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

think the situation was handled, because she began handing out orders. “Okay. Men, get the vehicles out and start getting ready. Thomas, explain to Logan what the plan is. Women—and Viggo—let’s make sure to touch up those disguises, starting with Amber. Remember, this next part needs to be flawless.”

“Roger that,” Solomon said, his voice low. He stood up and followed Owen, Thomas, Logan, and Tim to the cargo bay, but was stopped when Logan turned around abruptly.

“Amber?” he asked softly, and she looked up, her face an impassive mask.

“Yes?”

“I’m proud to have you as my superior.” With that he turned away, and I was blown away by that shocking display of humility. I found myself thinking he must have much deeper feelings for her than I’d thought, to humble himself like that.

Solomon looked around, moving toward the back along with the young man, and cleared his throat. “I’d be proud to punch you, if Amber asks,” he said to Logan in a voice loud enough that the entire group could hear, clapping a large hand onto Logan’s shoulder. “But in the meantime, let’s go. Time’s a precious thing.”

I watched as Logan was pushed out by Solomon. The door closed, and I exhaled. I still hadn’t even moved since we’d landed, and Logan’s appearance had been so surreal, I didn’t even have the ability to really register it. I was still shaking from the fall, and now… now was the last moment to stop and breathe before we really started the mission.

And this time, there was no room for mistakes or deviations from the plan.

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24

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Violet

The sun had set long ago, and had taken its warmth with it, and yet the sky stubbornly refused to change. The west still held the deep, dark purple of twilight, while behind us the inky black sky shone brightly with stars. Since Maxen’s announcement this morning had sped up our timeline, we’d only had the rest of the afternoon to prepare for the mission, and spent the day nailing down the plan and preparing everything we’d need. Now it was night, the time for secret missions, and I could already see the North Star shining above the horizon through the window of the car. We bounced and jostled across the uneven terrain, the headlamps finding no hazards or obstacles blocking our way.

The two vehicles we’d taken with us in the cargo bay of our ship were loaded with all the supplies we’d need. Ms. Dale drove, while Viggo, Thomas, and Owen were squeezed into the backseat of the loaded vehicle, shiny handcuffs around their wrists. Thomas and Owen were disguised too, though not as well as Viggo or the rest of us had to be. They weren’t nearly as well-known within the two countries.

I stole a quick glance at Viggo as he looked out the window, his eyes serious behind the spectacles. I appreciated the sight, but I couldn’t attribute the hitch in my breath solely to Viggo as we drove across the dark gray and black plains that made up the far eastern borders of Matrus—the direction we had been heading when Solomon had destroyed the controls on Desmond’s heloship.

That was an important detail in our story, and I sucked in another slow breath, reminding myself of what I needed to say and how I needed to act.

“Be confident,” Ms. Dale said softly as she angled the car toward a fire burning some three or four hundred feet away, right behind a massive metal square that hunkered over the rocky soil. It was the enemy camp, a Matrian outpost manning the anti-heloship guns we’d had to perform the drop to avoid, and from this distance I could make out five or six figures at the post; there were likely more in the green tents pitched a bit farther behind the fire pit. “Remember, you didn’t do anything wrong. We’re going to get through this.”

“I know we will,” I said, tugging down the olive-green uniform of a Matrian warden. “Not our first rodeo.”

“They’re going to ask about the uniform—”

“I know what to say.” I stroked my fingers over the butt of my gun as Ashabee’s anti-ship missile launcher grew larger. It was much smaller than I had expected it to be. The whole thing sat on four tires that were braced by rocks to prevent it from rolling anywhere. I stared at it, resenting how such a small thing had forced us to perform such a risky move in the heloship, letting the petty anger distract me for a moment from what was ahead.

But only for a moment. Ms. Dale downshifted and began to slow as we neared the encampment. A paved road ended a few feet away, and as if by magic, I could see, down the hill, trees and the tops of houses just beyond the gravel mounds that framed the road.

She brought the car to a halt as motion erupted around the fire at the Matrian camp. I immediately rolled down my window, shouting, “Don’t shoot, we’re the heloship team that went down the day before yesterday!”

The women—there were seven of them—didn’t stop as they grabbed their guns and trained them on us, most of them going to one knee. Only one woman stood, a slender woman whose brown hair glinted red in the firelight.

“That’ll be their commander,” Ms. Dale said dryly, turning the engine off. “Wait for her to respond.”

It didn’t take long. “Throw your weapons out of the windows,” she shouted. “And come out slowly with your identification papers in your hands, high in the air.”

We’d known this would happen, and we were prepared. I tossed the gun out on my side, Ms. Dale taking a moment to roll down her own window and throw hers out as well.

“We have three Patrian prisoners,” I shouted as soon as we were done. “Do you want them to stay in, or get out?”

There was a pause. “Get them out—slowly, and their hands better be tied up.”

“They are. We’re leaving the vehicle