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Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Fourteen
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 13:25:19 +0000 UTCMark scrubbed the last of the pots, the warm soapy water sloshing about as he very deliberately ignored the ongoing sounds of the muffled sh
Mark scrubbed the last of the pots, the warm soapy water sloshing about as he very deliberately ignored the ongoing sounds of the muffled shouting echoing from the dining room.
Tonight, his role had been to cater for Talia’s visiting mother. Apparently. He’d not actually seen or met the woman. Instead, he’d been intercepted in front of the door by two grim faced bodyguards.
They’d been the ones to take his food inside – and truth be told, he was thankful for it.
He wanted no part of whatever kind of verbal-cage match the mother and daughter were currently engaged in. Indeed, his heart went out to Tenir, who was currently trapped in there with them.
To that end, he was a little envious of his current companion. Vrenir was perched on a stool at the counter, tapping away at his data-pad with an air of serene indifference - his full lips curved into an easy smile, as if the argument were just background noise.
Which Mark supposed, it was, in a way.
Still, now that he was out of thing with which to occupy his hands, as he set about drying the last of the dishes, he sought to instead fill the silence.
“Hey,” Mark said as he set a clean pot on the drying rack. “I know I said it then, but I just wanted to apologize again for how things went last night, given I was the one to invite Sabine over.”
Vrenir’s silver eyes flicked up, sparkling with amusement. “And I will reiterate that I hardly hold it against you. You saw another human, someone you knew, in a city that is otherwise bereft of them. So you called them over.”
“Along with their crimelord companion,” Mark pointed out.
“Which you could hardly have been expected to have known,” the Nighkru said. “Mark, it’s fine. Any poor behavior on their part, I rightfully blame them for, not you. And if you’re going to start apologizing to me for every woman we come across that refuses to take a hint, I’m afraid our friendship is going to be rather tedious indeed.”
Mark chuckled, wiping his hands on a towel.
Vrenir tilted his head, the bio-luminescent tattoos under his cheeks glowing softly. “And, I’ll be honest, I’d actually forgotten it even happened until you brought it up again. Both times.”
“That kind of thing is that common?” Mark asked.
“Women refusing to take the hint that you’re not interested? Very,” Vrenir said. “The crimelord bit’s a little rarer, but much less than I’d like, given this is Krenheim.” The Nighkru turned his attention back to his data-pad. “On that front, I’m a little jealous that you’ve managed to reach the age you have that last night’s events are noteworthy to you. It’s enough to make me want to visit Earth on principle – if only so I could enjoy a drink in peace, without needing to bring my girlfriends or fending an unwanted suitor every five minutes.”
“Eh, being a guy on Earth has its up and downs,” Mark mused, leaning against the counter. “Sure, you can go to a bar and drink in peace, but on the flipside, you’re also just as likely to be ignored if you’re hoping to garner a little feminine attention.”
Vrenir paused to consider that.
“So you say. I struggle to imagine any world in which I couldn’t grab a girl’s eye when I wanted it.” He gestured down at himself. “I mean, have you looked at me?”
Mark had, and while I imagined the alien would likely draw a lot of attention in a bar who’s primary clientele were men who preferred the company of other men – he had a feeling the alien might see less success in a more conventional drinking establishment.
Now, it was possible the chef was wrong on that front, but he doubted it.
“I’m sure they’d be putty in your hands,” Mark lied smoothly, making the alien preen more, even as he smirked at Mark.
“You’re a terrible liar, human. So much so that I’m half tempted to book my next vacation on Earth just to prove you wrong.”
Unbidden, Mark’s thoughts drifted to Sabine and the fact that her last message to him still sat unanswered on his omni-pad.
Because he’d done the logical thing when faced with that message.
He’d ignored it.
Or rather, he was pretending he’d never received it.
Message? What message? Must have been lost in the cloud.
…Was it the most emotionally mature or logical option available to him? No, but it was the one he was going with. Given his last interaction with the more rebellious elements of his homeworld had resulted in him being defacto exiled, he wasn’t exactly too eager to jump back in bed – both literally and proverbially – with a woman who claimed to have ties to them.
He’d given the human resistance movement his pound of flesh already.
“Maybe you should wait a few years if you’re going to do that,” the chef said, keeping his tone light. “With the Alliance-Imperial War going, a lot of the resistance movements on Earth have gotten a lot more active. I wouldn’t say it’s terribly safe right now.”
At least, not for an alien.
And while it would ironically be safer for a Nighkru than a Shil on Earth – he knew plenty of resistance groups were quite happy to paint all aliens with the same brush, even as they made use of off-world equipment.
…And that was ignoring what the Imperial authorities might do if they thought the lithe Nighkru was anything other than a thill-seeking tourist.
“Huh,” Vrenier said with a raised eyebrow. “It’s really that bad? I thought the unrest on Earth was more isolated than that. The news all says-”
Mark snorted, cutting him off. “The news out here is all second hand. I wouldn’t trust it too much.”
Sure, the local news groups took it all with a grain of salt, but the fact of the matter was that they got it from Imperial sources most of the time. And while Imperial censorship wasn’t as draconian as one might expect, it was still censorship.
It wasn’t like every major news group had been pressganged by the state. Just quietly bought out and co-opted. Quite legally. So, now, rather than subtly shifting the flavor of their messaging in favor of left or right leaning political parties, just about everything that got reported on Earth came in various flavors of pro-imperial messaging.
“Well, I’ll take your word for it,” Vrenir said, content to drop the topic as he tapped his data-pad again. “I suppose I’ll just have to steal away a few human women in a decade or two. When I’m a Silver Kanak.”
Just then, Saria shuffled into the kitchen, her fur streaked with grime and her yellow eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. But when she spotted Mark, her ears perked up, a spark of energy returning.
“Oh? Mark’s here? What’s the occasion?”
Then she paused, her ears twitching as the shouting from the dining room peaked for just a moment - a sharp exchange followed by the unmistakable thud of something heavy hitting a table.
Hopefully a fist.
Either way, the Pesrin winced. “Ah, the boss’s mother’s here. That explains it.”
Ah, so exchanges like the one Mark was currently hearing weren’t unususual then. That went some ways to explaining why Vrenir seemed so blasé about the whole thing.
“That she is,” Vrenir tittered, standing with a graceful stretch. “Now, not that I don’t love your company, Mark - because I do - but I should probably go play peacekeeper before our employer and her mother say something they’ll regret. Saria, are you willing to take over human watching?”
Mark tilted his head.
Human watching?
“Oh, sure,” Saria said, her tail giving a weak flick as she perked up slightly.
“Excellent, see you soon honies,” Vrenir said as he sauntered out.
Mark watched him go with bemusement – not least of all because he a little impressed that the little alien was willing to walk towards the sounds Mark knew he himself would rather avoid.
Clearly, Vrenir had a core of steel covered in glitter.
“So?” he said, turning to the kitchen’s newest arrival. “Busy?”
Saria sighed, flopping onto a stool with a groan. “You have no idea. Kalia took some hits last night. And while we’ve got Starkiller for emergencies, I know she’d prefer to take her primary into the next match, so I’ve been burning the bottom of the candle to try and get him fixed for her.”
Mark nodded slowly. As he realized why Saria always seemed to be half-asleep when he came over. Kalia fought in the evenings – which meant Saria would more often than not be working at night to perform repairs as fast as possible.
“So, any chance of there being any food left for a hungry engineer?” the engineer asked, her voice hopeful.
He smiled, already moving toward the fridge. “I’ve taken to making leftovers in addition to the main meals when I come over.”
With Kalia’s – or rather Tenir’s – permission of course.
“Awesome,” Saria cheered, her tail giving a more enthusiastic twitch. “Mind heating them up for me?”
Mark was already moving to pull out a container of Turox Dumplings and Leshir stalks. “Anything for you, hot stuff.”
It was amusing, the instanct reaction he got, as Saria’s tail froze for a split second before flicking wildly.
Again, alien girls were just too weak to even the most casual compliment.
Still, it was nice how easy it was to make Saria light up. All it took was a little food and a little flirting and she was practically glowing.
Not that human guys were all that different.
Though as he had the thought, his mind flickered briefly to Sabine - had she thought the same of him?
That he was easy to charm?
Easy to use?
The thought made him frown a little, but he pushed it aside before his companion noticed. Of course, as he had that thought, another idea occurred to him.
He was feeling a little stressed. Not unduly so. Merely… irritated by the events of last night.
While Sabine had proven herself to be… something different from what he’d originally thought of her as, it didn’t make her words to him on the importance of being able to cut loose any less meaningful.
Of course, Tenir was unavailable and Jelara was likely working late again.
Fortunately, he had a pair of testicles in a universe woefully devoid of them.
And in such a universe, that was all one really needed.
With that thought in mind, he paused in the act of placing the leftover in the heating unit to turn back to Saria. “So, after I fill you up with all this, are you heading back to the workshop?”
“Nah,” she said, stretching her arms above her head, revealing a sliver of brown furred midriff from beneath her black tanktop. “Most of the time-sensitive repairs are done and now I’m waiting on a replacement part to arrive. So I’ve got some time. Was gonna head over the lounge to crash and watch some holovids for a few hours.”
“Sounds a lot like my evening plans,” Mark said casually.
Saria nodded, barely listening as she stared intently at the spinning meal in the heater, her tail swaying lazily behind her as she leaned forward.
Then, as if a switch flipped, her eyes widened, and her tail twitched sharply. Pursing her lips for a moment, she spoke again.
“Oh, well if you’re looking for a bit of easy evening entertainment,” she said, her voice a touch too casual, “then I’ve got a better idea than watching holo-vids.”
Mark smiled as she jumped on the bait with gusto. “Oh?”
The power of the penis could not be underestimated.
“I don’t know if you’ve seen them already, but a few rooms over we’ve got some seriously meaty mech simulators,” she said, some genuine enthusiasm leaking into her voice.
“Oh, really? I’ll admit that does sound better than vegging out in front of the holo-screen.” Mark’s grin grew before he feigned concern. “So long as it’s not an imposition?”
Penis aside, he didn’t want to get in trouble with his employer.
Sure, he was off the clock now that everything had been eaten and he’d cleaned up again – but that just meant it was time for him to leave. It was not an open invitation to essentially go and make use of his client’s equivalent of a gym.
Well, second gym. He knew she had an actual gym somewhere around here too.
“It’ll be fine! It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve let visitors use them.” Saria said quickly, before glancing toward the dining room, where the shouting had escalated into a rapid-fire exchange of… something. Whatever Vrenir was doing, it clearly wasn’t helping. “And I can promise you that no one’s gonna be using them for a while.”
Mark supposed that they likely wouldn’t. “Right, well if you’re sure it’s fine, I’d be delighted.”
Saria’s smile downright split her face as she jumped up. Though before she could leave, Mark called out to her.
“So, do you want to eat first? Or should I leave this on the side for you?”
The Pesrin froze before doubling back. “I’ll take it with me. Now come on. I promise you, this is going to blow your mind, Mark!”
Oh, Mark was sure it would. Though likely not for the reason Saria thought it would.
Though he liked to think she hoped. Otherwise, this was going to get rather awkward rather quickly.
Still, he trusted in the power of the penis.
--------------------
Jelara ‘frowned’ as she peeled off the cheap neural headset she’d been wearing - its frayed wires clattering against the synthetic skin of her suit as she threw it aside.
Normally she’d be more careful, but in this moment, he frustration with the damn thing won out against her better reasoning.
Ignoring the fact that damn thing was refurbished last generation shovelware, it wasn’t even designed for Ulnus physiology. Instead, she’d had to jury rig the damn thing to interface with her suit’s internal sensors.
It worked – for a given definition of the word – but it was janky.
And more importantly, it had nearly cost her that last match, her reactions just a few microseconds slower than they should have been.
She’d won, but in a real match her mech would’ve been practically toast.
And that would have been as good as losing, because the repair costs alone would have swallowed any prize money she’d have made.
On screen, the simulator’s grainy visuals mocked her with ‘victory’ even as they tallied the many costs needed to repair her machine.
Nothing for it, she thought. This one just needs to do better. Be better.
Skill cost nothing but time. And while that was most certainly money – it was still cheaper than mech parts.
Gurgling, she reached over – and more carefully this time – scooped up her discarded headset.
As she did though, her ‘stomach’ gurgled. Glancing at the fridge, she idly considered one of the cheap ready meals that made up the bulk of the contents.
Some part of her rebelled at the thought though.
After tasting real food recently, the notion of snacking down on one of the disgusting jelatinous nutrient cubes seemed a lot less palatable than it once had.
“Damn human,” she thought. “Ruining me with your cooking.”
Idly, she wondered if he was home now? And if he was, would he be offended if she… knocked on his door. Not to mooch a meal… but if he offered… and he probably would.
He was nice like that.
Naïve even.
Recent events were proof of that.
She’d need to warn him away from the Live Wire the next time she saw him. It wasn’t the sort of crowd that would be good for a guy like him.
Then again, by that logic, neither was she.
That was…
She paused as she heard something.
An all too familiar clicking sound that translated through the wafer-thin apartment walls.
She knew that sound. Recognized it all too well.
Someone was using an omnitool to manually try to open a security-lock. Which meant someone was breaking into one of the apartments in the hall.
Or they’d lost their key-chit. Though this being Krenhiem, Jelara knew where her money was.
Now, normally she’d be inclined to ignore it. It wasn’t her problem.
But in this case, the sound was coming from Mark’s apartment.
And seas damn her, she seemingly had a bleeding heart for naïve guys with poor judgment and surprisingly good cooking skills.
“That human,” she muttered as she stood up, going to grab her gun. “He better owe this one for this.”
Comments
CM
Thanks for the chapter! It looks like you're missing something here because I'm not sure what Mark sqid. “Awesome,” Saria cheered, her tail giving a more enthusiastic twitch. “Mind heating them up for me?” Mark said, was already moving to pull out a container of Turox Dumplings and Leshir stalks. “Anything for you, hot stuff.”
Drake Lundstrom
Where is chapter 13?
