The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

Amber shook her head, pursing her lips through the mask. As much as I love this heloship, I have no idea what weights these ropes were tested at, or how much they are able to hold. It’s too much of a risk to go two on the rope. Especially with you strapping young men. She smirked. You’ve probably got a couple extra pounds of muscle.

Try twenty-five pounds, I thought, careful not to project that one out loud. I walked to the ledge and peered down into the abyss. I tugged once at the rope, then eased out away from the heloship’s floor, slipping my feet over the edge. I might as well get this over with quickly. My stomach gave a sickening lurch as the rope took my weight, and the harness jerked and tightened uncomfortably around my hips, but everything held.

Meanwhile, Owen grimaced, taking a new look at his rope. So you’re using us as guinea pigs? he asked Amber.

Amber laughed, and then nodded. If it makes you feel better, then technically, I used Violet’s cousin and uncle first.

It doesn’t, but thanks for trying, Owen quipped, and I smiled. I looked down past my boots as I swung slightly back and forth, surprised by my lack of vertigo now that the initial drop was over. And, I noticed, the adrenaline spike in my muscles had left me feeling even more awake. I suddenly felt bad for Violet’s fear of heights—she was obviously missing out on some fun.

Maybe we should change places, I said, looking at Amber with a wide smile.

She narrowed her eyes at me. Why?

Because I’m suddenly curious about what it’s like to rappel down.

Amber laughed in response, and then waggled the fingers of one hand while her other one reached out and hit a yellow button. There was a sharp jerk in the rope, followed by the high-pitched sound of the winch activating again. I gave her a dirty look as we descended, but I was more amused than anything else by now.

The whine of the winch quickly faded as we were lowered. We dangled maybe fifteen or twenty feet from the cliff face. In spite of the moon being out, the rock face was bathed in shadow. I carefully pulled out my flashlight and clicked it on, my beam joined by Owen’s.

My excitement at dangling over the edge and the adrenaline that it had initially created soon dissipated, and I quickly became bored as we dropped. The black and gray strata in the rock drifted slowly by, and I looked up, surprised to see the heloship wasn’t that far ahead.

Any way we can speed this descent up? I transmitted through the subvocalizer.

I would rather not burn out the rotors in the winch, replied Amber. But I’ll ramp it up a little.

Owen rolled his eyes at me. I shrugged.

The rope shuddered slightly under my hands, and the rock face began to move by more quickly. The sensation of falling increased, and I leaned into it, letting the fear and excitement drift over me and taking advantage of the adrenaline pumping through my veins. It was helping to focus my mind.

I felt myself starting to swing slowly around, turning away from the rock face. I stuck out a leg, trying to turn back toward the wall, but only managed to spin the other direction. I met Owen’s gaze as my front turned toward him, and he gave me a sharp look. What are you doing? he subvocalized, clearly amused.

My reply was another shrug as I attempted to steady my spinning. I’m not sure, I replied dryly. But you should try it—the view is spectacular. I continued to spin around, picking up speed, as the more I tried to remain still, the faster I spun. After a moment, I sheepishly admitted defeat. Can you… uh… help me out?

He rolled his eyes and reached out to grab my shirt, steadying me. Thanks, I transmitted in reply.

You gotta remain as still as possible, Owen replied, his focus on the darkness below. When you start to shift your weight, that’s when you start spinning.

Ah. I paused, suddenly curious. So, was this part of your Liberator training?

Owen cast me a sidelong look. His transmission was cagier than I’d come to expect from him. Not… really. Call it information learned through more questionable means. A product of a misspent youth.

I absorbed that information in silence, keeping my flashlight pointed down. The sentence was ambiguous, but it seemed to say Owen’s upbringing had been outside the legal system. Somehow, I couldn’t picture it. Owen seemed too honest and genuine to really thrive in a criminal lifestyle. Then again, anything was possible. Maybe he had changed into the person he was now after the Matrians had taken his brother.

My flashlight cut across a break in the cliff face below us. Is that it? I asked Owen, pointing with the light.

He nodded and immediately relayed our discovery to Amber. Great, was all she said in reply. While our descent had seemed slow, with no context to judge our movement in the darkness, it was now clear we were approaching the gap quickly, and I began to move back and forth on the rope, swinging the way I’d just learned not to.

Almost too soon, the gap was there before me, and I planted a foot on the ledge, leaning forward to keep my balance. I got my other foot under me, and then turned to grab Owen, hauling him roughly onto the ledge with me. He unhooked my rope for me, and I helped him with his.

Owen relayed our success to Amber, and I turned, shining my light around. We were standing in the lightly humid air in the mouth of a cave. Not just any cave, but a wide one—my flashlight had a range of maybe thirty feet in the dark, and I couldn’t detect any of the sides from where I stood.