Sexy Space Babes: Chapter Sixty (Patreon)

Hurry up and wait.

It seemed that even a space age empire like the Imperium hadn’t quite managed to get around that one universal truth of military service. After nearly two days of frantic hustle and bustle as the regiment’s many supplies and vehicles were loaded onto their transport, the Terran First had been left with little to do but sit on their thumbs as a result of some bureaucratic nonsense that was keeping the Gentle River grounded.

“Run it again Marines!” A Shil’vati NCO called out to the Marines who were currently running combat drills in the ship’s massive hangar.

From his vantage point on one of the gantries, the whole thing looked like a giant game of laser-tag to Jason. Which might have sounded fun, if it weren’t for his knowledge that the Marines below him had been running the same scenario for the last five hours.

“Not tempted to join in?” A voice asked from his right.

He glanced over to see Gremp striding up to him, and deliberately resisted the urge to frown. While he hadn’t had many interactions with the Shil’vati Exo captain, they’d almost all been universally negative. At least in those few instances where the woman had deigned to notice his presence.

“Not really, ma’am.” He shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like I could walk up and just ask to be slotted into the formation.”

The black haired woman eyes him oddly, head twitching minutely to the side. “You could. If you so chose. They would be honoured to train with the Champion.”

Jason chuckled humorlessly. Even if the first part was news to him – another part of this strange alien role he found himself in – he somehow doubted the second part of that statement was true.

Or maybe it is? He pondered as he glanced down at the very many young faces down below him.

In his few experiences with his fellow Humans, they’d for the most part seemed incredibly wary of him, as unsure as to what to make of his rank as he was. Which wasn’t an entirely unrealistic stance to take. They were fresh boots, and were very well aware that they all ranked at the very bottom of a very large totem pole. To them, he was just another person who was higher rank than them, and thus to be treated with the same mixture of fear and awe that any other NCO received.

That he was also Human like them, was barely even a factor there. The difference in rank had him shunted into a different species almost by default.

Which is at least better than the reactions I get from Friska’s regiment, he thought.

Still, there was an opportunity here.

“Perhaps I will,” he said slowly.

Gremp nodded in satisfaction, before wandering off.

Jason watched her go, wondering what that little discussion was in aid of.

“I’d keep my eye on that one.”

It was only through long practice with Yaro that Jason didn’t jump out of his skin. Instead, he slowly turned around to face Nora, who was watching Gremp’s retreating form with half-lidded eyes.

“Have you been taking cues from Yaro?” he asked, completely ignoring the woman’s vaguely ominous statement.

The bizarre question seemed to snap the Scandinavian woman out of her cool mysterious persona as she blinked at him in confusion.

“What?” she asked finally.

“Have you been taking cues from Yaro?” he repeated with deliberate slowness.

Nora glanced back to where Yaro was avidly watching the drills down below. The only hint that she was even aware of their discussion was in the way her ears had twisted in the duo’s direction, like a pair of fluffy radar dishes.

Quit trying to play it cool, you overgrown furball, he thought. I can see you smirking.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about…” Nora said finally, apparently totally wrongfooted by his entirely reasonable line of questioning.

Jason eyed her coolly. “So you weren’t trying to make me jump by sneaking up on me?”

“What!? No!” The blond frowned. “Have I done anything to make you think I’d behave in such a… juvenile manner.”

Now it was his turn to resist the urge to smirk as Yaro very visibly twitched at the accidental insult being levied in her direction.

“No, I suppose not,” Jason allowed, clamping down on the snickers that threatened to spill out of him at the sight of Yaro’s tail going limp. “I suppose I’m just too used to being able to hear a Shil’vati coming from a mile off.”

Nora stared at him oddly for a few seconds, before apparently deciding to drop the topic entirely.

“Anyway,” she coughed. “As I was saying, you should really keep an eye on that one.”

“Gremp?” he asked, straightening up as he glanced in the direction the alien woman had gone. “Seems normal enough to me.”

Sexist. Dismissive of aliens. Assured of her own superiority. The pony-tailed woman was pretty much a poster child for what he’d come to expect from most officers of noble origin. Sure, he’d encountered plenty of exceptions to that rule, but by and large, most of the officers he’d met in his time in the capital had been cut from the same mould as Gremp.

Nora shook her head. “Are you blind? She was clearly scoping you out.”

Jason stared at his fellow Human. “Gremp? Scoping me out? A Human?”

Prior to their most immediate interaction, he’d been of the opinion that the woman considered him to be roughly on the same level as something she might have to scrape off the bottom of her very large boots.

Nora shrugged. “You never heard of little boys pulling the pigtails of the girls they like?”

“She’s hardly yanking on my hair,” he said, reaching up to touch his short cropped hair. Or lack thereof.

“No, she’s just poking the Garuff at every opportunity she gets,” Yaro opined without looking up from her vigil.

Jason stared at the other woman in betrayal. “Not you too Yaro?”

The Rakiri chuffed, turning to stare back at him. “I can clearly recall a similar circumstance back on Gurathu. It involved a young huntress and the young male of a neighbouring pack. She and her sisters pestered the male at every opportunity.”

“And how did it end?” Nora asked, leaning on the nearby wall.

“His sister’s tore seven shades of fur from my form after just a few days.” Yaro gave the Rakiri approximation of a shrug. “At which point they give me strict instructions to remain as far away from the young man as possible.”

Jason smiled at the thought. Apparently Yaro wasn’t always the classy young woman he knew. It seemed she used to be a little tomboy… or just a regular ‘girl’ by the standards of just about every race outside of Humanity.

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. “Well, even if that was what was happening with Gremp – which it isn’t – I’m a bit lacking in hypothetical older sisters to lay the smackdown on our superior officer.”

Nor did he think such a hypothetical would end well for said hypothetical Human women.

“Which is why I told you to be wary of her,” Nora reiterated. “Because she’s going to keep coming around.”

Behind the Scandinavian, Yaro nodded along in agreement.

“Alright, alright, I’ll keep that in mind.” He finally said, raising his hands in defeat.

Though he hardly saw what the issue was. Alright, another Shil’vati was – possibly! - gunning to get into his pants. Nothing new there. The only difference here was that she was apparently going about it in the most ass-backwards and juvenile way possible.

And there was no chance he was going to fall for that.

He was about to say as much when the ship’s intercom rang out.

“All crew report to duty stations. All passengers report to designated locations. Lift-off will commence in fifteen minutes.”

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

“Yes, yes. I promise I’ll be fine,” Jason repeated for what felt like the hundredth time into his headset.

He hadn’t been too surprised to receive a last minute data-net call from his… harem back home. Communication with Shil was still possible while the Gentle River waited in orbit, and that would remain the case until they jumped to phase. At which point the only means of communication would be via messenger ship.

A significantly slower form of communication that precluded actual conversation given that the Imperium still hadn’t figured out instant FTL communications.

So the short window between take off and phase was the last chance for a lot of people to talk to their loved ones planetside before they were cut off by a few thousand light years of space.

Of course, Jason was reasonably sure that a good ninety percent of the regiment didn’t have any loved ones on the planet - so he had the public comm terminals pretty much to himself. He imagined a few of the NCOs might have been present, but they were - by and large – stuck running herd on a regiment that was predominantly composed of fresh faces.

“Yes Raisha. I promise Raisha. No intentional heroics this time.” He frowned. “No accidental heroics either.” He paused. “Yes Kernathu. I got your pictures. Yes, they were very nice. No, nice does not mean bad. I don’t care what the internet says a guy means by nice. Nice means nice. Not bad or small.”

Christ, sometimes he didn’t know why he was humouring her – especially given that this was effectively the equivalent of a guy sending his girl a dick pic and then demanding compliments.

He glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ve got to attend a command meeting in a few minutes. Just focus on your training and I promise I’ll be back before you know it.”

The operation was slated to take three months at most, but even he wasn’t fool enough to come out and say it. That was tempting Murphy too much even for his tastes.

“Well, if it isn’t the Imperium’s newest pet.”

He sighed but kept his eye on the screen in front of him. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

His bit said, he turned off the long-range communicator and turned around.

“Meritorious Corporal Kincaid,” Jason said finally, turning around to face a man who was built like a brick shithouse and had a face that had seen perhaps one too many bar fights. “I must say I’m surprised to see you down here.”

For one thing, he found it hard to believe anyone would want to talk to the guy, let alone pay the incredible premiums required for just a few minutes use of the public comm terminals.

Of course, it was equally possible the guy himself was paying to inflict himself on some poor woman or women back on Shil, he thought as the swarthy man sauntered over to a comm terminal and took a seat. Because all the insufferableness in the world is secondary to the fact that the dude’s got a dick in most of their minds.

Of course, he knew he was taking some splash damage from that thought, because he was a prime example of that trope in action. Because lord knew he couldn’t think of any other reason he’d somehow attracted a harem.

“Gotta call my girls back on Shil.” Kincaid grinned nastily. “Let ‘em know we’re through now that I’m shipping out.”

“Yet you chose to wait until you were on the ship before making that call,” Jason noted. “Scared they might take your parting the wrong way?”

The other man’s expression twisted into a scowl, his ego no doubt pricked by the insinuation that he’d be afraid of a bunch of women… or Shil’vati.

To be honest, Jason had no idea if the man had issues with aliens or women. Or both.

“Watch yourself, boy.” Kincaid growled. “Just didn’t want to have to deal with a bunch of waterworks when they realize me and my magic dick are floating away.”

Not that the man’s distaste for aliens had apparently stopped him from making use of his exoticism to sleep with a number of them.

Which really led to the root cause of Jason’s distaste for the man – ignoring the man’s own distaste for him.

He was a bit of a hypocrite.

“I’m surprised you have the time,” the engineer noted. “The NCOs have the rest of the regiment running ragged. Kit checks. Drills. All that jazz.”

“Boot shit,” Kincaid said absently as he typed his comm code into the machine. “Our captain knows better than to waste the real soldiers' time with that crap.”

Despite himself, Jason could well believe that was the case, if less crudely put. In her meetings with Cleff, the tank Captain had made it clear that she was giving her company a loose leash.

She didn’t really have a choice to be honest. The former tankers were old veterans and wouldn’t respond well to the same treatment that the ‘boots’ were receiving.

Something the predominantly surly group had actually responded well to according to the woman – though not without a few notable exceptions. Like Kincaid, who seemed to have come to the conclusion that the special treatment made him… well, special.

Untouchable. Too valuable to be tripped up over ‘small shit’.

Like being generally insubordinate unless under the direct supervision of an officer or an NCO, Jason thought. And even then, only to the bare minimum required to avoid stringent punishment.

Sure, Jason could complain to Friska about the man’s behaviour, but he had a feeling that was exactly what the Corporal wanted. For him to demonstrate that he was incapable of standing up for himself. That his ‘lofty’ role was undeserved.

Which… admittedly wasn’t an entirely incorrect interpretation of the engineer’s current circumstances, but Jason would be damned if he would admit as much to the asshole.

Especially when Kincaid was here just like him. Serving the Imperial military.

The hypocrite.

Because while he could respect a man that stood true to his principles, someone who preached one thing and did another got right in his grill.

So the two of them hated each other.

“I might have thought you’d have appreciated an opportunity to brush up on the basics,” Jason said casually.

Kincaid glared at him. “Listen here, boy, I was a Captain in the US military for five years before those purp cunts showed up. I fought ‘em. I lost good friends doing so. In a real war - not the pissant little firefight that has all those dumbfuck boots licking your boots.” The man took a breath, as if calming himself. “So if you think those green as grass purp ‘officers’ have anything to teach me and my boys about soldiering, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Jason shrugged, nonplussed. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t heard before. From the man himself or others in the tank company.

“Hell, why do you think me and my people are here?” Kincaid continued, a hint of smugness gracing his features. “To teach these Imperial assholes how to be real soldiers, because I tell you now, these alien cunts haven’t the faintest idea how to use real armour.”

Jason glanced up to see Yaro poking her head into the room. Apparently she’d heard the slightly raised voices and came to investigate.

As her role demanded.

Of course, Kincaid didn’t see it that way.

“Look at that, the femdog has come to pick up the lapdog.” He chuckled. “Run along now, Champion. I’ve got better shit to do than spend what few minutes of peace I get each day staring at your ugly traitorous mug.” He turned back to the comm-console. “Like cutting loose a pile of alien tail.”

Jason felt his knuckles whiten as irritation ran through him, even as a hint of a flush reached his cheeks.

What annoyed him more than the man’s words, were the way that in some way they resonated with him. Which never used to be a problem. He’d long accepted that he was part of the Imperium. Trying to resist that was pointless.

So why did Kincaid’s words sting so much?

He stood up, pushing back his seat with just a little more force than was strictly necessary.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to waste anymore of your precious time, meritorious corporal.” He turned to walk out of the room, only to stop, unable to keep himself from making a parting shot. “Though for all that you needle me for working with the Imperium, I can’t help but notice you’re here too. Working with the enemy. Seems that for all your bark, you’re just another dog like me. One who’s not too proud to beg for scraps from a new master.”

Kincaid hunched in his seat. “Just get the fuck out of here traitor…”

Jason did, satisfied that if nothing else he’d managed to get in the final word.

Yaro fell in behind him as they walked down the hall away from the comm-room.

“If you would only give me leave, I would discipline him for his disrespect,” she said quietly, aiming a glare back in the direction they’d come.

“Leave it,” Jason said, trying not to show how the notion of Yaro acting on his behalf raised his hackles. “I can handle it myself.”

More to the point, he didn’t want Yaro fighting his battles for him. That strayed far too close to vindicating Kincaid’s words about him.

He didn’t need anyone to look after him. He could look after himself.

“Then at least report him to the Colonel or his Captain,” the white furred woman continued. “His behaviour is deplorable and edges dangerously close to outright sedition.”

“Nothing would come of it,” Jason said. “Asshole or not, the guy knows his stuff. Friska’s mentioned him by name more than once in her debriefs. He’s useful to her and not easily replaced. So if I went to her about it, the worst he’d get is a slap on the wrist.”

Yaro looked dubious, but thankfully didn’t pursue the topic further. Which was a relief, because Jason had no idea if he’d have been able to properly defend that shaky bit of logic.

Sure, Kincaid was valuable to Friska, but the Imperium took any talk that ran counter to the Imperial line quite seriously. For all that the guy might get away with a slap on the wrist, it was also possible that something… significantly worse might come of it.

Especially if a member of the Interior butted their nose into it.

Which would leave him a significantly worse situation. Because while Kincaid was considered an asshole - even by his fellow tankers, from what he’d overheard -  he was still a tanker. Which meant he was their asshole.

And if Jason was the cause of something happening to the guy. Well, while the tank company might not have any official means of getting back at him, he had no doubt it would end poorly.

Just the espirit de corps at work, Jason thought cynically. Which he thought was doubly ironic, given that said tankers came from all over the planet, and as such, some would have been ‘enemies’ prior to the Imperium’s arrival.

Nothing like an outside enemy to bring humans together. He could only hope that their arrival on Raknos-Three transitioned that status as an enemy from him to the Roaches.