End of Women: Part Five

The Apple

Alina's face was screwed up in consternation and pain. The tight bandage-bonds Balian had given her were squashing her breasts down to her chest with a vice-like grip.

'It... doesn't... fit!' She gasped and gulped for air. 'Its pushing the air out of me!'

'Well its this or a Compound, which do you prefer?'

Balian peered around the corner of the side-alley in which they had hidden themselves. It was three o'clock in the morning, the streets of the city mercifully peaceful besides a few idle drunks. Alina may have an unforgivably feminine figure, but in the dark and to inebriated eyes the disguise may just be enough to pull this off.

'You sure you can fly?' She asked with small tears of pain in her eyes, her chest now almost flat. She slid the baggy shirt and blue jeans on gingerly and pulled the baseball cap low over her slight features.

'Positive.' Balian replied. 'I spent a year flying Helos.'

Alina's eyes widened and she rushed up to him a little.

'You were with the Troopers?'

'Not technically. I flew support, recon for areas not yet purged.'

Balian had expected Alina to be upset, even outraged that he had flown missions to scout out zones in which free women were still living. To his surprise, when he turned around, she seemed thoroughly impressed.

'How... how many did you capture?' She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

'None. The grunts on the ground with their stun-guns and zip-ties did that. But, I guess if you count the ones I spotted as captures... around four thousand.'

Balian heard a sharp intake of breath from her as he turned back to check the street. It was almost completely empty now. At once he made for the store with a red panel shopfront, walking at a brisk pace that Alina struggled to keep up with, even in the size six sneakers he had managed to find for her.

'You mean there are four thousand women in Compounds because you found where they were hiding?' She called up to him breathlessly, a few paces behind.

'Are or were, I don't know how many would still be living anywhere now. But, yes. And be quiet.' He hissed. A pizzeria owner was casting suspicious looks at them while he pulled the grillfront over his door and switched out the lights. Even with her disguise, everything about Alina screamed "woman!", and her voice was no exception.

They crossed through two meandering city blocks without incident, besides Alina tripping several times in the shoes slightly too big for her. The sound of her wincing and gasping in pain due to her bound chest was setting Balian's teeth on edge by the time they made it to Atminoff's private apartment, a baroque style mini mansion set behind a private park. Balian whipped out the silvery key he had taken from Atminoff's desk when they left the lab and slid it into the lock.

Alina almost screamed. The moment the metal hit the lock, the whole door seemed to melt. Over the course of a few seconds it transfigured itself with a hum of busy nanobots into a life-size statue of Atminoff himself. Balian smiled. It was a perfect likeness, everything from the frayed hair and slim spectacles, the tartan waistcoat and corduroys. He shone a dim silver in the moonlight.

'What the fuck is that?' Alina whispered between her fingers.

'Transmutative Solid-Surface Systems.' Balian said in reply, examining the slowly moving statue closely. It was like looking at his old mentor through a foggy mirror and in slow-motion. 'Atminoff wrote the code himself in school.'

'Can we... talk to it?' Alina leaned her head left and right past the statue, which was blocking entrance to the hallway beyond.

'More than likely. TSSS has great processing power, but knowing Atminoff... we'll have to know exactly what to ask him.'