The Gender Fall (The Gender Game #5)

I took in the small room before us as a rush of adrenaline flooded my system. The room seemed strongly utilitarian, with an efficient and orchestrated feel. A line of windows into the stadium below stretched out across the opposite wall. Just in front of them sat a long black control panel, slightly longer than a desk, covered in rows of switches glittering with complicated little lights, sitting just in front of them. The walls were the same gray, but with pipes jutting out, presumably containing cables connecting to corresponding boxes on the control panel. And, currently its most useful feature, the room was empty.

“Inside now, ladies,” I said. The wardens’ eyes were wary, but they followed my orders. One of them—the younger one—was shivering slightly as she slowly went into the room, her head turning back over her shoulder several times to eye the five guns trained on them.

Once they were inside, I moved in, heading right for the control panel. I pulled a long black subvocalizer strip out of one of my pockets and buckled it against my neck, shaking my head against the tingle.

We’re in, I transmitted on our channel to Thomas. But I’m going to need some help with these controls.

A lot of help. I drew a deep breath, taking in the long black box, maybe five feet wide and three feet deep. It was filled with all sorts of blinking lights, gauges, digital readouts, and too many buttons to count. Thomas had better figure this one out, because the rest of us sure couldn’t.





35





Viggo





“One second, one second,” came Thomas’ welcome voice through the earpiece, and I was relieved that he had, in fact, been able to go through with his part of the mission. “Okay. No alarm has been raised that I can see, so you’re good there. Now, what’s your problem?”

This panel is really complicated, I vocalized through the collar. A small sound of discontent, a jingling, turned my head. I nodded, satisfied, when I saw Amber and Ms. Dale were currently on phase two of our plan: stripping the guards of their uniforms. Behind them, Cad and Jeff pushed Cruz, who had a stunned expression plastered on his face, into the room as well, the door swinging shut behind them.

“Ah, yes,” Thomas’ voice came into my ear. “Is there a terminal in the booth?”

My eyes scanned the console, stopping at the built-in monitor display with green lighting all around it.

Yes.

“Good. Go to it and type in what I tell you. I can’t crack this beast if I don’t know what it is.”

I immediately headed over to the attached keyboard.

I’m ready.

In a rapid-fire stream, Thomas began listing out a series of letters, characters, and numbers—too many to count or remember—but I dutifully punched them in while Ms. Dale and Amber changed into the stolen guards’ uniforms behind me, Jeff and Cad redistributing the rest of our hijacked weapons.

“You’re insane.”

The announcement was soft, but carried a heavy load of tension, and I hit enter before turning to face Cruz, who was watching me. His brows were drawn tightly together, a zip tie cinched tightly around his wrists, securing him to one of the pipes running from the walls. The two female wardens sat next to him, looking somewhat less belligerent. I regarded him coolly, shrugged once more, then gave him a little wave before turning back to the computer.

Is that all? I transmitted to Thomas.

There was a long pause. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

What’s interesting? Thomas?

“Oh. Um. Well, it’s not really pertinent, but I think I may have found Tim.”

My heart skipped a beat as I interpreted his words.

Not pertin—? I choked. Wait, really? Where? Is he alive?

“I think he’s alive, and yes, really. But, Viggo, the ‘where’ isn’t relevant to us.”

Ms. Dale stepped over, tugging the stiff edges of her uniform down, and reached out to place a hand on my forearm. She and the rest of the team now wore their earbuds, so they could hear the exchange. But since they needed their voices for this mission, I was the only one with a subvocalizer.

“Unless he’s in danger, then…” She hesitated, her gaze drifting suspiciously to our prisoners, and then continued. “Our tech guy is right—it is not a priority,” she said softly, meeting my gaze with an unwavering one of her own. I applauded her commitment to not using anyone’s real names, realizing we had overlooked giving Thomas an alias.

I nodded, swallowing through the swoop of hope tugging at my heart. This wasn’t the time or the place.

Thomas—is he in danger?

“No, not that I can tell.”

Can you… Would you be able to transmit the information back to our base? Not to Violet, though, if you can help it—she might go off half-cocked to find him.

“I can do that. Should I attach a message?”

Whatever you think is best, I replied, after struggling and failing to think of something to say that wouldn’t eventually make Violet angry I was covering this up. Ms. Dale gave me a nod, then hurriedly moved through the door and out into the hallway, Amber hot on her heels. The two of them, now dressed as the Matrian wardens who guarded the checkpoints, down to the electronic key fob and the identification papers—not that those would hold up under scrutiny—were going to do their job and guard the door.

This was probably my least favorite part of the plan. Through the door to the room, Ms. Dale and Amber had no way of communicating problems to us beyond a simple tapping system we’d worked out. The two of them were on their own now, and while they were both more than capable, I knew anything could happen out there.

Thomas, wait one second. Ms. Dale, test the signal for me, I communicated to her. After a moment, I heard a very small tap, followed by a long scratch, signaling that she had heard me. I read you clearly, I informed her. Go ahead, Thomas.

“Okay. By the way, I now have some control over your console, although it’s just about understanding the coding. I can guide you from here, but I need a test of buttons, left to right, top to bottom.”

I waved Cad over and pointed at the console, and he nodded, approaching it closely. Cad is waiting for your instructions, I transmitted. Jeff will be communicating with you while I deal with the hostages.

“Okay.”