"The fudge have I gotten myself into…"
In front of me stretched real darkness.
Real nothing.
Real 'space, the final frontier'.
Down on the ground the sky has that nice, life sustaining atmosphere that yet still manages to catch the far off light of stars to hint that we aren't alone in the universe. Earth is nice like that… and normal. For me.
Up here, looking through this giant spaceship bay door that seemingly has nothing covering it? Only an inky blackness that hints of the inhospitable reality so harsh it still doesn't seem real.
If I hadn't touched the glass-like 'field' keeping me from vacuum before we'd taken off or seen a dull glimpse of the sun through it before it turned opaque as we left the solar system, I'd think it was just a black wall and not something incomprehensibly technological preventing explosive decompression or… well whatever terrible thing would happen in this mode of travel.
Two… okay maybe five rapid steps back and I was on my rear spouting things more colorful and less delicious than 'fudge'. There was no one around to hear me, I thought, as I calmed down a slight bit from my first ever fit of genuine cursing.
Technically the 'computer surveillance'… or alien equivalent did hear me - but what 'good girl' is left in me was more concerned that the one who brought me here was in range of my outburst, rather than any kind of 'security footage' he might somehow see later.
Whatever other faults I might have, I'd done my best to not be overly vulgar (aloud) in my life until this point. I was kind of proud of that facet of myself.
"Breathe, Kiria. You knew what this meant. You *thought* you knew what this meant you idiot."
I crawled slowly over to one of the two important reasons I was here and pet the metal of its giant foot as I hissed at myself. It 'came to life' from its standby at my very first touch, the unknown silvery metal glinting with its luiminous accents of deep, inner blue light that I just couldn't get tired of watching.
I guess it's only been like two days since I met it, though. I wonder if the light is actually some kind of sciency energy movement or just like… alien LED strips? Either way, I smiled thinking Soren knew my color choices so well.
My robot.
That could be piloted.
Only by me.
Based on everything that had been explained so quickly, the realist in me understood its awesome potential for destruction but the romantic in me - or maybe just the kid in me - only excitedly saw an *awesome humanoid robot*. Like the ones I loved to watch in cartoons before I got shamed into being 'more of a girl'.
So what is it that made me the one stand… well, sitting here?
Rare genes or amazing aptitude? Magic, or the last great hope of some dying extraterrestrial species?
No… nothing quite that cartoon plot miraculous. I guess.
I suppose that your 'oh by the way, I'm an alien' boyfriend making it for you *just to help prove his claim* is… pretty out there, as things go. Oh lord, I'm still in the denial phase of thinking of this like *it's not at all real* and just *some kind of story setting*...
- - - - -
~Back Some Time: Soren POV~
"A… what?"
"A robot. You know, a 'mecha'! Like in anime and games. That you get into to fight and stuff. Come on, you're trying to convince me you're an alien, right? Aliens should at least have that kind of stuff."
She waved her hand like she was dismissing me as she turned back inside her apartment. I've been with her for nearly two years, but I didn't think it would be this hard to get through to her. I have to go back, and she must come with me.
Must? Well - I am hopeless, indeed. My duties should come before myself, but this individual disturbs those sorts of thoughts. So much that I've revealed myself to her… or at least tried to tell her unsuccessfully thus far.
She isn't really all that stubborn-minded about accepting new information usually, so I guess it is just a pretty unbelievable conversation. I'd agree that… if my sister suddenly claimed she was secretly a Ba'aran, I'd have to snicker and play along.
And I don't really snicker.
But a war robot? Essentially, an unauthorized production of hazardous systems to be used for unspecified purposes. Isn't that request much more unbelievable?
How many laws would I break to achieve this?
Minimally, forty-two. Seven… if I wanted only to trick her. On the off chance she is very serious about the matter, tricking her would just mean I've broken seven neutral-galaxy laws and *still* did not get what I wanted after doing it.
In for a penny, in for a pound… as a subset of these earthlings are known to say.
"Alright. It will take a little while. As I recall, our anniversary is coming soon. You will have your 'mecha', in trade for your belief."
"Hoho, make it a good scale one!" she laughed back at me while widening her arms up and down to the side.
Now I am worried again. I hope a size that fits inside my personal ship's hangar is still to her liking.
- - - - -
~Present Situation~
"I thought you meant one of the expensive model statues!"
I banged my fists on the hangar floor. It wasn't the first time in the past thirty-six hours I've yelled that phrase, but it needed saying again. I'll probably be yelling it at him until I die of old age.
Until…
"Oh my god, I'm marrying an alien. Whose life is this? Am I me? This isn't some other person's dream I'm in, right?"
It's… it's alright to freak out before a wedding. And if it isn't alright to freak out about one on a different planet or galaxy, while I'm in a spaceship *when I've never been on the ocean* - then… I shouldn't have been made the precedent setter.
At least, as far as I know. I guess I'm probably not the first swept-away bride if aliens are just coming and going about the universe as they please.
Maybe the first willing participant. Now that's an unpleasant thought.
It could have been *by force* if I wasn't stupefied and enamored with this… this wedding gift? Dowry? Oh… goose nuggets.
I was practically bought for an - admittedly super cool - *tool of war* that I convinced him to make, however unknowingly, and I'm inwardly judging him and all aliens for a kidnapping he never had to commit in the first place.
It's not like Soren suddenly became some gross tentacle horror and I needed a ton of convincing to get over that. He's still my serious and handsome emotional doofus on the outside… so far.
Lets face it, I would have come along even without the robot if the stupidly tacked-on marriage proposal was the main dish of the conversation yesterday instead. Though, it was tricky of him to make it the icing on the cake.
Everyone knows there's no saying no to cake, just like there is no saying no to OWNING A MECH!
"You've been making some interesting noises for a while now, rolling on the floor. Don't tell me you've caught some pathogen. Do I need to seal you in a decontamination room?"
"Please don't seal me anywhere except in your arms."
Do I flip switches too quickly? Is that why I'm in this situation? It wasn't just some joke of a retort, my arms are actually outstretched for a hug that I really, *really* wanted to help ground my emotions back into reality and he's looking at me bemused without acquiescing almost long enough to make me-
I felt myself becoming weightless as he pulled up on an arm and we collided, spinning gently into the air of the hangar. So much for grounding.
This smooth operator must have disabled something like the 'gravity controls' for this silly little moment. I snuggled my head into his chest anyway, squeezed to enjoy the warmth, and closed my eyes.
"You think you're so great, don't you," my muffled mouth probably didn't hide the smile in my voice. Ah, I love this idiot so much.
"I wouldn't declare that myself."
"Well... you should. 'Cause I think so. I really do - and that's more of a 'despite the recent events' thing. When I think about it, maybe I should have been dramatic and went all 'I don't even know who you are anymore!' or 'You lied to me once, how can I ever trust you again?'. It might have been a pretty normal woman's response. But it just isn't how I felt."
"Might I ask how my abnormal princess felt?"
I shoved myself off of him; not quite 'angrily', but in the mood to finger wag from a distance now that I'd recharged some from a nice hug.
"Oh just… don't, with the princess calling, 'Prince Soren'. It's too much. You spring too many more problematic things my way, expecting my normally terrific mental juggling, and I'm gonna just drop them all. Space royalty! Hah. I'll have *plenty* enough of an annoying time getting used to anyone else ever calling me that, so you quit it now."
Besides, it sounds like a nickname a father calls their daughter, and I am personally not into conflating any daddy issues with my love-life. Absolutely not.