Sir ChickenBurger
patreon
Killer Kittens from Outer Space- Chapter Nineteen
🕑 Added 2024-03-04 20:33:37 +0000 UTCTommy
Sweat pooled beneath his eyes and across the back of his neck as Tommy hefted another shovel of mulch down into the garden bed at number 57b on Pioneer Drive. They’d started that morning at 57a, a home belonging to a kindly old lady with the deep wrinkles of a frequent smiler, who’d plied them with sweets and cans of soft drink to combat the baking heat.
“Bless you boys,” she’d said multiple times. “It’s been so hard to find good help around the place these days.” She’d insisted on paying them in the old Australian dollars “to show those pink women where to shove it” and hadn’t taken no for an answer when they’d tried to decline.
The house they were working on now lay behind hers at the end of a long driveway that passed by her residence and was shuttered, with a metal grill welded to the front door. Robert had taken one look down the driveway and paused, then instructed Tommy to stay by the van. He’d exchanged a few tense words with someone through the door, then beckoned him over.
“Just the frontage,” he said.
Despite the heat, it felt good to work on something tangible. Most of the plants that looked to have once thrived in the yard weren’t salvageable, so they’d pulled the overgrown weeds, selected a few hardy species of cacti and succulents from the bed of the van and spread them out along the strip of dirt that ran the length of the driveway fence.
“This should do it,” Robert said as he trundled over with another barrow load of mulch. “Not bad for a morning’s work Tommy. I’d have been lucky to get just the last house done by now. There’s a lot less to-and-fro when I have another pair of hands to help.”
“You think they’re going to maintain it though?” Tommy gestured to their work.
“That’s why I carry the hardy stuff,” Robert shrugged. “They’ll do just fine on rainwater, and the mulch will keep the worst of the weeds at bay for a while. How are you liking the work?”
“It’s… good,” Tommy admitted, rolling out his shoulders as he set the shovel down into the wheelbarrow. “That lady was really happy to see us.”
Gardening also made it easier not to think about the last couple of days. After he’d stormed out on Seamus, his temper had carried on through the next day until Robert put his foot down. Now that he was out in the sun a lot of the stress had bled away, running off him like the sweat he wiped from his brow as he stood back to look over a job well done.
“It’s tidy enough,” Robert nodded in satisfaction. “I’ll just go let the homeowner know and we can get out of his hair, he’s a bit of a jumpy bloke. I said I’d knock again once we finished up. Wheel those tools back up to the van for me, would you?”
“Right,” Tommy acknowledged, depositing Robert’s spade and the trowels into the barrow.
Is this really going to be my life from now on?
It wasn’t a completely unpleasant thought. He respected Robert, a man who had a good work ethic and a healthy worldview if one that he found a bit too laid back. If the nice lady from that morning was any indication, it wouldn’t be thankless work. It was simple. Peaceful.
It's just…
There was a whole galaxy out there. If the Imperium hadn’t shown up, he might have been content with a life in the army, or maybe a trade if that hadn’t panned out. But now… Seamus’ words echoed in his mind. The keys to our own ships. Escape. An endless adventure through the deepest reaches of space. He’d been born to the generation that should have experienced all of that. What would his life have looked like?
And here I am, shoveling shit for retirees and recluses.
He'd have laughed at the unfairness if he hadn’t been living it.
He'd just finished loading everything into the van when Robert returned. “Nothing on top for us out of that job,” he remarked, though it didn’t seem to bother him.
“How often do people pay us to help anyway?” Tommy asked.
“Maybe half the time, if we’re lucky,” Robert shrugged. “That’s not counting the times I refuse payment, like if they’re particularly old. That lady was a proper firecracker about it, otherwise I wouldn’t have accepted her money. Course, the Imperium is forking the bill for all our material costs and labor, so anything extra is just gravy.”
“Do most of them pay in cash?” Tommy asked. “It almost seems like more effort than it’s worth to go and change twenty dollars to credits.”
“I just go past the changer at the end of each week, and it depends,” Robert answered. “More and more folks are giving up on the dollar since Coles and Woolies bowed the knee and stopped accepting it. I expect they’ll stop changing money altogether within a year or so, and that will be that. We’ll be proper Imperial subjects then.” Something dark and complicated flickered over the older man’s face and then disappeared.
Tommy also fought to control his expression.
“Anyway,” Robert went on. “I’m feeling like lunch. Any requests? It’s your first day, so it’s my treat. After that, you’ll be paying for yourself from your share of our stipend, minus some house expenses.”
“Gonna charge me rent?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.
“I’m not gonna treat you like a seasonal worker if that’s what you’re asking,” Robert snorted in amusement. “We split everything down the middle, and that includes expenses. You’ll earn your keep, and enough to go off and do whatever you want down the line. I think that’s fair.”
“Down the middle?” Tommy blinked. “I figured you’d be paying me a base wage or something.”
“I had a chat with Mary,” Robert replied. “We want you to feel like a part of our family, you know that. We’re a team, Tommy, so you’re getting a cut as a partner, not an employee. So,” he carried on as Tommy turned to swallow the lump in his throat, “How about lunch? You choose the place.”
---
“Don’t get used to this,” Robert warned as the pair stepped into the cool, air-conditioned interior of the restaurant. “When I said, ‘whatever you want’ I was thinking more along the lines of pies versus subway sandwiches, not steak for lunch.”
“I’ll never understand why meat pies are a thing,” Tommy shook his head and Robert scoffed at him good-naturedly.
A waitress greeted them at the door to lead them to their seats, and they’d taken half a dozen steps into the restaurant when the hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck stood on end.
He looked around. Sure enough, seated at a table towards the back of the restaurant, separated from the human patrons by two rows of empty tables was a group of kespans. He was about to turn to Robert and suggest leaving when the smallest alien noticed him. A set of pointed ears pricked up, and she reached over to tug at the cuff of another, curiously armoured kespan, then pointed.
Fuck.
“We need to go,” he said urgently into Robert’s ear, and the older man looked at him askance.
“I thought you wanted steak?” he said, and Tommy grabbed his arm, about to steer him towards the exit.
“Excuse me?” The cool, slightly robotic translatorspeak carried across the restaurant and sent a shiver down Tommy’s spine. With a sigh, he looked up. The youngest kespan looked back at him, eyes gleaming with an enthusiasm that only set him more on edge.
“It is you, yes? The pair of humans from a few days ago? We met outside the shopping center.” The earnest face of the youngest member of the crew that had stepped in to help them blinked back at Tommy.
“Swallow your food Valiir, then speak,” the grey-snouted kespan sitting next to her chided. “Unless you want to spend some additional time going over etiquette as well as procedure.”
Tommy was kicking himself privately. Of course, the aliens would come back here again. Their exchange had planted the seeds for his current craving for a slab of medium-rare sirloin, but he hadn’t stopped to think about whether they might bump into each other.
“That’s us,” Robert smiled. “I don’t think we got a chance to introduce ourselves properly last time. I’m Robert, and this is my boy Tommy.” He clapped Tommy on the back and shot him an apologetic look.
Tommy just nodded, trying his best to avoid extended eye contact with any of the aliens. The sooner they got this interaction over with, the better. Already, he could spot the curious and prying eyes staring at them from the human-occupied side of the room. There were scowls on those faces too.
The kespan leader, a severe-looking felinoid whose face Tommy remembered, gave a courteous nod back. “Captain Mirai, of the She-Steps-Silently,” she reintroduced herself and then gestured to the rest of the table. “This is my crew; that’s Imrir, my second in command on the far side. Rowla there is my security officer, she’s our veteran combat specialist,” the greying kespan inclined her head slightly. The two sitting between are Krik and Krak, they’re general security. That’s not their real names, but it’s what everyone calls them. They’re not twins, but you could be forgiven for thinking they were.”
The two almost identical kespans barely acknowledged the presence of the human men, they were instead busying themselves with devouring the remainder of a sizeable pile of beef ribs, adding to a small stack of shiny bones, that teetered precariously be the end of the table.
“Lastly, we have Valiir, ship ensign. She’s our most junior crewmember, so she drew the short straw to join us planetside for this little jaunt, which I’m sure she’s just decided she enjoys greatly.” The smallest kespan grinned bashfully at Tommy over what looked like the start of her second huge steak, her salad untouched. “Ignore anything she says.”
“Hey,” whined the ensign through another mouthful of t-bone, her ears going back and her muzzle scrunching up.
“Swallow first,” the oldest one, Rowla, growled and cuffed her over the head.
The captain turned back to Robert. “We must thank you again for the recommendation of this restaurant,” she said. “These steaks are excellent. Some of the best quality meat we have ever enjoyed.” The scowls on the faces of the men in the corner deepened into targeted glares at that, and Tommy’s muscles bunched up.
“You’re very welcome,” Robert replied, either oblivious to their situation or resigned to it. “We Australians pride ourselves on our agricultural industry.”
“It shows.” She gestured to the end of the table, where several empty seats stood, and Tommy’s stomach dropped, his appetite suddenly vanishing. “If you wish to join us, it would be my treat.” The offer had even the two food-obsessed kespan women looking up from their meals.
Robert hesitated, and Tommy glanced at him pointedly, but the man wasn’t looking at him. Instead, his hand flexed near the wallet in his pocket. Crap. Come on Robert, you can’t be serious.
“No strings attached, of course,” the Captain Mirai hurried to add. “You can accept it as thanks for the recommendation and a further apology for the actions of those soldiers the other day. This is also the first time some of my crew has gone planetside as part of an induction. Conversing with new species is a valuable experience, so you would be doing me a favour.”
No, absolutely not.
“Why not?” Robert shrugged, and Tommy gaped at him.
“Rober—“ he paused, they had an audience. “Father, we can’t…”
“Hey now, you wanted steaks for lunch,” Robert chuckled, cutting him off and clapping him on the back. “One thing you need to learn about being an adult Tommy, is that you never say no to a free steak. You know, like the one you asked me to buy you.”
“I think the saying is actually, ‘there’s no such thing as a free lunch.’”
“Let’s not argue Tommy.” He leaned in. “They’re here now, and not going anywhere. Plus, they’ve helped us once already. We should accept that they’re not all bad.”
He could walk out. He’d done that once already in the last few days, and he hadn’t regretted it then. But Robert’s face wasn’t stern or uncompromising, it was concerned imploring. There were bags under his eyes, bags that Tommy hadn’t noticed when they’d awoken that morning.
Dammit.
“Fine,” he sighed.
“Thank you,” Robert muttered back, giving his shoulder a paternal squeeze. The older man turned to the kespans, who were pretending that they couldn’t hear their conversation, though the twitches in the youngest ensign’s ears betrayed them. “We graciously accept.”
“Excellent,” the captain smiled, then looked to her crew. “Ladies, these two gentlemen will be joining us in our meal. Please demonstrate proper galactic etiquette.”
Tommy rolled his eyes and turned to the table, only to pause in confusion as one of the armoured kespans— the second officer, if he’d gotten the introductions right— stood and moved a chair out for him. The gesture was only a precursor to something that resembled Tommy’s worst nightmare as the entire table stood as one, and the captain slid out another chair for Robert. She bowed slightly and gestured with a hand for him to sit.
Blood rushed to Tommy’s head. All around them, the diner had gone quiet. It wasn’t a full house, but when they’d walked in there had been conversation, dulled perhaps by the presence of the aliens, but present. Now every eye in the room was wide open and watching in disbelief.
“Oh, er, thank you,” Robert laughed awkwardly and took a seat. Tommy followed suit if only to end the spectacle as quickly as possible. Fortunately, as he did, the rest of the table also sat down, the ensign and the not-twins snatching up napkins and wiping the meat juice from their whiskers, then picking up their cutlery with more care than they’d displayed before.
This is fucking ridiculous. Tommy wanted to crawl up into a ball under his chair, but the expectant gazes of the table were on him, and Robert raised his eyebrows.
“Thanks,” he muttered instead, and the word tasted like ash in his mouth.
He was saved by the waitstaff.
“Would sirs like anything from the menu?” The waiter’s eyes were laced with something poisonous, and he bowed exaggeratedly, almost genuflecting, his hands coming up in a sweeping motion like he was greeting royalty. Tommy had lived in Australia long enough to know when someone was making fun of him, and he clenched his fist as the closest tables snickered. It’s not like I’d be here if I had a choice.
“I’ll have the porterhouse,” Tommy mumbled, avoiding the man’s eyes. Might as well milk the aliens for all they’re worth.
“The rib-eye for me,” Robert kept his tone upbeat, but he was finally starting to sound a bit uncertain.
I told him this was a bad idea.
“Very good monsieurs,” the waiter simpered. “And would you like sauce with those steaks? Barbeque? Garlic? Cat-chup?”
The sniggers were beginning to break out into true laughs now, and the kespans were looking confused, their translators seemingly unable to tell them what the big joke was.
“Just jus,” Robert straightened up, he’d had enough. He got in ahead of the waiter as the man opened his mouth again. “Medium rare for both of us, two bottles of coke, and that will be all, thank you. We appreciate your service.”
His fun over, the man sniffed. “We’ll get right on that,” he said, and then moved over to another table.
Captain Mirai’s eyes watched him closely as he moved off, and she glanced between the humans curiously but said nothing.
“Um, excuse me,” a timid voice from across the table ventured, and Tommy sighed. Fine. Let’s get this over with.
“Yes?” he answered blankly, staring at the youngest kespan, the ensign, who was now fidgeting with a napkin and blushing profusely.
“I know the captain just introduced us, but I’m Ensign Valiir Beshmari,” she smiled hesitantly. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’m not very good at this whole diplomacy thing yet, but it’s nice to meet you, Mr Tommy, sir.”
Kill me now.
Comments
andrew murry
I just hope we get some growth of his character. You can hate a species you can even be bigot specially after they kill 40% of your species, but the antisocial social nonsense is getting a little old
Andrew Webb
Not sure if you're taking feedback, but I prefer the Tommy chapters over the Ana ones. The Ana ones definitely feel more unique compared to other stories like this and I'm happy to read them, but the Tommy chapters just feel more satisfying.
