New World Man

Author's Note:

See Pt. 1 for blurb. Also, if you haven't already read Pt. 1, I strongly recommend doing so before proceeding.

All sensuality (on page or otherwise) takes place between characters who are eighteen or older.

Fifteen

A well-built man crept through the swampy marsh making less noise than would a particularly wary palmetto bug. He held a crudely crafted bow before his chest along with a pair of arrows. He was wearing nothing but a breechclout and a smattering of warpaint across his cheeks.

In the distance sat the blight which had fallen over the land two moons before, bringing with it the curse which had culminated with the devastating storm which had finally blown itself out the evening prior. The warrior had warned his countrymen of the danger the newcomers posed, but he had been ignored. Now most of them were dead and he was out for vengeance.

He continued slinking toward the compound, confident the early morning mist would mask his movement. As he approached the entry, he heard the voices of his people inside. Their fawning adoration over the White Devil disgusted him, and he had plans to make appropriate examples of the weak amongst his tribe's survivors to punish their apostasy.

He spotted his enemy as he drew even with the entry, chatting amiably with the woman who had refused his advances upon coming of age thirty-seven long moons before. He knocked an arrow, sparing a moment to fantasize about the horror which would fill her eyes when the White Devil's blood splattered over her face. He drew the arrow purposefully, aiming with a hunter's confident experience. He breathed in deep, releasing half the breath before pausing to ensure his aim was true.

He smiled wickedly and prepared to end the threat for good but was interrupted by an unfamiliar woman's voice from just behind him saying, "You can't possibly think I didn't notice your approach."

He released the arrow haphazardly, sending it skyward, before turning toward the voice without noticing that his arrow was plucked from the sky by a small metal bird. When his eyes came to rest upon the visage of death behind him, a high-pitched scream escaped his lips. As he watched in horror, the devil slowly and soundlessly retreated back into the brush.

Across the compound, he spotted the White Devil's eyes find him. The bark of laughter which escaped the giant's lips nearly drove the warrior insane with rage. But just as he drew his knife and prepared to charge, the woman's voice spoke again.

"I'd really rather not tear your intestines from your body and hang you from the nearest oak by them, but I will if you don't drop your weapons and start acting like a fucking grown up."

The warrior tossed his knife to the ground with a hiss of rage, his eyes firmly locked on the laughing foreigner who stood far too close to the woman who should have been his.

***

"A toast," George boomed gleefully to the assembled village elders.

There arose a quiet murmur from the dozen people present which fell far short of the wild applause George had envisioned in his mind. He glanced over at Lulu for guidance, but her features were guarded.

He lowered his cup and said, "What's wrong? I thought this would be a cause for celebration."

Of all those around the hastily built table, the one who was eyeing him with the most suspicion was the man to whom the mantle of leadership had fallen when the tribe's former chief had been killed by a falling building.

George turned to the man Lulu had called Oukonunaka, and said, "Is something the matter?"

The man glared at him with undisguised rage, but all he said was, "No."

"I had hoped this would be the beginning of a beautiful partnership. After all, I came here to help you."

"By killing half my people?"

"I

saved

half your people! The storm would have killed you all if I hadn't interceded."

"That is impossible to know. Our buildings might have survived if you had not torn them apart. That is to say nothing of the family which died in the river."

"That wasn't my fault," George pleaded. "They waded into the river rather than waiting for me to return and pick them up. I begged them not to do it. Hell,

you

begged them not to do it."

"Regardless, they most certainly wouldn't have drowned without your interference."

"You're impossible. Look around you. Your people survived because of my help." George took a deep breath, calming his tone, before adding, "Just look at your village, Oukonunaka. The buildings were all destroyed by the storm. There is no possibility you could have survived. I'm not asking for some huge thank you, but I'm having trouble swallowing this baseless blame."

"I care not what you swallow, White Devil."

"Of course," George huffed. "I'm the fucking bad guy."

"Indeed," Oukonunaka agreed before draining his own cup.

"I could insert a chemical in his food which would make him more agreeable," Zelda offered in George's earpiece.

George merely shook his head in reply before changing tactics. "Does this mean you won't accept my help to rebuild your village?"

"What help could you possibly be?"

George chuckled and said, "Well, I built this place in a month, and it seems to have held up reasonably well."

"Your wall collapsed, fool."

"Indeed. But that will be rebuilt this time tomorrow. And, as I'm sure you noticed, the buildings where I house people and equipment are completely unharmed. I could build a few of these for your people."

"How? Your ship and your crew abandoned you here."

"I have everything here I'd need. As you well know."

"I know nothing of the sort."

"Let's not play games," George said reproachfully. "I know you had Lulu keeping tabs on me."

"You will not speak of her!" Oukonunaka thundered.

"Whoa," George replied with his hands raised in surrender. "I wasn't impugning her character. Merely stating the undeniable fact that she was watching the compound during much of the time I was building the storm shelter."

"I won't have you defaming her. Her place was in her father's house since she refuses to marry."

"You go too far," Lulu snapped quietly.

"Know your place, woman," her chief growled without taking his eyes from George.

George sighed and said, "Where I come from, women aren't treated as less than men."

"Then perhaps you should return there."

"This bickering is pointless. I want to help you. You need the help. I fail to see the problem."

"You are the problem," Oukonunaka seethed before standing and stalking away from the table.

"Stop!" Lulu called out forcefully. "You're acting like a child."

"You will

not

speak to me like that! I'll remind you that you are no longer Chieftain's Daughter."

"And you are no longer a silly little boy who hasn't gotten over the fact that I rejected your proposal. This isn't about us, Oukonunaka. This is about what's best for our people."

"Perhaps you're right," he said with a sly smile. "Maybe our people do need a new ally."

"Thank you," George and Lulu said in unison.

"And," Oukonunaka continued, "in the spirit of cooperation between our countries, and in recognition of your actions in offering aid to my people, I offer you the traditional token when forging a new alliance."

"All I ask of you is your help in making introductions to the surrounding tribes so that I might be in a position to help them as I have helped you."

"Our token will help with that as well," Oukonunaka announced grandly. "We give you our most revered and highly sought after unmarried woman."

George shook his head and said, "I won't be a party to slavery. That's what I'm trying to stop, for fuck's sake."

"She is not your slave unless you wish her to be, White Devil. She is now part of your tribe. You may do with her as you see fit: take her as a wife; have her clean your privy; sell her to our enemies to the north as a peace offering. It is your decision as Chief."

"I refuse."

"You mustn't," Lulu said softly. "It would be a great insult. To both of us."

"What about me? I find this entire idea revolting."

"Am I really so horrible to be around?"

"This has nothing to do with you! It's about basic human decency. People aren't property. He can't give you to me in return for my help."

"He isn't giving me to you. He's sacrificing one of my former tribe's women as an offering to a new allied tribe to ensure the peace."

"Great. So, instead of a slave, you're meant to be a hostage?"

"Our ways are not your ways," Oukonunaka interjected loftily. "I thought your hope was to form an alliance with my people. This is how such things are done."

George felt trapped, visions of three girls with puberty still awfully close in their review mirror being thrust upon him on an island to the south springing quickly to mind. It seemed, he remarked grimly to himself, there was no avoiding this particular impasse. The only saving grace in this situation was that Lulu was hardly a nubile teen. She was, in his estimation, in her early twenties. He also sensed, and not just based on her comment, that there was a not insignificant amount of history between the new chief and the former chieftain's daughter. As he pondered his predicament, it occurred to him that Lulu also likely possessed unfathomable riches in her knowledge of the surrounding tribes based on her obvious worldliness. He could only hope that, in accepting this preposterous proposal, he could somehow convince her that he did, in fact, view her as an equal rather than the more sinister implications behind the custom which had ensnared them both.

"I accept," George replied finally. "So long as we can get started rebuilding your village first thing in the morning. Hurricane season is just getting started and our data suggests that several more storms are already forming off the west coast of central Africa."

"You're not giving me a lot to work with, George," Zelda grumbled. "These people have no concept that anything even exists beyond their lands. They view the sea as the end of the world and storms as something which the Gods personally arrange."

"I'll try to keep the geography to a minimum," he subvocalized before raising his voice and saying, "Suffice it to say that more storms might be coming soon. We need to get your village rebuilt as soon as possible."

"We appreciate your help, although we insist that you keep your abominations on this side of the river."

"Pardon?"

"The shining monsters," he snapped angrily.

"I think he means the War Dogs," Zelda supplied.

"No shit?" George subvocalized. "I can't imagine that's what he's talking about considering I feel the exact same way about them."

"I suggest against agreeing to this concession, unless you intend to agree in word only."

"I won't start things off with them by lying to them."

"I can keep an eye on them with the drone carriers. But if they decide to go on the offensive..."

"We'd know hours in advance and could stop them before they even stepped out of their canoes," George finished.

"Perhaps. But there is also their defense to consider. The drone carriers have limited flight time, as you know. Whereas the War Dogs can remain on station for weeks at a time."

"I'm sure you'll figure something out while adhering to their terms," he grumbled. He then belatedly realized Oukonunaka was waiting for an answer, so he raised his voice and said, "That is acceptable, although I reserve the right to deploy them if either of our communities are threatened from without."

Oukonunaka nodded and rose once more before saying, "Very well. Then we shall be on our way."

"You'll find your canoes along the bank of the river just south of here," George said as he also rose, noting grimly the mostly untouched food covering the table. "Please, take the food with you. We have plenty."

Oukonunaka appeared about to refuse, but several of the tribe's women rushed forward and collected the plates before he could speak. He gave George a parting angry look before turning on his heel and stalking from the compound. The rest of the tribe quickly followed, leaving George alone with Lulu.

He looked at her and said, "So...now what?"

Sixteen

"Your guest appears to be in distress," Zelda informed George as he was securing the last of the tie-downs for the compound's exterior wall.

"Are we talking physical danger?" George asked worriedly as he scanned the compound for the increasingly distant Lulu.

"She is crying. Inside the shelter."

"I see. How quick can you get this thing off of me?"

"I have made an upgrade in that area. Just hop down from the wall and let me know when you're ready."

George sneaked a quick look between his legs to make sure nothing was beneath him before pushing off the wall. He landed lightly after the three-meter drop and said, "Go ahead."

He heard a whir of servos before the humid air rushed in from all sides. Within moments, the suit had separated. The front half dropped into a close approximation of a crouch, looking not unlike the statue of 'The Thinker'. The back half sat down heavily on the sand behind him. George hurried toward the shelter. Inside, he spotted Lulu softly sobbing into her hands.

"Hey," he said softly. "What's the matter?"

She looked at him with a mixture of fear and loathing before ultimately sighing resolutely and climbing to her feet from the bed where she had been sitting. She pulled angrily at the tie to her vest before finally succeeding in loosening the knot. As George watched in shock, she removed the vest, along with the remainder of her clothing. She was a remarkably attractive woman with wise, brown eyes; tawny skin; and full breasts. Her dark hair was worn in a single low braid, its stark straightness standing in contrast to her thick thatch of curls at the junction of her thighs. She was taller than the other women of her tribe, standing at one-hundred-seventy centimeters tall and had an athletic musculature despite her rounded hips and full breasts.

At length, George tore his eyes from her remarkable body to once again focus on her pained expression. He said, "What are you doing?"

She shook her head in confusion before stalking angrily over to him. She glanced down at his midsection in revulsion before ultimately sighing resignedly. She gave him a final pained look before she turned and dropped to her knees before him. She leaned forward on her elbows and thrust her ass toward him.

"What are you doing?" he repeated in bewilderment.

"You're not wearing a translator," Zelda belatedly pointed out.

He glanced down and the totality of his oversight was laid bare. He normally wore the speaker for the translator on either his belt or his collar. However, when using the suit this was unnecessary since the armor had an integrated speaker. Far worse than his inability to communicate with his guest was his attire. While the suit was capable of functioning regardless of what clothing he wore, he had quickly discovered it was far more comfortable to limit extra clothing wherever possible. He had thus taken to wearing nothing but boxer briefs when piloting the power armor. Even worse, the evidence of his reaction to his extended inspection of Lulu's nakedness was plain for anyone to see.

"God damnit," he muttered. "Can we get a translator in here?"

"On the way," Zelda reported calmly.

Seconds later, his suit raced into the room, coming to an unnaturally rapid halt only centimeters from Lulu's prostrated form. She glanced up in response to a puff of sand the autonomous armor had kicked up and shrieked in terror at the sight of the ominous metallic form.

"What the fuck are you doing?" George snapped angrily.

"My duty," Lulu whispered dejectedly at once with Zelda diffidently responding, "Following orders, sir."

Unfortunately, it took George a few seconds to discern the former's response and he growled, "I should take you apart with a sledgehammer for this."

Lulu's terrified whimper finally broke through to George and he realized her predicament. He subvocalized, "Get that fucking thing away from her. Only keep it close enough for her to hear it." To Lulu, he said, "I'm so sorry about all this. I swear you have nothing to fear from me. Please...put your clothes back on."

She glanced up at him, the fear slowly fading from her eyes at the retreat of George's suit. She shuffled away toward her bed but stopped short of getting dressed. He saw suspicion creep into her stare and felt a trickle of dread at the base of his skull.

"Why?" she asked finally. She gestured to his midsection and said, "I know you find me attractive."

"That's got nothing to do with it. You're a person, not something to be bartered. I'll remind you that you begged me to do this."

"Only because the alternative was banishment for me and destruction for you."

"Surely you've figured out by this point there's nothing your people could have done to threaten me," George offered before he could think better of it. He hastened to add, "I'm here to help your people, not hurt anybody. And I'm most certainly not here to rape anyone."

"I offered my body to you," she offered lamely.

"Only because you thought it was your only chance for survival. I will never force you to do anything against your will. If you wish to go...there's the door. I won't stop you."

"But I would be outcast."

"Then stay, but not because either me or that dick cheese of a new chief said you have to."

"Why would you want me here if not for my body."

"I recognize this might sound a little nutty, considering my gender and your upbringing, but I happen to believe that all people have a ton to offer. That includes the fact that women are desirable for far more than just their bodies. I think I really need your help."

"Not sexually?"

"That's correct," he stated firmly.

"Then what?"

"Your wisdom. You know a ton about the history of this land and its people."

"But you have all these demons to do your bidding."

He smiled and said, "Perhaps. But they won't tell me the difference between a tribe that will fight to the death regardless of how reasonable I am when treating with them versus one that will actually accept my help."

"Why do you even care?"

"Whether or not you believe me about my mission to save the peoples of this continent, including you and everyone you've ever known, is ultimately immaterial. The reality remains that I intend to complete my mission, with or without your help. Make no mistake, the men who are coming, the Europeans, intend to perpetrate a genocide the likes of which the world has never known."

"Their language has no analog for genocide," Zelda interjected.

"Lucky them," he muttered.

"I have attempted to translate using the equivalent in a number of deaths, but their knowledge of mathematics is also profoundly limited. It is possible this explains her look of confusion."

"Damnit," he muttered before raising his voice and saying to Lulu, "Suffice if to say that the people who are coming have every intention of killing or enslaving every man, woman and child who doesn't look, and believe, as they do."

"But how could you know that?"

"Look around you, Lulu," George replied exasperatedly. "I have technology at my disposal that's literally beyond your wildest dreams. Is it really so fantastical to believe that I also have insight into what's going to happen in the future?"

"I believe you," she replied quietly.

But George had made the most common mistake in discourse: planning his reply when he should have been listening. As a result, he was tripped up when what he believed to be the logical follow-up question, whether or not he was from the future, failed to materialize. He was so flustered that he failed to interpret what she actually said for several moments. At length, he lamely replied, "Good."