New World Man Pt. 02

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."

She stared at him expectantly for several long moments before shrugging and sitting back on her bed. It did not escape his notice that she was still distractingly naked. His only solace was the fact that she did not appear to be bothered by this detail. Whether she was attempting to use her nakedness to manipulate him, or she was just fortunate enough to come from a culture where the absence of oppressive puritanicalism meant that concepts such as modesty and nudity taboos did not exist.

He sat across from her and said, "Do you trust me?"

"No," she replied quickly. She then hastened to add, "But you should not take this as a value judgement against you. I would not trust anyone not from my tribe."

"Fair enough. I only asked because I was hoping you'd allow me to fit you for an earpiece which would allow us to communicate more easily."

"How so?" she asked suspiciously.

"It's very small. It would be implanted in your ear. I have one as well. It's what allows me to understand you. If you had one, I wouldn't need to carry a speaker around. It would also let us communicate when we weren't together. It only takes a few seconds and its completely painless."

"Let me see yours."

It took three tries for him to reply, his mind having suddenly flooded with the irrepressible idea that she was asking him to remove his clothing. The fact that this belief was patently false did nothing to attenuate his arousal. At length, he gestured her over and stammered, "It's really hard to see."

He pointed to his left ear, and she approached, thankfully, fearlessly. The fact that her port-side nipple was mere centimeters from his face as she inspected his ear only made his arousal more painful. After a lengthy inspection, she stood up which put her pussy right in his line of sight. Unable to stand to relieve the tension, thanks to the tension in his boxer briefs, he was forced to look up at her past her undeniably captivating breasts.

"Are you sure you do not wish to mate?"

"I only sleep with women who want to be with me," he answered carefully, deciding immediately that every other response was either fraught with danger or patently untrue. "I regret if my leering has made you uncomfortable."

"I care not what you look at. As for this ear device, I can see nothing in your ear besides hair."

"I don't have hairy ears," he snapped defensively, his hand going to his ear without thought. She merely shrugged in response, a smirk gracing her lips at his reaction. He added, "As I said, it's very small."

"Some of the tribes to the north sometimes use needles for healing. At least, they say they do. I have never seen it, nor do I believe in it."

"It's actually a very effective treatment for some ailments," George replied somewhat surprised. "But this won't require any needles. I just drop it in your ear. It feels funny for a second while it activates. But that's it."

"Fine," she huffed.

George held his hand out behind him. He heard a quick buzzing before he felt something drop into his hand. He did not even look for the departing Yellow Jacket, instead keeping his attention on Lulu. He gestured to her bed and said, "Lay on your side."

"Which one?"

"Doesn't matter. I wear the earpiece in my left ear because we did some testing and determined that it was slightly better suited. But, assuming you don't suffer from hearing loss, it should be fine in either."

She shrugged and laid on her right side, so she was facing him. Through shear force of will, he tore his eyes from the mesmerizing way her breasts pillowed on top of each other and instead focused on the task at hand. He approached her, realizing too late that this put his still noticeably engorged manhood within centimeters of her unashamed gaze.

"Be gentle," he subvocalized before delicately dropping the earpiece into her ear. She yelped as it quickly worked its way into her outer ear before settling into place just a hair's breadth from her eardrum. She sighed in relief when the unsettling sensation of something crawling in her ear ceased.

He said, "How's it feel?"

"Fine," she replied quickly. "Is it always this loud?"

"You can raise and lower the volume just by speaking your desires," he answered aloud while thinking to himself that he would need to come up with a strategy for introducing Lulu to Zelda at some point.

"Less loud," Lulu said hesitantly. She then looked around anxiously and said, "Who said that?"

"So much for the measured approach," he muttered. He smiled wanly at Lulu and said, "That's my friend Zelda. Would you like to meet her?"

Seventeen

"Come out to the coast, he said. We'll have a few laughs, he said. I might have a job for you, he said," George grumbled to himself. "He never mentioned traveling back in time so I could help rebuild a hurricane ravaged village without so much as a donkey to provide some assistance."

He was busily trying to keep his mind occupied with something other than the fact that, in the absence of a more traditional beast of burden, the village was looking to him, thanks to his status as the tallest human in their world by a comfortable margin. While George did not dispute the fact that he was a couple dozen centimeters taller than Oukonunaka, himself unquestionably the tallest of the natives, he was certainly not what anyone in his life prior to traveling in time would call strong. Thus the effort of holding a ten-by-ten beam which measured three meters in length over his head for the preceding twenty minutes was threatening to transition from difficult to impossible. Were it not for the fact that doing so would waste hours of progress, not to mention imperil the lives of several of his neighbors, he would toss the beam on the ground and seek out somewhere to lie very still for several hours.

At long last, the final support was hammered into place and George could lower his arms. He walked away breathing heavily, ostensibly toward his water bottle which he very much wished were filled with bourbon. He dropped to the ground beside his rucksack and resolved to keep quiet his manifold thoughts on how this operation could be addressed more efficiently.

He had arrived at the village three days prior intending to complete the rebuild before lunch time. That plan was demolished when Oukonunaka had made it clear that while they would begrudgingly accept his help, his bewitched battle armor was most unwelcome. Later that same day, he had learned that the War Dogs were also on the verboten list. To George's way of thinking, every single attempt on his part to make use of more modern technology had been stopped in his tracks. As he waited for the feeling to come back to his arms, he inwardly groused that he genuinely would not have been surprised if they refused to allow anything with a wheel to be used. But as quickly as the thought occurred to him, he noticed that there were indeed no wheeled devices in evidence.

"To hell with this," he snapped as he got to his feet. He walked over to the pile of roughly hewn timbers which had been collected from kilometers around and removed a few of the cords which had been utilized to drag bundles containing some of the smaller pieces. He then glanced around furtively to see if he was being observed. Upon seeing that everyone else was busy thatching the roof of the building whose roof he had just helped complete, he walked a few meters away from the village to phone in a small favor.

"I need three poles. Each about four meters long and at least ten centimeters in diameter. And another roughly twice as long."

"It will take at least an hour to print them," Zelda pointed out agreeably.

"We can't wait for that. Besides, these jumpy bastards will refuse them if they appear fabricated. I was hoping you could enlist a couple of War Dogs to look for them. Just have them drag them to this spot and let me know when they're there."

"As you wish," she replied simply.

George could hear the distant buzzing of the drone carriers pick up as Zelda engaged the entirety of her considerable assets to do his bidding. He drank his water and enjoyed the shade of the towering live oak, missing the relative cool of the Crypt and its natural air conditioning. By the time he finished his water, two of the poles had already been delivered. It was somewhat unsettling to watch the War Dogs running with the pole gripped firmly in their jaws with their heads craned back in a way no dog could have ever managed. When the third pole was delivered, George got to work.

In the span of a dozen minutes, he had lashed the three equal length poles together into a crude tripod. He then got to work lashing the longer pole to the tiny, inverted tripod at the structure's apex. By this point, the War Dogs had retreated, and he heard the sound of curious villagers approaching.

"What is this, White Devil?" Oukonunaka asked dismissively.

"It's a labor-saving device."

"I told you, none of your abominations."

"It's wood and cord," George snapped irritably. He looked to a few of the village's elders and said, "Don't you want to even see how it works?"

Seeing no strenuous objection, George dragged the contraption over to where the next building was set to be rebuilt. He raised the tripod into place, albeit barely since the entire structure weighed nearly as much as he did. Once in place, the longer pole hung awkwardly with cords dangling from each end.

"That building would be far too small," Oukonunaka mocked.

"It isn't a building, ass. Just watch and learn."

George tied the cords from the shorter side of the swing-arm to each end of the next timber, tightening the lines until the long end of the swing arm poked toward the sky at a forty-five degree angle. Satisfied his knots would hold, he switched to the other end of the crane and grabbed one of the cords.

He looked to Oukonunaka and said, "If I wasn't here, how many men does it take to hold that beam up?"

"Four," the chief admitted angrily.

George pointed to one of the young warriors and said, "Come here."

With a quick glance at his chief, who merely glared in George's direction, the warrior did as requested. George handed him the rope and said, "Pull this down until the beam is at the right height."

A gasp went up from the surrounding villagers when the beam rose quickly into the air. By the time the warrior had reeled in the long end of the swing arm and pulled it down to the ground, the beam was noticeably higher than the neighboring building which had taken so much effort on George's behalf to complete.

"Now for the fun part," George observed. He gestured to one of the village elders and said, "Sir, if you'd be so kind as to join us?" The elder limped over and looked questioningly up at him. George said, "Stand on the end."

The elder appeared to hesitate for a moment before carefully stepping onto the end of the pole. At George's signal, the warrior released the pole and the elder laughed in delight when the beam stayed easily aloft.

"How is this possible?" Oukonunaka hissed.

"It's just a matter of leverage. You could use the same principle to lift things much heavier if you needed to. Now you can build buildings taller, which means they can be bigger inside."

"Very well," Oukonunaka replied snippily after several moments of hesitation. He glanced at his subjects and added, "Enough gawking, you lazy reprobates. Get back to work."

George did not fail to notice the judgmental looks the villagers sent toward the back of their departing chief. He chuckled and mumbled, "And I thought I was a bad manager."

***

"We have a problem," Zelda reported without preamble.

George, who had been putting the finishing touches on the last of the village's buildings, immediately began walking quickly toward the river, only remembering to collect his rucksack because he nearly tripped over it.

"What is it?" he asked as soon as he was out of earshot of the villagers.

"The balloon keeping our satellite aloft has burst."

George immediately slowed his steps and grunted, "Wasn't that expected?"

"Yes," Zelda hedged. "But I was in the act of trying to focus on an anomaly when we lost the balloon and the satellite began its descent."

"Will we be able to recover it?" George interrupted.

"No, it will land quite some distance from land. But that is not the problem. We will have a new one ready by this time tomorrow."

"Why didn't we already have one ready?"

"Because," Zelda replied in the closest tone she got to annoyed, "the balloon was rated to last another week. I had a new satellite scheduled to be printed the day after tomorrow. I have moved it up in the queue, obviously. But it won't be ready until early tomorrow. And it won't be on station for another four hours after that."

"So, what was this anomaly?"

"I cannot be certain, of course, but I believe it was another group of natives."

"That's great," George enthused. "Our whole mission here is to contact as many tribes as possible."

"That is true. But something about this group makes me uncomfortable."

"How so?"

"It is difficult to quantify. Their swiftness of movement; their configuration; their lack of sustainable behavior. For instance: they are not stopping to hunt. They've also given several other settlements a wide berth."

"Meaning they're on a mission rather than relocating," George finished. "Advice?"

"We launch another balloon as soon as possible, of course. But I also think you should reconnoiter. When I lost contact with the satellite, this group was only about fifty kilometers away."

"Out of curiosity, when were you planning on telling me about this?"

"It is surprisingly difficult to track the movements of humans from the upper atmosphere, even at maximum magnification they can look remarkably similar to a herd of deer. I had only reached the conclusion that there was a probability that it was both a group of humans and that they were likely a threat when we lost the satellite."

"In the future, tell me whenever you reach even a twenty-five percent probability. I might be able to see something you didn't. Where's Lulu?"

"She just returned with the hunting party."

"Don't tell her where I've gone unless she tries to leave the village. Hopefully, I'll be back before anyone knows what's going on."

"As you wish. Your suit is in the sub just a few dozen meters west of your position."

"What assets do we have in place to accompany me?"

"Unfortunately, we have yet to deploy the long-distance War Dogs. None of the current ones can make the round trip. I will, however, send two drone carriers, fully loaded for both lethal and non-lethal engagements. Be advised, the suit is only at sixty-one percent battery. It is enough to make the trip but if you attempt to engage the hostiles, you might find yourself walking home. To say nothing of the fact that we do not currently have the means to retrieve a power-less suit."

"Well why don't you start noodling on that while I go find out what our friends have in mind for us. Can I reduce the distance I have to run by travelling part of the way by water?"

"Indeed," she admitted somewhat contritely. "That had not occurred to me. The launch will be in position in six minutes and can take you thirteen-point-one kilometers upstream. It will reduce your overland journey by forty-seven percent."

"Imagine that... the meat-sack makes an intellectual contribution."

"I never said you could not contribute generally, only that you were unlikely to make any substantive improvements to my design for the War Dogs. But that was only because, according to you, you don't have the foggiest fucking idea how the printers work."

"Remarkable," George muttered as he sealed himself into the armor.

"What is remarkable?"

"I don't know that I've ever heard you swear before."

"Don't be surprised if it becomes a regular occurrence," she retorted irritably just as the launch raced into view from the opposite shore.

"What are you doing?" Lulu asked accusingly several moments later just as he was preparing to depart. He turned to face her and she regarded him suspiciously before adding, "You know that self-absorbed shit-for-brains, Oukonunaka, hates it when you wear the iron skins."

"I have to go," George explained softly after flipping the visor up.

"Why? The food will be ready soon. I heard you used your magic to allow an old man to lift a beam which weighs as much as a warrior. I was hoping you could tell me about it."

George could not help but smile at the openness of her expression, a welcome change from the hostility which had been so prevalent when she looked at him as recently as two days prior. He remarked inwardly that it seemed she was at last willing to take him at his word that he would never treat her as a slave, or even a second-class citizen. He was unsure if things would ever progress to the point where she would view him as a friend, but the look in her eyes gave him more hope than ever.

"We have reason to believe that people are coming. I'm going to go take a look and see if we have reason to be concerned."

"Then I'll come with you," she replied reasonably. "After all, you wouldn't even know what to look for."

George frowned, causing her to reach out reflexively and lay a hand on his arm. She jerked it back when she felt the cool metal of his armor, but her eyes stayed on him and she hastened to add, "It was not my intention to insult you, George. I merely meant that I could help you."

"I know you could," he replied softly. "I can't think of anyone whose help I'd rather have. But the simple fact is that we only have one suit, and even if you were on horseback you couldn't keep up." He paused at the realization that horses had yet to be introduced to the Americas, but decided to plow on rather than explain the anachronism. "I need you to stay here and keep an eye on everyone." He tapped his ear and added, "I'll keep you up to date. Maybe I can describe what I'm seeing, and you can help me out while still keeping your people safe."

She smiled and said, "Did you forget? You are my people now. They," she indicated the village behind her, "are my neighbors."

"Just because someone who you openly refer to as a shit-for-brains said that is the way of things doesn't make it so."

"What if I say its so?" she asked with a shy smile.

"Well then that's different," George whispered in shock.

"Be careful, George. Some of our other neighbors aren't exactly friendly."

"As you wish," he replied regally. "I'll be back in no time."

She reached up to caress his cheek and said, "I'll be expecting you," before turning to return to her former village.

Eighteen

"We have a problem," Zelda said simply as George jogged across the lowlands at a power-armor-assisted rate of just under forty kilometers per hour.

"This is getting to be a bad habit with you," George huffed. Despite the enormous amount of work his suit was doing, he was still doing far more exercise than was typical for him. He had always enjoyed a fast-burning natural metabolism, something about which Heath had frequently complained. This had allowed him to retain a reasonably lean frame without working out or even paying more than a passing notice to his diet. While his level of physical activity had increased dramatically since making landfall, he was still finding himself quite winded after jogging what amounted to a half marathon.

"I regret the oversight," Zelda replied with genuine contrition. "We are all adjusting to the difficulties imposed upon us by truly being self-sufficient."

"So... what's the problem?"

"I will not be able to use the drone carriers to support your mission."

"Why? Did you forget to charge them?"

"Don't be a dick," she snapped angrily. "They were fully charged."

"Then... what's the problem?" he repeated.

"I have lost line of sight to you. I know it sounds patently obvious, in hindsight. But I still managed to overlook it. I have made the necessary modifications to the mission parameters so that I can continue to keep your armor fully operational. But that required that I engage the drone carriers as what amounts to repeaters."

"Wait... I thought we had six. You can't need more than three as repeaters."

"Two are charging. Please remember that we use them around the clock to keep watch on both the compound and the village. The other one is watching the village."

"Can you send that one to me?"

"I could, but it wouldn't arrive for at least an hour. Also, the War Dogs efficiency drops to fifty-seven percent without the additional perspective."

"Fine," he muttered before raising his voice with mock enthusiasm and adding, "Besides... this is just a scouting mission, right?"

"It certainly is now," Zelda agreed. "Without any backup, and without a battery reserve, you cannot risk an open conflict."

"What if I just hop into the middle of their group and let them tire themselves out uselessly shooting me with arrows."

"No, George. Please do not make the mistake of thinking the suit is invulnerable. There are several ways they could injure you even with the crude weapons available to them. You do not wish to make the same mistake the Grand Moff did."

"Been checking out the movies I recommended?"

"Of course. After all, it only takes a handful of microseconds. I typically replay the movies you recommend in real time as you recommend them."

"Kinda takes away from the experience if you do it that way. We should do a movie night sometime."

"I think that is somewhat low on our list of priorities," she pointed out. "In any case, I believe there is something west-by-north-west of your present course which you should investigate."

"More hostiles?"

"I cannot be certain with the resources available to me at the present time, but I would not have mentioned it if I thought the investigation would put you in harm's way."

"Very well," George replied as he bent his course to the left.

Within minutes, he skidded to a stunned halt as the river once more came into view. There, in the middle of the hundred-meter-wide expanse of water, sat the Tydirium. It was listing unnaturally away from him, making it obvious that the ship had run aground. He glanced around furtively, not quite certain whether he was hoping to spot some of his former crew. Regardless, both his eyes and his sensors gave no indication of any creatures in his vicinity larger than a raccoon.

"Well... I'll be damned," he muttered.

"I suspect that fate is more applicable to your mutinous crew."

"How long have you known it was here."

"Since after the storm," she admitted. "But it did not seem relevant. You had larger issues which demanded your attention. However, I suspected part of you needed to see their fate for yourself."

"What are you talking about? Where are they?"

"Go see for yourself. As they discovered, the water is not deep until you get close to the far shore."

George waded out carefully, having discovered previously just how impossible the concept of 'swimming' was when wearing his armor. Luckily, Zelda's prediction turned out to be prescient and the bottom was scarcely hip deep. The bottom was also somewhat rocky which prevented him from sinking too precipitously. It appeared that his former crew had attempted to cruise into one of the hundreds of outcroppings the river's meandering path had carved throughout the millennia. The lack of regularly flowing water contributed to the relatively easy footing. He also suspected it had led to his erstwhile ship's downfall.

Upon reaching the ship, he easily hopped up onto the deck. Glancing around, he found things to be somewhat barren. This stood in stark contrast to the mess he expected after the storm. He also found no sign of human occupation.

"Do you know what happened?" George asked Zelda softly in deference to the spooky feeling the apparent ghost ship gave him.

"Once I located the ship after the storm, I sent a drone carrier to investigate. I was able to upload the ship's log, but it was not much help. It merely says they ran aground."

"I can't fit inside the ship in the armor," he observed after eyeing the entry to the pilothouse carefully. "Get me out of this thing so I can take a look around real quick."

"That is unwise. These people marooned you George."

"They did indeed. Which means I have every reason to harbor ill will toward them, but the reverse is hardly true. They seemed to be operating under the belief that we parted on good terms when they shoved off."

"Very well, but you must promise to be careful and return to the suit at once after you investigate."

The suit opened as usual, and George stepped free. Despite his assurances to Zelda, he was not without a bit of trepidation when it came to searching his former ship, so he plucked a flechette gun from the small cargo compartment beneath the suit's battery pack. He stepped into the pilot house and stood silently for a moment as he listened carefully. Hearing nothing but the soft lapping of the water against the hull, he proceeded through the pilot house in search for clues as to the fate of his crew.

For thirty minutes, he searched the ship from stem to stern without finding anything beyond a noticeable lack of clothing in the cabins and rations in the galley. It was not until he came upon Quentin's quarters that he found anything of note. Upon entering his former second-in-command's cabin, his eyes fell upon the safe which was fitted into the inboard wall. He stared at it for several seconds before shrugging and entering his command override code. The safe dutifully popped open to reveal several stacks of papers. George quickly rifled through them to discover they were instructions which had obviously been printed before they had departed the Executor. As he went to replace the papers, he noticed a mobile phone in the bottom of the safe.

"Huh?" he grunted in surprise at the formerly ubiquitous device considering Heath's advancements in both wireless communication and wearable devices had antiquated such devices several years prior. As George turned the phone over, he was surprised to see his name hastily printed on a sticky note adhered to its case.

"Well I'll be damned," he muttered before heading back topside.

Upon reaching his suit, he placed the phone and the gun in the storage compartment before stepping into the footwells and allowing Zelda to seal the suit around him.

"Can you scan that phone from here?"

"Negative. But it should only take moments to discover what's on it once you return. If their pace has remained constant, the potential hostiles should be directly to your north at this point."

George glanced up at the sky and said, "Are we going to have trouble locating them in the dark?"

"Hardly," she snickered. "You forget you have infrared."

"Right," he muttered as he hopped over the gunnel into the water.

The rest did him considerable good and he was able to keep a good pace for the final dozen kilometers until he reached the area where Zelda predicted he would find the encroaching natives.

"Slow down," Zelda advised. "You have reached their predicted position. Just turn in a slow circle and I'll see if I can pick up anything."

He did as instructed and managed to spot something to the north-west a moment before Zelda said anything. He began moving in that direction at a fast walk, hoping that the sound of his quarry's reverie around their fire would mask his approach. Within moments, he realized they must have stopped for the night and the thing which he had spotted in infrared was a small fire. He slowed his steps until he was moving slowly even for an unenhanced human and approached within what his display told him was forty-three meters of the fire. From this vantage point, he could see individual men around the fire with the naked eye.

"The goat-fucking shit-heels," Lulu's voice hissed in his ear.

"She insisted on coming down to the Crypt," Zelda explained. "It was either this or she followed after you."

"It's fine," George soothed her, confident that Zelda would have turned off the suit's external speaker. "In all honesty, I should have suggested it. Lulu, I assume you recognize them?"

"Obviously. Those assholes know nothing but war. Nearly every time there is a storm, they send out a war party. I had hoped this storm was bad enough that they would have bigger problems to deal with and decide, for once, to resist the urge to attempt to profit off other's misfortune. But I guess they ran out of food, or slaves, and decided to make the trip... again."

"Where are they from?"

"The hill country to the west. I have never been there, but we captured a few of their warriors the last time they attacked and they said as much before they were introduced to our fires."

George shuddered at the image but said nothing. He had no reason to disbelieve Lulu, but the idea of attacking these natives preemptively turned his stomach. He counted several dozen warriors around the fire, and they were as Zelda had suggested. Heavily armed and lightly provisioned. He had little experience with the concept of a war party, but he could not imagine another explanation for this group's presence.

He began to back away from the fire, prompting an immediate reaction from Lulu. "What are you doing? You should kill them immediately."

"I won't kill someone whose only crime is, effectively, trespassing."

'You're calling me a liar?" she exploded.

"Of course not," he sighed. "In any case, how do you know it's the same tribe?"

"Their dress. The markings on their bodies. The face of their captain, who I watched kill five of our warriors before enough of his men were killed and he retreated like a filthy coward."

"I believe you, Lulu," he sighed after a moment's reflection, "but I won't kill these men in cold blood."

"You're a coward," she spat at him.

"Perhaps," he allowed. "Regardless, I won't kill wantonly just because of this tribe's prior acts. To do so would make me no better than the men I came here to save you from."

"So you'd prefer they wipe out my kinsmen instead? I'll remind you more than half of the warriors were killed during the storm."

George bit back a retort reminding her that the only reason all of the warriors had not been killed was due to his intercession, and instead said, "Of course not. I'll bug them so Zelda can keep track of their whereabouts. If they approach the village, I'll head out to have a little chat with them. Hopefully, I can turn this around and turn them into allies."

"You're a fool, and my kinsmen's blood will be on your hands," she spat before he heard a soft grunt followed by a whispered, "Why do you worship him, Zelda? He's a coward, and a simpleton," which made it clear Lulu thought George could no longer hear her.

"I'd be willing to wager anything you can dream up that you're wrong about him," Zelda replied confidently.

"Fine. When those savages attack my village, you will unleash your demons to protect them. Even if he says otherwise."

"That could be possible," Zelda replied mirthfully. "What are you willing to offer in return."

"Name your terms," Lulu declared confidently.

A loud click was the only thing George heard, making it clear that the irascible AI was once again up to her whimsical ways. He was tempted to demand she patch him back in, but one of the natives emitted a particularly loud belch which reminded him that he had a job to do. He slid his hand into his storage compartment to retrieve a pair of trackers so that he could at last begin his return journey.

Nineteen

"The hostiles have breached the five-kilometer barrier," Zelda announced gleefully, pulling George from his fitful, and all too brief, slumber.

"Status report," he muttered as he glanced up at the slowly brightening sky.

"Your armor is at eighty-nine percent battery. We also have two War Dogs, three drone carriers and seventy-two Yellow Jackets at full power. Of the latter, a dozen are loaded with lethal payloads while the remainder are carrying tranquilizers. Lulu is..."

"I don't particularly care where Lulu is, thank you very much," he snapped, the memory of a particularly contentious confrontation he had had with his beautiful, yet fiery companion upon his return just four hours earlier still fresh in his mind.

"You should be patient with her George," Zelda said soothingly. "All she's ever known is a harsh existence which is, for all intents and purposes, kill-or-be-killed. The concept of compassion, as often as not, is equated with weakness. I feel quite confident her opinion of you will improve immeasurably before the sun sets."

"Why?" he grumbled as he saw to his hurried morning ablutions.

"Because you will prove yourself worthy. The approaching warriors will either see the obvious superiority of our forces, or they will force you to defeat them. Either way, Lulu will never again think of you as a coward. I believe she will come to respect you even more when she learns the difference between compassion and cowardice."

"I can't worry about that right now. What's their ETA?"

"One hour, plus or minus twelve minutes."

"Is the village aware of their approach?"

"Negative. Everyone is still sleeping."

"Ok, let's get going."

Ten minutes later, George was standing on the bow of the launch as it sped across the river. Lulu was standing as far from him as possible, eyeing him warily following a pronouncement that he was not permitted to leave without her so that she might personally witness his cravenness in the face of the enemy.

When the launch was still twenty meters from the shore, George leapt from the bow to land lightly on the shoreline before racing in the direction of the village. As he entered the cluster of buildings, he caused a sound akin to an air-raid siren to play from his suit's speaker. The village's warriors streamed from the buildings seconds later, hastily dressing as they looked around in fear.

Oukonunaka spotted him quickly and stalked angrily in his direction before shouting, "I ordered you not to wear the metal skins in my domain, White Devil. Give me one good reason I shouldn't order you put to death immediately."

"Shut the fuck up," George snapped irritably. "For one thing, all of you put together couldn't do more than annoy me. For another, you're about to be attacked by an actual group of hostiles, you dumb hick."

"Impossible. Our scouts would have warned us."

"You mean the scouts that are sleeping in a tree a hundred meters to the northeast? What's it going to be, dipshit? Do you want to wait around to get wiped out or do you want to organize these kids on the off chance I'm right?"

"We don't need your help," the chief spat at him.

"Have it your way," George huffed before trotting from the village, leaving a chorus of shouts in his wake.

He could see the position of the advancing force in his display and knew that at a jog he would reach them in just a few minutes.

"What are the chances I can talk to them?"

"I've been listening in this morning via the bugs you planted. It will be more rudimentary than what you enjoy with Lulu's people, but you should be able to effectively communicate."

"Fine, lets see if these assholes are more fun to talk to than Chief Shit-For-Brains back there. Recommendations as far as how we deploy the drones?"

"The War Dogs have already reached the hostiles and are keeping pace at a reasonable distance. They will be within twenty seconds of you once you approach. By the time you're within speaking distance, I'll have a drone carrier just out of earshot above them."

"Seems like we need a safe word," George observed ruefully. "Just keep in mind, our objective isn't to prove we're militarily superior to them. It's to make them our allies, assuming such is possible without endangering our other allies."

"I will not attack unless you give the word," Zelda assured him. "Or unless you're in peril," she added after a brief pause.

"No," he growled. "Wait for me. Besides, you wouldn't want to lose your mysterious bet, would you?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," she deflected.

"Showtime," he muttered as he slowed to a walk a few hundred meters from the approaching threat. He eventually came to a halt beneath a live oak and waited for their fearless advance.

The war party was marching single file with little about their behavior which suggested they might be in danger. They were instead acting as though they were out for an afternoon ride, or perhaps hunting. George's view flipped to a high angle shot of the warriors, thanks to one of the orbiting drone carriers. The leader was the kind of man who would make you cross the street in George's home-time. He had the look of someone who was always irritated, and who was quick to anger. He carried a gnarled spear in addition to an unusual looking tomahawk. Behind him came forty-six additional warriors, all of whom looked battle-tested and hungry.

George stepped out of the shade of the live oak and said, "Halt!"

This produced a reaction which certainly did not support the assertion that the newcomers were amenable to parley. Ten arrows were fired in his direction within two seconds, two of which struck his armor.

"Knock that shit off!" George boomed.

Twenty-nine arrows, and eleven spears, answered his command. He sighed in frustration and leapt in the direction of the leader, covering the intervening thirteen meters in a single bound. He grabbed the leader by his intricately carved bone-breastplate and snarled, "Don't make me kill you."

He saw fear flash briefly in the mans eyes before a thud rang through the armor as the warrior's tomahawk smashed against the side of his head. George took a few dazed steps backwards and muttered, "Lets see if we can change his perspective. Give me one War Dog, set to stun."

A flash of gleaming metal appeared from George's right and, before he could take a breath, the warrior went from rearing back to take another swing to... gone. George looked to his left to find the warrior howling in pain and grabbing for the back of his legs, both of which had been sliced open.

"I meant 'temporarily disable'," George muttered. "Not 'cripple for life'."

"I shall keep that in mind for the future," Zelda replied with mock contrition. "His subordinates do not seem to have gleaned the desired take-away from his misfortune."

George looked up to see the hostiles closing in on him with murder in their eyes. He groaned, "What the fuck is wrong with you? Can't you see you're hopelessly outclassed?"

He was forced to incapacitate a pair of particularly eager warriors, who had announced their presence by snapping their spears against his armor in a failed attempt to skewer him, by backhanding them which sent them sprawling through their comrades like human bowling balls. He turned to their leader and yanked him up to snarl, "Tell them to surrender."

"We will kill you," came the man's screaming response.

He felt another thud against his head, prompting Zelda to warn, "Hull integrity down to ninety-three percent. Shall I send in the Yellow Jackets?"

"No!" George insisted. "I don't want to kill them."

"You seem to have little choice. Look around you. Look at their faces. Do these look like reasonable men?"

George did as she asked and saw nothing but hatred and loathing. This did not surprise him considering they were engaged in what they likely believed would be a fight to the death. What did surprise him was the complete lack of fear in their faces. They were facing what should have been so terrifying a sight as to make them lose control of their bodily functions. Instead, they were so consumed with blood-lust that the fact that they were outclassed by six centuries did not even cause a second's pause.

"Hull integrity down to eighty-three percent," Zelda interjected with a discernable increase in distress present in her voice.

"Fine," he huffed after several moments pause. "Let's knock them out. Maybe when they come to, they'll be more reasonable."

"I think this is a mistake," she warned. "These men are zealots, to say nothing of evil. Knocking them out only delays the inevitable. Dealing with them here at least allows them to die in battle, and for you to move forward with a clear conscience."

"This is no battle," he observed morosely. "Just knock them out and we'll figure the rest out later."

Seconds later, George heard a shout from behind him. He glanced unworriedly in that direction only to feel his anxiety rise for the first time since waking. Emerging from the brush was Oukonunaka in the company of a dozen other warriors from the village. The warriors who had been fruitlessly attacking George suddenly turned their attention to the newcomers, screaming a challenge as they began their deadly charge.

George sighed in resignation and waited for the Yellow Jackets to incapacitate everyone but his attention was quickly diverted to a deafening clang against the armor's helmet.

"Hull integrity critical!" Zelda squeaked. "Life support offline."

George turned to find a massive native rearing back to strike him again with a hammer. But before the blow could fall, the second War Dog hit the warrior like a linebacker and drove him to the ground before grasping the screaming man's head in its jaws and crushing it like a grape.

George reflexively vomited in the now incapacitated suit at the sight and managed to stammer, "Get me out of here," with the last of his air.

The suit opened and George sucked in a gulp of air before attempting to wipe away some of the sick from his face and chest.

"Head north-east," Zelda barked. "The War Dogs will flank you."

"And leave that dumb fuck and his baby warriors to get slaughtered?" George gasped with a gesture toward the suddenly very unbalanced battle in the favor of the enemy. "Where the fuck are my Yellow Jackets?"

"They are encircling you."

"I order you to send them, and the War Dogs, to aid our allies."

"No," she replied curtly. "My prime directive is your safety. I cannot override that, even at your command."

"Have it your way," George grunted before reaching down to pick up the tomahawk of the erstwhile leader of the war party.

"Don't do it," Zelda warned.

"Fuck you. If you won't save those people because I order you to, then I'll damn well force you to do it."

George hefted his weapon briefly, giving it a few practice swings, before he bolted toward the battle. He knew he need not look behind him to confirm the drones were right on his heels, not because he could hear them but rather because he could dimly hear Zelda screaming in his ear for him to stop.

He reached the battle just as Oukonunaka took a spear to the thigh and dropped to the ground, falling upon the bodies of his three-man honor guard. George swung the tomahawk wildly at the head of the man responsible, connecting with the base of the man's skull and killing him instantly. George saw a flash from the corner of his eye as the War Dogs each dispatched a pair of the enemy in gruesome fashion. From above, he could hear the buzzing of the drone carrier as it approached and he knew the Yellow Jackets would shortly render the remaining hostiles ineffective.

He dropped his tomahawk to gaze around the battle field, but before he could turn his head what felt like a freight train slammed into the back of his neck knocking him immediately unconscious.

Twenty

Consciousness came slowly to George, but the first sensation he recalled was a soothing cool spreading across his forehead. This feeling stood in stark contrast to the numbness which seemed to permeate his body. This impression was slowly replaced by a general stiffness which felt not unlike how one would feel when recovering from a particularly lengthy cold. He tried to open his eyes, only to find that they had been covered. He raised his arm to help clear his vision and groaned in response to the strenuous objection his muscles immediately filed with his body's excuse for upper management.

"Be still," came a gentle voice in his ear.

"What happened?" he mumbled through cracked lips.

"You were injured."

Memories of the battle came flooding back into George's mind, from the frustration of the early phases where he still harbored a shred of hope that the enemy would recognize they were wildly overmatched, to the frantic conclusion after he had abandoned his armor. He sighed wearily at the realization of his complete failure, both in forming an alliance with the new tribe and in keeping the members of the tribe with whom he had actually managed to forge a treaty alive.

"What is wrong?" the voice he now recognized as Lulu's asked worriedly. "You said your medicine had healed him."

"He's just being George," Zelda interjected. "He's no doubt blaming himself for the fact that your former tribe isn't, at this moment, enjoying peaceful relations with those murderous cretins from the west."

As she spoke, the cloth covering George's eyes was removed to reveal that they were in the dimly lit interior of the compound's larger building. He was laying on one of the beds looking for all the world like he had just awoken from a nap. The only thing out of place was a single very non-fifteenth-century tube which snaked from beneath the bed to attach to the inside of his left wrist. The other thing his more basic brain functions pointed out exuberantly was the fact that both he and Lulu were entirely without clothing.

"Surely you jest," Lulu scoffed. "I'm still barely able to believe that everyone wasn't wiped out. As to the peace fantasy, that would not have happened in ten thousand moons. That tribe knows nothing but death and destruction. They are vultures, nothing more."

"So many dead," George croaked.

"So many saved," Lulu retorted.

"How many?" he asked disconsolately.

"I'm not sure of the exact number. Certainly all the women and children, plus the elders obviously. And nearly all of the warriors, although several were hurt grievously."

George persisted, "How many dead?"

"As I said, several may still die from their wounds even though Zelda assures me they will recover. But not more than a handful."

"How many dead other than the seriously wounded?"

"You misunderstand, none perished. At least not yet."

"How'd you get them to accept your help?" George grunted irritably.

"Lulu offered them a concoction I whipped up, little more than a paste in appearance. Not at all incongruous with healing techniques utilized by their healers."

"Filled with nanobots, no doubt."

"Indeed, but I figured there was little to be gained from volunteering that information."

"What is... nanobots?" Lulu asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word.

"It's like our other tech, just much smaller."

"It's how I fixed George's shoulder," Zelda interjected. "After, I might add, Lulu carried you from the battle and got you into the launch."

He gaped at his companion "How? There were still at least ten hostiles alive when I got taken out."

"She was very brave," Zelda replied somberly. "And very foolish. I told her that I only needed sixty-three seconds to eliminate the remaining hostiles, but she insisted on moving in immediately to retrieve your stunningly foolish self."

"He was dying," Lulu objected firmly. "I honestly have no idea how he isn't dead."

"How bad was it?" George interrupted.

"The ax blow that took you out of the fight also broke two vertebrae and, for all practical purposes, turned your shoulder into little more than rubble. It missed severing your spinal cord by less than a centimeter."

"How long was I out?"

"Seventeen days," came the immediate reply from Zelda at once with Lulu nearly shouting, "Nearly a full moon!"

He glanced up at his companion to see the anxiety clearly written on her face before saying, "Did Zelda not explain what was happening?"

"Of course I did," the AI chided. "But I hardly blame Lulu for not believing me. All of her life experience has taught her that a coma is just the prelude to death."

"I was so worried," Lulu whimpered, her expression solemn.

He whispered. "I wish you had waited for the all clear."

"Your life water was spilling on the ground. You could have died had I not acted. Besides, Zelda's demons protected me."

"The War Dogs proved very adept at close quarters combat," Zelda added. "And the effectiveness of the Yellow Jackets is well established. You should have waited as well, George."

"I assume the enemy were all..."

"None remain. As soon as you left your suit, the rules of engagement were amended."

"Meaning you went from 'keep pace with the skinny white guy' to 'unleash hell'?"

"Indeed," she replied calmly. "On a related note, you'll find your armor will not respond to requests to release you mid-battle in the future."

"Why not just fix the flaw that allowed a savage with an ax to incapacitate it in the first place?"

"I warned you it wasn't invulnerable. But rest assured that I have implemented significant upgrades during your convalescence... to all of my drones. They are no longer limited to purely kinetic offensive weaponry."

George nodded and turned back to Lulu to say, "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Thank you for saving my people," she replied somberly. "Well... my former people. They would have been wiped out were it not for you." She glanced over her shoulder to where George now saw a pair of motionless War Dogs before adding, "And Zelda." She took a deep breath before returning her eyes to his. "I misjudged you, George."

"How do you mean?"

"I accused you of being a coward, but you risked your life for them. You could have remained in your metal skins and your safety would have been ensured."

"But your warriors would have been wiped out, to say nothing of Chief Dickhead. Zelda never would have attacked if I was out of the fight."

"That makes your actions even more admirable. You threw yourself into the fray to save a man you detest. Something which he'll likely never live down. I thought you were nothing but a fool. Or, worse, a conqueror masquerading as one. But you're a good man. Someone from whom many of those warriors could learn a great deal." She smiled at him warmly before adding, "I also have no doubt your goodness extends to how you treat your... woman?" she was barely whispering by the time she finished speaking.

Her suddenly coquettish nature suddenly made it exceedingly difficult for him to ignore the fact that she was naked. The nearness of her full breasts to his face as she sat beside him on the bed was also something that was abruptly consuming a great deal of his focus. She noticed his gaze and responded by scooting closer until her hardening nipple was mere centimeters from his lips. He felt his manhood swelling, unencumbered by so much as a sheet. She moved her hand down his belly to grip him firmly.

"I will not refuse you," she said softly.

He sighed and said, "Not good enough," as he tried to twist away from her. He then had an epiphany and added, "I guess that answers the mystery of the bet you two cooked up."

"Bet?" Lulu asked hesitantly as she removed her hand from his manhood and placed it in her lap.

"I heard you talking before the battle. You suggested I'd chicken out; Zelda wagered you were wrong. I can only assume that she set the terms at you giving yourself to me. You know... sexually. She's obviously learned nothing about me in our time together."

"You poor fool," Zelda interjected.

"You think I'd have sex with you based upon that?" she gaped.

"I'm not making a judgement on you," George replied quickly. "But your words were, and I quote, any terms Zelda wished. I know that irascible bucket of bolts beneath our feet well enough to know this is exactly the kind of terms she'd attempt to set."

Lulu frowned and said, "In that case, you don't know her as well as you believe."

"If not sex, then what were was the bet?"

"It was nothing."

"Not bloody likely. You two certainly bet something."

"It was just that I would agree to be naked while within the compound. Hardly a concession considering how terribly uncomfortable my clothing is." She glanced back at his midsection before adding, "I can't imagine why she made such a big deal about it, though."

"Among George's people, nudity is, for all practical purposes, forbidden unless one is alone or with their mate." Zelda supplied.

"Was it because of the way the sun attacked their pale skin?" Lulu responded in confusion.

George snickered despite the situation as Zelda answered, "It was because they viewed sex as one of society's greatest evils. Something which should only occur when attempting to procreate."

"In the name of all the Gods, why?" she gasped in wide-eyed amazement.

"Because they are very stupid," George interjected. "The beliefs of my people, as Zelda calls them, are not my beliefs. But she's not wrong that I was raised to effectively equate nudity and sex."

Lulu shook her head and said, "I still don't understand why you refuse me. Or is that another vestige of your wrongheaded people?"

"I have no wish to be intimate with anyone who isn't one-hundred-percent willing and eager. Perhaps that's part of my upbringing as well. If so, then I'm glad for it. I won't be a party to rape, in any fashion."

"But I said I was willing."

"No," he corrected firmly. "You said you wouldn't refuse me. There's a hell of a lot of distance between 'not refusing me' and 'wanting me as much as I want you'. A hell of a lot."

She sighed and said, "What must I say to convince you that I wish to be with you?"

"Just that you want me. Not that you accept your fate, or that you'll submit, or that you won't refuse me. None of that. Making love isn't about obligation, it's about attraction and desire."

She smiled tentatively and said, "I am attracted to you, George. And I do desire you." His manhood jerked at her words, a movement which she caught out of the corner of her eye. She reached down to grip him again before adding, "It would seem the question now is: will you refuse me?"

He gasped, "I could no more refuse you than I could refuse to take my next breath."

As she stood to reposition herself, Zelda whispered in his ear, "I'll leave you both alone after this. I just wanted to point out before you get weird about it that you're current on your fertility suppressors. We'll talk about how you so hurtfully maligned me later. For now, enjoy yourself. You've certainly earned a bit of happiness."

He ignored her, although he felt a twinge of gratitude at the knowledge that he could not impregnate Lulu. This combined with the serum the Yellow Jackets had dispensed months earlier, which eradicated nearly all known diseases, ensured that they could engage as near to safe sex as could exist on this side of the grave.

He started to rise from the bed to join Lulu where she stood beside him, but she said, "Be still. Your healing is not yet complete."

She straddled his thighs facing away from him and reached between her legs to grip him once more. Before he could genuinely appreciate the sight of her perfectly shaped ass, she sank onto his turgid member with a groan. He reached out to caress her wonderfully rounded cheeks as he stifled a moan. She glanced over her shoulder playfully as his fingers gripped her. She rotated her hips languidly as she clenched her inner walls around him, finally teasing a hiss of pleasure from his lips.

Her expression grew worried and she said, "Am I hurting you?"

"To the contrary," he whispered reverently. "I don't think I've ever felt better. You're incredible."

"You also feel amazing. I've never had a man before who was so large."

"You needn't flatter me, Lulu."

"I wasn't," she grunted as her hips slammed down with increased intensity. "You fill me up like nothing I could have ever imagined. You're huge."

He felt his cock pulse within at her praise despite the fact that he had great trouble believing her, considering no sexual partner in his past had ever felt compelled to make mention of his size.

"Turn around," he whispered.

"Why? Does this not feel good for you as well?"

"It feels amazing. I just want to see you."

She grinned at him over her shoulder and said, "Can you not see me now? Did Zelda do something to your eyesight while you were sleeping?"

"Of course not," he replied with a crooked grin.

"Then just say you wish to touch my teats," she retorted as she raised off him reluctantly.

The gossamer strand of their combined juices stretched between them before ultimately breaking when she turned to face him. That sight combined with the hunger in her eyes as she gazed down past her full, heavy breasts nearly caused him to lose control even though she was not, at that moment, touching him.

"I wanted to see your eyes, honey."

She looked at him queerly and said, "Why would you call me bee's sugar?"

"A term of endearment. I meant it as a goodness."

"Then I will take it as such," she sighed as she took him into the slick heat of her core once more. She smiled down at him as his hands rose to her tits and groped them boldly. "Are you sure you did not want to see my teats?"

"Well," he stammered. "I didn't only want to see your tits. You're so fucking beautiful."

She groaned in pleasure as she swirled her hips around his manhood before whispering, "No one has ever looked at me as you are."

The growling caveman that resides deep within every man urged him to growl, 'and no one else ever will', but he managed to instead say, "Come here."

As glanced down to where their centers met and said, "We are already joined."

"I meant I want to kiss you."

"Oh," she replied shyly before bending over.

Despite his injuries, he met her halfway and crushed his lips against her hungrily. She sighed into him as her lips opened to welcome his tongue, and he felt her hips speed up in time with their skyrocketing passion. Their kiss took their connection to new levels, and he felt his release approaching rapidly. Fortunately, the spasming of her inner walls told him she was perfectly in tune with him. He reached down to grip her ass once more and began thrusting up into her without ever relinquishing her lips.

She threw her head back and moaned his name as he felt her constrict around his pulsing cock with the first waves of her release. He thrust up into her a final time before falling over the precipice and erupting deep within her eager womb. She reclaimed his lips as her body spasmed in pleasure with each jet of his molten essence. He focused the entirety of his consciousness on prolonging her pleasure even as his own body jerked violently with the most powerful orgasm he could remember. Each gasp and sigh which escaped their kiss seemed to drive him to new levels of ecstasy and he knew at once he would never forget this moment.

Their kiss continued even after their orgasms receded, turning into something tender rather than passionate. When she finally pulled back, the smile on her face stood in stark contrast to the tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong, honey?"

"Nothing, you fool," she gushed. "I just never knew it was possible to feel like this."

"Get used to it," he whispered as she rested her slick body against his own and sighed in contentment.

Twenty-One

"What do you think?" George asked haltingly.

"It's... I don't know how to describe it," Lulu replied too loudly before laughing self-consciously. "How do I move?"

"Same as you would without the armor. Just try to ignore the fact that you've got it on."

"How?" she exclaimed. "I can't see myself!"

He chuckled and said, "Do you watch your feet when you walk? Or need to watch your hands to draw your bow?"

"Well... no..."

"This is the same. Just act as you normally would and Zelda will take care of the rest."

Lulu took a few tentative steps before turning to smile at him brightly from beneath her upturned faceplate.

George smiled and said, "Good. Now try jumping, although to start with you should..."

He trailed off as she squatted and performed a leap which would have allowed her to lift her feet a meter in the air unenhanced. Wearing the suit however, she rocketed a dozen meters straight into the air. She shrieked in surprise and likely would have waved her arms helplessly had not Zelda overridden the controls to bring her back to earth safely, landing in the ubiquitous superhero crouch.

He rushed to her side expecting to find her shaking in fear, but he instead found a jubilant and excited woman who gushed, "More!"

He grinned and said, "Ok. If you think you can keep up."

"Catch up? I'll bet you anything you want that I can beat you."

"The usual wager?" he offered with a wide smile.

She nodded and said, "I accept."

He glanced toward a distant live oak which stood silent vigil well over a kilometer from the compound and said, "First to touch the tree, and then the wall of the compound, wins."

She appeared to consider it for a moment before she bolted like a startled jackrabbit toward the tree.

"Hey!" he huffed as he took off after her.

He knew at once that he was in trouble as there was little doubt that Lulu was the better natural athlete. She had been walking, sometimes running, a dozen kilometers per day since she had been a child, whereas George had not run anywhere intentionally before arriving in the fifteenth century over one-year prior. His only hope was that he could make up for his deficit in athletic ability, not to mention her hundred-meter head start, thanks to his greater experience wearing the armor.

He began lengthening his strides until he resembled an Olympic triple-jumper just before take-off, except he never did the big third jump. Instead, he loped along with each stride covering a dozen meters. It was a method which would lead an unenhanced human to ruin, either through catastrophic injury or overwhelming fatigue, but which was possible, albeit barely, in the suit.

He quickly caught up to Lulu, who gaped openly at him and almost certainly would have stumbled were it not for Zelda's constant assistance. Lulu then tried to ape his method and seemed to quickly get the hang of it. George, however, was able to take advantage of not watching his opponent and realized in time that they had nearly reached the live oak. He slid feetfirst to a stop like a center-fielder stealing second before popping back up at the last second and, after demonstrably tapping the tree as Lulu raced past, hurrying back toward the compound.

"Bastard!" she cried out as she scrambled to arrest her progress.

He raced back toward the finish line, every second expecting to see her overtake him. When he was halfway to his goal, he had a sudden inspiration and said, "Give me an overlay showing our progress."

"Please define," Zelda replied with such pleasantness that he had no doubt she was being intentionally difficult.

"Just show me the video feed from the closest overwatch drone."

"As you wish," she sighed before causing the requested video to show up on his display. It became immediately apparent, however, that she had merely changed tactics (rather than abandoning her cheerful obstructionism altogether) because she placed the requested video directly in the middle of his field of vision.

George quickly slowed, rather than risk a spectacular crash, and yelped, "Get that shit out of my way."

"Forgive me, George," Zelda replied mockingly as the video vanished. "I attempted to tell you that I was unsure what you wanted."

George sped back up again but the damage had been done. A cackling Lulu streaked past him and beat him to the compound by a comfortable enough margin that she was waiting for him triumphantly when he came to a stop.

"You lost," she observed as he came to a stop by her side.

"Yup," he replied with a shrug. "I suppose I did at that."

"You know what this means?"

"Yup," he repeated before heading toward the entrance to the Crypt.

Lulu matched his stride and said, "I think today you should deliver Oukonunaka's portion to him personally. I suspect he would appreciate the attention since he has been bedridden for over a month now after discovering how we were trying to heal the warriors and forbidding it."

"I'm honestly amazed they're still allowing us to bring them food."

"Their great and powerful Chief is a petulant child, but he's no fool. He knows he'll be deposed before the next moon if he defies the elders."

"Let's hope they continue to hold sway, for his sake. The sepsis would have killed him a week ago were it not for the nanobots Zelda figured out how to build into the food."

"That was nothing compared to replicating their food," Zelda huffed as they rode down the lift into the now expanded server room.

In the month since the battle, Zelda had been far from idle. In addition to crafting armor for Lulu, something which she had done with almost no cajoling on the part of George's beautiful companion, she had also expanded their humble compound into a bona fide settlement. The walls had been expanded so that they were fifty meters on a side and three new hurricane resistant buildings had been erected, the largest of which had an auditorium with seating for fifty and six smaller rooms which could be used as offices or meeting rooms. The original structure George had built was now used to house the equipment while it was recharging while the remaining buildings were designated for housing. George had learned that the smaller of the two was to be his living quarters while the other had been designed more as a barracks capable of sleeping fifty.

When the lift came to a stop, both George and Lulu stepped off the platform into the space which had gone from cramped to cavernous as part of Zelda's expansion. There was now plenty of room for Zelda's essentials in addition to two new printers and the cocoons for their armor.

George stretched after stepping free of his armor and immediately noticed Lulu doing the same. Whereas George still wore his underwear in the armor, Lulu (who neither owned nor particularly understood undergarments) had entered her suit wearing nothing but an anxious smile. Her stretch put her bountiful assets on full display and George did not even try to hide his appreciation for her luscious curves.

She noticed his gaze and smiled disbelievingly before saying, "I still fail to understand your obsession with teats. Mine are far too large. They get in the way doing nearly everything."

He chuckled and said, "And I still fail to understand how your people didn't worship you as a goddess for your beauty."

"You're daft," she sneered good naturedly. "Women with modest teats are far more desirable. Their teats give the same milk as mine, but they aren't a burden in combat. Or when fashioning clothing."

"You have little need for clothing within the compound," he offered with a smirk.

"Thanks to Zelda's bet, something I'm still not entirely certain wasn't a trap."

"I merely had complete confidence in our boy here," Zelda interjected. "Besides, I suspected you were more comfortable like this in any case."

"Oh, I am," Lulu murmured. "Especially when I have this effect on 'our boy', as you call him." She strode over to George and gripped his manhood through his boxers before adding, "Or, should I say, 'man'."

George's cock surged for full hardness at her touch and his hand rose to cup one of her breasts as she stepped closer. He bent to kiss her briefly before hissing in pleasure as she freed him from the confinement of his boxers. He bent his head to suck her nipple, eliciting a grunt of approval from her lips.

"That feels nice," she whispered.

"You can say that again," he replied as he switched to her other breast.

"Does your obsession with teats extend to mating?"

"How do you mean?"

"Do you wish me to stroke your manhood with my teats?"

As she spoke, she dropped down to her knees and took her breasts in each hand before beginning to alternate petting his cock with her tits. He watched with a mixture of mirth and awe as she gently batted his manhood between her boobs.

He smiled and reached down to grip her breasts, placing them on either side of his cock before thrusting between them. He said, "We call it tit-fucking. But despite the awesome spectacle it provides, I find it to be rather one-sided."

"There is also the matter of wasting your seed," she pointed out upon spotting pre-cum welling up from his tip.

"I can think of several phrases I'd use in relation to covering your amazing tits with my cum, and waste is definitely not one of them."

"It is such an odd way of thinking, mating without even the possibility of children." She lapped up a dollop of the moisture at his tip and said, "When I was younger, we used our mouths only as a way to avoid unwanted pregnancy. It never would have occurred to us to do so merely for pleasure."

"Well, as I mentioned before, I can't father children without Zelda removing an additive from my diet. So, no babies are happening, regardless of where I cum."

"And that is why you wish to cum on my teats?"

"Honey, I want to cum anywhere and everywhere: with, on, and in you. But only if you're as enthusiastic about it as I am."

She thought for a moment before saying, "I see." She stroked him again before ducking down to lick the tip of his cock. He grunted as the pleasure coursed through his body. She looked up at him adoringly and said, "I still can't understand why it is that you look at me like that. Is it because I do things like this?" She emphasized her point by lapping up the proof of his pleasure dripping from his tip.

"It's because you're incredible in every way," he whispered. "Not to mention completely gorgeous." He glanced down at the way she reverently jerked him off and added, "Not that I mind you doing that in the least."

"Is this all you wish me to do?" she asked coquettishly before giving his glans another lascivious lick.

He knelt to scoop her up in a bride's carry and whispered, "Not by a long shot."

He carried her over to a bench Zelda had fashioned before George, and later Lulu, started wearing the armor over minimal clothing. He laid her down carefully and gazed at her hungrily as she spread her legs wantonly to showcase her thick thatch of pubic hair. He kicked off his boxers before positioning himself at her entrance. She nodded up at him expectantly before moaning in pleasure as he sheathed himself in her slick heat.

"Christ, you feel fucking amazing," he whispered as he began thrusting into her.

"Their people have no analog for a messiah," Zelda pointed out unhelpfully.

"Fuck off," he subvocalized before returning his attention to the incredible beauty looking up at him with a perplexed expression. He smiled at her and said, "We really do need to get to work on learning each other's languages if we expect Zelda to leave us alone while we're together."

"I do not mind her presence," Lulu murmured. "As long as it is your manhood spearing me."

"You like the thought of being mine?" he grunted as he slammed into her, sending a ripple of magnificent jiggles along her body.

"I am yours, George. No other man will ever touch me."

"I thought we agreed that was just a bunch of political theater."

"I speak not of your arrangement with my former tribe. I speak of our bond. You are the most remarkable man I have ever known. I would be honored to be your mate."

"What about love?"

She smirked and said, "What do you think we're doing right now?"

He chuckled and said, "Making love and being in love aren't the same thing."

"No?" she replied almost teasingly. "Perhaps you will have to teach me more about this 'love', then."

He grinned and said, "Count on it," before speeding up his thrusts.

Within moments, he felt her inner walls start to ripple along his length and her breathing quickened. He felt his own pleasure chasing hers as she whispered huskily, "I'm close."

"So am I."

She looked up at him fondly and said, "Would it be ok if you spilled your seed on my teats another time?"

"Or never," he agreed breathlessly. "Making love is never about one person's wishes. I'm not interested if you're not as enthusiastic about it as I am."

"Oh," she murmured. "I'm very interested. The thought of you exploding all over me could nearly take me to heaven all on its own. It's just that... right now... I really want to feel you fill me with your seed."

"Your wish is my command," he grunted.

A few hearty thrusts was all it took for George to be overtaken by the tidal wave of pleasure that exploded from his loins. He groaned in pleasure as his cock erupted deep within Lulu's eager womb. Her orgasm took her with a sudden intensity the moment she felt the warmth of his seed fill her. He fell forward and claimed her lips as their bodies spasmed in unison.

At length, they were spent and lay panting on the floor beside the bench even though neither could remember falling. He kissed her again and whispered, "I'm sorry."

She looked at him askew and said, "Why? That was wonderful."

"Oh, I completely agree. It's just that I feel like we were talking about something important, but once I spotted your magnificent boobs, all higher brains functions went right out the window."

"They have no referent for window," Zelda supplied. "At least not such that your idiom would make any logical sense."

He chuckled and muttered, "We've really got to work on this language thing."

Twenty-Two

"You made a what?" George asked incredulously.

"A dirigible," Zelda replied reasonably.

"Yeah. I heard that. What I meant was, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"An airship... a zeppelin."

"You made a blimp?"

"That's such a crude term, especially considering my design is capable of travelling in excess of eighty knots."

"Really?" he asked in amazement.

"Indeed. The technology for dirigibles is much more efficient than fixed wing flight where so much energy is wasted merely to stay in the air. Even more than a century in your past, the infamous Hindenburg was able to achieve such speeds."

"Fascinating," he replaced almost distractedly before saying, "Question... what do we need a blimp for?"

"Your only means of transit prior to this was walking, either in your armor or using the more inefficient method of unenhanced walking, or traveling by water. This world has no beasts of burden suitable for riding. And, even if it did, they aren't an improvement when considering speed of travel. Despite what your western movies tell you, all horses do, outside of brief bursts of speed, is allow a human to carry more equipment. A dirigible will allow you cover order of magnitude more distance in your search for more natives, to say nothing of the fact that the altitude will make such searching more efficient. You will now be able to search a million hectares in a day."

"Isn't the fact that we can fly going to make the natives even more apt to not trust us?"

"There is no hiding the fact that you are not one of them George," Zelda chided gently. "You're between ten and twenty percent taller than any other human on this continent, to say nothing of your hair color and complexion. And I believe your neighbors across the river have rather conclusively demonstrated how difficult it is for you to hide your vast technological advantage. Why pretend you are anything other than what you are. Behaving as though they will accept you as an equal only delays your mission."

"I've told you countless times, not only do I not have a god complex, but the whole idea of it turns my stomach. If I could figure out a way to help these people without them ever knowing I was here, that would suit me just fine."

"But you can't. Inoculating them is easy, but the remainder of your mission requires giving them knowledge. That can't be done remotely."

"I know," he huffed.

"And, in my humble opinion..."

"Your what?" he exploded with a bark of laughter.

"Opinion," she replied snippily.

"That wasn't the word I was taking exception to, and you bloody well know it."

"Anyway," she drawled. "Revealing yourself to the natives in a way which leaves no doubt to your superiority over them..."

"Technological superiority," he corrected. "I'm no better than them, Zelda. I was just born in a different time."

"Whatever," she muttered before continuing, "The point is that they'll know beyond the shadow of a doubt that you are what you say you are. You know very well the visceral response humans have to flight. Your neighbors to the north dismiss the Hellhounds and your armor as little more than witchcraft, but if you came from the clouds..."

"And now we're back to the god complex."

"Call it what you want," she grunted. "The point is that they'll be inclined to believe you."

"Can the bl... dirigible carry the suits?"

"Yes, albeit barely. And if you take your armor, Lulu will have to stay behind. It can, however, carry two Hellhounds and a full complement of Yellow Jackets along with up to four humans."

"No drone carriers?"

"I suspect I'll load one out of habit, but the dirigible is perfectly capable of launching the Yellow Jackets on its own."

"How will you control them without line of sight?"

"I have been building more than just a plethora of places for you and Lulu to make grunting noises as you distribute your inert seed like a broken firehose."

"Gross."

"You're not the one who had to design drones to clean it up," she snapped. "What I was trying to say, however, was that I've attached devices to an array of the strongest examples of the trees you call live oaks. Which, by the way, is a stupid name for an obviously alive tree. These devices currently give my extensions an effective range of ten-million hectares."

"Susceptibility to weather?"

"Minimal, save something extreme like the recent hurricane. The dirigible also obviously acts as a repeater. So, as long as you're within sight of at least one of my devices, I can operate the drones with an efficiency at or above ninety-seven percent."

"Rad," George replied simply. "How soon can we take off?"

"This afternoon. Perhaps you noticed the new building abutting the south wall of the compound? Or have you been too busy with the aforementioned distribution of semen?"

"The compound has walls?" he teased.

"Can't get anything past you, dear leader."

"As you said, we've been busy. What will you call your creation?"

"Serenity," she replied simply. "I assume you get the reference."

"Good lord," he sighed wearily. "I've turned you into a fucking nerd."

***

The maiden voyage of Serenity was heralded with a great deal of shouting, from both observers and passengers. George had patiently explained to Lulu the airship's capabilities. Her response had fallen somewhere between irritation and amusement, although in both states she clearly believed he had taken leave of his senses.

When the airship had crept from its hangar, she had stayed quiet despite her white-knuckle grip on the armrests of her chair. When the gentle whirring behind them had grown in volume as the thrusting engines pushed them away from the ground, and the sorcery in the bladder above them which allowed for lift took place, they rose slowly compared to fixed or rotary wing aircraft (although clearly far quicker than Lulu was expecting).

She screamed loudly and leapt into George's arms before shrieking, "What is happening?"

"We're flying," he replied comfortingly. "Zelda is in complete control."

"But how?"

"Even I'm unsure how it works. But Zelda assures me it's quite safe. She even agreed to use a non-explosive gas to provide lift."

Zelda huffed and muttered, "Need I point out the futility of trying to explain the mechanics of something even you don't understand to her?"

"Shut up," he subvocalized. He raised his voice and said, "It's ok to be frightened. I am as well. I think all people are. But I'm confident in Zelda's abilities. Perhaps we could fly over your former village and scare the shit out of Oukonunaka."

"As tempting as that is, I think many of the elders would travel to the spirit realm if we, as you say, flew toward them. Even though I have little doubt they can see us even now."

"Have it your way. Zelda, where are we headed?"

"Logically, the three most likely places we'll find settlements in this area are north and south along the coast, or upriver."

"Then let's head south today. We'll do the other two the next two days."

"Very well, proceeding to two-thousand meters at sixty-nine knots."

Lulu looked at George quite strangely when he snickered despite his best efforts. He subvocalized, "Was that your run of the mill dirty trick, or are you paying more attention to our intimate activities that you've previously admitted?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about," Zelda deflected. "And I certainly care nothing for how you two decide to pass your time. All that matters to me is your safety, and your happiness."

"Awww," he murmured. "You getting soft on me?"

"My body, such that it is, is comprised of several hundred kilograms of a metal which has no name, but which is most certainly not soft."

"Pretend all you want," George teased. "Completely and totally unrelated, what's the term for a silicon-based peeping Tom?"

"Jerk," she snapped irritably.

Lulu's suspicious look only grew deeper at his bark of laughter.

***

"I have detected an anomaly off the starboard bow," Zelda reported calmly several hours into their, until that moment, very boring flight.

George glanced in the indicated direction but saw nothing other than endless lowlands a dozen kilometers inland from the ubiquitous barrier islands. The dirigible began to descend lazily, Zelda having already learned that testing the edge of the airship's performance envelope was a recipe for a very terrified Lulu.

Several moments later Lulu gasped and pointed as she said, "There!"

George quickly spotted what had drawn her attention. He spotted five humans running in the same direction. As they drew closer, it became apparent that the lead human was a female. More worryingly, she was almost certainly fleeing from the remaining individuals, all of whom appeared to be male.

"We will be too late," Lulu observed morosely.

"What do you think is happening?"

"They will have their way with her, and then dispose of her."

"What makes you say that?"

"Can you not see that she is naked?" Lulu asked suspiciously. "I suspect their activities had already begun prior to her escape. But she cannot outrun them. Her best hope at this point is a quick death."

"Fuck that," George grunted. "Zelda, what are our options?"

"Nothing where there is a less than ninety-three percent chance that the males will expire."

"Better than us watching a gang rape followed by a murder. Don't we have a horn or a siren so we could get their attention?"

"What would be the purpose of such a thing? While we are most certainly visible to them, I doubt very strongly they will notice us until it is too late."

George sighed and said, "Do what you've got to do."

"War Dogs launching."

George felt a shudder go through the dirigible. He looked anxiously out the window to spot two shapes plummeting toward the earth.

"Can they really stand-up to the impact from this high up?" he asked in amazement.

"Probably," Zelda replied reasonably. "But I have no intention of testing that theory. This is my latest iteration and I hope to get a significant amount of use out of them. Observe."

At her words, the displays before them lit up to show a nauseating kaleidoscope of earth and sky from the drone's perspective as they reached terminal velocity and started tumbling. As George watched, the video stabilized thanks to the somewhat ironically named drone chutes that were launched. This did little to arrest their downward velocity, but it steadied their fall. The drones quickly zeroed in on their targets, who were rapidly expanding in the video feed. Just before the drones slammed into the earth, larger chutes were deployed. These only served to provide a rapid loss of some of their speed, like driving through a deeper than originally thought puddle, before they hit the ground running.

The natives appeared not to notice the new arrivals until it was far too late. Just as the first man got a hand on the fleeing woman, a War Dog took the offending hand off at the shoulder. George found it both fascinating and sickening to watch the death-dealing drones dispense justice in the first person. Their quarry scarcely had time to be afraid. It was as though they were in a submarine that suddenly experienced explosive decompression: one moment they were sickeningly dreaming of rape and murder; the next they were contemplating an existence in the afterlife after having been separated into between three and seven pieces of soon to spoil meat and bone.

The woman they had been chasing took more than a minute to notice she was no longer in danger. By that time, she was out of sight of the bodies of her pursuers and the War Dogs had faded into the brush. Her confusion quickly turned to terror, however, as the Serenity finally came low enough to be noticed. As it flared to arrest its downward motion still several meters in the air, George leapt from the doorway and started walking toward her. She screamed in unrestrained terror and turned to flee. It was at this point that she noticed the bodies, and the blood that they formerly contained, strewn around an area the size of a basketball court. Her scream grew even louder, and more panicked, as she looked around furtively for an avenue of escape.

"I won't hurt you," George said loudly.

In response, the woman screamed a lengthy string of meaningless sounds back at him.

"Her language has little in common with Lulu's, or the languages of the islands," Zelda interjected calmly. "It will take at least an hour of her talking for me to facilitate even basic communication."

"Damnit," George spat angrily.

This caused the woman to take several cautious steps backwards. Unfortunately, this brought her perilously close to one of the War Dogs. Zelda, having to choose between allowing the woman to trip over the drone, which was covered with a prodigious amount of edged weaponry, and revealing its presence more overtly by causing it to relocate. The AI chose the latter and the War Dog quickly stood before trotting back toward the dirigible.

The unfortunate woman did not even muster a scream in response, her body instead determining that enough was enough and the only remaining option was a full reboot. The only saving grace for George was that he was close enough to catch her as she fainted dead away.

Twenty-Three

"George?" Zelda implored gently, waking him from the fitful sleep he had slipped into despite his best efforts. "I think she's coming around."

He opened his eyes and looked down from the uncomfortable chair which had been his home for the prior nine hours. The woman they had rescued was just opening her eyes and it took only a moment for terror to fill her expression.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, thanking Zelda's foresight to send drones into the nearest village from where they had rescued the woman to learn the basics of her language. "You're safe here."

"Who you? Where I? How here get?" she barked in rapid succession.

"You were being attacked. We rescued you. I brought you to my home to treat your wounds." He touched his ribs in the same place where she had suffered a laceration, likely from one of the men pursuing her.

"What men fate?"

He held her gaze, willing her fear to melt away, as he said, "Dead."

She sighed, her gaze falling to her lap. After several moments, she murmured, "Am prisoner?"

"Of course not. You're free to leave, if that's your wish. We only brought you here to treat you."

She stood unsteadily before tugging awkwardly at the garment in which Lulu had managed to dress her. She looked back at him questioningly and said, "How skins?"

"We couldn't very well leave you the way you were. My friend dressed you."

She started to take a step before stumbling and sitting heavily back on the bed in which she had awoken.

"What's wrong with her?" George subvocalized.

"I believe this is a combination of shock and fatigue," Zelda provided. "She's had quite a day."

"Are you hungry?" George asked aloud. She regarded him suspiciously for a moment before finally nodding. He nodded and said, "It'll just be a moment. Is there anything else I can get you?"

She glanced around before ultimately sighing and looking away.

"Food will be there in twenty-nine seconds," Zelda reported. "Perhaps you should let Lulu take over."

"Why?" he subvocalized in surprise. "I have been exceedingly careful to appear non-threatening."

"That is true. But you are still a male. And her last memory was being chased by four such creatures. There is also the not at all unlikely possibility that even if she is indeed not afraid of you, she may still have needs which she would prefer not discussing with you."

"Such as?"

"Well, it goes without saying that she's never used a toilet before. To say nothing of a bidet."

"Point taken," he replied before again raising his voice to say, "My friend will be in shortly with something to eat. But please don't hesitate to speak up if you need anything."

She nodded unemotionally but continued to avoid his eyes. He waited another moment before ultimately conceding and walking from the room. They had placed their guest in one of the rooms of the structure which had been designated for George's use since there was not a dedicated sick bay. Zelda had, in addition to the routine inoculations, injected her with nanobots to heal her wounds and bolster her immune system. The latter had been a new experience for George since their guest had not been dressed until after she was healed. He had thus been able to watch the jagged cut on her ribs heal in a matter of minutes. It was an experience not unlike watching a time-lapse video of someone healing via traditional means.

He encountered Lulu in the hallway and said, "I assume you were listening in?"

She nodded and said, "I'll make sure she's well cared for," before entering their makeshift med lab.

George headed outside and took a deep breath of the humid late afternoon air, marveling at the way sweat immediately formed on his brow. He wiped away the sweat and grumbled, "How in the fuck did anyone ever live here without air conditioning?"

"I'm led to believe that your species is capable of adapting to their environment," Zelda replied with a smile in her voice.

"I don't buy it. This is why the Durham's settled in Massachusetts."

"You think humans adapt more easily to temperatures thirty degree below zero than thirty-five degrees above it?"

"I'm just telling you which I prefer. How are things outside our guest."

"Nominal. The neighbors across the river aren't doing anything out of character, although I must point out they are still refusing to take part in the exercises with the muskets you provided."

"Stubborn bastard," George spat. "He'd rather be erased from existence that admit he was wrong."

"I suspect that once you make contact with the next tribe, a spirit of competition will ensue and he will..." She paused for nearly an entire second before adding, "Anomaly detected."

"What is it?" he whispered urgently as he headed toward the entrance to the Crypt to suit up.

"Please hold," she replied reasonably. She was silent until he had entered the lift to drop below the earth, at which point she added, "Oh, this should be good."

***

George skidded to a stop beneath a bough of hardwoods after an easy twenty-minute jog had taken him fifteen kilometers northwest of the compound. He scanned around the terrain with the assistance of the full spectrum of tools at his disposal. The sight took away some of the terrain's natural beauty, but it enabled him to spot every warm-blooded creature within one-hundred meters. He was thus able to quickly spot four humans crouching in a small depression near the river.

"Assessment?" he asked without preamble.

"Possibly dangerous," came Zelda's immediate reply. "But I believe you are equipped to handle any potential danger. You should approach quickly, however, so you don't lose the element of surprise."

"Then what? Our goal is to form alliances. Scaring the shit out of people is rarely an effective way to begin a partnership."

"Oh, I doubt very strongly you could do anything to damage your ability to form an alliance with these humans. They need you, George. I suspect they are in what your people call 'dire straits'."

"Fine. Here goes nothing."

He sprinted toward the group, arriving in mere moments. When he drew close enough, he leapt the remaining distance to slam into the ground in the ubiquitous super-hero crouch. He raised his head slowly to regard the group, later giving thanks that the closed faceplate hid his initial gob smacked reaction.

"Holy fucking shit!" Rachel shrieked as she scrambled awkwardly away from him. It took less than a second for Kendra, Chief and Wendy to rouse from their fitful slumbers to regard him suspiciously. After a pregnant pause, Rachel added, "That had better be you in there, George."

He muttered, "Real fucking nice," to Zelda. "I'm going to get you for this."

"It was worth it," she replied jubilantly. "Shall I raise your faceplate, or do you wish to continue to menace them?"

"Go for it," he grumbled. "Fucking pain in my ass, that's what you are."

"You know you love me," she teased. "Faceplate raising now."

"Jesus," Chief grunted as George's faceplate slid out and them up to his forehead. "You scared this shit out of us, boss."

"I'm not your boss anymore," George snapped before he could think better of it. "Or did you forget you mutinied?"

Silence descended around the group which quickly bypassed awkward on its journey to 'someone needs to commit seppuku to cleanse us of this shame'. For his part, George just allowed his steely-eyed stare to slowly graze across the group. He was initially amazed at how bedraggled they appeared, but then he remembered that it had been the better part of two months since the storm. If the ship logs were to be believed, the crew had abandoned ship shortly after the storm, meaning this group had been living off the land for that entire time.

"What do you want, George?" Rachel asked, finally breaking the silence.

"You breached our perimeter, so I came to investigate. I didn't know who you were until a moment ago. Where's everyone else?"

Kendra's gaze dropped to the ground, prompting George's first reaction since arriving. She said, "Quentin was lost in the storm. The wind died down a bit, and Darcy tried to make it from the pilot house to below decks. She got hit by... something... and went down. I told him not to but he went out to try to help her. There was a big gust of wind and then he was just gone."

"I'm so sorry," George whispered sincerely.

"I begged him not to go, but he felt it was his duty."

Chief spoke up and said, "We lost Frank a few hours later when the anchor started slipping and we were drifting toward the shallows. He volunteered to go out with me to try to reset it even though the storm was at its peak. A wave swept him overboard and we never saw him again."

George shook his head sorrowfully before saying, "And the rest?"

"After we lost Frank, Russell went a little crazy," Wendy replied. "Started taking longer and longer hunting expeditions, although he rarely brought back any food. The reactor on the ship was damaged in the storm, so we ran out of the food on board pretty quickly. Sofia decided Russell needed some help, although I suspect she just wanted to keep an eye on him. The last time we saw them, they were headed south after a group of deer. That was over a month ago."

"And Elizabeth?" George asked carefully.

"She took the coward's way out," Chief replied spitefully.

"Jesus, Chief," Kendra huffed. "She was your, I don't know, girlfriend."

"All the more reason for her to not give up. Things were not so bad that she needed to overdose on pain meds."

"We still don't know that it wasn't an accident," Wendy interjected.

"Believe what you want," Chief replied dismissively.

"What have you been doing since?" George asked in an effort to change the subject.

"Looking for you," Rachel replied snidely. "Obviously."

"What took you so long? It's not like I moved."

"We didn't have any navigational equipment. And, I don't know if you've noticed, but the terrain near the river is a nightmare. We've been walking a kilometer along the river, but five kilometers inland. Then we have to get as close to the river as we can to look for your precious compound."

"Well, I'm glad we found you. We're still quite a ways from the settlement."

"I don't suppose you brought more of whatever that is you're wearing."

"Nope," he replied primly.

"Well, how are we supposed to get back, then?"

"You've got that in the wrong order. I haven't yet decided if you're welcome back."

"Why the fuck not?" Rachel spat angrily.

George looked around the group, taking in their expressions which ranged from fearful to rebellious. He said, "You mutinied. Then you marooned me."

"Oh, lighten up. You obviously got the better end of the deal. You've got a fucking super-hero suit and we're living like a bunch of fucking savages out here."

"Perhaps. But that doesn't answer the question of if I can trust you."

"What are you worried about? How could we possibly be a threat to you?"

"I shudder to think," he muttered. He then took a deep breath and added, "And it's more than that. There's also the matter of me needing contributors. Our mission remains and, thanks in large part to my crew's disappearance, we're way behind schedule."

"What do you want, a loyalty pledge?"

"Maybe? How about a statement of your intentions."

"I want to stop living like an animal," Rachel replied seriously. "And I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen. You can fuck me six ways to Sunday and then tell me to make you a meal three times a day if that's what it takes."

"No thank you," he replied with a shudder, earning him a grimace from her. "How about we start with a simple declaration of what you want, and what you're willing to offer."

"I agree with Rachel," Kendra spoke up quickly. "I'll do anything, no matter how depraved."

"What the fuck happened to you people?" George exclaimed. "When do you all go completely sex-crazy?"

"When that fucking maniac brought us back in time with no hope of returning!" Rachel exploded. "What'd you expect us to do? Just humbly submit and meekly ask for our next assignment?"

George ignored the rebuke and said, "We can't do anything right now to change that. All we can do is make the best of our current situation. Promise me you'll do whatever I ask you to, and that you won't do anything which hurts our mission, and I'll let you return with me."

"Fine," Rachel grumbled.

"I need you to say it," George responded firmly.

"I promise," Wendy spoke up first.

The others quickly followed suit. As they finished speaking, George spotted movement on the river. He said, "Very well, I'll let you return."

"So," Kendra spoke up softly. "Any thoughts on how we get there in less than a week?"

He nodded in the direction of the river, where the unmanned launch was coming slowly toward the shore, and said, "Your chariot awaits."

Twenty-Four

"How long do you want their return trip to take?" Zelda asked in George's earpiece as he started jogging back toward the compound.

"That depends on what kind of progress Lulu is making with our guest," George replied after a moment's consideration.

"Her name is Jariana. And while it would be an exaggeration to say they've become fast friends; I suspect Lulu has convinced her that she will be safe with us."

"Any progress on her language?"

"Of course. With each word she speaks, I learn more of her language. I suspect you'll notice the difference when you return, despite being gone for less than an hour. Back to the original question."

"How slow can you take things without it seeming like you're dragging your feet?"

"Probably not more than thirty minutes. After all, the launch arrived at their encampment in less than that and it was traveling upstream."

"Ok. Let's go with that. You make any progress yet on ludicrous speed for the suits?"

"The only way to improve on basically amplifying your natural ability is flight, which would be prohibitively heavy."

"Perfect," he grunted as he picked up his pace. "Is Lulu where she can talk?"

"She is still with Jariana, who is eating."

"Ok, let me talk to her."

"You're on," Zelda reported quickly.

"I've got a bit of a surprise, honey," George began simply. "Some of the crew from the ship I arrived here in just showed up to our west and they're going to be at the compound in less than an hour. There are four survivors, including three females. I'm not entirely certain yet if I can trust them, however. I suggest we keep Jariana's presence to ourselves for now, but I don't think there's any getting around introducing you to them." George fell silent for a moment before remembering that Lulu had company, so he added, "Blink twice if you understand me."

"She blinked twice," Zelda reported quickly.

"I'll be home in a few minutes. As much as it pains me to suggest this, you might want to suspend Zelda's penalty for losing that bet. It's hard to explain, but it will cause problems if my old shipmates show up and you're strolling around in your beautiful birthday suit."

"She blinked twice again."

"You're the best, honey," George gushed. "See you soon."

He then dedicated all of his energy to dashing toward the compound using the long-stride technique he had showcased in the race with Lulu. The readout in the corner of his display informed him that he was running at nearly sixty-five kilometers per hour. He arrived back at the compound thirteen minutes breathless minutes later.

As he rode the lift down to the Crypt, he said, "This likely need not be said, but none of the crew are to be permitted down here without my express permission."

"I surmised as much," Zelda replied reasonably.

"Let's also move as much of the tech away from the compound as is reasonable. I know they've seen the rest before, with the exception of the blimp..."

"Dirigible," Zelda interrupted pointedly.

"... which we can't hide in any case," George continued undeterred. "But I don't want them to know any more than is absolutely necessary."

"If you don't trust them, why allow them into the compound?"

"Because I have no choice. Even if I'd just told them to fuck off and walked away, they would have found their way back here eventually. Then what? I tell them to fuck off under penalty of death?"

"I could arrange for them to have an accident."

"No," George said firmly as he stepped out of his armor and began dressing. "No eliminations. Besides, even though I don't trust them right now, there's always the possibility that I'll grow to trust them again. And there's no denying I could use their help. If they prove trustworthy, I could send Chief and Wendy out in the Serenity and her yet to be built sister ship to scout the entirety of the low country while I focus on other things. I'm not sure what the other two could do, but I'm sure we could find plenty. You're amazing, Zelda, but some things require flesh and blood. And there are so many things that need to be done. No offense."

"None taken. And I don't disagree. Hence my fabrication of a suit for Lulu. Hopefully, Jariana as well."

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I've yet to have a conversation with her where she wasn't terrified of me."

"Have it your way. The crew are seven minutes out."

"Ok, let's have a couple dozen Yellow Jackets loaded with non-lethal payload along the compound walls and the eves of the buildings in case they intend something foolish like a coup. Otherwise, please move the tech into the bush and roll out the proverbial welcome mat."

"As you wish," Zelda murmured.

***

Fortunately for George's growing anxieties about his crew's demeanor chasing off his new guest, the foursome from the Tydirium were content to take advantage of the amenities of the dormitory, notably the showers and the dining hall, rather than taking the time to fully inspect their surroundings. They barely even reacted to the fact that the compound was vastly larger and more advanced than when they had traitorously sailed upriver.

George took the win gratefully and headed into his own abode, instructing Zelda to both keep him updated on his crew and to admit no one to the house without his knowledge. He found Lulu and Jariana in the same room he had left them. While he would not describe the silence he found in the room as awkward, it only missed that descriptor by the narrowest of margins.

"Hi," he said with feigned enthusiasm. Lulu remained quiet; her expression pensive. Jariana regarded him for several moments before sighing wearily and getting slowly to her feet. He exclaimed, "Don't get up!"

She resumed her seat and said, "As you command."

He shook his head resignedly and, after sparing a glace toward Lulu, said, "No. Not as I command. I'm not your chief, or your captor, or your owner, or anything else which places you in a position subservient to me. I'm just a guy from the future who saved a fellow human who was in trouble."

"That is not the way of things," she replied quietly.

"Perhaps not before. But, as I mentioned, I'm from a different time. And, where I'm from, there is nothing more abhorrent than one person believing they can own another."

"But..." she began before looking down at the floor sorrowfully and whispering, "How will I live?"

"Oh, you're welcome to stay here as long as you wish. We have food; clothing; shelter. Anything you need."

Jariana looked briefly at Lulu who said, "He speaks the truth. Furthermore, he is an exceptionally good man. I hail from a tribe on the north side of the river. I was Chieftain's daughter, but my father was killed in the great storm. During the storm, George saved many of my people with his magic. In return, he only asked for an alliance with my people. As the most sought-after maiden of my people, I was given to him to seal our treaty. But he did not lay a finger on me until I asked him to."

"You are his mate?" Jariana asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Lulu replied firmly. "But only because we both wanted that to be the way of things. The only affiliation George has with men who force themselves on the unwilling is that he uses his magic to kill them, often quite horribly."

"It's not really magic," he interjected. "I'm just from almost six hundred years in the future." Jariana just blinked at his pronouncement. For want of a better strategy, he pushed ahead. "We came back in time to prevent the people of this land from being slaughtered and enslaved by evil men from across the sea."

"I suggest another tactic," Lulu interjected softly. "I've known you for three moons and trust you implicitly with my body, but I'm still not sure I believe your story."

George shrugged and said, "It's the truth."

Lulu turned to Jariana and said, "What is most important is that I believe he is here to help us."

"How does he help?" Jariana asked hesitantly.

"He will help your people build structures which will not break in the great storms. He will also give them weapons and training to resist the conquerors."

"I can also teach you how to grow ten times as much food without harming the soil. Not to mention cleaning your water. This will allow you to stop moving your village and start to establish a true civilization."

"Plus there's the fact that he has at his disposal a breathtaking assortment of magic which can fight off an entire horde of the goat-fuckers from the hills," Lulu added with a smirk.

"Really?" Jariana breathed before blushing and smiling self-consciously.

"Really, really," George replied with a goofy grin.

She looked back to Lulu and said, "And he gives your people all this in return for giving your body to him?"

"No," Lulu replied firmly. "He gives it because he's a good man. Which, in turn, is why I give my body to him."

George said, "That only leaves us with whether or not you wish to stay."

"I should tell you how I came to be in need of your rescue," Jariana said softly.

"Up to you," George replied with a shrug.

"My people were also hurt terribly in the great storm. My father's medicine was helpless to prevent many of our warriors from perishing. Our leader forged a treaty with a tribe from further inland. Since my father was responsible for our misfortune, I was given as wife to the war chief from our new allies."

"Fucking savages," George murmured.

"It is the way of my people," Jariana retorted sharply.

"Mine too," Lulu whispered.

"Doesn't make it right," George snapped angrily. "People aren't property, end of story."

"Regardless, I was given to him. I went willingly, both to assuage my father's shame and to protect my people."

"You must know the storm wasn't your father's fault. Every tribe along the coast for five-hundred kilometers likely fared as badly. Hell, I've got technology from nearly six hundred years in the future, and I was freaked the fuck out during the storm."

"You exaggerate, sir," Lulu chided. "You were only in danger because you were running around in the height of the storm trying to save my people after we refused your offers of protection before it arrived."

"In any case," George continued, his eyes never leaving Jariana's. "The storm certainly wasn't your father's fault. Even if your dumb chief won't believe it, I certainly hope you do."

"I do. I respect my father very much, but I know no man has the power to prevent such destruction. But my father's perceived failure was only an excuse. I would have been offered to our neighbor's regardless."

"Why? Did you put ink in the chief's pipe?"

She snickered before saying, "Certainly not. I would have been offered for much the same reason Lulu was given to you. I had many suitors, all of which I refused in the hopes of one day finding a man who I respected."

From George's position at the foot of her bed, it was not hard to see why his guest was so sought after. She was tall, only a few centimeters shorter than Lulu. She also had unusually light skin for a native to go along with waist length black hair and alluringly hazel eyes. She was slim without being skinny and had modest breasts which aligned nicely with her trim hips and narrow waist. Her face reminded him of a model with its angular nature, but her expression was welcoming and her smile genuine.

She continued, "After I was given to my new husband, he announced he would take me back to his village. Once we were out of sight of my home, he took my maidenhood while his men watched and laughed at my agony. He then told them that I was not suitably obedient and suggested they teach me how women should behave. I gathered they had never before dealt with a woman raised to think for herself since they seemed genuinely surprised that I ran rather than submit to their pleasure. It must have been a short time later when you rescued me."

"Jesus," George breathed. "I'm so fucking sorry you had to endure that."

She shrugged and said, "It is the way of things."

"Not anymore," he growled through gritted teeth. "Tomorrow, we're going to pay a visit to both tribes."

Jariana's defiant expression immediately turned fearful and she said, "If you tell my former tribe of my story, they will blame me for whatever harm befalls them."

"What the fuck for?"

Lulu spoke up morosely, "They will likely consider it to have been Jariana's duty to submit to her new husband, no matter how abhorrent his desires. If her former husband's tribe attacks her home claiming the treaty was broken, Jariana will be blamed."

"Then I'll tear up that fucking treaty and make a new one where people aren't used as currency," George snapped. "With both tribes. I'm going to civilize this fucking continent if it's the last thing I do."

Twenty-Five

"Rachel has requested a meeting with you," Zelda reported to George, who had just started to test out the new desk in his office which included a reasonable facsimile of a computer.

"Any idea what she wants?"

"George!" she gasped in faux outrage. "You know I've been officially discouraged from listening in on private conversations."

"Nice," he muttered. "Now spill."

"I believe she is dissatisfied with recent changes in circumstances and wishes to propose an intimate liaison with you as a way of assuaging her unhappiness."

"I see. Where's everyone else?"

"Lulu is on patrol to the west with a pair of War Dogs and a drone carrier. Jariana is with Wendy on the Tydirium. They were initially going over the latest set of high-altitude images from the satellite looking for more settlements but have just started a tangent on navigation theory. Incidentally, while Lulu is generally very bright and quite worldly, Jariana might be a legitimate genius. I started working with her on a language I invented designed primarily for ease of learning and maximum communication with a minimal vocabulary, and she's already learned several hundred words.

"Kendra is on patrol in Serenity 2, somewhere near what was called Augusta in the twenty-first century. Chief has just reached a settlement one hundred and seventeen kilometers to the north in Serenity 1. Based on available resources, he projects his build there will take no more than three days."

"What kind of security detail did you send?"

"The rover with the required equipment arrived yesterday. I made a change to the design for this iteration. It now includes two concealed turrets. One is a high capacity flechette launcher with variable ejection throughput ranging from one hundred to ten thousand per minute. The second can launch chemical rounds capable of knocking out everyone within twenty meters in less than five seconds. The gas used is also of a composition which suitably configured humans would be immune to. This is in addition to the normal compliment of drones on the dirigible."

"I wish we had something in the middle between 'one foreigner amongst strangers, helpless and alone' and 'unleash hell'."

"We've discussed building drones based on your armor. They could stand guard while our people are working. Would such a device not be less unsettling for the natives than the War Dogs?"

"Perhaps," George guessed. "Although there's no telling. They might be even more put off by something which looks like a person while clearly being something else. Just remember, if anyone starts some shit, I expect you to knock their dick in the dirt, non-lethally, before anyone else can think to join them. Chief's safety is paramount, but I want to make sure they always remember that we're their liberators, not their overlords."

"You needn't keep reminding me, George."

"Oh yeah?" he countered. "What about three weeks ago in that village upriver?"

"Their medicine man had grabbed Kendra and put a knife to her throat!" Zelda exclaimed.

"That's right. And then, instead of watching him slump to the ground because you were paying close enough attention to knock him out before he got close to her, the whole village got to watch a War Dog eviscerate the bastard. You'll notice we haven't been invited back."

"Point taken. I'll be more vigilant. You've also given me an idea. I could design a variant of the Yellow Jacket which was flightless, and thus much smaller. It could secret itself on her person, with her knowledge of course. It could then knock out anyone who touched her much quicker than a Yellow Jacket could be on station after being launched from the carrier."

"Good idea," he replied before quirking an eyebrow and saying, "Fair warning, if you make it look like a murder spider, no one will let it near them."

"Damnit," Zelda huffed. "Back to the original point, Rachel has been waiting outside your door for several minutes and I suspect she's feeling rather... exposed. Shall I admit her?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "Might as well get this over with."

***

"Took you long enough," Rachel snapped as she strolled into his office and dropped into a chair across from his desk.

George could scarcely fail to notice the effect this had on her voluptuous body, thanks in large part to the fact that she was wearing nothing save a pair of sandals. He regarded her for several moments, not failing to appreciate the way her spectacular breasts quivered with each breath she took. But her alluring body immediately took a back seat the moment he spotted her heated expression.

He glanced down at his own body, clad in a loose-fitting shirt made from a material which approximated linen and similarly designed shorts, before saying, "Did I miss a memo about the dress code?"

"I see how your Indian women dress."

"That term is both insensitive and inaccurate," George snapped. "And I feel quite certain that you're speaking only of Lulu. Jariana is still getting acclimated."

"She's been here as long as I have."

"What's it been? A week or so?"

"Nearly five weeks!" Rachel groaned.

"Really?" George asked in sincere confusion.

"Are you daft? How in the hell would so much have gotten accomplished in less time. Let's see..." She began counting on her fingers. "Kendra came up with the idea to build a bridge across the river. Chief rescued the Tydirium. And that doesn't even include the fact that both of them are running all over the low country building bomb shelters for the," she lifted her fingers up in air quotes, "natives. And Wendy is logging more frequent flier miles than a senator from Hawaii looking for more tribes."

"What's your point?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to do?"

"Pardon?"

"I don't have a job, George," she groaned in misery.

"And that's why you decided to go clothing-optional?"

She glared at him and said, "Even you can't be so dense as to question why I'm sitting naked in your office."

"I have no desire to repeat that farce from the Executor, Rachel. That's no judgement on you. We're just not compatible."

"Yet even now you can't keep your eyes off my tits."

"What do you want me to say?" he complained. "They're incredible, even spectacular. They're one of the most amazing things I've ever seen. That doesn't change the fact that when we had sex there was zero chemistry."

"You honestly expect me to not be the slightest bit offended that you somehow managed to have more chemistry with a woman with whom you don't share a common language while I get left out in the cold?"

"First off, you've been fitted with a babel fish so I know for a fact that you can communicate with both Lulu and Jariana, not to mention every native within one hundred kilometers, just as easily as you're talking to me. Secondly, I can't be the only person with whom you ever experienced a lack of chemistry." She merely glared at him angrily until he finally had an epiphany and groaned in frustration before adding, "Wait. I get it. No one's ever turned you down before."

"No!" she seethed self-righteously.

"You're joking," he enthused. "Never in your life has anyone said no to you?"

"Fuck you," she grumbled as she crossed her arms over her breasts.

He managed, albeit not without effort, to wipe the smile off his face before saying, "I'm sorry. That was unprofessional."

"I can't believe I let you fuck me," she muttered angrily.

He sighed and said, "I really am sorry, Rachel. That was a dick move."

"You're damned right it was."

He looked at her sympathetically and said, "You have my most sincere apologies. Genuinely. If you'd be more comfortable, we can table this while you go get dressed."

She gestured to her naked breasts and said, "Why bother. You've seen the goods plenty of times. And not just when you were cumming on them while you made legitimately the funniest O-face I've ever seen."

"I guess I deserved that, although you could have chosen to take that as a compliment."

"Oh, I did," she replied suggestively.

He sighed and said, "Back to the point at hand. There is a shitload of work to do around here. If you're feeling left out, I'm sure we could find somewhere that you could contribute."

"I don't see how."

"You were Heath's admit for, what, a year-and-a-half? And I'm certain that he didn't just keep you around for your body."

"Don't forget the fact that I let him fuck me in the ass whenever he wanted."

"Way too much information," George grunted. "That's my best friend we're talking about."

"... and then did ass-to-mouth to clean him up so he had plausible deniability with Anais."

"First... ew..."

"You didn't object very strenuously."

"If I recall, my exact reaction was to tell you that you didn't have to do that."

"Whatever," she deflected.

"And another thing... Anais can't possibly have been unaware of you and Heath's little interludes."

"Oh, she definitely knew. Hell, we did threesomes a couple times a week. I think it was just a game for Heath. Or maybe he just enjoyed watching me debase myself. Regardless, I can't imagine it mattering at this point."

"Fair enough," George allowed. "Regardless of what you did with him sexually, or how often you did it, you were also his administrative assistant."

"So you're thinking I could just perform the same service for you?"

"After a fashion. Obviously, I'm not interested in emotionless hook-ups. But that still leaves quite a bit you could do."

"How? It's not like you've got a calendar which needs to be kept up." She gestured to the monitor on his desk and added, "I mean... that's the only computer in the whole world."

"Hey!" Zelda interjected defensively.

"Fine," Rachel conceded. "One of two. Besides, I'm sure Zelda handles all your scheduling in any case."

"That's true. But she can't interface directly with all the tribes. You could travel between them and help out with the training efforts."

"How? I don't know how to use those stupid muskets."

George waved her objection away saying, "I could teach you in ten minutes. And I can nearly guarantee that lesson will sink in much better with the native warriors if, instead of coming from a gangly redhead, it comes from a woman whose looks are universally arresting."

"Aw," she gushed teasingly. "Are you calling me pretty?"

"I'm calling you stunning, even bewitching. Our lack of chemistry doesn't change the fact that you're a woman of surpassing, almost supernatural, beauty. Those warriors will ignore me, because they know they could kill me in a moment were it not for our tech. You, however, will mesmerize them and they'll literally hang on your every word."

She gestured again at her nudity and said, "Are you suggesting I should dress like this when I give lessons?"

"You know quite well that you can dress in a fashion which does a better job of highlighting your assets than nothing at all."

"So you just want me and my tits in these encampments filled with savages with no protection at all?"

"Jesus, fuck!" he huffed. "There's so fucking much wrong with that question. First, you'd obviously have a weapon with you. Teaching them to use it is kind of the whole point. You'd also have a full complement of Zelda's protectors, and I can't imagine that, having seen them, you think any human wouldn't be scared shitless if a War Dog was sitting placidly behind you like some kind of nightmare service dog. And, most importantly, you have to stop looking down on these people. They're not sub-humans. They're just people who happened to be born in the fifteenth century."

"I didn't say sub-human, I said savage. Would you prefer the term barbarian?"

"That's hardly an improvement."

"Then I don't know what to say, George," she snapped angrily. "Like you said, they're from the fifteenth century and they don't even grasp the concept of a fucking wheel. To say nothing of the fact that a warrior in this time means a man who has killed before and likely didn't lose any sleep over it. And let's not forget your personal crusade against rape and slavery. There's a reason it's so prevalent. Because these warriors you want me to teach are hearty advocates of both, and practice them frequently. I'm tired of sitting around here doing nothing except getting my rocks off occasionally. But sending me into what seems like a really dangerous situation hardly seems like an improvement."

"Occasionally?" George asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"A girl's got needs. What business is it of yours?"

He held up his hands in surrender and said, "None at all. Tell you what, how about if Lulu tags along?"

"What for? I thought you wanted me to be the shiny thing we dangle before these sav... people to get them to toe the party line."

"She's more than just a pretty face," George replied, ignoring her almost-gaffe. "She's an extremely accomplished warrior. Not to mention the fact that she has a suit."

"Speaking of which, when to I get one of those?"

"Let's see how the training goes first," he replied at length.

"Have it your way," she huffed in response. "I assume I can work with Zelda to fabricate some attire for this initiative?" George nodded in reply. "Fine. Maybe it'll be fun parading around in front of so many young, virile warriors."

"Exactly. You'll give blue balls to every man in the low country between fifteen and fifty."

"Who says I won't put out for some of them?" she replied playfully. "After all, STD's are basically a thing of the past. Thanks to Zelda."

"You're welcome," the AI interjected proudly.

Rachel smiled and added, "I could build myself a stud farm. Maybe the men around here, having grown up completely insulated from puritanical monotheism, will be more amenable to having some real fun."

"I don't even want to know what you consider real fun," George groaned.

"Let's just say you haven't lived until you've had a man bust a nut in you right after his friend busted a nut in him. Or, even better, to have multiple men bust a nut in you at once. Talk about exploding."

He winced and said, "In that case, I wish you many happy orgasms. I assume this means you want the gig?"

She nodded happily and said, "You bet your virginal ass I do!"

Twenty-Six

George awoke to find his room filled with sunlight. He allowed himself to come slowly to wakefulness, thankful that there was seemingly no emergency that required his attention at the moment. It was, he realized in amazement, the first time since Jariana's rescue that he had not awoken to Zelda's voice informing him that something was amiss.

He started to stretch, only to realize that his starboard side was somewhat restrained thanks to the presence of the beautiful, and gloriously unclothed, woman sleeping beside him. He sighed in contentment upon gazing down at Lulu's peaceful face, and her large breast pillowing between them just beyond.

He had yet to come fully to grips with the fact that he had gone from perpetually single, not to mention failing somewhat spectacularly at his mission of saving an entire continent, to rapidly building his sphere of influence and sharing his bed with one of the most stunning women he had ever seen. And, to his immense pleasure, Lulu did far more than share his bed. She had easily slid into the role of his consigliere, advising him upon meeting with new tribes and helping him craft the most effective strategy for his expansion. It was she who had come up with the idea of offering to build storm shelters, rather than gifts of weapons and training. Her reasoning, and he certainly hoped she turned out to be correct, was that their critical need at this juncture was to build a community. Once that was accomplished, he would only need to convince one tribe to accept the weapons before the rest would quickly fall in line lest they fall behind their neighbors.

As he watched, her eyes slowly slid open and she smiled up at him before murmuring, "Good morning."

"It is indeed. Sleep well?"

"Of course."

He quirked an eyebrow and asked, "Why, of course?"

"Because I always sleep soundly next to you."

He smiled warmly and said, "Ditto."

"Does the fact that I did not wake up to an empty bed mean that everything is going swimmingly in your kingdom?"

"There's quite a bit wrong with that question, first and foremost being that one never calls out the fact that nothing is going wrong."

"Why not?"

"Because fate is a fickle mistress, and it is best not to tempt her."

She sighed tolerantly and said, "You are a strange man, George Durham. It is a good thing you're also a good man." She stroked her hand down his body, sliding beneath the sheet to grip his manhood before adding, "And a wonderful lover."

"Au contraire," he replied softly. "I am merely a serviceable lover. It is you who are responsible for anything beyond that in our love making."

She stroked him quickly to full hardness and then slid down his body to regard his manhood carefully. After a brief inspection, she ran her tongue slowly up along his length. When she reached his crown, she wrapped her lips around it and sucked eagerly. She met his gaze before slowly sliding her lips down his length. When his cock reached the entrance to her throat, she winked at him lustily before deep throating him. As her lips reached his base, he felt her tongue snake out and lathe his balls. She continued like this until he groaned in pleasure.

She pulled back and smiled at him lustily before saying, "Were that to be true, then where did I learn to do that? While my people sometimes pleasure our lovers with their mouths, we do not do it like that."

"I certainly never meant to impose that expectation on you."

She licked his member and said, "Nor do I feel as though you did. I simply find myself constantly striving for ways to expand your pleasure, just as you do for me."

"Speaking of which," he replied with a glint in his eye. "Why don't you slide that delicious pussy up here so I can give you some of that pleasure you mentioned."

"Oh, all right," she teased.

He gripped her thighs eagerly as she settled her knees on either side of his head. He licked along the lips of her freshly groomed pussy, loving the feeling of what remained of her thick pubic hair above her clit tickling his chin. He teased her slit for several moments before sinking his tongue into her core.

"Fuck," he hissed. "You're so wet for me."

"Mmm hmm," she hummed around his throbbing cock.

He reveled in the sensation of her slippery pussy, eagerly drinking down her liquid pleasure. In no time, he began to sense the telltale signs of her impending release, so he focused his attention on her clit. She continued to expertly suck his pulsing manhood, alternating between deepthroating him and enthusiastically bobbing her head as her tongue pleaded for his seed. It was a race to see who could bring their lover to completion first, and it was a game they played frequently.

On this occasion, Lulu won in a near photo finish with George exploding onto her waiting tongue mere seconds before she bathed his face in her juices. He felt his cock spurting cum all over her face and chest as she released him with a gasp when her pleasure consumed her. She ground her clit against his tongue as waves of ecstasy exploded from her core, spurned on by the sensation of George's gushing cock glazing her.

At length, she collapsed beside him panting. For his part, George could only half-heartedly stroke her belly as he waited for some vestige of muscular control to return. As he regained his senses, he boldly groped one of Lulu's glistening tits. Upon realizing she was coated in his essence; he swiped a dollop from her breast. Before he could reach for a towel to clean his hand, she gripped his wrist. He looked down to see a coquettish smile on her lips. She pulled his hand closer and libidinously lapped his hand clean.

By the time she was done lewdly sucking his seed from his fingers, his cock had nearly returned to full rigidity. She stretched to kiss it briefly before saying, "Again?"

"I think I'll take a one-way trip to the spirit world if we do that again right now," he murmured. "But I can think of something else we could do with that."

"As can I," she replied with a wink and another kiss to the head of his cock. "But perhaps we should continue this discussion in the shower. I know your mind, lover. Even though you'd never say so, I know you would prefer I wash your seed from my teats. And since I rather enjoy you pleasuring them..."

She rose from the bed and sauntered toward the shower. George followed behind her like a zombie chasing a wounded side character, catching her just as she started the water to wrap his arms around her and pull her close. She swished her hips, lovingly batting his cock which was trapped between their bodies.

"Your magic is very powerful, George, but I have difficulty believing that the shower is not your greatest invention."

He captured her ear between his lips before whispering, "I didn't invent it, honey. I can't even take credit for suggesting that we build one here. That was Kendra's doing."

She stepped into the water and let the warm spray rinse what remained of their morning delight from her chest. "Then perhaps I should be making love to her."

"Turning me in on the newer model already?" he teased.

"I was not suggesting that you would be absent. I find the various permutations of lovemaking amongst your former crew to be quite fascinating."

"How so?"

She reached back to grip his throbbing shaft before turning to face him. "I have had sex with women before George. I gather it was somewhat verboten amongst your people, differently from how I was raised. My people don't permit marriages between women, or men, but dalliances are common and not frowned upon. It is a not-uncommon way for people with mates they did not chose to find happiness. A man who would kill his wife for laying with another man would not bat an eye if she found comfort with a woman."

He wrapped his arms around her to pull her close, groping her ass in the process, He kissed her briefly before murmuring, "Are you thinking of taking Chief, or one of the women, for a test drive?"

"No. While I get along with them acceptably, I am not attracted to any of them."

"So..." he began in confusion, but his words failed him as her tongue trailed down to one of his nipples and bit him gently.

She released him and looked up to meet his gaze before saying simply, "Jariana, of course."

"What?"

"I think she should join us in making love."

"What makes you think she'd want to have sex with either of us?"

"Don't be absurd," she chided as she dropped to her knees to take his manhood between her breasts. "She obviously adores you. As for me, I cannot say whether it is wishful thinking or the real thing. But I'd like to think I've noticed her looking at me lustily a time or ten."

George grinned down at the sight of his lover worshipping his cock with her magnificent tits and said, "Who wouldn't? You're incredible."

Lulu shrugged and said, "I cannot let her fuck my teats, mores the pity. But perhaps she would enjoy my tongue on her womanhood to enhance the sensation of you filling her with your manhood." She snickered when the aforementioned manhood jerked between her glistening globes and added, "No need to ask if you're on board with this idea."

"I can't say I'm opposed, but I'd much rather have you than allow making a play to add Jariana mess up what we have."

"And what do we have?" she asked with sudden vulnerability.

He reached down to pull her to her feet before claiming her lips. Their kiss quickly turned passionate, with the tongues urgently slicking together. He held her close, forgoing groping her remarkable body in favor of just holding her affectionately. When their lips parted, he whispered, "I'm crazy about you, honey. I want to spend every minute of every day with you. And when we're apart, I can't wait to get back to you. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"You are not just saying that because of this?" she asked, lovingly squeezing his shaft for emphasis.

"I love making love to you, Lulu. But I'm just as happy doing anything else. The other day when we needed a break and just went for a walk, that was the highlight of my week. Not that our lovemaking isn't also wonderful, but it felt really special to just spend a few hours walking around aimlessly and talking to you."

"I feel the same way," she whispered before kissing him again.

"Then we mustn't be hasty. Sure, the thought of sharing you with Jariana is intoxicating. What man wouldn't jump at the chance to have two beautiful women in his bed? But I refuse to jeopardize our relationship for a roll in the hay."

"I agree. We must be cautious. I will talk to her about this, both to gage her interest and to ensure she knows I will not be jealous if she lays with you."

"Wait, I thought we were doing this together."

"We will... eventually. But I suspect one of us will lay with her alone first due to her rather... reserved... nature. And, in that regard, I think the odds strongly favor you."

"How come?"

"You are her savior. And you are a good man. You are also, in this woman's opinion, quite handsome. I suspect that once I confirm our interest, along with likely mentioning what a talented lover you are, she will seek you out like a bee searching for nectar."

"There you go again touting my wildly exaggerated prowess between the sheets."

"It is not only between the sheets, lover. There is also the grasslands; and the river; and whilst traveling in your magical flying machine... and in the shower."

She gripped his manhood once more and nestled it within the folds of her pussy. He hissed in pleasure before gripping her by the hips and lifting her onto the seat built into the wall of the shower. When Kendra had first suggested the addition, he had questioned the unusually tall seat. But then she had convinced Zelda to acquire his measurements so as to build the seat specifically so that it was at the ideal height for him to take a lover in a seated position. She had suggested it as her way of saying thank you for giving her a home, and a purpose, after the mutiny.

He silently gave thanks to the beautiful former steward as he slid easily into Lulu's slippery pussy. George kissed Lulu quickly, but thoroughly, before gazing downwards in wonderment. The sight of Lulu's spectacular body, at once both voluptuous and athletic, glistening in the warm water of their shower, was a dream come true. Adding to this the sight of her pouty pussy easily taking his girth as he slowly stroked into her nearly caused him to lose control.

He looked up to find her own eyes gazing down to where they were joined and smiled at the depth of the connection they shared. He vowed in that moment to never let the allure of a threesome with Jariana threaten the genuine feelings he was developing for Lulu. George was far from a blushing virgin. His travels, not to mention the position he enjoyed as Heath's right hand man, meant that he had enjoyed nearly every pleasure of the flesh conceivable. He knew that no single act, no matter how lurid or fantastical, could compare to the feeling he was experiencing in that moment: making love to a woman with whom he shared a bond that transcended the physical to reach all facets of his being.

He smiled as Lulu's eyes returned to his and gave voice to his feelings, "You mean the world to me honey. I won't let anything ruin that."

"I feel the same, lover. I waited for so long. All the other women, and my father, said I was mad. But I knew the right man existed for me. Little did I know that I just had to wait for your magic to bring you to me."

"It's not really my magic," he deflected.

She glanced down between them again before whispering, "I chose to disagree. You are the one I waited for, and I have no intention of letting you go."

"Oh, honey," he gasped.

"Please, my love," she whispered.

His hips thrust a final time before he buried himself in her silken embrace and flooded her waiting womb with his release. She captured his lips as she joined him in bliss, a small whimper passing between them each time she felt another pulse of his cum filling her. Despite his earlier orgasm, he continued as though he was a man possessed. Countless times he thrust into her velvety channel, an additional surge of his seed accompanying each jolt of his hips. When he was at last spent, he pulled out with a gasp and let his forehead fall breathlessly to hers. They glanced down to witness a veritable waterfall of their combined juices flowing from her puffy pussy.

"Will it be like this when we lay with Jariana?" she asked coyly.

"I have no basis of comparison," he murmured hoarsely as he continued to try to catch his breath. "But... probably?"

She snickered and said, "Good to know."

"Why's that?"

She kissed him briefly before replying, "So I know to skip breakfast."

His guffaw echoed off the walls of the shower before she claimed his lips once more.

Twenty-Seven

"So it is all a matter of density," Jariana exclaimed. "The gas in the bladder is lighter than air, which facilitates lift. And you in turn change the density of that gas by expanding or contracting smaller bladders inside the larger container, which is done using regular air. And there are several such bladders so you can easily adjust pitch."

"Precisely," Zelda replied exuberantly. "Congratulations, my dear. You are officially one of a mere handful of people in all the world who understand the principle keeping you airborne, and the only one in our community."

"I trust you," George muttered defensively. "In any case, I drove cars back home and I don't really understand how they work."

"What's to understand," Zelda asked. "The energy in the batteries turns the motor, which turns the wheels."

"I meant real cars. You know... antiques. Petrol-powered, gas-guzzling, mag-fucking-nificent machines that graced the posters on the walls of young men all across the globe. I drove a hired car once that Heath insisted on getting for me. The damn thing had nearly fifteen hundred horsepower and nearly the same for torque. It was like driving a rocket ship on wheels."

"Pardon the interruption," Jariana said softly, "But what is a car?"

George smiled and said, "First off, you never need to apologize for asking a simple question. And a car is kind of like the rover. Except it goes a hundred times faster."

"Sun and moon!" she swore adorably. "How is such a thing even possible?"

"Well, we had roads where I was from. Imagine an endless path of stone that's completely flat, with no blemishes of any kind. We also had car manufacturers which saw nothing wrong with spending more money than a thousand people could spend in a thousand lifetimes making a car go just one percent faster. Its obviously impossible to justify such wastefulness, but the end result sure was fun."

"You come from a strange people, George Durham."

"That much is certain," he agreed with a chuckle. "How about your people?"

She cast her eyes downward and monotonously recited, "We are a very fierce and respected nation who are feared by all who encounter us. We rule the foothills with an iron fist, and we will soon control the low country as well."

"I take it you speak of your former husband's people," George guessed darkly.

"I took him as my life-partner. That is our way."

"Bullshit," George grunted. "You were forced to marry him, and your entire tribe was held hostage."

"That is our way," she repeated.

He sighed and turned to face her, taking her hands in his, before saying, "Regardless of how firm I am in my belief that the deaths of those men was far too quick and painless..."

"Your demons tore them limb from limb," Jariana breathed.

"I know. If we had had more time, we could have arranged for them to be airlifted back to our compound beneath the Serenity, suspended only by their manhood, so that we could have turned them over to Rachel."

"Your former concubine?" she asked, perplexed. "The one with the spectacular..."

"That's the one," he interrupted.

"But... why?"

"She had some experiences earlier in life which gave her a unique perspective on rapists. It gave her some rather interesting ideas on suitable punishments for such actions. I believe I once heard her make mention of forcing a man to swim the Amazon wrapped in rotting meat."

"Amazon?"

"A river many thousands of kilometers to the south, and many times larger than our river. Also, filled with crocodiles which make the occasional alligator you see around here look like a child's toy."

"So she would have them eaten alive?"

"It's not so much that as the fact that it would be very slow, and the rapist would never know when the next bite was coming."

Jariana shuddered and said, "How awful. I believe the fate my attackers met was quite sufficient."

"Perhaps," George allowed. "I'm just glad they're dead. And I can't tell you how admirable I find the fact that you were willing to effectively sacrifice yourself to a man you knew to be a monster for the good of your people."

"I would have done anything to cleanse my father's shame," she whispered somberly. He started to interrupt, but she held up a hand to cut him off. "I know he could not have stopped the storm. I do not share my former tribe's superstitions. But his shame was no less real."

"You're an amazing woman, Jariana."

"Thank you," she replied softly.

They rode in silence for a while, the endless low country spread out a few thousand meters below them with the exception of the endless waters of the Atlantic spread out to their starboard. They were cruising just west of what had been known, in George's past, as Myrtle Beach. The area was just on the other side of a division between two different linguistic groups of natives, which George rationalized as being similar to moving from the French and Belgian portion of Europe to the Germanic part of western Europe. Zelda's abilities to range further from their home base had expended in recent months which allowed her to embed drones within native tribes to learn their language before contact was made.

As a notification came up on the screens before them notifying George that they were within sight of their target, he gave voice to his thoughts. "Why do you, and Lulu as well for that matter, refer to the tribe of your birth as your former people?"

"Because I was married into another tribe. They then became my people."

"But your husband was a contemptible asshole," George retorted gently. "Not to mention a dead one."

"That does not change the fact that I am no longer part of my former tribe. Strictly speaking, I should have continued my journey to my new people and reported your attack. They then would have likely sent a war party in search of you and married me off to another warrior."

"We've been back to your birthplace more than once. They don't seem particularly displeased with you."

"Of course not," she replied coquettishly. "In their eyes, they still got what they wanted. They enjoy the protection of a vastly stronger ally. In their minds, the reason for this is because fate intervened and dictated that I was to be married to you instead."

"Please believe that I would never impose such a thing on you. I'm offering your people the same thing I offer everyone else: technological advancement in the hopes of preventing a genocide."

"I am aware," she murmured. "I was simply explaining what my former people believe. You have made your feelings on any form of bondage or servitude very well known."

"It was my former nation's greatest shame. The entire world, really. It wasn't like America was the only place where slavery was common. We just super-sized it."

"And now you will eradicate it."

"Yeah," he replied almost reflexively. But, as the Serenity 2 drifted closer to the ground and a group of natives stared up at him in reverential amazement, he realized the truth in her words. He had been very firm with the tribes with whom he made contact: any hint of slavery would mean an instant revocation of their treaty. The muskets Zelda was fashioning had a mechanism wherein she could remotely disable them. While he was not prepared to destroy the storm shelters of such villages, he had not been subtle about his willingness to send War Dogs in to deal with slavers. He had found it necessary to deploy that tactic twice and he sincerely hoped that word was finally spreading that he was, literally, deadly serious about his issue.

He knew, however, that the impact he was having was still very minor when considered against the rampant practice of slavery world-wide. He vowed to himself that he would expand his efforts, taking the fight to the slave trading bazaars in the Mediterranean and the abhorrent plantations in north Africa. He snatched what passed for a tablet from the console before him and began making notes about long-range ocean-based drones.

Jariana pulled George from his thoughts just as the Serenity 2 flared and came to a stop just before the gathering crowd. "Your devotion to destroying this evil is but one of the reasons I am drawn to you, George. And, while I know you would never impose it upon me, know that I would be honored to be your mate." She smiled shyly and added, "Well, one of them."

"Huh?" he gaped.

She grinned playfully and he stared in wonder at her profound beauty.

At length, she gestured toward the dozens of fearful natives who were now retreating quickly after a pair of War Dogs sprang from the airship to then sit unnaturally motionless beside the door like gargoyles. "Perhaps you should speak to them before they're out of sight. Or, worse, decide they have no choice but to attack us."

***

"Is it always like that?" Jariana asked several hours later as the Serenity 2 lifted slowly into the darkening skies.

"Not remotely," George replied in amazement. "Usually its way more awkward as I sit patiently while they openly discuss how they should kill me."

"My goodness. How do you convince them its futile."

"As often as not, it happens when they actually try to kill me. Which I hate because it frequently ends up with someone dying needlessly."

"Hey," Zelda interjected in wounded tones. "I've gotten a lot better about knocking those morons out before they can touch you."

"Indeed you have," he agreed. "But, if I get to pick, I far prefer the reception we just got. And I can't help but think that a certain beautiful, not to mention wise, companion of mine was responsible." She smiled shyly in response to his comment. He reached over to take her hand and kissed her knuckles lightly before adding, "And don't think I've forgotten your playful jest just before we landed."

"What makes you think I was teasing you?"

"Because we've known each other for, what, six weeks? And we've both been insanely busy that whole time."

"Perhaps," she offered. "But that is more than enough time for me to take your measure, sir. Lulu spoke the truth in our first meeting. You are a remarkable man, and not just your handsome looks."

"Now I know you're bullshitting me. I define the word gangly, and my combination of red hair and perpetually pale skin is basically a billboard to women everywhere that I'm genetically inferior."

"I disagree. I find your height to be comforting. I had never really considered the truth of it until Lulu remarked a few weeks ago on how it felt to be both a woman and the tallest person in her village. It made us curiosities, even freaks. But with you, I never have reason to consider myself to be an oddity. As for your other qualities, you are just as muscular as any other suitor I have had."

"You must be joking," he guffawed. "I'm nothing but skin and bones, thanks to a life of excess and sitting behind a desk."

"Really? I know you claim to have been in this land for six moons and I rarely find you either behind a desk or wallowing in excess." She paused to smile shyly before adding, "Unless you happen to count enjoying an interlude with Lulu in that category."

He returned her smile and said, "Hardly. Besides, those activities certainly promote physical fitness."

She looked up and queried, "Zelda, how much weight has George gained since you made landfall?"

"Ten kilograms," the AI reported immediately. "And he has also significantly increased the percentage of his body comprised of muscle. Face it, stud. You're a genuine hunk now."

"Far more importantly," Jariana appended. "You are everything I look for in a man, and in a lover, and in a mate."

He used their already joined hands to pull her close and captured her lips tenderly. The sensation of her tongue hesitantly slicking against his own enraptured him completely. The beautiful sunset across the low country off their port bow faded into the background until all that remained was the beautiful, brilliant, and beguiling woman at his side. Their kiss continued to deepen in intensity until he felt as though their souls were intwining. He felt like he could feel all the trials she had undergone to arrive at this moment and he gained an even greater appreciation for her strength.

Just as the moment threatened to overwhelm them both, their lips parted leaving both lovers gasping. He pulled her into his lap and embraced her reverently. She laid her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly.

She whispered, "I take it then that I meet with your approval?"

"You're incredible," he gasped.

"As are you," she replied vulnerably. "But you did not answer my question."

"You are, with one notable exception, the most incredible woman I've ever met."

"And I know quite well where she stands," Jariana replied carefully.

He shifted his hips beneath her knowing she would feel his arousal beneath her model-perfect ass and said, "I think you know where I stand as well, honey."

She kissed him once more before returning to her seat, although she left their hands clasped. He stared at her for several moments trying to comprehend the latest turn of events. At length, she took mercy on him and asked, "Something troubles you, lover?"

He bit back the first several replies which sprang to his lips as being either petulant or hurtful, or both. He eventually settled on, "Of course not. I'm enjoying a sunset flight with one of the most beautiful and extraordinary women in the world. What else could I want for?"

She smiled and said, "It was not my intention to tease you, George. I just felt it would be unfair to exclude our mate from our first joining. Lulu awaits our arrival. Together, we will give you pleasure unlike even the gods have ever experienced."

He gave thanks in that moment for so many years spent in the company of individuals who surpassed him in ways which left him feeling not unlike a different, lesser species. Years of enduring Heath tolerantly attempting to explain something his friend alone in the whole of human history was capable of understanding had sufficiently prepared him so that he could respond to a woman of surpassing beauty and alluringness inform him that all his dreams would shortly come true with something approaching humility and grace. He smiled at her crookedly and stammered, "Oh."

Twenty-Eight

Just as the Serenity 2 approached close enough to the compound for George to make out the excited expression on the waiting Lulu's face, the unthinkable happened.

"George," Zelda said regretfully. "I am so deeply sorry to do this to you. To all of you. But there is an urgent matter that requires your attention."

He glanced around briefly before saying, "I see no sign of fire, and no one appears to be attacking us at the moment. I'd be willing to bet anything you chose that whatever you're on about pales in comparison to what I have in mind."

"I should take that bet, but I won't because I genuinely feel terrible for this rotten timing."

"Fine," he huffed. "Out with it."

"Mr. Horner is calling and requesting to speak to you."

"What!" he gasped. "When? How?"

"I suspect he's had the ability for some time. After all, he has the same faux-satellite technology we have. I have kept track of his progress to the degree I was able. I made no mention of it because it wasn't relevant, and because you didn't ask."

He glanced apologetically at Jariana just as the airship came in for a landing and was gutted to see the excitement in her eyes dim somewhat in confusion. Rather than going through the explanation twice, he wordlessly offered her his hand and helped her stand before leading her outside to Lulu.

"I can't expect either of you to understand, but I need to beg your indulgence for a few moments."

"What is wrong?" Lulu asked as she looked around for threats.

"I don't know," he deflected. "But Heath is calling." He spotted the perplexed expressions on both of their faces and shrugged helplessly. "I'm not sure where he is, or why he chose to call now, but it must mean something if he's finally reaching out after so many months of silence."

Lulu smiled wanly and said, "Then you must go speak with him using your magic."

Jariana nodded and added, "We will be waiting."

He kissed them both briefly before saying, "As will I. I really am sorry about this."

"Do not be troubled," Jariana replied warmly. "I am certain we will find something to pass the time while you are otherwise occupied. If you are gone too long, we will ask Zelda to use your magic to show you what you are missing."

"God damn, this had better be good," George muttered as he watched his lovers saunter away, arm in arm. He took a deep breath before muttering, "Where should I take the call?"

"I suggest your office. Currently it is audio only, but the connection will support low resolution video so it would be prudent to be prepared."

"Fine. Let's get this over with."

Moments later, George dropped into his desk chair. He took a long pull off a rudimentary cocktail made from the not at all unpleasant moonshine Chief had managed to produce from locally grown corn.

After giving him a moment to collect his thoughts, Zelda said, "I have Mr. Durham for you, Mr. Horner. You may go ahead."

"George, old man," came Health's booming voice. "How's it hanging?"

"That is a much more complicated question than you might imagine," George replied carefully.

Heath was silent for a moment before saying, "My apologies if I pulled you away from something critical. Or, should I say, pulled you out."

"You always were a crude bastard," George retorted good-naturedly.

"I trust Rachel is treating you well."

George chuckled and said, "While I believe she is doing well, our intimate liaison was over before we left the Executor."

"Why? I thought you were into her."

"A partnership requires more than mere physical attraction, my friend."

"If you say so," Heath grunted. "I take it then that you finally relaxed your prohibition on cavorting with the natives?"

"I had no such rule and you damned well know it. My problem was with the fact that those girls were offered up to me, or us, against their will."

"You can't expect me to believe you found someone local willing to put up with your foibles."

"I did indeed, my friend. And it is glorious. Or it would be if you had better timing."

"My apologies. Truly."

"Well, now that you've got me, what's going on? How come it took you so long to call?"

"You could have called as well, my friend," Heath chided.

"Perhaps," George allowed. "In my defense, saying I've been busy would be a massive understatement."

"Tell me about it. I had expected Metropolis to have one-hundred-thousand residents by this point."

"You're joking," George guffawed. "You named your city after a comic book?"

"Of course. What did you name your capital?"

George paused for a moment before saying, "You know... I never got around to naming it. We always just refer to it as the compound."

"Surely tens of thousands of denizens can't be satisfied with something so pedestrian."

"Tens of thousands... more like ten."

"What?" Heath snorted.

"I mean, some days it's more. But typically it's just me, what's left of the crew of the Tydirium and a handful of natives."

"What about your goals of inoculating, arming and training every tribe within a thousand kilometers?"

"I'm working on it," George retorted defensively. "There was the small matter of the storm of the century decimating the entire countryside, not to mention taking out half the crew of the Tydirium. That was after they mutinied when I said I wanted to ride out the storm in the compound."

"Which of them mutinied?" Heath asked darkly.

"Settle down. They all did, but most of the ringleaders are dead. Either in the storm or immediately afterward. All that remain are Rachel, Kendra, Chief and Wendy. I found them wandering the low country about a month after the storm.

"But we've made a ton of progress since they returned. Our sphere of influence is out to a couple hundred kilometers. Every time we make contact with a new tribe, we start by offering to build them stormproof shelter and to defend them against non-aligned tribes should they fall under attack. The weapons training is going slower, but Rachel has some interesting ideas for how to speed it up."

Heath sighed morosely and said, "We monitored the storm from further north, but my models assured me the Tydirium was more than capable of handling the storm as long as you weren't so foolish as to be caught in open water."

"Those dumb bastards should have been fine, but they didn't anchor soon enough and ended up running aground. Then they panicked and lost a couple people during the storm. Not sure what happened to the rest. According to the survivors, they left one day to go hunting and never returned."

"This is dangerous country," Heath observed sagely. "Even with all our advantages, it only takes one lucky shot from an arrow."

"Tell me about it. We got attacked by a tribe from near Augusta in July and I nearly went to my reward."

"What happened to Zelda?" Heath asked with sudden intensity.

"Nothing. She's listening in right now."

"It should not have been possible for you to be in mortal danger if she was operating properly."

"Let's just say her programming was overridden by the meat puppet you're speaking to, not to mention ignoring her advice. I was doing fine until a native got in a lucky shot which took out my armor. Then my allies did something stupid, and I decided to join the battle hand-to-hand. But it all turned out fine. I was dragged to safety by the woman of my dreams. Not to mention the fact that we've built far better strategies, and equipment, with an eye towards the next battle."

"I did not ask you to go ashore so you could become Achilles, or Hector. I had hoped you would be more akin to a Patton or MacArthur."

"That's quite a collection of raging assholes," George observed with a chuckle. "In any case, I have no delusions of grandeur. I did not seek out the battle, it came to me. I just did what was required to keep my allies from being wiped out."

"Even after knowing you for so long, I'm still sometimes surprised by your sense of honor. In a way, you're even more of a stranger in a strange land in this time than I am."

"Speaking of which, how are you making out. Where'd you end up settling?"

"Just south of Wilmington, equidistant between the Delaware and the Chesapeake. We have made contact with every tribe east of the Appalachian Mountains from Boston to Norfolk. But you should not feel too poorly over our greater progress. After all, I had several hundred crew to assist me whereas you had less than ten."

"And they were basically no help at all until after the storm."

"Indeed. My apologies."

"What could you have done?" George asked genuinely. "I'm not even necessarily convinced they were bad people. I think they just went a little bug-fuck insane when they realized that we really were in the fifteenth century and there was basically no way home."

"I dealt with some issues along those lines as well," Heath admitted. "But I believe those issues have now resolved themselves. In fact, I believe that things here are now sufficiently advanced to allow me to proceed to the next phase of my plan."

"And what would that be? All you told me before we parted ways was that you wanted to build a huge city. Although I admit surprise at your location. I thought you wanted something in the middle of the country."

"I was reminded that the Mississippi would not be navigable for the Executor without significant dredging, so I chose somewhere more appropriate. And building a city was never my end game. I aim to rid this world of the rot of those despots in the Vatican altogether."

"Going to launch an airstrike against St. Peter's Basilica?"

"That would be challenging considering its construction is not scheduled to begin for another decade," Heath replied with a chuckle.

"Even better. Although I suppose if you succeed, it will never be built."

"Trust me my friend, the ends far outweigh the means."

"So... what? You're just going to sail over to Europe and take out the leadership? Need I remind you of how that worked out in Cote d'Ivoire?"

"Need I remind you that there is no UN in this time? If I remove the church's leadership, and their puppet monarchs, there is no world government to intervene."

"You know what, there was a time when I would object to such widespread killing. But I've read the history books. Those assholes commissioned the deaths of millions without a second thought. And, upon hearing of the destruction that was carried out in their names, their only response was to demand more gold. Fuck those assholes."

"My sentiments exactly," Heath enthused. "Which reminds me of my main reason for calling... besides catching up with my only friend, of course."

"What?" George mock-exclaimed. "I figured you'd have installed my replacement before weighing anchor."

"As I told you, none of the crew would ever dare challenge me. More's the pity."

"Then you should consider going native. These people have a strength to them, my friend."

"I will consider it, although I can't imagine finding one who could possibly understand what I'm talking about."

"Like I understood you half the time," George retorted. "And the babel fish will handle the rest. Perhaps Anais is getting lonely without someone to share you with."

"I did not say I was unable to find sufficient companionship."

George chuckled and said, "Of course. How silly of me. In any case, you were saying..."

"Oh, yes. I assume you know the import of today's date?"

"Hardly, considering I don't know today's date. I'm not even completely certain If it's October yet."

"It is, in point of fact, the twelfth day of October."

"And?"

"What did that day mean in our former lives?"

George thought for a moment before shouting, "Columbus Day!"

"Indeed," Heath agreed. "Although perhaps not anymore. I left some equipment behind on each island we visited. I thought you'd be interested to see something one of the drones captured earlier today."

The screen on George's desk came to life and he found himself looking at a beautiful Caribbean beach. A group of natives stood clustered on the beach. In the background, a trio of small sailing vessels floated on the cerulean water. As he watched, the natives began milling around anxiously. Moments later, a form rose from their midst. The video feed zoomed in to show a small European man lashed to a crudely built cross. He slumped forward just as the cross was dropped into a prepared hole; his dirty tunic stained by the blood flowing from where his neck had been slit.

A small group of Europeans then emerged from a pair of long boats and began laboriously loading their muskets. Only one of the Europeans managed to get off a shot before a dozen native warriors took aim and mercilessly gunned down the invaders.

Heath softly said, "And thus ends the story of Christophorus, son of Domenico. Murderer, slaver, rapist, and genuine bastard in any time, now just a forgotten navigator thanks to a true hero named George Durham."

"That gangly red head?" George replied huskily. "What did he ever do for anyone?"

"He saved the lives of millions. You're now a greater liberator than Eisenhower and Lincoln combined."

"You deserve more credit than me, my friend."

"I disagree. You were the one who prepared those warriors. I was merely the chauffeur."

"Bullshit."

"You did good, my friend," Heath said warmly.

"As did you," George replied. "Be well. And don't be a stranger."

Heath hung up without another word, leaving the video of Columbus' body on the screen. George stared it at for another moment before muttering, "Fuck that guy," and walking from his office.

Copyright © 2023 Jake Lazarus

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