The Gender End (The Gender Game #7)

She moved around me to the column, and I began to pour, using the two most mobile fingers on my casted hand to carefully hold the tube. My fingers were freezing in the cold whistling in from the cargo bay, but I maintained my grip, knowing that dropping them right now could mean the difference between life and death. The can glugged as the green liquid shot out in jerky little spurts, beginning to fill the tube. I held it as high as I could, trying to get more in and keep air out, then set the can down, removed the funnel, and pressed my lips to the end of the tube, trying not to think about the chemicals I was about to put right next to my mouth. I hoped they weren’t that toxic.

Kathryn shouted, “Now!” and I began to blow, hard, as Belinda grunted and heaved against the broken remains of the column. There was a metallic grating sound, and Kathryn looked up. I kept blowing until my lungs refused to expel any more air, and then quickly replaced the funnel, filling the tube up while trying to wipe my mouth on my shoulder. Kathryn stepped closer to the window—so close that the toes of her boots were hanging over the edge of the metal flooring and onto the glass.

“Again,” she said, a sharp edge in her voice.

I glanced up as I lowered the can back down and saw only the cloud wall. We were turning, and there was still clear sky in the direction we were heading, but if we couldn’t get the angle of turn sharper, then we wouldn’t make it. I placed the tube to my lips, and when Kathryn shouted “Go!” I blew as hard as I was able to.

Belinda strained, and there was another metallic grinding noise overhead. “It’s the rudders,” Kathryn informed us. “They’re squeaking because there isn’t enough fluid. Just ignore it for now.”

“Are we good?” asked Belinda, sweat dripping down her forehead as she struggled against the column. I studied it and her. She was strong, her biceps straining against the tight fabric of her uniform, but the black tube that jutted from the ceiling had only moved a few inches.

Kathryn shook her head as she continued to peer out of the window. “Not yet… But I think we’re going to make it. One more time.”

I sucked in yet another huge breath and blew for all I was worth as Belinda tugged the column toward herself, using her bodyweight to leverage it over as far as she could. The heloship shuddered slightly, but nothing else broke—and then Kathryn gave an excited whoop.

“We did it!”

I scrubbed my mouth against the sleeve of my jacket again, the strange mix of chemicals clinging to my lips, and moved up next to her. The arc of the turn was swinging us widely, but as more and more of the dark, starry night swung into view, I felt confident in Kathryn’s assessment.

“Great, so now all we have to do is figure out where we can turn ourselves around, and…”

Kathryn noticed it just as I did. The jagged piece of rock—the edge of a cliff—appearing just to the left of the window. It was jutting out of the wall of storm clouds, dizzyingly close. Too close. We were going to hit.

I abandoned the hydraulics and simply threw myself into the steering column, pushing on it from the opposite side. Belinda grunted, looking up at me from her tilted position. “What is it?” she demanded, her eyes wide.

“Rock!” I shouted, as Kathryn pushed against me, trying to add to the weight we were putting onto the column. I felt the thick bit of metal shift, just a bit, underneath, and then there was a sharp jerk that pushed me farther forward before tossing me back. Kathryn fell, screaming in agony, as the whole ship bucked.

There was an awful scraping sound, and I felt certain half the ship was going to come off. And then, just as suddenly as it started, it stopped.

I was on the floor, Belinda’s heavy legs on top of my chest. I pushed them off and picked myself up as Kathryn continued to wail in agony. I moved over to her. She rocked back and forth on her side on the floor, shakily holding her arm and hand out in front of her.

“Wait,” I said, looking around the room for the medkit.

“Are we safe?” she whimpered, her voice fighting through the agony she was experiencing. I found the medkit on the floor and moved over to it, taking a moment to check the window.

“We are,” I replied. The cloud bank was curving off to the right, rapidly giving way to the dark sky and a narrow ribbon of pink beginning to creep into the sky over the horizon. I scooped the medkit off the floor and headed back over. I could appreciate the view later. Kathryn was in serious pain.

“Here.” I took another of the packets out and placed it on her neck. She was sweating, so the adhesive didn’t immediately stick. Sighing, I carefully wiped down her neck with my sleeve, and then put it back down.

If she found me cleaning her neck odd, she didn’t comment on it, and I didn’t feel the need to either. She also didn’t say thank you, even after I helped her sit up and move over to one of the seats bolted on the side of the wall. It wasn’t worth commenting on, and maybe it was a bit petty of me to expect thanks in the first place. Besides, Kathryn was in pain, and I of all people knew how much that changed what came foremost in one’s brain.

“Rest a minute,” I ordered her, suddenly feeling bone-weary. “Belinda? You still with us?”

Belinda groaned and sat up, shaking her head. “What did we hit?” she asked, rubbing a growing dark spot just above her eyebrow.

“The rock,” I retorted sarcastically, then got ahold of myself and toned it down to something slightly more civil. “You okay?”

She gave me a confused look. “What do you care?”

I gave her an incredulous look and put my hand on my hip. “I care because you represent two of the three functional hands on this heloship, and I very much like being alive.”

The frown that seemed to perpetually be on Belinda’s face deepened, and I resisted the urge to mention that it was not going to make for attractive wrinkles later in life. “We’re just going to hang you when we get back to Matrus,” she said. “You know that, right?”

“We can cross that bridge when and if we come to it. For now, all I care about is getting us back, and in order to do that, we’re going to need each other.”

“Or I could kill you now,” she retorted. “Every second you’re alive represents a threat to me and Kathryn.”

“Oh, get off your high horse, Belinda,” I grated out. “You both needed me just as much as I needed you back there. Kathryn’s arm and hand would’ve made what we just managed impossible, and you’d both be as dead as I would. I gave up the gun, and I’m willing to do the work, so get over it.” Liar, liar, I chided myself, thinking of the hidden guns, but I couldn’t do this without safeguards. I couldn’t trust these women as far as I could throw them.

Kathryn sighed and shifted her shoulders slightly, her face looking less strained than earlier. “She’s right, Belinda. We need her too.”

Belinda made an irritated noise, and then nodded. “Fine,” she said. “But you stay where I can see you.”

I chuckled and shook my head at her, moving past her toward the bay and taking the medkit with me, just in case. “I’m going to check on my friend,” I informed her. “Feel free to follow, or not, but afterward, we need to figure out our next move.”





4





Violet