Sexy Space Babes - Mechs, Maidens and Macaroons: Epilogue

Kalia had done it.

She had actually done it.

“Holy shit,” Jelara breathed – unconsciously borrowing one of Mark’s phrases.

Now, Kalia had no idea why excrement would ever be considered of religious significance, but she didn’t disagree with the sentiment her co-pilot was conveying

Holy shit indeed.

The pair watched as the, thus far hidden, central platform of the arena began to rise up, the ruined buildings and vehicles that had once occupied it sloughing off in a miniature landslide as the circular disk of armored flooring floated up into the air until it was level with Starfarer’s ‘face’.

Spotlights illuminated the disk as, from on high, figures began to float down on beams of light. The robes of the dozen or so arena officials danced around them as they descended – a feat achieved through artful manipulation of the same anti-grav tech that was currently turning what would otherwise be a swift fall to a messy demise into a graceful descent.

“That one looks a bit green,” Jelara pointed out idly.

“I imagine the heights disagree with her,” Kalia agreed as she picked out the member of the committee who was desperately trying to hide her nerves. “I can’t say I blame her for it either.”

As she spoke, Starfarer began to move forward entirely without any input from her or Jelara. The controls under both their hands were dead, the whole machine now slaved to the arena’s remote system now that the match was over.

No one on Krenheim wanted to risk an arena official being vaporized because a particularly frazzled pilot happened to twitch at the wrong time.

Of course even with that consideration, Jelara knew the sextet weren’t entirely safe as Starfarer moved to stand next to the disk. And she didn’t doubt they knew it too.

Starfarer had been certified ‘safe’ prior to the match, but it most definitely wasn’t after having seven shades of shit kicked out of it.

All it would take was for one of the damaged magazines to cook off or a crack to form in the reactor’s shielding at an inopportune moment and there was every chance one of those officials on the disk would get reduced to ‘salsa’.

She winced a little as that comparison occurred to her. Mostly because she liked Mark’s ‘salsa’ and didn’t really want to be reminded of that particular mental image next time she got to sample some.

Fortunately, the window of opportunity for such an accident would be short given they were standing on a trapdoor lift. The moment she and Jelara stepped out of the cockpit, Starfarer would descend away from the lights and cameras, sinking down into the maintenance levels where a small army of drones, armored engineers and inspectors would swarm over the machine to render it safe but still ‘artfully damaged’ before allowing it be shipped to the after-party’s display hall.

Venomstrike, she noted, was already being discretely dragged away by a massive recovery drone.

The cockpit seals unlocked with a solid clunk before the pilot hatch began to open up and the otherwise muffled sounds of the arena swelled into a near deafening wail.

Kalia soaked it in though.

The roars of applause. Applause that she had earned.

She lived for these moments. Her whole life has been leading up to this moment in particular.

Unclipping her harness, she tore off her helmet as she got ready to clamber out – only to pause as she noted a certain lack of movement from the other occupant of Starfarer’s cockpit.

Jelara’s liquid form remained… essentially plastered to the walls of the mech where she’d clung for the duration of the fight. Like strange looking vines growing through the machine. Only one small tendril of her reached towards Kalia herself, the tentacle hooked up to the neural link system at the base of Kalia’s seat.

“Jelara?” Kalia asked softly, turning in her seat. “Aren’t you coming?”

The Ulnus let out a sigh, the noise coming from all around the Vrekian, and with it came a myriad of darting colors that flashed across the interior of the machine.

“This one shouldn’t,” Jelara said after a moment. “This one is equipment, remember. Stepping out there. It’s only going to draw attention to the fact that we… bent the rules to win this. It’ll tarnish your win.”

Kalia’s brows drew together as she felt a little indignation swell within her. “The only thing that would tarnish my win is if I pretended I won alone. No, you’re coming. One way or another.”

Oh, she didn’t doubt Jelara’s words were true. But she didn’t give a shit. They’d been a pair out there. There was no argument in her mind. No pretending otherwise. Six minds moving one machine.

Silence stretched for a few heartbeats as another flash of colors rippled across the cockpit.

“…Fine,” Jelara muttered at last, pushing herself to her feet. “But remember that this one was trying to be gracious by letting you take the brunt of the credit.”

Kalia snorted despite herself. “That’s fine, there’s more than enough credit to go around.”

If anyone thought Jelara’s presence tarnished their victory, well… They didn’t understand Krenheim.

If you cheated and got away with it, you weren’t cheating. You were just better. Now, Kalia didn’t personally believe in every bit of cultural throughput Krenheim had retained from their Consortium origins, but she believed in that.

It definitely helped that they’d done it in a mech that was all but two steps out of a scrapyard though. It was clear from the outset that they’d been at a disadvantage and any benefit provided by Jelara’s presence could hardly be said to offset it.

With that in mind, Kalia put on her best winning grin as she stepped out onto the hull of Starfarer, struggling not to blink as the spotlights tried their damndest to blind her. It didn’t help that a dozen camera drones swooped in far too close for comfort to get the best shot while the roar of a hundred and twenty thousand throats slammed into her like a physical force.

She managed though, calling on every inch of experience she had to walk across the extended arm of Starfarer – a risk in and of itself – to stand on the disk.

Though as she did, she definitely noticed that many of the waiting officials’ gazes got a little plastic as they turned to track something behind her. A move that coincided with a slight dip in the roars of the crowd.

And that annoyed her. That Jelara’s moment of triumph was somehow being lessened. Not that there was anything to be done about it. Though on the bright side, while certain members of the audience had gone quiet, some had started cheering louder.

Though as Kalia deliberately glanced back, reaching to help her partner across the gap with an open palm, she couldn’t help but realize that perhaps the ebb and flow in cheering had been caused by something other than a second person’s presence in her mech.

That realization being that Jelara was quite naked. A nude mass of humanoid goo shining under the arena lights as she accepted Kalia’s hand and stepped onto the disk.

…Can Ulnus be ‘naked’? Kalia thought somewhat frantically.

She didn’t know. Certainly, Jelara was currently naked, but there was a difference between being naked and being naked.

Some species just didn’t have a nudity taboo – their more delicate bits protected by fur or natural armor. Given that Jelara had chosen to step out of her mech without the protection of any kind of covering, it seemed Ulnus fell into that category.

Though given some of the hooting and hollering of the crowd, that fact was lost on most of them.

Deliberately keeping any of her own momentary internal panic off her face with the ease of years of practice, Kalia smiled at her co-pilot and turned back to the officials.

Who honestly looked a little lost as they’d clearly been expecting Kalia to keep the presence of her dirty little secret exactly that, a secret.

Well, more fool them, she thought.

Fortunately, the somewhat stilted moment was interrupted by the sound of the arena announcer’s voice thundering over the speakers, the same overexcited tone she’d been using all night cranked up another notch.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and gentlebeings of all strata – give it up once more for your Krenheim Cup champion! Pilot Kalia Vorn! And her mech’s interlocutor, Jelara!”

The crowd roared at the names, the entire platform shivering with the force of the noise. Kalia’s family name and Jelara’s new hastily dubbed title got a different flavor of reaction here and there – cheers, boos, jeers – but the majority simply screamed because they were supposed to scream.

Because the script said this was the part where the crowd screamed.

Still, Kalia had to give credit to whoever was now undoubtedly shouting in both the announcer and stage official’s ears, they’d managed to come up with a decently vague explanation for Jelara’s presence quite quickly indeed.

Arena Head Lurin looked like she’d swallowed something bitter as she stared at the two pilots, while a pair of assistants wrestled with a trophy big enough to brain a Klepper Fish.

“Kalia Vorn,” the woman said, her voice now modulated to a more dignified register as the commentator tactfully shut up. “Pilot of Starfarer. By the rules of the Krenheim Cup, you and your… team have secured victory in this year’s Championship. On behalf of the League, its sponsors, and the citizens of Krenheim, I congratulate you.”

The commissioners fist hit her robed chest plate.

Kalia did the same. And behind her, a wet thud suggested Jelara had just done likewise.

The manager stepped aside as the assistants finally maneuvered the trophy forward, its polished metal surface catching the light. The base was ringed with tiny holo-plaques, the names of prior champions rotating slowly around it like a crown of ghosts.

Kalia reached for it, startled by the weight as it settled into her hands – which was why it felt all the more fitting when Jelara’s hands reached out to grip the other handle. The position was slightly awkward, given Jelara’s lack of… bones and Kalia’s own lack of stature, but they still moved as one to lift the golden goblet, turning so the cameras and crowd could see.

The arena went insane.

Fireworks burst overhead. Holographic confetti rained down from above, drifting through the air like puffs of luminescent fungus spores. The speakers overhead struck up the League anthem, its brassy fanfare trying and failing to compete with the crowd’s noise.

For a moment, Kalia just let it wash over her.

Years.

Years of her life had led up to this moment.

For the first time in her life she was Kalia first and Vorn second.

It felt right.

She lowered the trophy a fraction and, ignoring the main camera drone hovering right in front of her, looked back up at the lower VIP boxes. It wasn’t hard to pick him out. Tenir had one arm hooked through his, bouncing up and down in excitement, silver skin flushing a bright, happy sheen. On the other side of him, Saria was visibly spilling her drink everywhere as she bounced up and down with equal exuberance to her usual rival.

Mark… was in the splashzone of said drink, but he didn’t mind.

He never did.

Come to think of it, she couldn’t think of a single time in the past month that he’d complained. Not once. And that said something… because living with the four of them had undoubtedly been trying.

But he’d taken it all with a smile.

Hell, he’d even…

…She felt herself flush slightly, uncaring of the fact that the press would undoubtedly pick up on it as well as the direction of her gaze.

It didn’t matter now. Her relationship with Lirath was as good as dead.

Not that it had ever really been alive. She’d been fooling herself by hoping otherwise.

He’d only ever been interested in the Vorn name.

Her mother had only ever been interested in what his name could do for the Vorn Corporation.

Kalia? She’d just wanted to be loved.

Mark raised a fist.

It was a simple gesture. Small. But it brought her more joy than anything the arena or the crowd could have done.

…Though she did have to pretend that said gesture was aimed solely at her.

Was it wrong that she felt a little smug that Jelara was utterly ignorant of the gesture – even if it was at least partially aimed at her as well? Without her suit’s visor to translate her sonar sensing abilities into the visual spectrum, there was absolutely no way she could see that Mark was waving to them from beyond the glass of the arena.

“He’s waving at us,” Kalia said, cursing herself for a fool as she did.

…Still, as Jelara’s entire body flushed deep pink, she figured that perhaps having to share Mark’s affections wasn’t too bad a thing.

Indeed, thinking back to last night, it wasn’t like he lacked for stamina.

…And now Kalia was blushing again too.

The press were going to love it.

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

Mark was schmoozing.

Or at least, that was the charitable way to describe what he was doing. In practice, he was standing in the middle of a cavernous after-party hall while a constant stream of corporate aristocracy, wealthy sponsors, media elites, and various professional flatterers swarmed Kalia – and to a lesser extent Jelara.

Oh sure, they didn’t truly know what to make of Starfarer’s ‘interlocutor’, but they were equally unwilling to miss out on the possible opportunity that her presence created.

By comparison, he was barely an afterthought. A decorative accessory. Arm candy attached to two champions.

And honestly? He wasn’t even bothered. It was actually a little novel in some ways. Being both human and male, he’d grown accustomed to drawing looks whenever he walked into a room. And while that was still the case, they’d been reduced to mere glances.

Hell, the most serious consideration he’d managed to accrue mostly came from the other men in the room who were likely hoping to oust him from his current position.

He wished them luck.

He’d already knocked out one spoiled bachelor tonight and he wasn’t afraid to do it again.

Not that he thought it would come to that. Ignoring Jelara, Kalia had been nothing but loyal to Lirath for years with barely even a hint of reciprocation in return. And Mark most definitely wasn’t Lirath. He’d already promised to rock the short heiress’ world the moment they were out of here.

Though he’d then had to convince her not to cut her own victory party short. It wasn’t like he was going anywhere after all. And he wanted them to enjoy this. They’d more than earned it.

Which was why he didn’t really mind being all-but completely cut out of the current conversation the pair were having with a CEO who seemed quite eager to sponsor Kalia’s – and Jelara’s – future piloting career.

He wasn’t the main character of this story after all. He’d known that for a long time. That he was just along for the ride.

And what a ridiculous, exhilarating, impossible ride it’s been, he thought as he gazed up at the glittering stalactite shaped chandeliers overhead.

For the first time in nearly a year, he didn’t regret getting kicked off Earth. Because if his entire life hadn’t gone to hell in a hand basket, he’d never have met these four incredible women.

Well, three incredible women, he thought warmly. And Saria.

He resisted the urge to snort as he spotted her standing at the bar. The Pesrin was currently trying to flirt with a Shil’vati male who’d made the mistake of getting too close. Something he was clearly regretting now. Not that the fairly inebriated looking engineer seemed to notice, as the well-dressed young man kept edging away from her. As Mark watched, Saria laughed uproariously at her own joke and sloshed a decent amount of her drink directly onto the man’s shoes.

Mark shook his head, deciding not to intervene. He figured she’d earned the right to make a drunken fool of herself if that was what she wanted.

And if she struck out?

Well, he had no particular issue with being made the consolation prize.

At least once Kalia, Jelara and Tenir had had their own fun.

Sorry Saria - such is the cost for being disinterested in monogamy. Official harem members get priority, he thought with a smile, choosing not to dwell on the inherent hypocrisy in that statement.

Mark’s attention drifted back to the conversation happening beside him. Or rather, happening to Kalia. The previous CEO had been edged out by a newcomer - tall Nighkru who was making some kind of sales pitch with… considerable intensity.

“…and of course, my company would be happy to offer you a full sponsorship package for the upcoming season,” she purred. “New mechs – plural. Custom, top of the line. A full repair team. And naturally, you’d be provided with housing, other support staff, full simulators…”

Mark tuned it out. Kalia had already listened to about a dozen nearly identical offers tonight. And she was already deferring the offer for later in much the same way she’d already done so a dozen times before.

“Want me to get you something to drink?” he asked softly, noticing she was getting a little hoarse.

Though before Kalia could answer, the CEO laughed. “Oh sweetbuns, this is a party. We have people for that.”

Indeed, she was already glancing around the press of bodies for one of the many members of staff carrying refreshments, the frown on her face suggesting she was a little annoyed that one hadn’t already appeared.

“That’s quite alright. I spent the last month keeping Kalia and Jelara here topped up. I don’t mind doing it one more time for their victory party.”

Mostly he just wanted to move around a bit in the hopes of restoring some feeling to his feet.

“So devoted,” the CEO tittered. “Would that my own husband was so attentive to his favorite wife.”

The man on her arm simply sighed. “Ah, but that would mean being away from your presence for more than a moment, my love.”

“From my credit chits, you mean?”

Yeah, Mark was happy to get out of here – though he sent both Jelara and Kalia an apologetic glance as he did. Jelara shot him a frown – though he doubted anyone unversed in Ulnus body language would have been able to pick it up given the whole… lack of eyebrows, mouth or even eyes.

He did though, and he snickered at his girlfriend’s irritation that he’d been able to escape bleeding through the suit she was wearing. Kalia just looked serene, no doubt more than accustomed to this kind of thing in ways her co-pilot wasn’t.

Leaving the bickering couple behind him, Mark made his way over to a nearby drinks table, selecting one of the flutes he’d seen Kalia favor earlier. Same for Jelara. That done, he prepared to return – even if part of him was tempted to find where Tenir had wandered off to instead.

Though it was only a momentary temptation. He, Kalia and Jelara had happened to move past the huddle Tenir had formed with some other business-minded folks but a few minutes ago and the amount of business lingo the group had been rapid fire spewing at each other had been near enough to make his head spin.

And while rescuing a young man from Saria’s deprivation was also a temptation, he’d already decided to let her succeed or fail in her hunt without his interference.

Sighing, he got ready to return his previous roost, only to pause as a hand clamped around his forearm barely a few steps from the refreshment table.

The grip was firm. Too firm. Confident that he would stop instantly.

And though he did, it was mostly because he was debating reflexively elbowing whoever had just grabbed him. Alas, the likelihood that doing so would spill the drinks in his hands made him abort the motion long enough for reason to assert itself over reflex.

Instead he glanced over – and down -  toward a Vrekian woman who was gazing up at him with a cool expression. Truth be told, she looked little different from any number of other attendees, dressed in a deep red robe that served to accentuate her own darker hue of skin.

She looked a little familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her before…

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” he asked, a little heated.

The woman didn’t so much as twitch. If anything, her grip tightened.

“I would like to think so, given you’ve been employed by me for the past six months,” she replied with a faint smile - one that didn’t reach her eyes.

And Mark froze as he realized who he was looking at.

Querin Vorn.

Kalia’s mother.

The woman who had disowned her daughter barely an hour before the most important match of her life. The woman whose agents their group had been avoiding for a month to keep her from simply dragging Kalia away to keep her from attending said match. The woman whose calls he’d been dodging for the last month…

…Mark suddenly found himself regretting not lashing out with his elbows when he’d had the chance – spilled drinks be damned.

Not that doing so would have been a smart move, but it would have been very satisfying.

Glancing over the woman’s shoulder, he caught sight of another familiar figure.

Lirath.

Mark blinked.

The bastard looked surprisingly intact. No bruises or swelling. His face was flawless. Either he’d used thick makeup, or he’d been dunked in medical regen-gel the moment he regained consciousness.

He was also glaring daggers at Mark, lower lip tight with unspoken outrage. A move that Mark didn’t particularly blame him for.

He’d probably also be pissed to see a guy who’d slept with his fiancée and knocked him out.

No, ex-fiancée, Mark thought. And this is, legally speaking, Kalia’s ex-mother.

“Mark?” Fortunately, he was saved from saying anything by the appearance of the woman’s former daughter and Jelara.

Glancing back, he was surprised to see both women walking over to him. “Kalia? Did your conversation run short?”

“It did,” the woman admitted. “Lady Salen and her husband chose to… retire early. So we thought to seek you out.” She eyed her mother, who was watching her daughter silently. “And I’m glad we did. Hello Mother.”

Querin smiled widely. “Daughter.”

Kalia glanced at Lirath as well, but swiftly returned her gaze to her family’s matriarch. “I wasn’t expecting you to attend.”

The woman had the gall to look surprised. “Why wouldn’t I? What mother would fail to be present in time to celebrate her daughter’s greatest triumph.”

Kalia’s lips formed a thin line as she glanced about. “I see. And father?”

Querin stiffened slightly. “He was indisposed. One of his other women.”

Kalia stiffened, before sagging slightly before smiling bitterly. “Ah, I suppose I shouldn’t have expected differently just because one of my parents chose to surprise me.”

Mark moved before he really thought about it, slipping one arm through the Vrekian’s to give her a side hug. A move that made her stiffen once more, but this time when she sagged, it was with something akin to happiness. Twiceover, as Jelara gripped her other arm in support.

Though even as he was happy to show his former boss support, he was very aware that a number of other party-goers had stopped to watch the ongoing confrontation between mother and child.

Which was only to be expected given the fact that Kalia had made no attempt to hide her falling out with the Vorn Corporation in the month long lead up to the night’s match. The onlookers could no doubt taste the possible drama in the air.

Not that it seemed to bother Vorn senior any, as she stepped up to her daughter. “Don’t dwell on him, Kalia. Tonight’s a night to celebrate after all. For years, you’ve been trying to prove yourself as more than a fortunate child benefiting from her connection to me. Tonight, I gave you the chance to prove it. To yourself. To everyone. And you did.” She chuckled, making sure her voice carried. “How you did.”

“Oh, this bitch,” Jelara whispered.

And Mark didn’t disagree. Were they really going to pretend…

“Indeed,” Lirath stepped in smoothly, voice weighted with false remorse.  “It pained me terribly to go along with it. But your mother insisted it was necessary to help escape the shadow cast by the Vorn Corporation. It was actually part of why I chose to try and meet you before the match. To explain things to you. Away from prying ears. To reinforce both your mother and my private support for you.”

A frown shifted across his handsome features. “Unfortunately, I was… interrupted before I could obtain a private audience with you.”

Mark just smiled back – and winked.

It was hilarious to see the flash of rage that passed across the Nighkru’s face, as well as the way the alien’s hand twitched as if he’d barely managed to abort attempting to slap the human. Which was a shame really, because Mark was more than down to enjoy a repeat of the earlier ‘misunderstanding’.

A sentiment that must have shown on his face, as the Nighkru paled slightly, before turning his gaze deliberately to Kalia. “Of course, with all that in mind, I’m willing to forgive any… mistakes of your own you might have made while we were so cruelly parted.”

Despite himself, Mark was impressed, honestly. The two of them were absolute professionals. They could have sold ice to polar bears with that performance. Oh, the dialogue was pretty… shit, but the sincerity with which they spoke it. He belatedly realized he really had no idea what Lirath’s day job was – or why exactly the marriage arrangement between him and Kalia had formed to begin with.

It certainly hadn’t been because of love, no matter how sterling a performance the man had just given.

“Cut the shit.”

For a second he was a little surprised he wasn’t the one to say those words. Or Jelara. Or even Saria or Tenir.

Instead it was Kalia who spoke – and it was oh so delightful to see the utterly gobsmacked expression on Lirath’s face as his former fiancé completely ignored him to glare at her mother.

And Querin?

Credit where credit was due – her expression didn’t shift an inch.

…At least until she chose for it to.

“I see,” the woman said sadly. “It’s understandable that you’d not want to take my words at face value. I can only imagine how you felt this past month. Like you’d been abandoned.” She paused, glancing around. “Still, perhaps it would be better if we continue this conversation in private. I’d sooner not have any discourse between us sour the mood of your celebrations.”

Kalia visibly wanted to refuse. Mark saw her jaw tighten. But her gaze flicked to the surrounding crowd - the dozens of camera drones, the gossip-hungry aristocrats - and she swallowed the impulse.

She nodded silently.

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

“No,” Kalia said sharply as she stopped just inside the sound proofed conference room the arena’s officials had swiftly moved to provide for the mother and daughter. “They come too. Or we can have this conversation back out there.”

The security team that had just been in the act of barring him, Jelara, Kalia and Tenir entrance froze as they turned to their employer.

Querin paused for a moment, her eyes narrowed. Then she nodded curtly.

The guards stepped aside.

Kalia wasn’t done though. “And I want him out.”

She pointed to Lirath, who’d slipped in with Querin.

And once more Mark got to enjoy the delicious sight of his former rival for his former boss’ affections shocked. “Kalia? Surely-”

“Out. I have a feeling this conversation’s already going to involve a lot of nightsoil. I’d sooner not have someone I don’t need to deal with adding to it.”

“But your mother and I- there was a-”

Querin flicked her fingers. “Done. Lirath, tell your mother the deal is through.”

Lirath sputtered like a choking engine. “You can’t do this!”

Kalia’s mother shrugged. “I think you’ll find I can. My daughter’s value has increased as a result of her recklessness. My arrangement with your mother was formulated on her previous value. Now? Well, I’m willing to renegotiate new terms for our arrangement. Terms that make you superfluous according to her. So leave.”

Lirath opened his mouth, closed it, before storming off in a fit of humiliated rage.

Querin didn’t spare him another glance. “Happy?”

“Hardly,” Kalia said as she took a seat, Mark and the others joining her on her side of the conference table.

And Mark was a little surprised by how comfortable the seats were. Whenever he’d seen scenes in high powered board rooms like this on tv, he’d always sort of assumed the seating was pretty shitty. As like, some kind of power play by whoever sat at the head of the table.

Of course, such innocuous thoughts were but a momentary distraction before Kalia addressed her mother.

“So, not even going to attempt to sell that line you were spouting outside?” Kalia asked bitterly.

Querin scoffed. “Hardly. That was for the plebs to better sell your return to the fold as we put all of this behind us. Well, mostly. I wasn’t lying when I congratulated you.” She smiled from between steepled fingers. “Well done, my daughter. Truly. You have outperformed my expectations of you and in doing so you’ve left me no recourse but to respect your wish to continue your farcical gladiator career.”

Kalia stared. “Really? That’s it? You’re finally willing to ‘allow’ me to live the life I want to live?”

“That’s it? You make it sound like you accomplished some minor feat. You won the Krenheim Cup, girl. In a scrap heap of a mech.”

Mark’s hand found Jelara’s as the jelly-woman frowned at the Vrekian’s words.

“I’d be a fool not to take advantage of that,” Querin continued. “To that end, I am willing to allow you to continue this piloting… hobby. It reflects well on our family now. More than well. The name of a Krenheim Cup champion carries weight we can use. Unfortunately for me, that means I’ll need to choose one of your… half-sisters to become heiress instead. But I’m willing to make that sacrifice in respect for your accomplishments. No, rather I have no choice but to do so because of your accomplishment. Again, well done my daughter.”

It irritated Mark that the woman actually did sound proud – grudgingly so, but proud all the same as she continued. “You get exactly what you wanted. The Vorn corporation will sponsor you going forward. And I’ll return your mechs to you. Hell, I’ll outright grant you ownership once we write up a contract. You simply need to sign back with Vorn Corporation and publicly affirm that reel of shit I spun outside.”

It was funny, the woman was talking like this was all a foregone conclusion. That Kalia had ‘won’ and that the ideal endstate for her was what she was discussing.

And Mark supposed if you were being purely clinical… it was.

“No.” The word rang like a blade striking metal.

Querin blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I said no.” Kalia squared her shoulders. “Out of respect for the fact that the mech you purchased allowed me to begin my career, I won’t drag our private issues into the press. But there’ll be no reconciliation. You and I are finished.”

Querin stared. Then something cold and furious leaked into her eyes.

“Careful daughter,” she whispered. “You’ve nearly gotten what you wanted. And I’m graciously allowing it in respect for what you’ve done. So don’t overreach and force me to remind you of our relative positions.”

“Kalia doesn’t need you, Madam Vorn,” Tenir spoke for the first time. “That offer you just presented? In my position as manager, I’ve received half a dozen with similar terms within the last hour. I’ve no doubt she’s received similar. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Saria’s gotten some.”

Saria jerked up a bit, still a little sauced despite her clear attempts to sober herself for this conversation. “Y-yeah. I think. Maybe one or two t-they were hoping I’d forward to her.”

“This one too,” Jelara added quietly. “In addition to offers aimed at myself, some have hoped to extend Kalia offers through me – even though most seemed unsure of our relationship.”

…Mark was a little offended. No one had attempted to get to Kalia through him. Not one.

Sure, he’d spent most of the evening literally attached to Kalia, but clearly some people had managed to get to Jelara without being noticed in spite of that. So why not him?

Kalia smiled at her friends before turning back to her mother. “See mother? I’m not merely an extension of your will anymore. I have other options available to me. Options as you so charitably put it that I’ve ‘earned for myself’.”

Querin snarled. “Don’t do this Kalia! I might not be able to stop you from splitting from the Vorn Corporation – but you can rest assured that if you do I will make you regret it. I was willing to let you go when you were slated to be a nobody. Just another failed Krenheim hopeful. I will not, cannot, now that you’re champion. A Cup champion who shares our name but doesn’t work for us? It’d be blood on the cave wall.”

Kalia for the first time, no longer looked angry, just disappointed. “Truly mother? You can’t just… let me go? Live my life?”

Querin remained resolute - uncaring. “As I said, once, perhaps. But not now that you’re a champion. If you aren’t with us then I’d be obligated for the sake of our reputation to discredit you. To invest considerable resources into it. We’re already seeing drops in our stock and it’s only going to get worse the longer you’re in the public eye and not part of our company. It makes people think there’s something… wrong with us that even my own daughter chose to leave.”

Jelara huffed. “They’re not wrong.”

The Vrekian matriarch said nothing, her eyes only on her daughter.

Mark, for his part, could barely believe his ears. He’d often heard the phrase ‘willing to sell his own grandma for a dollar’ but he’d never actually seen it in action. Not truly. Yet here was a woman willing to ruin her daughter’s life because the alternative was a drop in stock price for her company.

It was… evil – but of the most banal variety.

Kalia had nothing to say, she just stared. And Querin chose to take that as a win, sitting back.

“Excellent, now that you’ve seen the glow and realized what the situation is, we can return to my earlier offer. As I said, it’s not unfair. Simply state publicly that your disowning was a test given by me, and that you’ve reconciled with the Vorn Corporation. You may still pilot as you wished. You’ve earned it. I’ll also not force you to reconcile with Lirath. We’ll invent some kind of scandal there.”

Kalia sank back in her seat, the fight going out of her. “I’ve not agreed…”

The evil little red woman opposite her just sniffed. “Yes you have. There is nowhere on this colony you can go that I cannot reach, so just accept-”

“Well!” a bright, cheerful – and oh so familiar - voice chimed in. “Lucky for her, I happen to be offering a way off the colony entirely.”

It was like a gunshot had gone off as the door to the room was kicked open and the impish face of Sabine slipped into the room as though she’d been invited.

Querin rounded on her. “Who are you!? This is a private meeting! Why didn’t my security stop you?!”

Sabine smiled pleasantly, waving idly at Mark and Jelara before turning towards the other woman. “I’m afraid they’re having a nap. You work them too hard, non?” She waved a hand dismissively. “And as for who I am? Well, I am the proud owner of the newly formed Earth Mecha Gladiator League hoping to speak to…”

She pivoted on the spot, finger outstretched like some kind of weapon to point at Kalia. “You!”

“Me!?” Kalia squeaked.

Sabine continued. “Yes. You. Kalia Vorn. Champion pilot. Newly free agent. A woman uniquely positioned to advise in the creation of a new off-world league.”

“Off-world?” Kalia blinked, before glancing between Mark and Sabine. “Like… Earth?”

“Earth.”

Querin snapped. “Now just see here-”

“Ah, I’m not talking to you, ma’am,” Sabine didn’t even glance at the CEO. “I’m talking to this lady here. So please don’t interrupt. It’s very rude to interrupt a meeting.”

Kalia’s brain finally seemed to be catching up. “You’re offering me a contract to advise you on the creation of a new league?”

Sabine nodded. “And compete in it. At least initially. I’ve already sourced a number of other pilots of varying levels of fame who might be interested, but you’d be a real feather in my cap.”

Kalia looked for a moment nonplussed by the metaphor, before she gaped. “I’d need to see the contract… but I think I might have an interest in spending a little time off-world.”

“Excellent,” Sabine grinned. “I’m sure we can accommodate any conditions you might have. I think you’ll find that my backers, while currently asset poor, have quite deep pockets indeed. They’re willing to be quite flexible if it means providing our new league with legitimacy. Which, a Cup Champion from Krenheim itself will most certainly provide.”

Kalia smiled. “That’s good. Very good. Ah, I suppose, if nothing else, it will be interesting to see Mark’s homeworld.”

Mark sighed – even as Sabine and Kalia both beamed at him.

Because he really didn’t want to put a downer on all this.

“Yeah. About that. I… can’t exactly go back,” he said, before glaring at Sabine. “Which she knows.”

Sabine just gave him a look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. Jelara frowned in realization. The others looked surprised.

Well, except Querin. The woman was currently talking loudly on her phone – likely trying to summon a backup security team or something. He didn’t know. What he did know was that his presence would be a huge wrench in any plans to go back to Earth.

“I was an informant for the resistance,” he admitted, feeling surprisingly free in doing so. “That was part of why I came out here in the first place. There’s a chance I’m already on a watch list and that the Interior will scoop me up the moment I step foot back home.”

Sabine beamed. “That would be true – under normal circumstances. But if you arrive as part of a cultural liaison’s diplomatic entourage? Which I can promise you, the Colonial Council will most likely insist Kalia be, lest they lose their shiny new champion because the Purps were feeling like turds. So, in travelling with her, you’d have diplomatic immunity.”

Mark stared at her. “You’re kidding.”

Sabine leaned in conspiratorially, whispering in his ear. “Not even a little. The league’s whole purpose is to act as a bright, shiny distraction for the Imperials while smuggling operations take place elsewhere, non? Having a known resistance informant traveling with us - a man they legally can’t touch? Well, that would be rather ideal.”

Of course, he realized. That was classic Sabine. She wasn’t helping him so much as using him. To his and Kalia’s benefit, but it was always an angle.

“Did… did you plan this?” he asked.

She chuckled, deep and throaty. “To be a good spy is to take advantage of opportunities that present themselves. And to be ready when they do. I was here tonight with a different goal in mind… recruiting Kalia’s both shamed and recently defeated rival. I figured she’d be interested in a change of pace… but when I happened to overhear your little argument in here… well…”

So, both yes and no, he thought.

Still…

He could see Earth again. More than that, they could get Kalia away from Querin’s reach.

“Well,” Mark said slowly, speaking loudly enough that everyone could hear. “I’d be down for that.”

Sabine clapped, delighted.

Kalia stared at the two of them, before she slowly exhaled. “I’m… open to it. Pending details. Including a lot more on just who exactly my chef supposedly is.”

Mark was pretty sure he’d already covered the pertinent ones, but nodded and, palms open. “Of course. I really don’t have anything else to hide at this point.”

The former heiress hummed suspiciously, but a small smile was tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“This is not happening!” Querin snapped, furious. “Kalia, this conversation is not over! I don’t know who this backwater savage is, but rest assured, you’re going nowhere!”

Sabine turned a sweet, venomously polite smile on the Vrekian matriarch. “Now, shall we continue this discussion somewhere with better air quality. The atmosphere in here is… unpleasant.”

Kalia didn’t hesitate.

“Yes,” she said. “Let’s.”

Querin shouted her daughter’s name, fists clenched, but Kalia was already turning away. Jelara followed. Tenir followed. Even Saria stumbled after them, clutching a glass of water.

Sabine opened the door with a flourish – revealing two slumped security agents - and ushered them out. Before leaving, she paused just long enough to offer Querin a bright, insincere farewell.

“Goodnight, Chairwoman Vorn. Do enjoy the rest of your evening.”

She stepped out and closed the door behind them.

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

“Still feels wrong that we win the Krenheim Cup and then we’re running away?” Saria asked, tail flicking with indignation. “I still think Kalia’s mom was huffing hot air. She doesn’t have that much reach.”

Mark only smiled at her as another crane rumbled past, lifting one of six mechs toward the transport ship’s open cargo bay. The spaceport’s outbound terminal was much as he remembered when he’d arrived nearly a year ago. A mess of noise, flashing lights, and far too many people.

Fortunately, the security team around them were keeping most of the nearest ones at bay.

Nearly two months had passed since Sabine had swept in to save the day – not that he’d ever thank her for it - but the media frenzy still hadn’t died down. People had very mixed feelings about the new Champion heading off world so soon after her big win.

He glanced at the nearby throng of fans and reporters being held at bay by a team of very familiar faces.

“Please take a step back, the Champion is not answering any questions at this time,” Vrenal was calmly relaying over the shoulder – or perhaps under the armpit – of his Shil’vati girlfriend.

The sassy PR agent had only been all too happy to get headhunted by Kalia in the wake of his ‘reassignment’. Same for their old security team. Which made sense, given the lot were an item.

Which was good, because they’d definitely needed both of their talents the past two months.

Mark really hadn’t understood just how big a deal winning the Krenheim Cup was.

Kalia wasn’t just champion of the week. Nor champion of the year. She was champion of a five-year cycle. Considered to be the best pilot on the entire colony for half a decade.

And she’d done it in a scrap-heap of a machine.

The whole thing had effectively made her royalty in ways that further made Mark wonder if Querin’s threats really had been empty bluster.

Doesn’t really matter now though, he thought.

Then smirked as he watched Jelara awkwardly signing autographs. She was flushing various shades of pink and gold with every signature, obviously mortified at the attention but unable to deny the endless line of admirers.

Her own star hadn’t faded but had risen in the wake of the match as well. Admittedly, opinion on her still drifted a bit between ‘innovative loophole exploiter’ and ‘shameless cheater’ but in the months since the Cup, the general sentiment had for the most part turned positive.

It helped that she’d used the criticism of her loophole status as ‘equipment’ to highlight how the construction and industrial sectors abused the same classification to underpay Ulnus workers.

More than a few of her soundbites had gone viral, much to her chagrin. Last he’d heard, a lot of those laws were now taking fire.

A few industrial lobbyists had tried initially to paint her as a parasite piggybacking off Kalia – right until it came out that Starfarer was actually Jelara’s mech and one she’d built herself. After that she’d become fairly bulletproof as a poster woman for rags-to-riches success.

Of course, Mark couldn’t help but think all that fame came with certain downsides – for him – as he watched one of those ‘fans’ who he hadn’t realized was actually a male colony, trying to give a blushing Jelara his contact details.

Mark’s eye twitched – even as he gratefully watched her decline.

Was it hypocritical to get jealous when he was in a relationship with four women?

Yes.

Had he promised - calmly, politely – any of the hussies who refused to take a hint with his girls?

Also yes.

Not the most mature of responses, but the good news was that Jelara and Kalia found his jealousy sexy.

So it all balanced out.

Tenir? He didn’t know. The big nerd couldn’t attract a guy if her life depended on it. Again, it was fortunate for him that most of the men on this colony wouldn’t know a great girl if she slapped them in the face.

…Actually, with that in mind, was going back to Earth really a good idea?

“Fuck, it’s too late to stop now,” he muttered.

Mark looked toward the line of mechs in their loading frames. Two of them, gleaming and silver, were brand-new. Sabine hadn’t lied: her contacts on Earth had absurdly deep pockets. Now, technically the machines currently belonged to the newborn league, but Sabine had already quietly assured him that after the first year they’d default to Kalia and Jelara’s.

Just long enough to ensure Earth could have plenty of hands-on time with the machines before the two chose whether or not they wanted to move on.

Humanity was very eager to learn how to maintain and repair mechs.

“For the league,” he muttered sarcastically.

Even a few Krenheim corporations had joined the sponsor pool despite Querin’s best efforts to blacklist them. The only catch was that Kalia’s and Jelara’s mechs were now obligated to bear a massive company logo across the chest forever.

And drink Lurkin Tea at every press conference.

With the label facing outward.

“For eternity,” Mark muttered.

According to Tenir, that was… actually a really good sponsorship deal.

He took her word for it.

“Alright, Tenir says we’re ready to go!” Kalia jogged up, breathless from escaping her adoring fans. She looked radiant, and tired. Mark leaned down and kissed her, and her entire face went bright crimson.

Even months later, affection still blindsided her. Despite how much he’d been heaping on. Which was why Mark kissed her again.

And why Jelara leaned in as she arrived, and with perfect timing to kiss the Vrekian a third time - leaving Kalia speechless and glowing deep red while both of them smirked. Kalia was still in charge for the most part. The only exception was the bedroom.

Tenir arrived a moment later, adjusting her sleek business jacket. She didn’t blush - not outwardly - but the faint flicker of her silver skin betrayed her feelings as Mark laid a kiss on her too.

Jelara, notably, did not.

That was apparently quite normal for harem politics – and there was no real badwill between them. Merely preference.

“I do indeed say we’re ready,” Tenir said. “The last mech is onboard. You excited to be returning home?”

He took a moment to think about it, before nodding. “You know what? I really am.”

Earth still summoned complicated feelings for him – but it was home.

“Good!” Sabine declared as she appeared from nowhere, as she always did. “Though I’ll have to correct your girlfriend. We still have one final matter to deal with before we depart.”

Tenir frowned in thought, before nodding. “Ah, yes. You mentioned another… party joining us? Last minute.”

Mark blinked. “Oh, did you manage to lure in another mech team?”

A few were traveling with them – including Kalia’s old rival Pallen.

The Senthe hadn’t exactly been too happy to learn the reason for her choosing to leave the colony was coming with her to her new destination.

Sabine laughed. “Not quite. He’s… you could say he’s one of my tertiary objectives for coming out here. My backers knew he’d last been seen in this section of space and they considered it a bonus if during my time here I managed to find him.”

“Him?” Mark asked.

She nodded, smiling mysteriously. “Yep, someone I’ve spent my entire time here trying to ferret out over the net – and just last month he responded. Apparently he’s willing to join our diplomatic entourage - under the same immunity loophole protecting our dear Mark. It seems you’re not the only one missing home.”

Mark frowned. “Who exactly are we talking about?”

Sabine’s eyes glinted with the joy of dropping a bombshell. “Someone the Shil’vati very, very much do not want returning to Earth.”

Mark blinked. “…Uh. Should I know who that is?”

Sabine leaned forward, voice dropping conspiratorially. “Tell me, Mark. Have you ever heard of Jason Linford?”

Mark searched his memory.

He paused.

Thought harder.

Then shrugged.

“Nope. Not a clue.”

Was he supposed to be important or something?