The Gender End by Bella Forrest (the giving tree read aloud TXT) 📕

Belinda and Kathryn included, if it came down to that. Sighing, I moved over to the window and stared out. The sun was now over the horizon, rising up over the edge and brilliant yellow in color. The light was so intense that I had to shield my eyes to block it out. The area below revealed itself under the growing dawn—bright yellow dirt, cracked and dry, like a mosaic on the floor. I’d never seen the earth such a color, so raw and naked.

How could anything survive out here? Was this what we had sent all those explorers out to—bone-dry wastes where nothing seemed to move? I shuddered, thinking about what it might be like down there.

I searched the wide expanse of the horizon and frowned when I saw a slim green line shimmer into sight just off to the right. Leaning toward it for a better view, I squinted and watched it approach, trying to decipher what it was as we drew closer to it.

After a few minutes, I stepped back into the cockpit and away from the bright light streaming through it. “Hey, Kathryn, can you take a look at this?”

“Uh, yeah. One sec. Just strip the wire and attach it to the third prong to the right. I’ll be right back.”

I shifted to one side as the pilot moved into the window, her hazel eyes searching. “What is it?” she asked.

“On the right. Is that a river?”

She craned her neck, squinting and awkwardly holding up her hand to block the incoming sunlight. “Looks like it. So?”

“Look at it. It’s heading in the direction that cuts farther north… What if that’s the beginning of Veil River?”

She gave an incredulous laugh and leaned back, her laugh dying when she saw I wasn’t joking. “There’s no way that could be Veil River,” she said, her brow furrowing.

“Why not? Maybe it feeds into it, or connects to it. It’s at least a landmark.”

Kathryn bit her lip, her eyes staring out the window. “You’re suggesting we try to turn this thing toward the river?”

I nodded, and she tilted her face up toward the ceiling, her eyes and lips moving silently as she performed some unexplained calculation in her mind. “We can only move at a fifteen-degree rate of turn right now,” she said after a pause. “We’d need to start turning now, but I’m not sure if we should prioritize it over the handheld.”

“If we don’t do it now, we lose any chance of doing it after the handheld comes up. It’s a source of water—”

“Which is probably toxic,” Belinda interjected, having climbed up off the floor to squint over the top of Kathryn’s head. “Especially if it leads to Veil River.”

“It’s not,” I insisted. “I’ve been to The Green, where the toxic water is even more concentrated, and it glows blue. An unnaturally vibrant blue.”

Belinda and Kathryn both exchanged surprised looks. “You’ve been to The Green? I mean, you’ve seen the river up that far?”

I nodded and then shrugged. “It’s sort of a long story, and since it contains elements that will make Belinda angry, suffice it to say I sort of crash-landed there, got bitten by a centipede and chased by red flies, and nearly died a handful of times.”

“Sweet mother,” Kathryn whispered in horror, and no small amount of awe. I had to admit, it was kind of gratifying. If she was impressed by my survival abilities, then maybe she would be more inclined to continue advocating to Belinda for my continued place in the heloship’s confusing chain of command. She looked back out the window, and then gave a tight nod. “Let’s do it.”

I quickly moved over to where the hydraulic pump and tubes still hung from the ceiling and began the process of pouring in more fluid. Belinda began unbuttoning the front of her uniform, shrugging out of it and revealing a thermal shirt, which she then stripped off, leaving a white tank top.

The light pouring through the window was generating a lot of heat, and even I was beginning to feel the room warm up, but for now, I ignored it, keeping my layers on—they felt like my armor. Once the line was full, I nodded at Belinda, and began to blow as she pulled on the steering column.

We repeated the procedure three times, just like last time, and each time Belinda was able to pull the column a few more inches over. The heloship deck tilted up slightly as she continued to hold it. I moved over to help her, the metal column vibrating with the strain of trying to hold the rudder and flaps without any hydraulic fluid to lubricate the mechanical gears.

Kathryn peered out the window, and after several long heartbeats, she finally shouted, “We’re good!” and Belinda and I slowly eased off the column. The deck tilted back down as the turn evened out, and I moved over to the bubble. The river was now almost below us, to our right, as we hadn’t quite crossed it during our slow turn. It curved back and forth, cutting a wide, winding path through the yellow earth. Nothing grew next to it, but still it churned below, sometimes smooth, other times violent, almost white, but flowing with strong currents northward—the same direction in which we were now traveling.

“I’ll keep an eye on it,” Kathryn said, and I turned, noticing that rivulets of sweat were pouring down her forehead. “I’m… I could use some water and a bit of a rest.”

I nodded wordlessly and then went to retrieve her some water from the bay, unscrewing the lid of the bottle and holding it out to where she was now sitting on the floor, her back to one of the dead control boxes. Her cheeks flushed red, but she tilted her head back, and I carefully poured some into her mouth. She made a sound in the back of her throat, and I stopped, giving her a chance to swallow.

“How much fuel do we have?”