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Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Two
🕑 Added 2025-04-07 06:17:25 +0000 UTC“And if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” the deckhand that had so kindly escorted him to his room said as she stood just outside the door.
A service he noted hadn’t been offered to any of the other passengers who’d accompanied him aboard.
“…Thanks,” Mark said distractedly, before deliberately, but not unkindly closing the door on her.
Walking over to the small cot at the back of the room, he slumped down against the wall, his duffel bag thudding softly onto the deck beside him.
This was it. The last leg of his journey - finally.
He’d nearly made it.
Though truth be told, getting off Earth hadn’t even been that hard. His flight was booked for him by whatever company contacted his boss, and he’d been on his way barely two days after he’d accepted his boss’ offer.
Which he was thankful for. He didn’t know if his nerves would have been able to take it if he’d been forced to stick around longer waiting for a flight. Just getting to the spaceport had been harrowing enough. Every checkpoint had felt like stepping into a guillotine that was just waiting to drop - each ID scan, each soldier’s bored glance had been a moment where he’d braced for sirens and cuffs.
They never came though. The closest he’d gotten to any kind of official interest was one of the Shil manning the spaceport security scanners taking an interest in his collection of cooking utensils – which obviously included a few knives.
In the end, he’d boarded that first shuttle from Baltimore’s starport without issue, the engines’ rumble drowning out the pounding in his chest.
“Thanks Raven,” he muttered into the threadbare pillow of his bunk.
He could only hope the resistance busted her out before long. Though he knew that was unlikely. The Imperium was many things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. At least, not entirely. Much like they’d done with domestic weapons production early into the invasion, they knew the best way to keep the prisoners they’d taken out of the hands of the resistance was simply to move them off-world.
To that end, he could only hope that travel aboard a Shil prison transport was at least a little more direct than the path he’d been forced on the past two weeks.
It was actually kind of funny how quickly terror could morph into bone-deep boredom. Because while the whole alien invasion thing had rather dulled the allure of traveling the cosmos, the fact remained that despite the circumstances he’d been quietly excited for his first trip off-world.
And it had been exciting.
For about a day.
A day in which that excitement was slowly wrung out of him by the dull reality of space travel in the ‘modern era’. That first shuttle had been but a taste of what was to come. Which was a string of other cramped, utilitarian shuttles, each one a fresh hell of tight seats and recycled air.
Because as it turned out, there weren’t any direct routes from Earth to Krenheim. Why would there be? For all that he was naturally partial to his homeworld, by galactic standards, it was still something of a barely developed backwater. At best, the presence of so many men might have made it a tourist destination for the universe’s many man-starved aliens, but the current civil conflict going on made it rather unpalatable for that purpose.
And Krenheim, while quite famous in its own right from what he could glean from his few short readings on the subject, was located in the Periphery.
Which made it a backwater by default in the eyes of most of the Imperium.
This all meant that his trip thus far had been a lot of hopping from system to system, switching ships between jumps to try and zigzag his way toward his destination. Worse still, every jump thus far had been less than twenty four hours. Which meant the shuttles he’d been on had more in common with commercial passenger planes than cruise liners, with long rows of cramped seating making up the majority of the space inside the craft.
His first jump had been almost a mirror image of his last – with him wedged between a snoring Rakiri and a Shil’vati tourist with some kind of glandular problem.
There’d been no chance to stretch his legs planetside either – each stopover he’d either been stuck lounging around sterile orbital hubs or racing through spaceports with barely enough time to grab a nutrient bar before the next boarding call.
The excitement of leaving Earth had burned out somewhere around the third transfer, replaced by a bone-deep weariness and a nagging wish for solid ground. He’d spent hours staring at the void through scratched viewports, alone with his thoughts - Lila’s betrayal, Raven’s capture, the gnawing fear he’d still get nabbed before he could vanish into the galaxy.
The last wasn’t a rational fear. The universe at large didn’t have faster than light communications. Distant worlds still made use of what was essentially snail mail - in the form of giant server carrying ships that traveled from system to system downloading disgorging massive quantities of data.
The aliens around him had been a distraction at first - Pesrin flicking their tails, Shil’vati chattering in their guttural tongue - but by the fifth flight, they were just background noise to his spiraling mind.
He'd not spoken to Lila before he’d left. He’d ignored her calls. Pretended to be out when she’d turned up at his door. Some might call that cowardice on his part - for him not to vent his frustration and rage at her. To not confront her for her betrayal.
He saw it differently.
For him, leaving without a word was vengeance. Ignoring her calls before disappearing without a trace, that was giving her but a taste of the confusion and loss he himself felt that night.
…or at least, that was what he hoped. The constant calls implied she still cared. That she wouldn’t see his sudden disappearance as a boon.
It was a funny thing, to feel such rage and animosity towards someone – and still care so deeply about what they thought.
He shook his head, refusing to let himself spend another evening ruminating on thoughts of his failed relationship. He’d already spent more than enough time on the topic over the last few days.
Fortunately, were he to fail in his self-imposed mission to avoid that cycle of regret and heartbreak once more, he’d at least be able to do it in some small modicum of comfort and privacy.
Though the keyword there was ‘small’.
The Trenva’s Grace, while finally something other than a small system-hopping shuttle, wasn’t exactly a cruise ship. It was a proper ship – albeit, one designed for hauling cargo rather than people. At least originally, before the captain renovated it to allow for some small passenger carrying capacity in an attempt to squeeze some extra credits from her usual travel routes.
Either way, Mark was just happy to have a cabin to himself – even if it was basically little more than a broom closet. After the chaos of the last week, he’d take a little cramped quiet over luxury any day.
-------------------
Of course, as tempting as it might have been to hide away in his cabin for the entirety of the three day voyage, eventually the need for food and the greater need to spend a little time not thinking about Lila lured him out of his refuge.
Mark strode off toward the galley, the faint vibration of the engines buzzing through the deck, though he paused partway to flag down a passing crew member - a Shil’vati female, her purple skin gleaming under the overhead lights, her uniform slightly rumpled from a long shift.
“Excuse me,” he said earnestly. “I realize this a little out of the ordinary, but I was just wondering if passengers are allowed to use the kitchen?”
She stopped, blinking at him with those wide, black eyes, and scratched at her tusk absently. “The galley? I’m not sure… it’s not even really a kitchen, you know? We definitely don’t have a cook. It’s just a spot for whoever’s on shift to reheat ready meals for the crew and you passengers. I mean, I think there’s a few fresh ingredients in the fridge - some vraka and the like, maybe a kresh tuber or two - but those are mostly for easy sides we slice and heat up.”
Mark’s face fell before he could stop it, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features. He’d been hoping for a chance to refresh his taste buds via some proper cooking after days upon days of tasteless rations.
The Shil’vati flinched, her cheeks darkening as she waved a hand hastily. “I-I mean, it’s not a no! Look, if you don’t use too many ingredients and you’re okay working with what little’s there, the Captain shouldn’t complain. Just… keep it simple, alright? And don’t burn anything down!”
He nodded, eagerness quickly washing away his guilt and shame at… pouting to get his way.
…he was desperate.
“Thanks. I’ll manage.”
She muttered something under her breath - before hurrying off, leaving him to head for the galley.
Sparse or not, he’d make it work. He always did.
Moving past the communal dining area and the few crew and passengers dotted around the metal tables there, he slid behind the counter of the ‘kitchen’ and saw that it was as basic as promised - metal counters, a fridge and freezer, a heating unit, a dispenser for water and what seemed to be some kind of nutrient paste he wasn’t amazingly eager to try. A lone stove sat in the corner though, scratched and dented, but it’d work. His good mood only grew as he pulled open the fridge and saw a few items he recognized and some he didn’t.
Fortunately, he’d long grown accustomed to working with unfamiliar ingredients, so was already pulling out his omni-pad and bringing up the ingredients database on it. A quick scan of the fridge allowed the program to identify the items he didn’t know – and what their closest comparisons were to the ingredients he did.
“Yeah, this’ll definitely work,” he murmured.
Reaching into the bag he’d brought containing his cookware and the small stash of spices he’d brought from Earth, he grinned as he fired up the stove and pulled out some pans.
A few minutes later, all was right with the world as he sautéed the vraka, its sharp scent cutting through the galley’s recycled air.
He was actually so into the groove that he jumped a little when someone stepped up to the counter. Glancing up, expecting a crew member asking what the hell he was doing, he was a little surprised to come face to face with a human woman.
Early thirties, tall and composed, she stepped in with a quiet elegance. Her blonde hair was swept into a neat bun, and her tailored blazer and trousers spoke of wealth and care. She paused just inside, offering a polite smile.
What stuck out most though was her piercing blue eyes.
“Forgive me,” she said in English, her voice smooth with a faint French lilt. “I didn’t mean to intrude. That smells quite wonderful. Certainly better than what is otherwise on offer.”
Mark paused, spatula in hand, the vraka sizzling softly. “Thanks. Just working with what’s here.” He nodded at the meager pile of ingredients. “Trying to keep myself from going stir-crazy.”
“A more productive approach to staving off the boredom of space travel than most.” She extended a hand, her gesture precise yet warm. “I’m Sabine Marou.”
“Mark,” he said, shaking it as he leaned over the counter. Her grip was firm but gentle, her skin cool against his. “Can’t say I’m not a little surprised to see another human out here.”
He’d definitely not noticed her while clambering up the boarding ramp
“A pleasure to meet you, Mark.” She smiled faintly. “And I would say you’re no less surprised than me. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve encountered a fellow human being while out traveling the cosmos.”
She eyed the sizzling pan. “Assuming it’s not too forward, may I ask what brings you out here?”
He flipped the vraka, buying a moment. She seemed harmless—polished, professional.
“Got a job,” he said finally. “Personal chef for a gladiator on the world we’re heading to.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly, interest flickering in her dark eyes. “Oh? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me too much. The residents of Krenheim do love to splash out in the name of showing off – and having a human male on retainer would be quite a feather in the cap of whomever you’re working for.”
He hummed, having come to much the same conclusion. Sure, his boss has couched it in terms of his client being interested in human cuisine, but in his experience, someone with the funds to move someone halfway across the galaxy just to cook for them was likely more interested in showing off that they had the ability to do so over actually sampling his food.
Which he didn’t mind.
“Might I ask who you’ll be working for?” Sabine’s voice was smooth, carrying a hint of curiosity as she leaned against the galley counter.
“Uh…” Mark rummaged through his memory for the details Francis had sent. “Kalia Vorn.”
Sabine’s smile widened, though it retained a refined edge. “Oh, she’d certainly have the means.”
He glanced up from the sizzling pan, confusion creasing his brow. She met his look with a slight, amused tilt of her lips.
“Kalia’s been turning heads in the Periphery Leagues - light division,” she explained. “A rising star for years now.” She slipped a hand into her blazer, retrieving a slim metal case, and slid a business card across the counter with a practiced flick. “Of course, I only know that because it’s my job to know.”
Mark spared it a quick glance while flipping a piece of vraka: Sabine Moreau, Horizon Ventures.
“I’m out here scouting suppliers and sponsors,” she said, her voice lighting up with unmistakable passion. “The endgame? Bringing a mecha fighting league to Earth.”
He cocked an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Seems a long way from Earth for that. Krenheim’s pretty damn remote.”
She waved a hand, dismissive but graceful. “The periphery’s where the equipment’s at. Mecha gladiator combat’s a sport, sure, but it leans on the same tech as war machines. With the galaxy’s conflicts hoarding gear, I’ve had to shop further out. Though I’d have come here eventually.”
“Oh?”
She smirked. “For someone who’s about to be living all this, you don’t know much about it, do you?”
He flushed, heat rising to his cheeks. He knew he should’ve studied up, but he’d been… preoccupied.
She didn’t miss a beat. “Krenheim is basically ‘Space Vegas’. If it’s even mildly illicit and you want it, you can find it here. More pertinently to me though, it’s also got the largest collection of mecha fighting leagues in the galaxy. Pilots. Corporations. Stables. All the contacts you’d need to set-up a league of your own on a new world.” She eyed him. “Of course, all that also makes it a bit of a thrill seeker’s paradise, especially for a young man with a fat paycheck waiting.”
He couldn’t argue that. It was the kind of place Lila would’ve-
A sharp pang stabbed his chest.
Sabine’s gaze sharpened, reading him like an open book. “Yet you don’t seem all that excited about anything I just said. Honestly, I’d say you were only barely half listening.”
He laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“I’m a businesswoman, chérie,” she said with a faint smirk. “Spotting what people feel at a glance is my trade.”
She waited, her patience calm and deliberate.
He turned back to the stove, cutting the heat. “It’s been a long trip. And… a rough week before that.”
Her expression softened. “I see. May I ask what happened?”
He spooned the vraka and tubers onto a plate, weighing his words. “Breakup,” he said simply. “Caught her with someone else right before I left.”
Sabine’s lips parted slightly, a quiet sympathy crossing her face. “That’s dreadful. I’m sorry you went through that. Being cheated on always sucks.” She paused, folding her hands on the counter. “Still, if I may say so, the cosmos can be a remarkable place to find your footing again.”
He managed a small nod, setting the spatula down. “Yeah. Maybe.”
She studied him for a moment, then continued, her tone gentle but assured. “You know, in my experience, the best way to get out of the funk of a breakup is to… remind oneself of the pleasures still available out there outside of that relationship.” Her expression turned teasing. “And you’ll find out here there’s no shortage of company for young men open to new experiences. I’m sure you experienced it with the Shil on Earth, but to say that most alien women are… thirsty, is no exaggeration.”
Mark felt a flush creep up his neck, caught off-guard by her tactful candor. “Uh… I hadn’t really thought about it.”
She leaned forward, her accent becoming stronger. “Of course not. You seem an earnest young man and you’ve just gotten over a heartbreak. It’s normal to be a little introspective in the days following the end of a relationship.”
He glanced over – and had the top button of her shirt always been open. “Just don’t spend so long looking inward that you fail to see the opportunities around you. To that end, should you need more advice, my cabin’s always open to you if you want to chat. If nothing else, I think you’ll find these space flights can be quite tedious without company. And after so long away from Earth, well, I wouldn’t mind a little taste of home.”
Her eyes flickered to the pan, before she slid off the stool, smoothing her blazer. “Feel free to keep my card. It might come in handy once we reach Krenheim. Now though, I’ll leave you to your meal. It’s been a pleasure, Mark.”
“Thanks,” he said, still a little flustered. “You too.”
She gave a final nod and slipped out, hips swaying in a way that could be nothing less than deliberate, yet drew his gaze all the same, until the door hissed shut behind her. Mark stood there, the galley quiet again, the vraka cooling in the pan as he cut the heat.
She’d definitely been flirting with him, right? He didn’t know why that surprised him. Maybe because she was another human? He was used to it from aliens, but human women still generally preferred to be chased rather than chase. At least, when speaking in broad generalities.
Still, it was nice in a way. Not just because she’d been a gorgeous woman, but because it reminded him that he was still... desirable in a way. Something he hadn’t realized Lila’s betrayal had left him feeling robbed of.
It was even funnier that it had taken a human woman flirting with him to feel it, given that just about every alien he’d come across since leaving Earth had done much the same.
That was the thing though. Most alien gals would fuck just about anything that moved given their warped gender ratios.
Coming from another human, the interest felt more authentic.
If nothing else, he was thankful to her for that. Not just for helping shake him out of his funk by reminding him he was about to go on an adventure of a lifetime, but for giving him faith in his own attractiveness once more.
Quickly plating the food, he found himself glancing at the card as he did.
Sabine Moreau, Horizon Ventures.
It smelled of her perfume.
It was a nice smell.
Still staring at it, he took his first bite of the meal he’d just created.
It was… different. Not bad. It was even quite good. In a different sort of way. Filled with tastes and textures he’d never experienced before.
His eyes drifted towards the nearest viewport and the darkness of space beyond it.
And for the first time in days, the knot in his chest felt less like a burden and more like a choice. One he had no intention of continuing to make.
The coming days were an opportunity. To live a little. See some sights. Meet some girls.
…use his status as an exotic alien to do a lot of fucking.
Lila’s betrayal had wounded him, but in a way, it had also freed him.
A faint rustle caught his ear and he glanced up to see a Rakiri crew member sitting at one of the nearby tables, her gray-brown fur shifting about as she ate. Her amber eyes had been occasionally shifting over to him over the course of his time spent cooking on him, tracking the way his hands moved with the knife.
She hadn’t been subtle about it - Rakiri never were - but he’d barely been paying attention. It was something you got used to when you were a dude dealing with aliens. Both he and Sabine had been speaking in English rather than Shil, which meant she’d not have overheard their most recent conversation though.
An amusing thought flashed through his mind.
He flashed her a wink, quick and deliberate, testing the waters. Her ears shot up, eyes flaring wide in surprise, but the way her tail flicked told him she wasn’t unhappy about it. A low rumble—almost a purr—escaped her throat, and she shifted her weight, claws tapping the deck. It was enough to pull a grin from him.
This could be fun.
Lila might’ve torched his trust, but out here, that wound was starting to feel like a key - one that unlocked a galaxy of possibilities.
Comments
missionz3r0
Blue loves their Battletech
missionz3r0
I recommend reading the original series this is spun off from. It's one of Blue's earliest worlds, but still good
mhaj58
Feels like a missed opportunity with Lila. Wish we got to know what happened to her. Is she ever going to be in the story again?
Blue Fishcake
Ya boy loves a bit of Battletech.
JR9364
We're getting Solaris VII in SSB? Delightful
Richard Anderson
So how do I get sent to this sailors wet dream of a universe and can I be 17 again?
Ry
I had forgotten about Chad Thunderock haha
Andrew
Thank you!
HandsyUncleTickles
Chad Thundercock 2:Erotic Cooking Boogaloo
22junk
Well, if you’re going to go full horndog to cope with a breakup, sleeping around with a bunch of women guaranteed to fly away eventually is the way to do it.
Moonlightwind
I think it was lucky that Mark had another human to talk to about his breakup, I imagine there wouldn’t be the same level of understand with an alien, they don’t really do monogamy. Also makes sense that a human woman who has spent a long time away from earth would either already be inclined to follow the gender dynamics out in the rest of galaxy or would have adopted them after being gone for so long.
Medical-Cyanide
Huh, welp this can only go poorly. The setting was already a horndogs dream. But the protagonist is once again a young man, this time a heart broken man with something to prove to himself now. …depending on his boss there is a none zero chance she at least makes moves, considering the personalities that her sport probably fosters id say odds are. Also how have I only just noticed this is basically battle tech in SSpaceB?
Moonlightwind
Just wanted to say before I started reading: damn 2 chapters at once, must be Christmas in… April?
Bunten44
nice murder cats are canon now
Skulldragon7
Lol
Blue Fishcake
Whoops, anyone who reads the email - or got in the before I edited this - might have gotten a hint as to chapter four because I accidentally left some of my future notes in.
