halfway to the next junction when I felt the floor and walls shake hard, a smattering of dust exploding from the junction in front of me and scattering all over the place. I stumbled and caught myself on the wall, and then felt despair crushing into my heart.

  She can’t be gone, I thought to myself, my heart aching, agony in every beat.

  I thought of her, and then pushed the thought aside, straightening. It was too much to think about it right now.

  C’mon, I forced myself to say, allowing rage to bypass my despair. For the moment, fire consumed my sorrow, filling me with something I could use.

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  38

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  VIGGO

  I slowly cracked open the door to the palace, peering through the slit. The hallway was clear from that side, so I pulled the door back fully and stepped out into the hall that was revealed, my gun raised. The corridor was empty, silent, and still—no sign of any danger.

  I motioned Owen out, and he scanned the hall.

  How do we get to the east stairwell from here? I asked.

  He checked Thomas’ handheld.

  This way, he said, pointing to the left. Fifty feet and turn right.

  I began moving down the corridor, keeping my footsteps light and my eyes alert. I felt dangerously exposed in the hallways. Elena had cameras, and that meant we were on them. Getting Owen to the security room was a priority—he could shut everything down using Thomas’ instructions, which would help keep Violet and the rest of our group safer, too.

  It occurred to me as we checked the next corner that we should go invisible, before I remembered we couldn’t really go invisible. We had backpacks and Thomas’ bag—gear we needed for this mission. It would be very conspicuous if there were floating bags passing by the camera.

  I was torn between wanting to ransack the palace in a hopeless search for Violet, and knowing Henrik and everyone back in Patrus was relying on us to stop the boys before they started killing.

  If they hadn’t already started. It made me heartsick to know my wife was somewhere in this maze of danger without me, but I knew her. Even if we were on different missions, she wouldn’t want either of us to break from them. There was too much riding on this. Too much at stake.

  I was deep in thought, but not so distracted that when a pair of wardens rounded the corner from the junction ahead, I didn’t go into instant fight mode. But they’d spotted us the moment we’d spotted them.

  The four of us froze, and the wardens got to their weapons a heartbeat before us, leveling their rifles right at our chests. They were only ten feet ahead. If they fired, we would probably be dead even with the bulletproof vests. I looked over at Owen, who slowly began to place his gun on the floor in front of him, his free hand held high in the air. He shot me a look out of the corner of his eye and nodded.

  Picking up on his beat, I too slowly lowered my silenced pistol to the floor.

  The two women exchanged glances, and the one on the left pulled her rifle tighter to her chest.

  “Lace your fingers behind your head,” she said, her voice quiet but holding a bite of iron.

  I raised my arms and did as she ordered, watching her body language closely. She exhaled slowly and then moved forward, the other woman a step behind her.

  “Turn around,” she commanded, gesturing with her rifle.

  I exchanged a glance with Owen and then began to turn. The quiet one moved forward as I did, the muzzle of her gun going down as she reached around to grab her handcuffs with her other hand.

  At that moment, Owen’s sharp elbow caught her in the nose, and I planted a kick toward her chest, shoving her back a few feet into the one who had spoken.

  They both grunted as they impacted, and stumbled. I moved quickly, grabbing the woman on top and delivering a sharp blow to her chin, Owen a heartbeat behind with a boot to the other woman’s face.

  They both went down in moments, and I shook my hand out. I hated hitting women, but it was better than killing them.

  Owen and I breathed in relief, and then grabbed the women, depositing them into a nearby room and tying them up. We needed to be careful. Any loose end would raise the alarm, but there was no doubt in my mind we were already being hunted.

  Stairwell is up ahead, Owen said, and I nodded, exhaling to calm my nerves and focus.

  Right. Let’s go.

  I pulled open the door and let Owen take point, checking over my shoulder to make sure our rear remained clear. Ahead was a door—plain and wooden, with no special signage that told us of its significance—but Owen made right for it, grabbing the doorknob and then placing his ear to the door.

  I waited, keeping my back to it and an eye out on the hallway behind us, and then he cracked it open. A second later he tapped my shoulder, and I slipped in behind him while he held the door open.

  Up we go, he transmitted, and moments later we were climbing the stairs.

  We moved rapidly—any minute now wardens would likely be barging in, looking for us, and we needed to get up several flights to one of the higher sections of the palace.

  A rattle of gunfire brought us up short, and my heart leapt in my chest as I angled my head so I could see the door on the next landing.

  It could be Violet, I said over the link, and Owen surged forward toward the door. He moved to the other side of it while I pressed my back to the wall. Another burst of gunfire sounded, and I reached over and grabbed the doorknob, opening it a crack so that Owen could peer through it.

  He shook his head, and I opened it more, and then he jerked back as a single shot went off, gasping as something pinged into the stairwell, setting off sparks. I slammed the door shut and rushed over to him, ducking as a rifle went off, bullets tearing through the wood like rocks through wet tissue.

  I was low enough that none of them caught me, and that was very lucky. Owen was leaning beside the door, his back to the wall, his eyes wide.

  Are you okay? I asked, and he nodded, his jaw set hard.

  It didn’t get me—it was just a ricochet. I don’t think anybody was even looking in my direction. But it was close.

  I went to the door and pulled it open, taking control to give him a moment, just as a dark shape passed by at a sprint. There was a shout, followed by the sound of two people colliding. I opened the door to see one warden down, Amber engaged in hand-to-hand combat with another, her hands flying to block incoming blows. She landed a sharp jab, and the warden stumbled back a few steps, dazed. Amber took a slow step forward, and the guard moved quick as lightning, her hand pulling out her gun and shooting Amber point-blank in the chest before I could stop her. The redheaded woman crumpled to the floor.

  “NO!” Logan’s voice howled from down the hall, and he raced by just as I was leveling my gun at the warden. He blocked my view of her with his body. I eased off the trigger as Logan slapped the gun out of the woman’s hand, a round discharging into the floor as he did. His second blow was delivered right to her throat, and I heard her make a choked sound before doubling over, clutching her neck.

  He drew back a fist, slamming it down into her cheek, and she dropped to the ground. But Logan wasn’t finished, and as I watched, he knelt over her and began delivering blow after blow to her face. I stepped out into the hall, intent on checking on Amber, when her still form suddenly moved.

  She groaned, and picked herself up as the other sounds faded away. The sound of Logan’s fist on the warden’s face was the only noise in the hallway. Amber’s breathing was strained, and I didn’t doubt she was in a lot of pain. I
exhaled again, realizing her bulletproof vest had saved her life. But stopping a bullet from a powerful handgun such a short distance away wasn’t easy, and I was sure she would carry the bruise for a week.

  Amber made it to her hands and knees, her eyes squinting in pain, and then turned.

  “Logan,” she called softly, her voice hoarse, and he froze, then turned, his eyes staring at her. His anger and dismay melted into relief, and he crossed over and dropped in front of her, pulling her tight into his arms and cradling her against him.

  “Thank God,” he breathed, and suddenly I felt very awkward standing there. Neither of them had noticed us yet, and now I felt like I was witnessing what should be a very intimate moment between them. Owen and I exchanged uncertain looks.

  “It’s fine,” Amber said roughly. “I’m fine. Logan… I’m okay.”

  “Dammit, Amber. I was so scared.” His hands started smoothing her hair as he held her. “You know I—”

  Owen cleared his throat loudly, and Logan whirled, drawing his pistol and pointing it at us, still on his knees. He stared at us, Amber giving us a surprised look from over his shoulder, and then lowered his gun.

  “Hey,” he said, so casually that it was as if he hadn’t been about to declare his everlasting devotion and love to Amber.

  “Hey,” I said, fighting back a smile as Amber began to blush, hard, suddenly realizing the intimacy they were displaying.

  “Let me go,” she ordered, her violet eyes lowered, and Logan took one arm from around her but kept the other there, helping her to stand. She didn’t shrug him off, just shook her red curls over to one side, then nodded and stepped away from the helping hand.

  “Hey, guys,” she said, waving a hand in the air. “We, uh… We broke free of the guards.”

  “So I see,” I replied, turning off the subvocalizer for the moment with a smile. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and then looked around.

  “Uh… so… Operation Free the Boys?” she asked, leaning over to pick up the bag and gun the guard had confiscated from her.

  Owen and I exchanged looks, and I nodded, turning back to meet her gaze.

  “Yeah. Let’s, uh… Let’s do it.”

  “Two floors up,” Owen added, taking a step back into the stairwell and pointing up.

  “Cool,” Amber said, shouldering her rifle and taking her pistol out. She moved past Logan, who still stood motionless in the middle of the hall, staring at her, and toward us.

  I looked at Logan and smiled. “C’mon.”

  We climbed the steps quickly, syncing our channels and going back into silent communication. When we found the area of the security room, we stopped out of sight of the guards and began pulling off our gear, hiding it in one of those curtained alcoves I remembered from my escape from the palace… It felt like years ago, but it hadn’t been all that long.

  The plan was simple and relatively straightforward: use the suits to get in, and then take control of the station. We had an advantage, even if they were expecting us.

  When all of us were ready, Owen moved toward the door to the security room and went invisible, the rest of us following suit. I did as well, and suddenly remembered why I didn’t really like using the suit—it was worth it to be invisible, but only just.

  I’m going in now, Owen declared. The door opened slowly—just wide enough for him to slip in—and then remained still. I got two guards waiting for something to come through this door, one at nine o’clock, the other at three, but they’re distracted by the reports coming in from the main room. The main room has four more people watching the screens and giving orders.

  Thanks to Owen’s intelligence from inside, it was easy enough to slip by the first two guards and knock them out before they realized we were there. They had increased security, that much was certain, but with the four of us working in tandem and using the suits, we were able to take them out quickly and efficiently. We didn’t kill any of them, and within ten minutes, we had tied them up and tossed them into a side room. Soon, Owen was deep in the computer system, trying to use Thomas’ chips to determine how we could cut off Elena’s communications with the boys, while Amber, Logan, and I developed a plan.

  Or rather, Amber did, while I listened to her reasoning for staying behind.

  “I’m a woman,” she insisted. “I can radio the Matrians and send them on a wild goose chase. If I do it right, I can take over the command center here, and they’ll just think the shift changed. They might not even notice the cameras are under our control—it’ll keep up our cover for longer. That will buy us time for you guys to get to the control room, and—”

  “The control room—transmission room—whatever you want to call it—isn’t here,” Owen announced at that moment, his voice glum. “It’s… I think it’s being patched through here though? I’m not really sure what I’m looking at.”

  I looked over and saw him thumbing through the pages of Thomas’ notebook, his eyes searching for something. Then he frowned and looked over at me.

  “It seems like Elena’s set up a relay station between here and the… people feeding the boys orders.”

  “Okay… so we can’t stop the people who are giving them orders?” I asked, my stomach plunging. He hesitated, and then shook his head. All this work… it couldn’t be for nothing.

  “Maybe not, but we might be able to get them to stall,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Logan asked, and he ran a hand through his hair.

  “Someone here has to be giving someone there orders, right?”

  “Not necessarily,” I replied, trying to understand what he was getting at. “Elena could’ve given them the orders before they left.”

  “No,” Amber said. “A small sub-section of the Matrian governmental code is that no operation can legally be carried out without having constant communication with the palace.” She exhaled, and looked at us, her eyes wide. “It’s a small law, but an important one, drilled into the wardens. The fear was that if anything changed during a time of war—say, a treaty or peace—they needed to be able to contact everyone to make sure it was enforced.”

  Logan gave her an incredulous look and shook his head.

  “Who comes up with this? That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s not,” I told him. “Not when you consider what the Matrians stood for before Elena assumed control. None of them wanted to fight. They wanted peace from their neighbors, not war. You don’t leave an active weapon out there without a way to get them to stand down. Amber, how do you know that?”

  She shrugged. “Desmond had us learn stuff like this in case we had to impersonate a warden.”

  I smiled, appreciating the irony. “What’s the protocol if they lose contact with high command?”

  “They are to stand down operations and wait. After four hours, they are to break down operations and return home to assess what has happened.”

  Logan chuckled, and we all looked at him. “Bless those Matrian peace-makers,” he said with a grin.

  “Wait,” said Owen, turning around and away from the terminal. “Wouldn’t Elena change that?”

  “She might have. But it’s a chance we have to be willing to take,” Amber replied. “It’s really our only option, short of finding their location and going there to take them out.”

  “So wait—what do we do?” asked Logan, looking around. “I mean, can we stop them from getting orders?”

  “We can,” Owen replied. “We just need to take out their transmitting antennae on the roof. If we do that, we can take out all communications through the palace’s official channels… and then there’s a good chance they’ll stop the attack with the boys.”

  That was a solid plan, and I took over the rest, signaling my approval.

  “Amber, you and Logan stay here and keep them off our backs for as long as possible. Give us a couple blocks of your semtex and extra detonators, and then block yourselves in. Owen and I will go blow their communications array sky high.”

>   Amber arched an eyebrow and exhaled a sharp breath.

  “That’s no small order,” she said. “But we got your back. Good luck.”

  “You too,” I said, chambering a round into my gun and moving toward the hall. “You too.”

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  VIOLET

  The hall before me was filled with doors and hallways leading to who knew what. I saw a sign that said “Servants’ Kitchen” heading left down a hall, and pointed to it.

  Here? I asked Morgan, still entertaining the secret hope that Ms. Dale would answer, having miraculously survived all the guards, patched herself up, and found our new channel… It would be just like her, wouldn’t it?

  It’s about right, Morgan replied, and I nodded, pushing away the stab of disappointment when hers was the only voice coming through the comms, focusing instead on checking both sides. I ducked back around the corner into the hallway we’d just left, motioning Morgan back as a regal voice became audible, instantly recognizable. My back to the wall, I used a trick Viggo had taught me and held a mirror down low, peering down the corridor and seeing, in the tiny glass, what was clearly Queen Elena’s figure, flanked by several guards. From the quick glance I got, they were striding toward us, Elena giving orders.

  I looked over at Morgan and nodded toward the door a few feet behind her, and she nodded back and moved over to it, keeping her steps quiet. I followed in her footsteps as we slipped through the door into what appeared to be a closet. I held the door slightly cracked and tried to calm my heartbeat enough to hear what the queen was saying in the corridor beyond.

  “—tine has been broken,” she said imperiously. “They’re getting into the palace. Where are the bloody torch units I ordered? They should be here by now. It might already be too late. Sierra and I may need to evacuate while this problem is resolved.”

  “My queen,” another voice replied, growing louder as the group passed by. “I do not want you chased from your home! We will put an end to this, you have my…”