The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)(18)

“I’m taking us the way we discussed, Viggo,” Amber said, her focus on the window, reading gauges and adjusting the controls under her hands. “It’ll take about an hour… maybe two.”

I nodded and took a step back, rotating my shoulder. “What’s this base like?” I asked.

Amber gave me a rather mysterious look, her eyes twinkling. “Well, you’re in for a treat.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say… Well, it’s better if you just see it. It’s hard to explain.”

I frowned, but let it go, too tired to dig deeper. Besides, no matter how unpredictable Amber might be, I trusted Owen. He wouldn’t keep information from me if he thought it was worth mentioning. Which he clearly didn’t, so…

I went over to one of the wall-mounted seats and pulled it down, taking a seat. The ride was surprisingly smooth. I wasn’t sure what I had expected—roaring engines, rocking like a boat?—but this was not it. I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

I must’ve slept, because the next thing I knew, Amber’s voice was loud in my ears. I jolted forward and looked around blearily, stifling a groan. Ignoring the exhaustion, I stood up and moved over to where Owen was standing by the strange black table in the middle of the command area. It was glossy on top, but with a complicated, rolling, square-like pattern underneath it. On the surface, Owen had placed several items into three piles. He pushed one of them toward me, and I began sifting through the items. I slipped the aerosol canisters into a small black bag designed to attach to the back of my pants through the belt loops, followed by my gun in my waistband, and the subvocalizer around my throat. I kept the device off for now, looking at Owen.

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“Descending now,” said Amber from the front, over my question. “It might get a bit bumpy, so hold on, gentlemen.”

Owen slid his gun into the holster at his hip, grinned, and answered my question. “Why, we’re in the neighborhood! It would be impolite to come all this way for a romp in The Green and not pay a visit to our dear friends!”

I smirked at his wide, beaming smile. “So we’re going in the front.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and nodded. “It’s only polite.”

I chuckled, slapping a magazine into my gun. It was a bold plan, and frankly, I wasn’t sure I had the patience for anything more complicated than that. I couldn’t deny the surge of adrenaline through my veins at the unknown waiting for us down below. The heloship shuddered, and I reached out to grab the table, using it to keep me steady as we descended toward the Liberator home base.





9





Viggo





I peered out the bubble window as Amber lowered the ship down to a flat protrusion of rock that jutted out several hundred feet over The Green, dropping sharply on one side. It was flush with the mountainside, which was another sheer rise, almost like a series of steps for a giant. I couldn’t see anything that remotely looked like a base, just stone and a light dusting of snow. I was suddenly glad I had remembered my jacket. The Green was mild and humid, but the mountains were not. As the heloship shuddered again, I was grateful for the nip in the air forcing more adrenaline into my overworked system, giving me clarity and a sense of renewed—albeit temporary—energy.

Amber stared at the controls, her entire body focused on our descent. She guided the ship smoothly down, despite the jolting wind, and we landed with barely a shake or a shudder. “Nice job,” I said as the girl continued flipping switches and turning dials, powering the ship propellers down.

“Thanks,” she replied absentmindedly, her eyes on the control panel. That was going to be the last audible word on this mission for a while; from here on out, it was toxin masks and subvocalizers. I geared up in silence, the tingle of my vocal cords freezing a weird counterpart to the air coming to my mouth in filtered bursts through the mask.

After donning the same gear, Owen slung a bag over his shoulder, and I double-checked that the video chip containing Tabitha and Violet’s altercation—one of numerous copies Thomas had made, for strategic purposes—was in my pocket, protected by the plastic box he had put it in.

Amber moved past me, pushing open the narrow door that separated the command deck from the long, cavernous cargo bay. I followed her inside, past the small passenger door, toward the large rear door that dropped down to form a ramp—a useful feature designed for transporting vehicles.

She moved to a panel, sliding her own mask over her face, and then glanced back at us, clearly making sure we were both wearing ours. I gave her a thumbs-up, and she pulled a lever sticking out of the wall. There was a slight shake as the door cracked open, and then it lowered down smoothly as she worked the lever. I watched as the ramp dropped, frowning when all I could see was the night sky, followed by a never-ending black void.

I looked at Amber, wondering what she had planned, but she had her back to me. She squatted down, throwing open the lid of one of the benches that lined the walls of the cargo bay, and began pulling out a bundle of black nylon rope. As she shook it out, I realized it was a harness, not unlike ones used for rappelling or rock climbing.

She tossed one to Owen, who immediately put it on, sliding his foot through the leg holes and pulling them up over his pants. I watched for a moment, then turned back to Amber to find her standing in front of me, holding an identical harness out to me.