The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

She turned to watch them go, and I moved up behind them. “I think we should go,” I murmured.

“No kidding. Just give me a second to talk to the Matrians, and we’ll get going.”

“You want me to join you?”

She tilted her head up at me, and then shook her head. “Nope, I got this. I’ll see you in a minute.”





12





Violet





I moved toward where Belinda and Kathryn had retreated inside the bay of the repaired Matrian ship. Kathryn saw me coming and gave me a brusque nod. “Seems your people came for you,” she commented warily, eyeing Viggo from over my shoulder.

“They did,” I replied. It was unnecessary, but it was nice we were keeping some semblance of civility. “You going to try and stop me from going with them?”

Kathryn gave me a stern look, turning her gaze toward Belinda, clearly gauging her reaction. Then she shrugged. “I’m just a pilot. Prisoner acquisition isn’t in my wheelhouse.”

I smiled. Maybe I had made a bigger impression on Kathryn than I’d thought. More likely, however, she was just as eager to get back home as I was, and didn’t want to further risk her life by getting into a shootout.

“Is this thing good to go?” I asked, my eyes moving around the cabin.

“The patch Belinda made isn’t pretty, but it’ll get us home,” she said. “And thanks to the treatment we got from CS Sage, I should be recovered soon. Was that your doing?”

I shrugged, not really certain how to answer or even whether I should tell her the truth. We might be in a better place than we were a few hours ago, but that didn’t mean they would take the truth willingly, and they might not even believe it if I told them. Better to change the topic and let them speculate.

“Are you sure you want to take this thing back?” I asked. “Even with the patch, the whole thing could crash.”

“What are you proposing?” asked Belinda, breaking her stony silence.

I hesitated at the suspicion in her voice, on the verge of not even extending the offer, but then decided to go for it. “Look, you can come with us. I give you my word of honor that we will deliver you as close to Matrus as we dare.”

Belinda cocked her head at me, clearly surprised by the offer. But the mistrust was still there, brewing behind her eyes. Kathryn gave us both a look, and then shook her head. “The repairs are solid,” she said confidently. “We can get ourselves home.”

The urge to protest—at the very least make a case for it—was strong, but I decided it was a waste of time. I couldn’t blame them; if our positions were reversed, I would feel a similar level of distrust.

“Fair enough,” I replied. “Good luck.”

She inclined her head and then cast another look up at Belinda before nodding. “I gotta go perform a quick check of the engines,” she announced. Turning, she moved toward the cockpit and then paused. “Thank you for helping us out. That was… really big of you, all things considered.”

Kathryn didn’t wait for my reply, just moved forward into the cockpit before I could even begin to formulate a response. Which was good. I wasn’t even sure how to respond, considering she had actually thanked me. I was so stunned, I was fairly confident a stiff breeze would knock me over.

“Is that your fiancé?” Belinda asked, and I started and tore my gaze from the door that Kathryn had disappeared through. I saw her looking at Viggo, and smiled.

“He is indeed,” I replied.

She scrunched up her face, taking a moment to examine him, and then, to my utter surprise, gave an approving nod. “He’s handsome.” My surprise quickly evaporated as the large blonde woman met my gaze and grinned wolfishly, revealing a gap in between her two front teeth, as well as a set of cavernous dimples. “Get married before we catch you. It would be a shame to hang you both before you had a chance to proclaim your love. And it’s pretty clear that he loves you.”

I pressed my lips into a tight line to try to contain my smile, but it was impossible. “Belinda, I had no idea you were a romantic.”

The smile slipped from her lips, and she narrowed her eyes at me to the point that she looked like she was squinting. “Yeah, I didn’t mean for that comment to be taken as a ‘let’s be friends.’ Because we’re not. And we never will be. Best of luck, Violet. You’re going to need it.”

She abruptly turned on her heel and began moving toward the cockpit. “Hey,” I called after her, and she paused, turning her ear toward me. I waited for her to turn, but after a second it was clear that she wasn’t going to. “I really do hope your sister is okay. If she is, and we have her, I’ll see about getting her back to you. Francis, right? Francis Carver?”

Belinda turned, and gave me a scowl. “How very charitable of you,” she sneered. “How very kind. Let my sister go because we were forced to rely on each other to survive, but what about the others your people might have caught? Gonna just keep them as prisoners?”

I frowned and shook my head. “I don’t want to keep anyone prisoner,” I replied honestly.

“Right. Which was why you kept Desmond a prisoner.” I opened my mouth to protest, because that was different, and she held up a hand, forestalling me. “Save it. We were in a tough spot. We helped each other. That’s it.”

With that, she propelled herself forward into the cockpit, disappearing within. I hesitated, and then turned back to where Viggo was waiting for me at the bottom of the ramp, moving to him quickly.

“How’d it go?” he asked, and I shook my head.

“They’re finding their own way home. We should go. I doubt very much the people inside the tower would be pleased with us staying any longer.”

He frowned but nodded, reaching out to take my hand. “Let’s get you back home then,” he said with a smile, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulder. I leaned into his side, suddenly feeling beyond drained, and together we walked over toward the other heloship probably twenty feet away. We might be out of this stew of problems, and it was beyond wonderful to be with Viggo again, but this just meant that I had to find the strength to continue back into the mass of problems waiting for me at home.

As we drew near, a familiar young woman strode down the ramp, a confident swagger in her gait. As the mop of red curls with close-shaved sides appeared, I felt a smile cross my lips.

“Hey, Amber. I heard that you’ve recently upgraded to pirate status.”

Amber placed her hands on her hips and posed dramatically, like a heroine out of one of the graphic novels that were popular in Matrus, and I chuckled as I threw my arms around her neck, pulling her in for a quick hug.

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” I told her, and her arms came around my shoulders, hugging me tightly back.