The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

“Undoc is short for undocumented. Population is strictly controlled and enforced in the tower—we are a completely balanced system. Too many people and the entire thing comes tumbling down. However, that doesn’t stop some people from accidently conceiving, and then deciding to keep their child a secret.”

“Interesting,” I replied, because it was. The implications of it all, strict population control and secret children… This place had to be carefully monitored and observed to maintain order. It made me want to ask a dozen follow-up questions, like what happened to an undoc after it was discovered. I hated to think they might kill them just to keep the population under a certain number.

“We don’t execute undocs,” Knight Elite Jathem said tersely, and I realized I had spoken the last bit out loud. I shook my head to clear out some of the spider webs as he continued to speak, mumbling an apology. “We educate them and try to put them back into the system.”

“The biggest problem is getting them placed,” continued MacGillus. “Lots of departments won’t take them, as they… represent a certain amount of controversy and shame.”

I blinked at that. I knew they were trying to explain things to me, but it was clear they were things they took for granted, and even though I had gotten some good information out of that, a lot of it seemed implied, which meant it flew right over my head.

Sighing, I leaned back. “Second question. With Medic Selka now dismissed, does that mean I won’t get to see how you guys could fix my arm faster?”

Jathem stared at me, and then smiled for a brief second. “We would never dream of that. It was just decided that you would be attended to by the Chief Surgeon. He’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“If we’re lucky and he’s feeling spry today,” MacGillus mumbled, and Jathem reached out and smacked him loudly in the shoulder, making the other man yelp.

“Be respectful,” Jathem said, just as the door swung open, and a man and a woman entered.





9





Violet





The woman entered first. Something about her posture and physicality immediately made my hair stand on edge, it reminded me so much of Tabitha. However, as she drew closer to me, pushing deeper into the room, I could see subtle differences that clearly distinguished her from the now-deceased Matrian princess and psychopath.

For one thing, her hair was jet black, with clearly premature whitening occurring at the roots. It was collected and woven into an elaborate braid encircling the crown of her head, making it look like a dark, shining tiara. There were smile lines around her mouth, and a worry line seemed to be permanently indented between her thick, generous eyebrows. As she moved deeper into the room, I caught the smell of rich soil and vegetation, and noticed that the knees of her forest-green uniform were stained with dirt, as were her fingertips, and there was a smudge on her cheekbone as well.

Behind her came a tall, lanky man with long brown hair gathered in a tie at the base of his neck. He wore a goatee, like Jathem, but it was longer than Jathem’s by half an inch. His face was narrow, his cheekbones high, with slight hollows underneath. An aquiline nose, thin and straight with a hooked end, added another angled element, making him seem almost stern, with the narrow countenance of a hatchet.

His eyes—a strange combination of one blue eye and one brown eye—blazed as they looked over me, and an all too vulnerable feeling crept over me as he took me in, like he could drink up all my secrets. He stepped in behind the woman, and stopped as she stopped, just a few feet away.

“I’m assuming this is Raevyn Hart and Devon Alexander?” I said, after the silence had grown unbearable. I kept my tone light, hoping to put the two newcomers at ease.

“Head Farmer Raevyn Hart and Knight Commander Devon Alexander,” MacGillus said nervously, clearly correcting my bad manners, and I nodded, deciding not to speak for a minute.

“You’re certain they landed on top of the Green?” the woman, Raevyn, said after a moment, turning her head toward Jathem. She didn’t even seem to notice my blunder.

“Wait, you have The Green here?” I asked, blinking in surprise.

MacGillus blinked at me, confused. “I’m not sure—‘the Green’ refers to the Greenery, a place where—”

“Do not address her,” Devon commanded in a stern voice. “And answer HF Hart’s question.”

There was a small pause as Jathem seemed to collect himself. He and several others reported the same occurrence.

“HF Hart,” said Devon, his voice flatly stating the fact. “There is no reason to doubt the claim.”

“They could be undocs,” she retorted. “Very smart undocs, from Mechs, or possibly the Loaners. They could’ve built a ship… It was an oversight not to have surveillance outside of the tower.”

“Scipio reports that it’s not an oversight. The heat outside is too severe and would burn out the cameras by the hundreds. Daily.”

“Who’s Scipio?” I asked, and everyone stopped and looked at me, as if suddenly remembering I was in the room. I looked at Jathem and added, “That’s my third question, but if you don’t want to answer it, then my next one is: are the colors you’re wearing to identify your role in the tower? Is it crimson for knights, green for farmers, white for medics… oh, oh… are the Mechs and Loaners other… departments, or whatever you call them?”

“Dear lord, KE Dreyfuss,” breathed Raevyn at Jathem. “Whatever did you tell this girl?”

“Madam Councilwoman,” said MacGillus, his voice humble and soft. “She asks a lot of questions, too many to be an undoc. And I was with KE Dreyfuss. I can testify that he did not give any answers that might put the tower at risk, only ones that might increase her understanding of our defensive capabilities.”

“But not our offensive?” asked Devon, his voice holding a note of warning.

“Never, sir.” Jathem’s voice held a note of mortification.

I sighed and leaned back against the wall, folding my arms across my chest. It was difficult with the cast, but I managed. They were bound and determined, it seemed, to ignore me, and it was a little frustrating. I mean… I was the newcomer amongst them. Why weren’t they as curious about me as I was about them? I’d figured at least one of them would have a little less self-control, or something.

A sharp rap sounded on the door, interrupting the argument. Knight Commander Devon stepped out of the way just as it swung open, admitting an elderly man wearing a white uniform.

“Chief Surgeon Sage,” Raevyn said, inclining her head.

Chief Surgeon Sage was in his sixties, if I had to guess, and had snow-white hair and a bushy white mustache. In spite of his age, he stood tall, and his physique was surprisingly muscular, as if he could go out jogging at any moment. He smiled at Raevyn, a dimple forming in his cheek, and his eyes danced around the room until they landed on me.

“Is this our little alien girl?” he asked, stepping into the room.