3 SUM (20 page)

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Authors: Quig Shelby

Tags: #Dystopian, #Futuristic, #Political thriller, #Romance, #War, #Military, #Femdom, #Transgender, #Espionage, #Shemale, #Brainwashing.

BOOK: 3 SUM
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“It's enormous,” said Anais as we strolled the main corridor.

“Thank you, that's what they said at the University.”

“I'm talking about this bunker, if that's what it is.”

“You think it's something else?”

“Aren't you curious about all the round windows?”

There was nothing but earth behind them. The glass was thick, the seals airtight.

“You mean like a ship?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, I guess we're close to the Thames.”

“I don't think a water voyage is intended.”

“Space?” I asked.

“Why not? You know of the Council's concern regarding a bankrupt planet.”

“So go to a new one?”

“But as far as I know every rocket ship needs an engine and a pilot.”

“At your service,” said Nivek, behind us.

“You've been there all the time?” I asked.

It was hard to be cross with a robot, and I hated to say it but he was kind of cute. His voice was non-threatening. In fact, quite the opposite; his intonation was friendly, cordial, inviting. The engineers had done a great job. OK, he had wheels not feet, but all the floors were flat, and there were elevators not escalators.

“So we're in one giant rocket ship?” Anais asked him.

He was shorter than us too, which helped. I didn't want Anais looking up to anyone else, even a robot.

“Yes,” he replied.

Did he sound proud? Was that possible?

“Passengers?” asked Anais.

“Two hundred women.”

“No men?” I asked.

“Men? Don't you mean crossdressers, trannys, and shemales?” said Nivek.

I didn't know robots could laugh.

“No men,” he finally said.

“Interesting,” said Anais.

“Why wouldn't they need men?” I asked. Maybe I was being naive.

“Perhaps the ship carries semen but not sailors,” said Anais.

Nivek was doing it again, chuckling.

“How far?” she asked Nivek.

“Three hundred earth years,” he replied.

“Cryo,” we all said together, and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

“Point me to the engines,” Anais ordered Nivek. “And sweety,” she draped her arm around him, and I had that knot back in my stomach, “this new world, what's it called?”

“Eve.”

Now why wasn't I surprised?

Fortunately, we were getting the impression he couldn't refuse his human masters, whoever they were, and he pointed us down a corridor with his one metallic arm before wheeling off.

“Only the very best for this voyage,” said Anais.

“A new world, but who rules, whose rules?”

“The Council's, of course.”

“But only for women?” I asked.

“What else would you expect?”

Well, at least we had sorted that out.

The seats were lettered on each side with a wide corridor between them. I tried seat FU and immediately felt it heat up. The leg rest was rubbing the blood up my calves, and something in the headrest was massaging my temples. I felt sleepy, relaxed, and loved - by a chair. Anais had Nivek and I had FU. I could actually deal with that.

Anais shouted me to the front, towards the one isolated chair. The letters were HRH, Her Royal Highness, and this time a name, ‘Queen Vespertina.' Dominance corrupted, complete dominance corrupted completely.

I couldn't even drive a car, never mind understand one, but Anais seemed impressed with the flashing lights and smooth conical valves in the engine room. She was hotter than a star but her intelligence was starting to dull my passion, at least until she screamed out my name. But what would I do if she shouted out ‘Nivek'?

Chapter Forty-One

Steve was frothing down the phone with excitement; he couldn't wait to see the film. His stretch inside had brought out his fighting side, and he wanted our leader brought to account.

We sat in the plush red seats of the cinema, and Nivek was wearing a tray of chilled choc ices around his waist.

“Ladies and gentleman,” I announced, “‘The Betrayal' starring, well just you wait and see.”

I pointed at Nala, who started the show, but thankfully without flashing. There were ten rows, and I sat with my arm around Anais on the back. Steve was on the edge of his seat at the front.

“Valiant, please, we'll miss the film,” said Anais, shrugging off my lips.

The room was gloomy, the lights low. Vespertina and her companion were even smoking; though only one of them was smoking hot, it was Venelope.

It could have been a subterfuge, they could have been cleverly disguised actors, but only Vespertina could discuss the Femocratic missile program in detail. And, if you still had doubts then another bomb was about to go off, Venelope had delivered our entire defence plans to the enemy. The Undiagnosed would overrun us, giving Vespertina reason in madness to go nuclear. So that's what Queensy had meant when she said, “Enjoy life, there's not much of it left.”

“I'd better prepare the ship,” said Nivek.

But we were in no doubt we had the evidence to hang Vespertina out to dry, if we had time.

We watched everything unfurl on the TV screens. There was no misinformation; the Home Guard were needed. Steve was anxious, nervous, and it was impossible to send him away. We were curled up on our sofa, leaving the robots to recharge their batteries. I was starting to wonder why they only had one arm, until I saw the masses of Undiagnosed troops charging forwards bearing arms, supported by tanks and air cover. They'd made it to the French coast.

We couldn't stop the onslaught, but maybe we could prevent the planet disintegrating.

Steve picked up the remote and turned off the pandemonium. I sat silent, dejected but excited. They had created me to help women, now I just might save the entire human race.

Chapter Forty-Two

We were dining in the restaurant on Nivek's piece-de-resistance: sautéed beef pasta with new potatoes. Crème brûlée was for dessert.

“The potatoes are out of this world, Nivek,” said Steve.

“They soon might be,” said Anais.

I kissed Anais on the cheek; it could be my last chance.

“Get a cabin, guys,” said Steve.

I'd explained beef to Steve; he now had his head around it, as well as his mouth.

“I hope they've got a big freezer on board,” he said.

“Why not livestock?” said Anais.

She had a point.

“And plenty of seed,” I said.

Nivek had attended our wardrobes, now he would attend to our curiosity. “Let me show you,” he said.

We followed his wheels to the storehouses: rows upon rows of titanium shelving with labelled seeds, tied in sacks behind the secure screens. Every plant, flower, shrub, tree, and herb you could think of was there. Then there were the suspended animals, fish, and birds; frozen in baths of life sustaining cryo milk.

Nivek took us to the library, and the maps of Eve. Water filled oceans, there were pastures aplenty, oxygen, and gravity for depravity. It really was the new Garden of Eve, and this time Adam and his snake weren't invited. We toasted our health with several bottles of champagne; one wasn't going to crash on the side of the ship just yet.

The following day and night I didn't move out of bed. That wasn't to say I didn't put Anais through her paces. And I had Nivek make a copy of my favourite movie, robot arm delivered to my door. I was getting attached to the wheeled guy; I wanted to call him Ni, or Vek, but it just didn't sound right. Tomorrow would be the grandest state funeral to ever hit the Femocracy. The shored-up defences were holding, but the State needed a distraction. If we had anything to do with it, they would certainly get that.

Chapter Forty-Three

Nivek was waving us goodbye with his solitary arm. I wasn't sure if he'd miss us or if he cared. But the longer I knew him, the harder it became to think him as just a tin can. We were all operating to a program in the Femocracy; women were programmed from birth, men at birth.

Nivek knew of another way inside the behemoth rocket ship, and for every entrance there was an exit. We'd entered through the rocket launcher, a way in if the streets were overrun by the enemy.

The lift doors closed, and we looked at one another, apprehensive. There were two buttons, a rocket ship, and a two headed woman. We were going up, and hopefully not down. Nivek had reluctantly opened the armoury, and we were armed to the chattering teeth. We stepped into the Council's temple, where no man had been before.

Footsteps, and we dived under the clothing; the room was full of it. When they passed we all grinned, surrounded by mountains of vintage bras.

The only light from the candles; electricity came from man, fire from Mother Nature.

Anais placed her finger to her lips, and went to the door.

“Stay here,” she said.

I checked my watch; 60 minutes to the funerals of General Rolliet and Fatale Eve.

My life flashed before me, the bras before Steve. He was struggling to fasten one. I couldn't bring myself to help. Two female guards were approaching, marching in time down the corridor towards us.

“They can't hide it forever,” said one guard.

“We should prepare for evacuation,” said the other, with a heavy lisp.

“I heard there's a flotilla in the Chanel. They blew the tunnel.”

“Thank Mother Nature I got my ticket last night.”

“They're giving them out already, to the rocket ship?”

“Well, not all of them, just the first lot I guess. I'm at Gate B.”

“You don't think I'm ...”

“Of course not, see Amata after the service.”

“Come on. Let's get back, that's enough Lusterone for one morning.”

We waited all of five minutes, though it like seemed hours, until we surfaced. Anais greeted us smiling, she had three white cloaks.

Flowing robes with hoods over our heads, we traversed the marble causeway. The approaching guards were swinging a ball of burning incense in a golden globe. We turned on our sandals to the Council's inner sanctum. For the first time in its history, the Holy precinct had been violated.

Two Council members sat on the marble steps; they were seven high on each side. They nodded, we reciprocated, sitting opposite and unsure what to do. We were only certain that, if the others joined us, a game of musical steps would ensue.

“Vespertina has closed all communication,” said one.

“You think she intends to use the bomb?”

“She has already used the codes.”

“And the Undiagnosed will retaliate.”

“Our time is ending.”

“I disagree; rather, our time is beginning.”

“You mean, sister, our rocket ship?”

“It's desertion.”

“Then you won't be coming?”

“I didn't say that.”

“Then let's go pack.”

There was a chill coursing through our veins, and we went to the warmth. We joined hands in a circle and prayed to Mother Nature.

Steve dropped a vintage bra from under his sleeve. He turned around to collect it, but stepping back knocked over the vestibule holding the sacred flame. The fire smouldered then died at my feet; Mother Nature had left the building. We took the exit behind the cymbal, convinced things were close to crashing down.

There were a few hundred gathered in the TV studio, a slice of Femocratic seedy cake. I looked at the screen; even my wreath was digital.

“Have you got the film?” I asked Steve.

“Sure, I took it from your room like you asked.”

“Well, I can't think of a better time,” I said.

He handed over the case.

A councillor joined us, whispering.

“Vespertina has doomed the planet. The nuclear missiles have been launched. There isn't much time left, follow me to our destiny. Sisters, are you coming?”

I couldn't tell which came first, the realization we weren't councillors or the shock at seeing Anais' gun. I stepped up to be counted.

“Everybody needs to see this,” I said and put the film in the player. Maybe the missiles could be disarmed, diverted?

First there was music, and then as the truth dawned on me. “Her name was Sleazy, she could have been a real doll but that wasn't her style.” Thanks Steve, ‘The Crazy Joy' may have been my favourite film, but somehow, right now, just seemed the wrong time.

I could tell the audience didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and neither did I. I just shouted, “Vespertina has pressed the red button, everyone to the rocket ship.”

There was nothing but silence; people looked at one another, blank.

Was the nuclear button red? Did it mean anything, to anyone? Hell, maybe the only red button she ever pressed was on her TV, what did I know?

But then like the first rumbles of an earthquake, the elbows came out, followed by pushing, eventually punching. It should have been every woman for herself; instead it was every shemale, tranny, and crossdresser. It was nearly as bad as the TV sale in Moscow, and suddenly we had become invisible. The councillor scurried away. I grabbed Anais' hand, and we headed for the lift. Trouble was the doors were closing, but I could still see a councillor waving me goodbye, she was fit too.

“This way,” said a lisp I recognised, the guard.

I placed a finger to my lips and we followed against the tide to Gate B. Everyone else was heading for the lift.

Maybe Chute B would have been a better name, maybe even Slide B. But we were pleased to be fumigated a second time at the bottom, even if the robots were unfamiliar.

This time there was no dressing gown, just a plastic poncho; I guess it was serious. I sat between Anais and Steve, no FU, no orderly checking of the seats. The escape hatches were locked down at two hundred passengers. You couldn't tell who'd made it, who was on board; only that we were all relieved, and scared.

Air vents locked to the outside, and we were told not to look out of the windows as we belted up. I recognised the voice. It was my old friend Melody, from the white post outside Rinse Gardens.

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