Oh No, I Shot A Spaceship And Kissed An Alien Cyberchef (At The Alien Hotel #3)

Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

NELAN

T he kitchen bustles with activity, a stark contrast to the usual quiet efficiency of the NutriSynth. It’d be so easy to turn to the machine and do all this with a few clicks of the button… but for once, I’m actually content to just let the kitchen turn into a disaster zone. I can always clean it up later.

When was the last time I enjoyed cooking like this, I wonder? Probably back when I had two organic arms and fewer existential crises.

The little human female standing beside me has changed everything. Even before I lost my arm, I’d fallen into the trap of everything needing to be perfect. Yet the last few days… I’m finding what I once lost: a passion to just make others happy. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be good enough. I don’t need to be perfect.

Laura moves gracefully around me, her presence both comforting and disquieting. I can’t help but steal glances at her, remembering the warmth of her body against mine just hours ago. She’s surprised me with her requests, taking charge in bed, but I find it refreshing. All the Volscian females I’ve been with expected so much but did so little to define what they wanted. You could work endlessly for your entire life and never make them happy.

Laura told me exactly what she wanted, and I loved every moment of it. I want to please her, and I’m more than willing to learn every little thing that makes her squirm.

“Nelan? Earth to Nelan?” Laura asks, prodding me in the side. I jolt, glancing down at her.

“Sorry, what?”

“Can you pass the Grokian fruit?” She grins up at me innocently. “You know, the one that’s long and throbbing.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on the task at hand. Cooking. If only my body would follow suit. I pass her the fruit, careful to keep my own throbbing fruit hidden beneath the counter’s edge. Who knew cooking could be so... stimulating?

Laura just smirks at me. The little human knows exactly how she’s affecting me! Two can play at this game. I wonder if she’d appreciate a demonstration of my skills right now?

Too bad people are coming and going, collecting the dishes we make. I need to install a lock on that door… then we’d have the privacy I so desperately want. I’m pretty sure that Laura would not appreciate me throwing her onto the counter-top, spreading her legs, and making a feast out of her. Well, she might enjoy that. I’d make sure she would, in fact. But she might not enjoy one of her human friends walking in on us in that moment. Talk about an awkward staff meeting.

“You know, I was thinking…” Laura bites her lip, looking up at me.

I scowl down at her. For the first time since last night, I see hesitation in her. My usual bright and happy mate is concerned…

Mate?

I haven’t asked her to be mine. Yet. But after last night… I just need to find the right moment. Maybe I should practice my proposal speech. “Laura, will you be the seasoning to my bland existence?” No, too cheesy. “Laura, let’s make a lifetime reservation for two?” Ugh, even worse.

“Well, after dinner, maybe we can take dessert back to your room,” she says, cheeks turning bright red. They almost match my own hue, and there’s something deeply pleasant about seeing that. Maybe it’s because that was the color of her cheeks when she was in the throes of ecstasy.

Her words just cause my scowl to deepen. “Are the meals I cook for you not sufficient? I can cook something else, or more?”

“No!” Laura buries her face in her hands. She leans closer to my side, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “I mean… I’ve got some honey. I was kind of thinking we could share that. Lick it… off each other.”

My mind explodes with the possibilities. I’d never considered using food in that way… I could just imagine drizzling the sweet liquid over her soft flesh, watching her quiver as I trailed my lips and tongue over sensitive skin. I can already imagine her moans, her cries for more… Oh boy, I hope this counter is sturdy enough to hide my... enthusiasm.

“You are a distraction, female,” I groan, pressing my hips against the counter-top. Anything to relieve the ache that now furiously demands my attention. “We still have several hours of work left.”

“I did say after dinner!” she exclaims.

“Who said I can wait that long?” I retort, my voice coming out in a growl. I’m practically panting after her like a rabid animal. So much for my cool, professional demeanor.

I breathe in deeply, trying to control myself. Everything and anything to not pick her up and thrust myself into her heated depths right here and now. Only problem is her sweet scent fills my lungs. She smells like me… and delicious, delicious need.

I tilt my head back, moaning, “Laura!”

“It’s a date then,” she grins at me, confidence once again returning.

She makes me want to turn the NutriSynth back on, but for entirely different reasons than before. I glance at it... I could. If I set it to automatically output the dishes, at the rate the staff are collecting meals, the kitchen could be automated...

Before I have the chance, the kitchen door swings open.

“I’m buying a lock!” I hiss, stabbing a reminder to myself into my wrist communicator. As soon as Laura’s well exhausted and asleep, the first thing I will do is order the first one that will be delivered.

“Oh! I’m sorry, sir, but the kitchen isn’t open to guests,” Laura suddenly says, catching my attention fully.

“Pardon the intrusion,” a voice, deep and smooth, says. A Volscian male steps further into the kitchen. His gait is casual but purposeful. He stands tall, his horns rising impressively higher. They are adorned with intricate metalwork that speaks of high military rank.

“I couldn’t help but follow the most intoxicating aroma,” he says. His black eyes scan the room before landing on Laura. “It led me straight here, to you.”

I bristle at his words, at the way his eyes linger on Laura.

“Major Zoreth, at your service,” the male says, a smile playing at his lips. “I couldn’t resist investigating such delightful scents. Perhaps I could offer my... assistance?”

I repress the savage growl that builds in my throat. He must be able to smell me on her, to sense our intimacy. Yet he’s acting as if she’s fair game. I step forward, ready to assert my presence.

“Oh, do you like cooking too?” Laura, to my dismay, seems intrigued by the Major’s presence.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt to give you a quick look,” she says, gesturing to the array of dishes we’ve prepared. “We’re attempting something a bit unconventional. An Earth dish, actually, with some obvious adaptations. Have you ever heard of paella?”

I groan. My dear sweet soon-to-be-mate doesn’t realize he hasn’t come for the food, but for her. He’s likely seen her working in the hot kitchens and instantly assumed she’s in need of a mate to provide for her.

She’s not! She’s mine.

I don’t say the words, despite the jealousy running through me. She can make her own decisions. I just have to trust her. If she needs my help, I will be there to support her when she asks for it.

Though I might explain to her the misunderstanding later tonight… Just so she’s aware of how some males are willing to challenge another for the female. I’d of course fight for her, but I’m a chef, not a warrior. I’d rather not fight if possible. And that just requires her to declare me as her mate, just as much as she is mine.

Major Zoreth’s eyes light up when she replies back to him, giving me a gleeful glance. “Earth cuisine? How fascinating. I can’t say I’m familiar with... paella, was it? Please, tell me more.” He steps closer to Laura, his body language open and inviting.

Where is that human Zoe when you need her? She’s quick to violence. Maybe I can throw her at him, use her as a living weapon.

“It’s a complex dish,” I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. “A mixture of rice, various meats, and vegetables, all cooked together in a large, shallow pan. We’ve substituted Grokian grains for the rice and used Drek’nar tentacles as one of the protein sources.” Take that, Mr. Fancy Horns. Can you make tentacles taste good? I think not.

The Major turns to me, raising an eyebrow. “Ah, you must be the famous Cyberchef. I’ve heard whispers about a Volscian working here. It’s... unexpected to find one of our own in such a position.”

My lip curls up in a sneer at the insult. It’s true that our people tend to be warriors. Our species is known throughout the universe as being some of the strongest fighters, with many species wishing to ally themselves with us. To point out so bluntly that I’m slaving away in the kitchens…

To him, I’m just a simple chef, not a warrior worthy of respect. The old insecurity rises within me, the feeling that I’ve somehow failed my people by choosing this path. Maybe I should have become a warrior. I could have been great. I could have been a contender. Instead, I’m just a lonely chef with a fancy metal arm and a collection of really sharp knives.

“Thank you,” I say stiffly. “It’s... gratifying to explore new culinary traditions.”

Like the tradition of not punching guests in the face. It’s a challenging one, but I’m trying to master it.

I cannot hit him, as much as I want to. Not only would it create a scandal for the hotel, but my dear Laura stands between us. I will never, ever risk her being hurt. Not even by my own actions. Plus, I just got this cybernetic arm polished. Blood is so hard to get out of the joints.

Zoreth scowls at me. “Have we met before?”

“We have not,” I reply promptly. I’d remember crossing paths with him, especially given his attitude towards those of the working class. Besides, ever since the incident, I make it a priority to limit my interactions with others, especially those who might recognize me. It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you, right?

Laura looks between us, a small frown creasing her brow. “Major, if you don’t mind my asking, how long have you served under General Karzak?”

I breathe a sigh of relief as the male shifts his focus to her, and then promptly the frustration rises at how he’s switched focus to her. I can’t win.

“Oh, I’ve had the privilege of working alongside the General for several years now,” Zoreth replies, his attention fully back on Laura. He leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I could tell you some fascinating stories about our victorious war campaigns, if you’re interested. Perhaps later?”

“We already have plans,” I snap, stepping up beside Laura. I grit my teeth, forcing breath between them. “As long as Laura is still interested?”

The question hangs in the air. The only sound in the kitchen is my furiously beating heart. Will she claim me as hers, so that we might form a full mating bond? Or will I be left here, holding my ladle in disappointment?

Suddenly a hiss fills the room. The pot’s boiling over, liquid cascading down the sides and into the fire.

“The food!” Laura cries, eyes wide. She moves to grab a heat-proof glove, all to protect her delicate skin. Major Zoreth is faster, dashing to the pot before I can reach it. He quickly moves it from the fire, stirring the remaining contents to ensure they don’t burn.

With a relieved breath, I see that much of Laura’s hard work remains.

“Did I ruin the meal?” Laura asks, looking at me, distraught.

I move to her side, hyperaware of Zoreth’s presence on her other side. The sauce looks perfect to my trained eye, but I lean in closer, inhaling deeply. The rich, complex aroma fills my senses. There’s a subtle bitterness about it. Perhaps Laura squeezed the Grokian blood fruit a bit too hard. It’s subtle; most wouldn’t even notice it. The way she looks at me, so hopeful that I’ll approve of her hard work… I can’t bring myself to even criticize her slightly. Especially after yesterday, when she made me realize just how difficult I was being.

Honestly, I’m proud of her. She’s made this entire dish by herself. Chefs train for years, and she’s mastered it in one day. She’s extraordinary.

“It’s good,” I say softly. “You’ve done well, Laura.”

She beams at me, and for a moment, it’s like we’re the only two people in the room.

“I had a good teacher,” she replies, her voice equally quiet.

The moment is shattered by Zoreth’s deep voice. “I must say, watching you work is truly inspiring, Laura. You have quite the talent. Have you ever considered a career in a more... prestigious establishment?”

“I—”

The kitchen door swings open. Again. I’m going to buy a blasted lock the moment I get a chance to breathe. Screw waiting till tonight! Maybe I can steal one off one of the hotel’s suites. No one has to know it was me that took it… surely no one will notice that they cannot get into a room they visit multiple times a day…

“The kitchen’s closed to guests,” I announce, turning to the doorway.

My heart nearly stops beating. There, before my very eyes, is General Karzak. He’s just as I remember him. His skin a darker shade than mine. Long, dark hair, tied at his nape. Broad shoulders, imposing… Larger than life.

“Ah, so this is where the magic happens!” Karzak booms, his eyes sweeping over the kitchen, most likely noting each and every flaw: the mess of undusted flour, spilled sauce, and unwashed bowls.

I incline my head respectfully, years of ingrained protocol kicking in despite my fear. I dare to glance up, meeting the General’s eyes for a brief moment.

There’s a flicker of something in his gaze – recognition, perhaps surprise. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by a bland and uninterested mask.

“You’ve assembled quite the team here, Rist,” he says, turning to the Prince. I struggle not to flinch at the implication of those words.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Laura hastily wiping her hands on her apron before offering an awkward curtsy. My hand snakes out, gripping hers. I hold onto her as tightly as I dare.

I haven’t told her. I should have told her.

“Please, there’s no need for such formality,” General Karzak says directly to Laura, waving a hand dismissively. “I’ve come to make an unusual request, actually. Rist here has been telling me about the unique... atmosphere of your establishment. I was hoping we might dine here, in the kitchen, rather than in my suite. To get a true feel for the place, you understand.”

I blink, caught off guard by the request. Dining in the kitchen? It’s unheard of for someone of the General’s stature. I look to Rist, hoping for some guidance, but he merely shrugs, a slightly strained smile on his face. Thanks for the help, buddy. Really stellar leadership there.

“Of course, sir,” I hear Laura saying. “We would be honored to accommodate your request.”

I jump into action, quickly clearing a space at one of the prep tables, careful to keep my face averted.

“We’ll have it ready for you in just a moment, sir,” Laura says behind me, her tone professional despite the unusual circumstances.

As I scramble to set up an impromptu dining area, I notice Zoreth quietly taking up a position near the door. His eyes scan the room constantly, his posture alert. It’s a stark reminder that for all his easy charm, he’s a trained soldier first and foremost.

I swallow the rising panic. It’s not like last time. It’s nothing like last time. Except for the part where I’m cooking for important people who could end my career (and possibly my life) with a single word. No pressure.

The General didn’t recognize me… did he?

We serve the meal with as much ceremony as we can muster in the cramped kitchen space. It’s all I can do to stop my hands shaking— a near impossibility with my cybernetic arm. Thankfully, General Karzak seems delighted by the informal setting.

“This is extraordinary,” he declares after his first bite. “Honestly, I haven’t been treated to traditionally cooked food since… well, you’ve outdone yourself, Chef.”

A soft smile spreads across Laura’s face. The sight of it makes my heart skip a beat. She is a chef in truth, making marvels that I can only dream of. I could learn so much from her. I want to learn from her. I’m struck by her strength, her adaptability. She’s faced so much since coming to this strange world, yet she faces each new challenge with determination and grace. Meanwhile, I’m over here trying not to have a nervous breakdown over dinner service.

The conversation begins to flow freely, with General Karzak regaling us with tales of his adventures throughout the universe. He only pauses to savor another bite or cough politely into his hand. As time passes, I begin to relax more. Maybe this won’t be a total disaster after all. Maybe I can get through this without embarrassing myself or revealing my sordid past.

It’s as we are serving the final course, the dessert I’d been so looking forward to, that my worst nightmare occurs. General Karzak starts coughing, and he doesn’t stop. His skin begins to turn a pale pink.

“I... I don’t feel...” He doesn’t finish the sentence. His eyes roll back, and he slumps forward, narrowly missing face-planting into his plate as Rist catches him.

“General!” Rist cries out, lowering him gently to the floor, Zoreth at his side helping.

I’m frozen, my mind refusing to process what I’m seeing. This can’t be happening. Not again.

“You!” Zoreth looks up, directly at me. “I knew I recognized you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I stammer, backing away. My gaze darts around the kitchen, landing on Laura who’s rushing forward towards Rist and the General with a glass of water. The male groans, struggling to breathe, his hand clawing at the collar around his neck.

“You did this!” Zoreth snaps, advancing upon me. He grips my shoulder, fingers tightening painfully, claws digging into my skin. “You poisoned the General.”

Zoreth speaks something into his wrist communicator… his words blurring out into a static buzz in my ears as shock settles in.

Within moments, the room is flooding with soldiers. It’s like every single male aboard the General’s ship has suddenly found themselves in the vicinity, all looking murderous. It’s like they’ve been waiting all this time just to catch me.

“No,” Laura gasps. “There must be some mistake. Nelan would never?—“

“Your mistake was poisoning my General,” Zoreth hisses, cutting her off. “I might not have recognized the fugitive who poisoned my glorious king otherwise. But fools never change their ways, do they?”

“I didn’t-” I try to protest, but the words catch in my throat. How do you explain that you’re just a really, really unlucky chef?

“You are under arrest. I will personally see that your story ends here, Chef.” Zoreth’s voice drips with disdain on that last word, like “chef” is the worst insult he can think of. I’d be offended if I wasn’t so terrified.

“Laura, I—” I start to say, but Zoreth roughly shoves me towards the door. I want to explain, to tell her everything, but there’s no time.

The last thing I see as I’m dragged from the kitchen is Laura’s stricken face, her hand outstretched as if to stop this nightmare from unfolding. But it’s too late. My past has finally caught up with me.

As the door slams shut behind us, I can’t help but think: I really should have installed that lock.