Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Chapter Thirteen

As ever, Mark still felt a little strange with a gun strapped to his hip as he strode up the location Vrenal had sent him.

The Live Wire was exactly what it sounded like – a big club, with neon lights out front, the sound of music blaring from within, and a large queue waiting outside.

“Fancy looking place,” he murmured as he stepped across the street.

Certainly, while he hadn’t been expecting a dive bar or anything like that, he was still a little surprised by how upscale the club looked. More ‘cool’ than ‘country club’, it was the kind of place Mark imagined attracting a lot of celebrity attention.

There was also a long line to get in, and Mark found himself wincing a bit at the thought of standing outside for an hour or more just for the chance to spend obscene amounts of money on incredibly overpriced drinks.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little pride at the way the many alien women waiting in line practically started to salivate as he strode towards the entrance.

As Vrenal had requested, he’d dressed up a bit for the occasion. Even going so far as to get some entirely new clothes just for the night – given he didn’t exactly have anything on hand.

Which was why he was a little surprised when, as he got ready to stride to the back of the line, the rather intimidating bouncer brought up a hand, unhooking the small rope to beckon him inside.

“Come on in gent. Hope you have a nice night,” the actual suit of power-armor gurgled in a way that was… very familiar.

Mark actually stopped to stare, glancing about as if to wonder if she was talking to someone else.

The bouncer wasn’t though, smiling at him as she gestured inside.

Of course, that was the moment sense reasserted itself for the human and he remembered that right now he was the attractive ‘young woman’ who got to skip the queue – while the ‘guys’ had to wait outside just for a chance to hit on her.

Huh, he thought as he gave the Pesrin a small smile before stepping inside – ignoring the subtle shifting and muttered gripes of the alien women still standing in line.

He couldn’t deny it was nice to be able to skip the queue for once, as he stepped forward into the club, the heavy bass of the music inside hitting him like a physical blow to the chest. Between that, the low light and the many bodies moving about inside, he was almost overwhelmed for a moment as he sought to make out his colleague from work.

It didn’t take long, as he made out the Nighkru standing by one of the nearby tables.

"Mark!" Vrenal cried out happily as he saw the human approach  – though the happy smile he wore didn’t take long at all to turn decidedly plastic. “Oh honey, I thought I told you this was a club.”

Mark paused, as he settled on a stool, before glancing about. “You did, yeah?”

That statement made a number of emotions flash across the Nighkru’s face, before eventually he sighed. “Then what are you wearing? You look more like you’re getting ready for a board room meeting than a night on the town.”

Mark frowned, glancing down. He was in a grey polo shirt and white slacks. Or at least, the alien equivalents. Glancing back up, his eyes roamed over Vrenal’s garb.

Or lack thereof.

A sleeveless crop top and scandalously short set of shorts.

“Ah, do guys around here show a little more skin on average?” Mark asked, glancing around to confirm that was indeed the case.

“You could say that, yes.” The alien said as he shook his head. “I just… it’s such a waste. You’re a hot human guy and you’re wearing the kind of clothes my grandpa would wear on ritual day.”

The sight of the alien’s put-upon expression was too much, and Mark just laughed. Perhaps someone else might have been offended by the implication that they had no ‘style’, but Mark wasn’t all that bothered.

Mostly because it was true.

Oh, he wasn’t a slob or anything like that, but fashion wasn’t really all that important to him beyond ensuring that his clothing choices were venue appropriate.

Something he’d clearly failed to do here.

Of course, if the alternative had meant showing up in the kind of clothes Vrenal was wearing, perhaps that was for the best?

He was all for acting like a Roman when in Rome, but he drew the line at crop tops.

“Still,” the chirpy alien said, as he suddenly perked up again. “This just means that I now have an excuse to drag you out shopping at some point.” He leaned forward, slightly closer than Mark was strictly used to from another guy. “Don’t you worry!  Your new bestie Vrenal’s on the case. I promise you that we will find you something that really shows off that hot bod.”

The Nighkru sounded so excited and earnest about the prospect, Mark could only give him a small smile in response – even as he privately swore that it was never going to happen.

Again, he wouldn’t judge another man for wearing whatever he wanted if it made him happy – but there was no universe in which Mark Reynolds wore short-shorts.

“I’ll be sure to see if I can’t find an opening in my calendar,” the chef said noncommittally, as he glanced at the drinks menu. “But until then, I guess we’ll just have to live with me rocking the grandpa-chic look.”

Vrenal sighed, but nodded. “Well, I suppose if nothing else, you wear it well.”

“Thanks,” Mark chuckled. “So, aside from being an opportunity to critique my choice in outfit, did you call me down here for something specific, or did you just want to get to know the only other guy in the stable outside of work?”

“The latter, definitely. When your entire job is schmoozing and making contacts, the last thing you want to do is keep doing it off the clock. No, this is just a nice relaxing hangout between two guys.”

Mark nodded slowly, even as he noted that the menu wasn’t actually made of paper. It was an ultra-thin data-slate that you could order drinks from by tapping them. Which he supposed certainly beat trying to fight to be heard by ordering at the bar.

Mark had barely poked one, before a little drone trundled over to the table, before swiftly depositing said drink down via a pneumatic claw, before trundling off again. All in the space of about thirty seconds.

“Ok, that’s cool as shit,” he muttered as he stared after the robot, before scooping up the drink.

“Oh? You like Red-Vine?” Vrenal asked, cutting through the din.

Mark shook his head, examining the glass. “I’ve no idea. I basically picked it at random.”

“It’s good! Mellow flavor, but quite strong.”

“Got it,” Mark said, taking a cautious sip.

As promised, the Red-Vine was smooth, with a sweet, berry-like tang that lingered on his tongue, but there was a subtle burn that hinted at its potency.

“So,” Vrenal said, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “Saria tells me you finally popped our resident manager’s V-Card?”

Mark nearly choked, his drink catching in his throat. He coughed, setting the glass down with a clink, and shot Vrenal a look.

The little imp was grinning ear to ear, his eyes glinting with delight. He’d clearly timed the question for maximum effect, waiting until Mark had a mouthful of fluid.

“Pretty sure you’re mixing metaphors there,” he muttered.

“Maybe, but that’s rather secondary to the fact that you’re not denying it,” Vrenal teased. “On the first date as well! It seems what you humans lack in boldness for fashion you make up for in other ways.”

“A sample size of one is hardly something to base your perspective of my entire race on,” Mark scoffed.

“That’s fair, I suppose,” the Nighkru hummed. “So, enlighten me about humanity. You’re the first human I’ve ever met – and it’d be nice to hear about Earth from a source that hasn’t gone through a dozen Imperial censors first.”

Mark was more than happy to do just that, before a flash of color at the edge of his vision caught his attention.

He turned.

And blinked.

Then blinked again.

“Sabine?” Mark blurted, half-standing from his stool.

The older French woman was wearing the same tailored jacket and slacks he’d seen her in last time, and they made for a stark contrast to the other club goers’ more flamboyant attire.

Still, she somehow didn’t look even a bit out of place as she sat in the back corner of the room, a shadowy alcove that he now realized was occupied by someone else.

Her conversational partner was a Vrekian clad in a suit altogether far more gaudy than Sabine’s own restrained outfit. It looked, not to put too fine a point on it, like the sort of thing you’d imagine a fairly stereotypical nineties pimp wearing.

Bright purples, gold trim and a fur lining that screamed the owner had both wealth and questionable taste.

And despite the din of the crowd, the French woman heard him, eyes widening slightly as she glanced over at him, before a languid smile slipped across her lips.

Quirking a single perfectly manicured eyebrow, she said something to the woman she’d been talking to who in turn glanced over, before smiling in a far less subtle predatory manner. The woman said something back, and soon both women had stood up to stride over.

“Mark,” the woman’s lilting accent crooned as she casually strode up to their table. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yeah,” Mark smiled, genuinely happy to see his fellow human as he stood up to offer her and her companion a stool.

Something the blonde took gracefully, but the Vrekian seemed almost flat-footed for a moment before the earlier grin once more overtook her features and she sat down.

“Heh, never had a lad pull out a chair for me,” she chuckled – eying both him and Vrenal as she sat down. “Can’t say I dislike it.”

For his part, Vrenal seemed both curious and a little annoyed, which prompted Mark to send him an apologetic glance as he realized he’d just interrupted their conversation to invite two random people over. The alien caught the look, before glancing at Sabine – and his harsh expression mellowed somewhat.

That didn’t stop him from continuing to glare at the Vrekian.

Clearly, he knew who they were. Perhaps an ex of some sort? Or maybe they knew each other through work? Either way, both aliens seemed content to sit back and watch the humans re-unite.

“Yeah, hell of a coincidence,” Mark muttered as he turned his attention back to Sabine.

“Less than you might think, why if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were staking out this bar hoping to find me,” she said.

Mark cocked his head. “What? Why?”

“Well, when we last met, I told you my goal here on Krenheim was to set up a mech-fighting league on Earth.” She tittered. “And here you are.”

He frowned, glancing around the club. The connection wasn’t clicking. “I don’t see how that relates to you being in this bar.”

Sabine’s smile widened, and she gestured vaguely at the crowd. “The Live Wire is a big name in the mech-fighting world. A good three-quarters of the people here are in the industry - pilots, managers, sponsors, techs. The rest are groupies.”

They were?

Mark turned to Vrenal, his brow furrowing. “I thought you said you wanted to relax away from work?”

Vrenal shrugged as he sipped his own drink. “I do. I just happen to like this bar.”

Mark supposed that was fair. He couldn’t fault the guy for liking a spot. He also belatedly realized he’d not introduced Sabine or Vrenal.

“Vrenal, this is Sabine. We met on the ship over here,” he said.

“That we did,” the blonde teased, though Mark valiantly fought down the small blush that threatened to form. “Repeatedly.”

He’d gotten used to being the one doing the teasing in his time on Krenhiem, so it was a little peculiar to once more be on the back foot as the blonde eyed him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sabine,” Vrenal said in a studiously neutral tone, even as his eyes kept flicking to the other alien. “I’m Vrenal Hrung. Kalia Vorn’s squire and soon to be your fellow human’s best friend here on Krenhiem. Because it’s clear he needs one. Lest he find himself in ill-company.”

The implication there was about as subtle as a brick to the face, though it seemed to roll off Sabine’s back like water off a duck.

“It’s good to know he’ll be in good hands then,” she said smoothly, then gestured to the Vrekian beside her. “As Mark said, I’m Sabine Moreau. And with me is-”

Vrenal’s eyes narrowed, his tone icy as his nails clacked irritably against the table. “Oh, there’s no need. I know who that is. The question is, do you?”

The Vrekian chuckled, utterly unbothered. “Oh, come now, Vrenal. There’s no need for so much hostility is there?” She spread her hands as she turned to Mark, the gold rings on her fingers glinting in the light.  “I’m Tazek Yutul, of Stellar Shipping. One of the larger suppliers of fighting mech parts here on Krenheim.”

“And head of one of the biggest organized crime and smuggling rings this side of the system,” Vrenal said with a sniff.

Tazek affected a wounded expression. “Now, now, it hurts me to hear that a pretty young thing like yourself has been taken in by those silly rumors.” She turned to Mark. “Please, ignore that. As I’m sure you’ve seen in the short time you’ve been here, business here on Krenhiem can be a real Torlak’s nest. And unfortunately, some of my competitors, realizing they can’t compete with my rates, have taken to slandering the name of an honest businesswoman.”

The words were said without a hint of sincerity – rather, the Vrekian seemed downright amused as she spoke, as if her façade of innocence was a joke.

That was the moment he registered there were two other figures present. They’d stepped up behind the Vrekian so unobtrusively that he hadn’t even registered them until now.

Which was a fairly impressive feat given one was wearing power armor.

At least, he thought it was power armor.

Or they were some kind of insect. Indeed, even as he looked over at them, the eight eyes that made up the hunched creature’s face plate seemed to home in on him. Each one darted about independently of each other in a way that was as unsettling as it was unnatural.

By contrast, the musclebound Pesrin woman next to the thing, all scars and missing chunks of fur, was practically not even worth consideration.

The Vrekian noticed his gaze and scoffed. “Oi, louts, you’re scaring the lad. I pay you to keep me safe, not scare off any lads that might show an interest.”

The Pesrin rolled her eyes, before stepping back to once more loom in the shadows, but the roach thing hesitated for a few seconds. Eventually though, with eerily silent movements, it too stepped back.

“Now, where were we?” Tazek said as she leaned towards Mark.

“I think the pair of you were about to go back to your own table,” Vrenal grunted. “Mark wanted to say hi to his old friend. That’s done. Now you can both slink away.”

And as Mark stared at Sabine’s deliberately blank expression, he found himself in agreement. He’d said hello to Sabine because he could, but this Tazek just screamed bad news.

“I wasn’t talking to you, grey-skin,” Tezek said. “I was talking to your human friend.”

Yeah, he’d had enough of this kind of shit back on Earth, dealing with ornery Shil marines and tetchy Resistance contacts.

“Well, as much as I would have phrased it more pleasantly,” Mark coughed, his voice awkward but firm, cutting through the tension at the table. “This was supposed to be a boys’ night out. Which I rudely interrupted when I got all excited to see another human.”

He made sure to stare into the Vrekian’s eyes as he spoke. His tone was soft. Not challenging. But not yielding either.

“So.” He gave the likely quite dangerous crime lord a soft apologetic smile. “Would you ladies be offended if we parted ways once more for the evening? I mean, you were probably in the middle of business when we interrupted?”

Sabine’s smile didn’t falter, but a flicker of something like - relief, maybe? - passed through her eyes.

“That we were,” she said smoothly, her French accent curling around the words. “Perhaps it would be best if we once more bid adieu?”

For just a moment, that seemed like it might be the end of it, as Vrenal relaxed as well.

Until Tazek spoke once more.

“Now, now,” Tazek interjected, her voice a low, amused drawl as her rings glinted on her clawed fingers. “We just came over and now we’ve got to leave again? Surely we can enjoy a little more time together?”

She tapped the table. “I mean, just a few minutes ago Sabine here was telling me all sorts of interesting things about Earth. Things I’d love to have just a little taste of before this evening is out.”

As she spoke, her dark eyes roamed over Mark, predatory and appraising, like he was a rare dish she was considering sampling.

Which, he supposed he was.

And while objectively he knew he was in some kind of danger right now, it still felt fairly muted. As it was, things mostly just felt awkward.

Of course, then Vrenal bristled.

“Not going to happen. We asked you to leave, so leave,” he snapped, his nails clacking sharply against the table. “Slink off and ride a strap-on, Tazek.”

The Vrekian’s amusement vanished, her eyes narrowing to slits.

“Careful, boy,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “I’m happy to let a lad run his mouth a little, but there’s a limit. After all, I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

“As an honest businesswoman?” Vrenal shot back, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Exactly.” Tazek’s smile was all teeth, sharp and unyielding. “So either be quiet, or put that mouth to work doing something useful.”

The air between them crackled, Vrenal’s glittering eyes locked on Tazek’s, neither backing down.

Behind them, Tazek’s bodyguards shifted slightly, their armored forms looming like silent threats. And as Mark glanced at the distant figures of the club’s bouncers, he couldn’t help but wonder if they’d intervene in the event this got violent.

And as he glanced at Sabine, he could see her tensing subtly, despite the casual smile she still had plastered on her face. She was reaching for something at her hip in a manner that was clearly intended to be subtle.

The question was, in whose defense would the resulting weapon be raised?

“Is there a problem here?”

Mark nearly jumped as he registered a new face at their table.

Nendra.

Vorn’s driver and bodyguard.

Vrenal was the first to recover. “Actually, babe, we were just asking these ladies if they wouldn’t mind leaving. They’re interrupting our boy’s night.”

The Shil’vati’s tone was as dry as the Sahara as she turned to register Tazek – and her bodyguards – “is that so?”

And credit where credit was due, the look had the crime lord flinching back as the other woman glared at her. Sabine, for her part, still had that same easy smile she’d had before. At this point, it was almost like – and mostly certainly was – a mask for whatever she was actually thinking.

“Well, I’d be more than happy to take them outside. We can have a girl’s night while you boys have fun,” the Shil’vati said casually.

And while Mark was more than a little perturbed by the notion that the Shil was quite willing to get into a four against one fight at the drop of a hat – he was mostly preoccupied by something else.

“You’re going out with Nendra!?”

Like a balloon being punctured, a sizable amount of the building tension deflated as Mark stared incredulously between the massive Shil and the much shorter Nighkru.

For his part, Vrenal just looked amused. “Yes?”

Mark resisted the urge to comment that for quite some time now – he’d kind of been operating under the assumption the flamboyant Nighkru was gay.

It was an absurd and frankly outdated notion, one he was actually a little ashamed of…

…but the dude felt gay.

Gay-dar or whatever, between the peppiness, the comments and the touchiness…

“And most of the security team. Well, Klaya only likes girls and Morcy has a thing with a childhood sweetheart, but the rest of the team are my girls,” Vrenal continued, actively bragging as he casually placed a hand on the now blushing Nendra’s.

Of course, the woman was quick to rally, as she once more continued to glare at the Vrekian.

Who seemed to think for a few moments, before with exaggerated slowness, raised her palms and stood up. “Geeze, I was just enjoying a bit of a flirt. I’d have left if they asked.”

Mark was pretty sure they had.

Still, it was clear the crime lord was choosing not to push the envelope rather than actively intimidated. For all that Nendra had clearly been willing to push things, the fact of the matter was that the two bodyguards weren’t intimidated.

Or at least, the Pesrin wasn’t. Mark had no idea what the insect was thinking.

“Right,” Sabine said. “Also standing. There’s no need for harsh words. We were about to leave anyway. There’s still business to discuss after all.”

“Actually,” Tazek said casually as she placed her arms behind her head. “I’ve kind of lost interest in that now.”

“Pardon?” If one didn’t already know Sabine’s casual smile was fake, the fact that it didn’t so much as dim at the alien’s words would have been proof.

“Eh, getting shut down like this has really soured my mood. I mean, I was happy to hear you out before, but… eh. I think I’ll need something to cheer me up a bit before we continue.” The woman turned to leave, snapping her fingers. “Come on girls, let’s see if we can’t find some less uptight boys around here.”

The Pesrin grinned, before slinking off after her employer. The insect did too, though not before staring for a few more uncomfortable moments at Mark.

Sabine stared after them, before cursing under her breath.

“Ah, I suppose I’ve got to go fix that,” she said, before turning to Mark. “Regardless of how this went, it was nice seeing you again Mark. Be sure to stick with this new friend of yours. They seem a good sort. And I’ve found those are a rare commodity on Krenheim.”

Before he could respond, she was gone, striding after the departing crime lord.

“Tch,” Vrenal said after she left. “That compliment doesn’t change anything.” He turned to Mark, practically dragging Nendra’s bigger form into the seat next to him. “I’ll not judge another man by his exes, but I can promise you can do better than a woman like that. You need to find a girl like my Nendie here.”

Once more, the hard as nails Shil started blushing as the Nighkru practically nuzzled into her shoulder.

Mark, for his part, just found himself feeling rather flat-footed by the whole thing. “…Right.”

From Sabine’s reappearance, to rubbing shoulders with an actual crime lord – who turned out to be the kind of creep who couldn’t take no for an answer.

This had been an odd evening.

Though he had a question. “I thought this was supposed to be a boy’s night? Yet you had your girlfriend tailing us.”

The alien cocked his head at the words, as if they didn’t make sense. “Well, yeah? Why wouldn’t I?”

Mark wanted to give a dozen reasons, but ultimately couldn’t voice  any of them.

Instead, he sat down and took a swig of his drink.

“So, now that that ingrate is gone, do you boys want me to make myself scarce?” Nendra said finally.

Vrenal smiled sweetly. “If you would, honey. Thanks for stepping in like that.”

“No problem,” the Shil said warmly as she stood up, casually disentangling herself from her boyfriend before making for the bar.

Silence settled – or rather, the constant din of the club reasserted itself. After another swig of his drink though, Vrenal perked up.

“So, I believe we were just about to talk about Earth?”

Mark supposed they were. So he did. And twenty minutes later, he discovered he needed to take a leak.

Which was why, he was in the process of discovering the rather alarming things red-vine did to the color of a man’s urine when his data-pad went off.

He didn’t reach for it immediately, lest he stain himself and the rather well-kept bathroom he found himself in. Instead, after zipping up and washing his hands, he pulled it out.

And almost immediately wanted to throw it in the toilet.

Because not only had he gotten a message from Sabine – but the message began in a way that was entirely unsurprising in retrospect.

Sic Semper Tyrannis

And below that was a rather simple set of sentences.

“I need a favor. From one member of the resistance to another. From one human to another.

And you’ll need to wear something nice. Alien nice, not human nice.

Please. For Earth.”

He wanted to slam his head on the counter.

Of course, the sexy older French woman was a fucking spy. The only way she could have made it more obvious was if she’d come over carrying a martini.