The Gender War (The Gender Game #4)(77)

“See, data transfers between Matrus and Patrus happen at eight bits per second, which destroys our ability to download the terabytes of data—well, it’s kind of self-explanatory at this point, but I am more than happy to explain it…”

It was the third time Thomas had used what seemed like the exact same sentence to explain, and I was having a hard time focusing. I knew a little about computers, but this was out of my realm of understanding.

I was still exhausted from the day before—although my love Violet had brought me some coffee she had found in the kitchen—and my head was throbbing again. After the battle, I’d spent hours helping relocate the surviving refugees, getting some of them first aid, and digging yet more graves. It wouldn’t bring their loved ones back, but I knew that it helped to treat the dead with dignity. It was the least I could do.

“Thomas,” I said softly. It was rude, but I was tired of waiting for the strange little man to take a breath in his lengthy explanation.

He kept talking, his eyes fixed on the computer as he highlighted another bit of code as an example of what he was talking about.

“Thomas,” I said again, a bit more loudly.

The man blinked, but his mouth never stopped moving as he gesticulated with one hand and the mouse.

“Thomas!” I shouted, and the man gave a frightened yelp, leaping out of his chair.

“What?” he asked, clutching his hand to his chest, sweat beginning to form on his brow. He turned toward me slightly, panting, his eyes wide and his hands shaking, and I resisted the urge to shake him harder.

“In the simplest language possible, please give me an update on your research into finding the Benuxupane that Desmond might have stored in Matrus.”

“Oh,” the man said, seeming to shrink for a moment as he thought about my request. I waited, counting slowly to ten in my head. At about eight, the man straightened, tugging his shirtfront down over his belly. “I can’t get that information,” he said curtly.

My jaw dropped as he proceeded to turn around and sit back in the chair, his focus entirely on the screen.

I took a long, slow breath. “Thomas?” I asked.

“Hm?” the man responded, his eyes never leaving the computer screen.

“Why not?” He opened his mouth, and I cringed, hastily adding, “Simplest language!”

The reply on his lips died and he cocked his head, seeming to think this over. “Data doesn’t move quickly enough—there are restrictions to it—I time out and have to start all over again. It’s impossible from here.”

“If we crossed the border, could you do it from over there?”

“Of course I could… o-over there, you said?” Thomas spun in the chair, his eyes wide and almost childlike with alarm. “In Matrus, you mean?”

I nodded, and Thomas immediately began shaking his head. “Oh no! I’m not going over there! That’s where Desmond is. Do you have any idea what she’ll do if she finds me? I’m not going there, no thank you!”

I scratched the back of my neck and grimaced. “You might not have a choice. We need to find any stockpiles she might have there first, because that’s the closest to where she’s keeping the boys.” In our exhaustive planning meeting several nights ago, the group of us had finally figured that this was our best bet.

Thomas was unmoved. “You need to find those stockpiles. I need to stay here.”

“But more and more people will die if we don’t do this!” I argued, appalled by his blasé attitude.

Thomas gave me a cold look. “Better them than me,” he retorted. And with that, he turned back around and began going through things again. I opened my mouth to explain to him that there was a ‘we,’ and that yes, he was going to help us, like it or not, when a knock sounded on the door.

I turned and saw Owen standing in the doorway. “Everything okay in here? I thought I heard… bickering?”

I stood up, relieved beyond words that Owen was there. “Excellent timing,” I said, standing up from where I had been perched on a desk behind Thomas. “I need you to explain to Thomas that if we go into Matrus, he’s coming with us.”

Owen just sighed resignedly, not surprised by the situation at all, and I clapped him on the shoulder and pushed past him, leaving him to deal with the Thomas situation. I wasn’t sure what Owen had done to earn that level of consideration from Thomas, but I was prepared to create and award him a medal for being able to endure what I could not.

“Thomas,” I heard Owen say as I left the room, “do you have any intel about Amber? And what’s all this about not coming to Matrus with us?” I quickly tuned out the reply.

I paused in the dining room, taking a moment to collect my wits from that very trying and irritating conversation. Then I noticed Ms. Dale sitting in the corner, perched on one of the serving tables. Her eyes and nose were red, and I could tell she had been crying.

I stood up and moved over to her, her sniffle tearing me apart a little inside. It wasn’t that she was crying; I knew her well enough by now to know she had the capacity to show real emotion. No, it was from the fact that she was trying to hide it.

“Hey, Melissa,” I said softly, as I settled in next to her. “How is he?”

Ms. Dale looked down at the floor, her hands grasping hard at the edge of the table. “Don’t know,” she said after a moment. “Doctor chased me out.”