The Gender Game 5 by Bella Forrest (uplifting novels .txt) 📕

“No.” Ms. Dale’s grip on my shoulder tightened, and she shook her head emphatically, her hair, in a tight braid, jerking over her shoulder. “There were three people in this room, and we all missed that. Yes, it was a dumb oversight, but you aren’t to blame. If anything, I am—I should’ve asked you to do it, but to be honest, I was more concerned about those trailers than the tents as well.”

Her words made me feel a little better, but still… “We need to be better next time,” I said stiffly.

Ms. Dale grinned at me. “We’re always going to need to do better,” she replied. “It’s just part of being in charge. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

I nodded and then turned to see Thomas looking at us expectantly.

“What’s the plan?” I asked, bringing my mind back to the task at hand: getting Viggo, Owen, and the captured—hopefully, now rescued—boy safely back here.

“Not a lot of good options in the area. That death camp was practically at the foot of one of the mountains. I have them heading south now, trying to buy a little time, but there aren’t a lot of roads for them to use.”

“Roads would be a bad call anyway,” replied Ms. Dale, toying with her braid with one hand. Her gaze was thoughtful as she considered the problem. “The guards at that camp will have already notified their higher-ups, and, seeing as the camp was bait, I would be surprised if they didn’t have troops nearby, ready to do a sweep. No—we need to do something a bit more unexpected to buy us some time.”

I frowned and crossed my arms. “Thomas, do you think you could look at the map and theorize where they might’ve hidden their troops, if they have any? Best guess is better than nothing.”

Thomas’ fingers flew over his computer, and I looked at the screen connected to it, watching as a 3D topographical map appeared. Thomas began clicking on areas, placing a few red hexagonal markers. I watched closely, noting the location of the base and the direction Thomas had advised Viggo and Owen to go.

“Where should Viggo and Owen be now?” I asked him, and he nodded. A few more clicks on the keyboard, and a blue triangle appeared on the map.

Ms. Dale came up beside me and watched intently as well. “That’s good, Violet. Thomas, eliminate all but four or five of the proposed troop locations. I can’t imagine they would commit any more than that, and even that might be a bit excessive.”

I watched as several of the red hexagons disappeared from the map, only a handful remaining. “Of course, this is only conjecture,” said Thomas. “But if I were them, that’s where I would be.”

Ms. Dale took a step back, nodding. “You were right to send them south,” she said. “We can find a spot to cover the heloship while we check the boy for trackers so we can airlift them out of the area. Can you show me what the area is like forty to fifty miles away?”

The map on the screen shifted left, revealing more of the geography beyond the camp, the lines moving in wavy ovals and circles that grew wider or closer together, depending on the elevation. Thomas continued to scroll until Ms. Dale’s hand shot out, pointing at a spot.

“There,” she said, tapping the screen. It was a low valley, surrounded by four hills. “We can bring the heloship in here.” Her gaze was steady on the map, and she pointed to a spot less than a mile away. “Have them meet us there.”

Thomas frowned, his eyes studying the screen from behind his spectacles. “It’s bad terrain,” he announced. “It’ll take them at least two hours to get there.”

Ms. Dale turned and nodded solemnly. “It is really bad terrain,” she agreed, sounding almost pleased. “But it’s equally bad for the enemy. They’re going to be tracking them using the boy. But it’s the best shot we have at getting them out before anybody catches up with them.”

“Dr. Arlan will need to go,” I said. Ms. Dale and Thomas looked at me as I worked the plan out in my head. “Someone has to cut the tracker out, assuming the boy has one, and Dr. Tierney is busy caring for Quinn and Henrik, so…”

“You’re right,” said Ms. Dale. “And good idea—the rest of us won’t have to dig around in him blindly looking for it.”

A thought occurred to me, and I frowned. “Thomas, do you know anything about trackers that are put into gels or liquids?”

He cocked his head at me, frowning. “Uh, no. Why do you ask?”

“When I was working with Lee, Desmond’s son, he had trackers you could put into someone’s drink. It would stay in their system for two weeks, and then get flushed out. I was just wondering, just in case—”

“In case the boy doesn’t have one surgically implanted,” Thomas concluded for me. “No, I don’t have any experience with them. They may be new and rare Matrian technology, or maybe it was something Lee developed on his own.”

I glanced at Ms. Dale, noting her look of dismay. “So even if the boy doesn’t have anything implanted under the skin, he still might be tagged?” she said. “That’s disconcerting.”

Looking down at the table, I sighed. “I agree. We might have to consider leaving him behind.” I hated the way those words sounded in the air, but I couldn’t leave a single option unexamined, not with our entire camp in the balance. My cousin’s children flashed before my eyes, reminding me what was at stake. As much as I hated it, I knew in my heart that just because we couldn’t find a tracker under his skin didn’t mean we could bring the boy back with us.

“I might be able to whip up a scanner of sorts,” Thomas announced abruptly. His head was tilted up toward the ceiling,