Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Twenty Four

Jelara started to talk – and as disconcerting as it was to hear the contents of… what was essentially a bathtub talking to him, it was still somehow less batshit than what the content of said bathtub was saying. Still, he managed to avoid saying anything In response. He simply sat there.

Until she was finished talking.

“Are you an idiot?” he asked dryly.

He tried to fight it. He really did. But in the end, he couldn’t help it. The words slipped out of him.

“What!?” Jelara gurgled indignantly, green shooting through her gelatine form as her tone finally shifted from the hangdog one she’d been adopting from the moment he’d called her out on her role in the previous evening’s events.

The ones in which she’d helped him at great personal cost.

Which again…

“I said, are you an idiot?” he repeated – marginally aware that he was currently technically inside her and if she was of a mind to, well, drown him, she was well positioned to act on it.

Still, it required saying. Even at the marginal risk of ‘death by scorned puddle’. Because she’d been present when he’d made that deal with Sabine. As a result, she should have been more than capable of figuring out that something was going on when he showed up to that party arm in arm with said woman and allowed himself to be wagered off to her boss.

And even with all that… even if she had been utterly ignorant of the knockout strip he’d had strapped to his thigh – that he had discretely disposed of in the elevator back to his apartment - and that he truly had believed that he had been about to face a rather rough evening at the hands of her boss…

…Why in the ever loving fuck would she sacrifice her own dreams to save him!? She barely knew him! He was just some horny idiot she’d been sleeping with.

It was so stupid!

And he knew stupid. Getting talked into helping out the resistance ‘one last time’ was a prime example of it. He knew it’d been a dumb move from a subjective standpoint and he’d still agreed because… fuck!

Why was he even thinking about that? He was currently bemoaning Jelara’s Jesus complex – not his own!

Because she’d just explained to him that she now put pretty decent odds on her former boss fucking up any attempt she made to go into the mech fighting leagues in her mech.

A dream the Ulnus had been aiming to fullfill for forty years! Forty years of alternatingly back breaking and morally dubious labor.

And she’d thrown it all away so he could avoid would have possibly been a rather… unpleasant evening on his part? What the fuck!

It wasn’t even his pride that was stung because she thought he needed rescuing. It was sheer incredulity at the… white knighting going on here.

“This one did it to help you, you ungrateful skasnek!” Jelara sputtered back indignantly.

He barely managed to bite back a reflexive ‘I didn’t ask you to do that’. Not least of all because it would have come off as shrill and ungrateful.

Because he was grateful.

Truly. More than that, he was touched.

…It was just currently buried under miles of… frustration that she’d chosen to shoot herself in the face to try and help him avoid a… some discomfort.

Or at least, the possibility of such.

Admittedly, he’d shivered a little at Jelara’s descriptions of Tazek’s interests. What scant description they’d been. Her words on the subject had been rather short on full sentences but heavy on feeling.

But he would have survived!

“Yes, and that’s why I’m annoyed,” he sighed, reclining into the tub – and the rather turbulent ‘waters’ that were his Savior and the cause of his current headache. “It was an incredibly stupid thing to do. You should have let me reap the rewards of my actions and protected yourself.”

Her gyrating gel seemed to finally still at that, seeming to sink in on itself. “…You think this one doesn’t know that?”

Silence reigned in the apartment as they each dwelled on their mistakes. Because him helping Sabine had been a mistake – and Jelara helping him had been a mistake.

No doubt about it.

In truth, it was actually kind of funny. For a while now, he’d been kind of worried that it’d be all his fucking around that’d come back to bite him on the ass. Sleeping with two of his work colleagues who were also rivals and best friends with his boss? That was a stupid move to be sure.

…Yet, ironically, the thing that was now coming back to bite him was his one attempt to be serious in the time he’d spent on this planet. An attempt to help an Earth that he could not visit and didn’t really care about him beyond his use as a mostly disposable tool.

And he’d known that. All too well. He’d simply chosen to help anyway. It didn’t matter that Sabine had been using him. He cared about Earth. He believed in the cause. Perhaps not enough to pick up a rifle himself, but a little spywork on Earth’s behalf had seemed… within his means.

And now the consequences for that decision had fallen on someone else. Because the universe apparently had a sense of humor.

The whole thing was deliciously ironic. Here he was, annoyed at someone for caring more about him than herself – because he cared about her!

Now that’s a fucking catch twenty two and a half, he thought with a crooked grin as he slowly stood up and jumped out of bath – ignoring the strange sensation of the woman in question ‘sloughing’ off him.

“Mark?” she asked, tone unreadable as her ‘head’ emerged from the soup that was her body. Despite the circumstances, it was an impressive sight. The many colors that were shooting through her body in time with the many emotions running through her mind.

Or minds.

It was pretty all the same.

Though not so pretty as to distract him from what he was about to say. Because a few things needed to be said.

“First.” He took a breath. “Jelara you’re an incredible person. I’m lucky to know you and I’m incredibly thankful for everything you’ve done to help me since I showed up on this rock. I’m honestly touched that you’d be willing to jeopardize your own happiness to protect mine.”

It was actually kind of funny, just how fast a torrent red shot through her entire body at his words, overtaking the other colours in moments.

“Though I reiterate that rather than being the badass space pirate I thought you were, you’re also a gigantic mushy moron,” he continued – and watched with some amusement as a tinge of green flared up to compete with the red.

“Hey!” said badass space pirate gurgled indignantly.

“And now, because you’re a giant mushy moron, I’m obligated to help you in return.” He stared down at her. “One way or another, I’m going to fix this.”

“What!” The Ulnus said, her upper body forming in a moment as she surged up. “No you’re not! This one chose to help you of our own volition. We can fix it ourselves and don’t need your pity.”

He just smirked.

“Well, tough shit. I didn’t ask for your help either.” And whoops, it looked like that slipped out anyway despite his earlier intent to avoid saying exactly that.  “Besides, I’m not asking for your permission to help you. You’re getting it whether you want it or not.”

He owed her at least that much and so much more.

The idiot.

The alien stared at him, colors flaring in her core as her whole body shifted with a myriad of emotions. When she did finally speak, it was quiet.

“…How would you even help us?”

Mark smiled and spoke without a moments hesitation. “I don’t have a single fucking clue.”

The words were entirely frank and without shame. Said smile only grew as she favored him with a particularly deadpan stare.

Because even if he didn’t know what he’d do right now, he’d come up with something to turn Jelara’s chances around.

Even if I have to fuck every lonely middle aged scrap dealer, mechanic and sponsor broker on this planet to make it happen, he thought.

…Admittedly, he didn’t think that was liable to be the answer to his problems, but he wasn’t ruling it out either. Out in space, his penis seemed to have the strange mystical power to make alien women do insane things that really went against their own interests.

As evidenced by the absurdity of his current circumstances.

Before any of that though, he really needed to go to bed. It was late and his legs felt like jelly.

Then, after a solid… four or so hours, he’d figure out how to unfuck this clusterfuck.

------------------

“Hand over the bag pretty boy.”

As far as greetings Mark might have anticipated upon making his way up the street to Kalia’s estate, that wasn’t one of them. Now, admittedly, he’d not exactly done much to ingratiate or even familiarize himself with Kalia’s security team. Beyond Nendra, he didn’t really know any of their names.

With that said, he definitely knew what they looked like.

And the trio of armored figures standing at Kalia’s gates were most definitely not the same security team he’d grown accustomed to in his time on Krenheim.

He glanced up at the one that had spoken – an imposing looking… moth woman.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” she reiterated, sticking a hand out for the item in question. “Hand it over.”

“S-sure.” A little thrown off, he nonetheless handed over the bag. That at least was a familiar part of his routine – though the usual crew tended to be significantly more polite about it.

“Frisk him,” the apparent leader said without preamble as she rifled through the contents of his chef’s kit.

“Don’t mind if I do,” another of the group said, stepping up. “Hands against the wall.”

Again, this was nothing new, but it was also a lot more… demeaning in nature, as he did as they asked. For a moment, he couldn’t help but suffer a flashback to his time on Earth as the guard ran her hands across his body in ways the felt far too invasive and very unprofessional.

Fortunately, this wasn’t Earth so he had more options available to him than just standing and ignoring it. Not right now. But he’d definitely be saying something to Kalia if the asshole behind him brushed her hands across his dick a third time.

“He’s clean,” the asshole in question eventually conceded, stepping back.

Gathering up his dignity, he turned in time to have the head guard practically shove one of his kitchen knives in his face. “What’s with the blades?”

“I’m a chef,” Mark said, his tone as flat as he could possibly make it. “Those are my work knives.”

The scarred one considered his words, then smirked, tucking the knives bag into the bag before placing them deliberately on the ground behind her. “Well they seem like a security risk to me. They’ll be staying here and will be returned to you when you leave.”

“Excuse me?” Mark shot back, incredulity lacing his words. “How am I supposed to do my job without my tools?”

The guard scoffed, her breath hot with the scent of something almost tobacco-like. “There’s a fully stocked kitchen inside. I’m sure you’ll be perfectly capable of using the knives there.”

Mark wanted to argue – but he could see in her eyes that she wanted him to as well.

He knew the type. Again, back on Earth, assholes with an overdeveloped need to flex their limited authority were a dime a dozen. His tools being confiscated seemed like another thing he’d need to bring up with Kalia. He didn’t know why these assholes were suddenly in charge of her estate’s security, but they were definitely a downgrade from the last bunch.

Hopefully this little changing of the guard was temporary thing.

“Right,” he bit out. “I’ll just head on up without them then.”

The guard sagged a little at the lack of a response she’d been hoping for, before scoffing. “Linner, go with him.”

“On it, boss.”

He didn’t say anything as his impromptu groper followed after him as he walked up the path to the mansion’s entrance. The front door of which was open, allowing him to step inside without issue – which was at least one thing that hadn’t changed since his last visit.

“Hey so-”

“Not interested,” Mark said without hesitation as the guard tried to strike up some kind of amiable conversation.

He didn’t need to look to see the flash of surprise that no doubt flashed over the alien’s features at his words, nor the scowl that would undoubtedly follow. He did hear the muttered insult in some language he didn’t know.

Likely about him being uppity. Or a prude. Or a slut. Maybe both? In his experience, people seldom much cared that those two concepts applied in unison were paradoxical.

Just as he didn’t much care what she thought of him now that he was inside the perimeter of the estate.

 His focus shifted though as Tenir emerged from the one of the side halls, her silver skin catching the light as she stared intently at the omni-pad in her hand.

“Hey, Tenir?” Mark called.

Tenir’s head snapped up, her eyes widening, before a nod softened her expression. “Mark, good. You’re here. Human junk food. Can you make it?”

Mark paused, a little flat-footed. Not least of all because it was breakfast.

He could do what she wanted though - Kalia’s kitchen had a deep fryer. Or rather, a futuristic equivalent that functioned on similar concepts to an air-fryer.

“Yes?”

“Then please feel free to disregard Kalia’s usual nutritional requirements and just… whip up something like that,” Tenir said – before turning to the guard with a sharp gesture. “As for you, you’re dismissed. Feel free to return to your post outside.”

Rather than move though, the Rakiri guard just grinned. “I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am – as I’m currently escorting a security risk. Once inside, any unvetted personnel who might threaten the heiress must be observed at all times. Big boss’s orders.”

Tenir’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a chef. More than that, he’s been here multiple times before.”

“Apologies, ma’am.” The guard said, sounding more smug than apologetic. “I’m afraid I have my orders.”

Tenir opened her mouth to argue, then sighed, before turning to Mark.

“I’m sorry about this Mark, I just… try to pretend she’s not there.” She spared a glance at the guard. “I know I am.”

Her bit said, she turned to leave.

“For how many?” Mark called after her. “Or am I just cooking for Kalia?”

And didn’t it say a lot about how distracted the Nighkru was that she hadn’t specified. As it was, she paused,  before glancing back.

“Ah, three.” She hesitated, then added, “actually, have you had breakfast?”

“Uh, no?” he said.

The email calling him had been a little unexpected after all. Not that he begrudged it given how much he was being paid to be on-call for stuff like this. Either way, he’d not exactly had time to grab something to eat between jumping in the shower and throwing on something that wasn’t entirely crumpled.

“Make it four, then,” Tenir said, a faint smile breaking through, before she vanished into the mansion’s depths.

A little wrong footed by that entire exchange – because it was clear this new security detail had larger implications than he expected. Still, he did his best to follow Tenir’s advice, ignoring his shadow as he made his way to the kitchen.

“Chicken and waffles, I think,” he murmured as he made his way to the now slightly depleted stasis lockers.

Comfort food generally didn’t get much more comfortable than that. Or as artery clogging.

Still, he’d do as he was asked.

With that in mind he set to work, batter sizzling in the pan while chicken coated in crispy batter floated in the air inside the fryer - a wifty mist of heated oil lightly coating it as it cooked. It wasn’t long at all before all of it was on a tray along with some select bottles of syrup.

Balancing the trays as he steadfastly ignored the slightly glazed and hungry look on his shadow’s face, he moved to the dining room.

Inside, he wasn’t surprised to see Kalia sat with Saria and Tenir, their heads bent over a dozen data-slates scattered across the table. The room’s opulence did little to hide just how… tired all three of them looked. Dark circles under their eyes and shoulders slumped.

He’d not notice it before with Tenir, but he definitely saw it now. As did he note that Kalia was still wearing the same iridescent tunic she’d been wearing last night.

Has she been up all night? Mark wondered it with a pang of concern, as he set the food down – the sound of the first plate hitting the table rousing all three women and notifying them of his presence.

“Oh, thank fuck,” Saria said without preamble as she dove in, tearing into a waffle without a word – before he could get in a word about the applications of syrup.

Indeed, he had to keep an eye on her as he turned to the others just in case she reached for it. Just because he wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t assume it was a drink.

“Thank you Mark,” Kalia said as he placed a plate in front of her up, her voice weary but kind.

“It’s no problem,” he said, only slightly hesitating regarding his own meal.

Something Kalia noticed, as she gestured to an empty spot.  “You might as well sit down to eat with us. It will  be a good opportunity to chat about some… changes that are likely to occur in the coming days.”

…Well, that was ominous. Still, he did as she instructed. Silently reaching over to demonstrate to Tenir the correct application of syrup – as she’d been eying the bottle.

As he did, Kalia turned to ‘his’ guard. “And you, you’re dismissed.”

The guard stiffened, her voice now significantly more respectful than it had been with Tenir. “I’m afraid I can’t do that ma’am. Not with an unknown in the mansion. Your mother’s orders were clear on the matter… I can’t leave you alone with unvetted personnel.”

Kalia just stared, her clear exhaustion doing nothing to hide dim her aura of authority. “Really? You need to be here to protect me from a single unarmed male, who’s been cooking for me for two months now? Significantly longer than you and your ‘colleagues’ have been present at my estate.”

“Yes ma’am,” the guard replied, her tone flat but deferential.

Kalia’s twisted into a snarl, before something akin to smugness instead too over. “Right. Well, please feel free to stand at the back of the room and face the wall.”

The guard twitched. “Ma’am?”

“Did you not hear me? As I understand it, you have orders from my mother that override my own, but I’m still your sub-employer. I have the authority to give you orders so long as they don’t countermand my mother’s correct?”

The guard hesitated, before nodding slowly.

“Then, do as I said.”

Mark watched as the woman frowned, but she complied.

Watching it, Kalia sighed, before turning to Mark – who had… some mixed feelings about what he’d just watched. Vindication to be sure… but…

Either way, it was a firm reminder that Kalia was an heiress of some description.

More to the point, he was definitely sure that now wasn’t the best time to casually ask Tenir for advice on salvaging Jelara’s torpedoed gladiator career.

That could wait until he found out what all this was about.

Which was one part of the reason why he sat up straight, as Kalia’s gaze locked onto him.

“First of all, this looks and smell delightful, Mark.” She smiled – but it was a fairly hollow thing.

“My thanks ma’am,” Mark responded for lack of any other option. “ I hope it’s to your tastes.”

Kalia tittered. “I’m sure it will be. Saria and Tenir seem to be enjoying it well enough.”

He wouldn’t argue that – though he was a little worried Saria was about to choke on a bone given the speed with which food was disappearing down her gullet. Meanwhile, Tenir seemed equally likely to drown in syrup given the amount that was being poured onto her plate.

“Before that though, I feel I must talk with you about a few things,” Kalia continued, hands knitting together as she leaned forward. “Put simply, I believe that this will likely be the last week you spend in my employ.”

…It took Mark a few seconds to parse that sentence.

Then a few seconds more to process them.

“Oh.”

“Yes,” Kalia said with all outwards signs of sympathy. “That’s rather how I felt too.”