[Original Novel] Metal Fever 2: The Erasure of Asherah, Part 51
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15
Part 16
Part 17
Part 18
Part 19
Part 20
Part 21
Part 22
Part 23
Part 24
Part 25
Part 26
Part 27
Part 28
Part 29
Part 30
Part 31
Part 32
Part 33
Part 34
Part 35
Part 36
Part 37
Part 38
Part 39
Part 40
Part 41
Part 42
Part 43
Part 44
Part 45
Part 46
Part 47
Part 48
Part 49
Part 50
A rusted snorkel and exhaust pipe protruded from either end of the craft. Fossil fuel powered? Like the very first military submarines, if I remember right. It should be able to travel on battery power underwater for some ways, then come just close enough to the surface that the snorkels poke through.
One would then suck in air for the combustion engine while it spins an alternator, recharging the batteries. The other would expel the noxious exhaust. What a archaic, dirty setup! But it’s not as if there’s anybody around to fine them for the emissions.
Probably they also couldn’t get their hands on the high grade batteries they would need to make the entire trip submerged, either. I immediately began working out a plan to jack the sub right under their noses, but no matter how I tried to connect the dots, I didn’t get the picture I wanted.
A hundred plus remnants, most or all of them tweaking, is no laughing matter. Every one of them trained soldiers, with a lifetime of experience hiding from Habsec out here in the wild. I only just killed a man for the first time today. I’m no match for even one of them, on even footing.
The organic arsenal my arm is stuck elbow deep in changes the equation somewhat, as does the armor. But a hundred to one? A hundred and twenty, more likely? I would need a hardsuit and some drones. Maybe a tank? Ideally both.
If I could persuade the villagers to fight, it could tip the scales. After growing each of them some armor and weaponry from the seeds that gross fucking plant vagina pooped out, I mean. If I could only make them see that their total devotion to the feminine spirit, to gentleness and nurture was going to result in the extinction of their culture.
For all of its many splendors, that dimension of the human spirit is ill equipped for combat. It is but half of the unified whole, counterbalanced by the oft reviled but eternally necessary aggression of the male spirit.
Without one, what am I but a brutal monster with no redeeming qualities, which nobody can or should love? But without the other...what am I but a warm, soft, gelatinous blob waiting to be torn apart by the first ruffian who comes along?
I’ll make them understand. They have to. If they don’t, there will soon be nothing left of them to bury. Their remarkable blessings, bestowed upon them by Asherah, will fall into the worst possible hands. With weapons like the one fashioned for me back in the village, they would go from being nothing but job security for Habsec to an authentic menace.
Having decided on what I would say to the chieftess and any of her subjects willing to listen, I silently inched away from the ridge and doubled back the way I came. Nothing for me to do here. Not yet, and not by myself, unless my goal is to add another body to the pile.
The return was complicated by the absence of any identifiable trail. Not that I wished for one, and in fact took great care not to leave any indication that someone had recently come this way. As I trekked through the stinking hot jungle, I wondered to myself why it’s always fucking tweakers.
Neo Nazis? Tweakers. Remnants? Tweakers. I don’t know if radical Muslims are tweakers, those explosive vests don’t leave enough behind to perform a drug test on. It wouldn’t surprise me though. Something about the manic, hyperactive headspace lends users towards ideologies predicated upon absolutism, and exclusionary elitism.
Maybe I’ll understand what all goes on in their heads after I blow a couple of ‘em open so I can see inside. The surge of bloodlust I felt swelling within me came as a surprise. Am I a killer? I wasn’t yesterday. I’m going to have to become one though, aren’t I? I’m going to have to kill my way out of this.
The rustle of ferns tickled my eardrum. I instinctively ducked behind the nearest tree. It might just be villagers, but I didn’t care to risk it. Only, when I peered around the edge of the tree, it was neither villagers nor remnants that I saw marching through the jungle just a dozen yards away.
It was half a dozen fullmetal enforcers, identical in design to the ones that died in the crash, stomping along in rank and file. My back stiffened, pupils dilated. Death on two legs, multiplied by six. I recalled the chieftess mentioning a second VTOL landing nearby, I just thought I had more time.
They’ve got no way to track me that I know of. If they did, I’d be dead already. I ought to be like a needle in a haystack out here. All I could figure is that they found the crash site, then searched in a spiral pattern outwards from that point.
...Which would lead them to the village, if they haven’t already found it. Anxiety gripped me, and brought nausea along for the ride. My stomach gurgled. One of the enforcers stopped in its tracks, gesturing for the others to do the same. Shit. Fuck. Shit.
Really? God fucking damnit, really? This is how I die? I held perfectly still, hoping the camoflage would fool them. Only short lived confusion instead. “He’s right there” I picked up, audio amplified by my hearing implant. “Some kind of optical cloak I’m guessing. Switch to thermal, he’s still slightly warmer than the-”
I blasted the approaching squad with acid. It had no effect on their bodies, but did rapidly eat away at the rifles of the nearest three. Their confused, angry chatter faded away behind me as I frantically bounded off into the jungle, desperate to reach the village and warn them.
...But after running for about a minute, I slowed to a stop and had an epiphany. A foolish gambit may be the more accurate descriptor, but those have paid off for me more often than not in the past. I hid, waited for the six hopping mad metallic assassins to reach me, then darted away in the opposite direction while whooping at the top of my lungs.
More muffled swearing behind me. At least I wasn’t dodging bullets. But if the acid didn’t stop them, it raised troubling questions as to how I planned to actually kill them once the wild goose chase came to its inevitable end.
Not my problem. I’ll let the remnants figure that out. I ran straight for the mangrove swamp, noting familiar trees and rocks along the way. “Who are those men?” asked a voice in my head. It didn’t immediately register, panicked as I was.
When it repeated the question, I wondered if perhaps fear had driven me mad, or if I was experiencing after-effects from the tea. “They don’t seem friendly” the voice concluded. Well, he’s not wrong. The voice did sound discernibly male.
“Look, whoever you are, I don’t know how you got access to my system but this is a bad time” I shouted over the sound of air rushing past. The plant armor boosted my speed considerably, propelling me through the dense foliage at about 28 miles per hour according to my inertial sensors.
The enforcers are faster though. In the distance I could just make out the weighty impact of their feet sinking into the soil and pushing off, six precision engineered killing machines now hot on my heels. “Is this the ultimate reality?” the voice queried.
“For fuck’s sake. How old are you? Is this your parents’ connection? I’m running for my life, fuck off!” The voice responded with unexpected concern. “It was a long and difficult journey to find you. I’m not going to be turned away so easily, and not while you’re in danger. You’re the one who built the bicycle from scrap, aren’t you? The one who stole the flying machine, who speaks to dolphins and undertakes many illegal activities.”
I asked between breaths, struggling to form sentences as I ran, how he could possibly know all that. “I’ve seen it. It’s all here, I’m looking at it now. I believe these are recordings of events which occurred at various points in your past. You’re some sort of criminal, right? Is that why those men are after you?”
The spirit Asherah mentioned. Of all the fucking points it might’ve resurfaced, now was the least opportune. “Look, can we do this later? I’m trying to pull something off here. I honestly don’t know if I’m gonna get out of this alive.”
The voice fell silent for a moment before answering. “I can help you fight them.” I laughed. “No buddy, trust me. These guys are serious. They make the Mexican drug cartels look like the Hab Scouts.” It mulled this over.
Stay Tuned for Part 52
hahaha that happens to me with women, especially with my girlfriend, sometimes it causes me to open her head.
He's really in danger! What kind of men are they that can be faster than armor and have almost your sense of smell and vision? They must also have powers created, but no longer by nature but by machines. And that voice? Who is it? Can it help you? Many questions! May he be saved and may he warn the village and the chief. Greetings