Chapter 9: Warming up the Oven

“Ugh...,” Bransen grunted as he struggled to get out of the pool. “Girsha’lar, can you help?”

It had been almost five hours. Girsha’lar had already been out of the pool as the water dripped off her naked body. With Bransen, his body had adapted to being in the water. His back refused to budge as he tried to climb out. He was summoning the strength, but he didn’t need to worry. Girsha’lar leaned down, grabbed the man by the armpits, and plucked the naked man from the pool. He felt his feet press to the ground before gravity took him completely. He buckled under and almost fell over before Girsha’lar caught him in the air.

“Ah ... thank you,” Bransen said.

“Can you walk?” Girsha’lar asked.

“Barely. Later on tonight, I need to head back to Doctor Abril to undergo more surgery.”

“You don’t regenerate like Itreans?”

“I wish I did ... even then, your people aren’t exactly invincible.”

“Hmph...,” her nostrils flared upon hearing that.

Bransen noted his body had gotten waterlogged. His fingers had been reduced to prunes, and he could see the water dripping off him. His augmented arm was no weaker than any other human arm, but he could still stand in an emergency. However, his stomach was growling. It wasn’t loud, but the Shal’rein woman’s ears were tuned to his stomach.

“Bring me to your kitchen,” Bransen said.

“Ugh ... you’re going to have me carry you everywhere?” Girsha’lar asked in annoyance.

“I don’t think you’ll complain after I’m done.”

The human looked over to Nir’vina. Her head was laid back in the pool fast asleep. A snoring sound could be heard from her nostrils. It was so loud that the man looked over at her.

“Do we have to worry about...?” He asked Girsha’lar.

“How do you humans say it? Ah... ‘She sleeps like a log.’” Girsha’lar replied as she picked up the man and carried him to the kitchen. “She won’t wake up unless I bite her or something.”

“I was surprised that I slept through that.”

“Hmm ... You’ll get used to it.”

“Don’t they have treatment for that?”

“She doesn’t want it. I think she keeps it just to be annoying or some cultural tradition.”

“Snoring a tradition?”

Girsha’lar placed the man by the counter. It was too tall for him to sit down and be level with it. It required him to stand to do everything that he needed to do. He observed the entire counter and the appliances in his field vision.

“Let’s see,” he commented. “You got a stove ... a refrigerator, countertop. Same as my apartment.”

“You’re going to actually cook?”

“I got the hang of it back in my hotel room. Almost incinerated a soup by accident, but I learned how your equipment works.”

“It would be just as easy for us to order our meal and have it delivered.”

“Trying to be lazy? I guess prison and ship life must have given you a bland tongue.”

“Bland tongue?”

“Basically ... ungh...,” Bransen remarked as he shifted his elbow on the countertop. “You eat anything that you’re given and know nothing about how to actually cook for yourself.”

Girsha’lar seemed to understand that. She hadn’t really considered it until now. The fact was that she knew that he was correct. A sense of nostalgia had filled her thoughts.

“It’s ... been a while,” she relented.

“Then let me help you with that.” Bransen pointed at the vein extrusions on the wall. “Those fish things ... you eat them, correct?”

“Yes. Grew tired of eating them.”

“Because it’s everywhere, right?”

“On the ship, it was our rations. Adjuncts usually had more choices of what else they could have.”

“You grew bored because you probably ate them raw with nothing else.”

“Yes. Didn’t matter, though. They were all that we needed ... at least that’s what our superiors always told us.”

Bransen pointed at her. “How about I do something about that? But first, I need all my cooking supplies. I have them in my hotel room. Would it ... be all right if you went and got them for me?”

Girsha’lar only seemed to get annoyed as she thought about it. Finally, she showed a look of anger on her face.

“Hey...,” He continued. “You haven’t had anyone make anything for you in a long time. Let’s change that. After that, we can start to expand our palate.” He smiled at her. “Promise.”

“Hmm ... fine.” She was about to walk to the door, but she quickly looked at her body and knew that she was naked. She sighed as she entered the adjacent room to dry herself and put something on. Some part of Bransen wondered if Girsha’lar would be allowed to leave, but he remembered that the Shal’rein prisoners were given more freedom to wander about.

He reached down and tried to activate his augmented arm. Unfortunately, the damage sustained earlier hadn’t been fully repaired. It glowed bright blue before quickly dissipating. Even the main menu was having a hard time projecting.

“Damn...,” He commented. “Still need to make the fixes.”

The man noticed that he was still dripping wet. He needed access to a towel, but the room itself was designed to handle water. He was in no threat of slipping, and it wasn’t as if he was cold in any way, either. One of the things that he did notice as he looked down was between his legs. He reached down past his pubic hair and observed the veins on his scrotum. His hand danced around the tiny orbs as they rolled between his fingers. For some reason, they felt ... heavier. It wasn’t by much, but it might have been his imagination. He quickly discarded the thought as Girsha’lar arrived in the kitchen. She had a pair of shorts and two sets of towels.

“There was ... something that I wanted to talk to you about,” Bransen said to her.

“What is it?” She asked. “I’m not interested in talking with your coach.”

“No. It isn’t that.” Bransen seemed to hesitate when he spoke. “When we ... when we did it. There were some things that I noticed about you.”

“You’re trying to act like my Doctors at the prison.”

“Look ... I just wanted to...”

“You want to end this, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t be cooking a meal right now if I had no interest in you.”

“Heh ... here I thought you were doing it so you can be nice and walk out quietly ... regret your decision to be with us.”

“There it is again,” Bransen remarked. “Agh...,” He put his hand to his back. “Girsha’lar. I meant every word that I said to the both of you. I hadn’t felt this way ... for so long. I just want to make sure that you’re not damaged goods.”

“Damaged goods?” She asked him.

“It’s a little aggressive for me to say that, but yes. It means that you have ... troubled shit that’s ... making you think twice about this relationship.”

She seemed to get the hint as she smiled at him. “I like that phrase ... good for you to show that you have the courage to ask that.”

“And?”

Girsha’lar continued to hesitate. She almost didn’t want to answer at all as she started to wipe herself. She was preparing to put on her shorts.

“Girsha’lar, talk to me,” Bransen demanded. “Are you having second thoughts about all this?”

“What do you want me to say?” She asked him. She dropped her shorts and approached the countertop. “I’m supposed to be the ... what do you humans word it? A ... waifu?”

“Ah ... I hate that word. No ... I’m your mate ... your husband, your friend. Whatever it is, I wanted to...”

“A husband that conveniently falls into our room. Perhaps I should be glad that...”

“Hey!”

“Fuck you!” Girsha’lar pointed her finger at him in anger. “Just...” Her teeth were shown to him. “Just...” She was ready to snap at him. For a second, the man had to debate if she was going to attack him. There was no running if it would happen. He was in no position to fight.

“Talk to me!” Bransen demanded. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I can see it in Nir’vina’s eyes, but yours is different. Everything about her reactions, but yours didn’t match hers at all. She’s been on the lookout for you. You know that?”

“I know!”

“What’s troubling you?”

“I ... I ... argh!” Girsha’lar clenched her fists and seemed to ready to punch the wall.

“I wasn’t your first human, was I?”

She froze as she stood. Bransen could see it on her face. He knew that he was right. All the little hints suggested it. She felt horrible for something that it was spilling out of her. Regret was ruling a lot of her emotions.

“No ... no ... I’m not doing this,” she said.

“Why? He asked.

“Because if I tell you, you’ll just run away like the good weak human you are.”

“Does it look like I’m going anywhere? What happened?”

She clenched her fists and looked down in shame. “You’re ... right. You’re not the first human that I’ve fucked.”

“He ... or she must have been pretty good.”

“He...” If her lips could furl, it would. She was uncomfortable talking about it, but Bransen had to push. “He...”

“You were drinking because of something else...,” Bransen said. “It’s regret, and it’s not about Nir’vina. You were trying to hurt yourself.”

“What do you expect?” She waved her hand. “I’ve been held prisoner for almost a year.”

“Those muscles ... I’ve been working out, but unless you had access to any hypersteriods or other muscle growth meds, you had to work your way to it. Even Earth only has so much gravity. That’s ... let’s see ... everyday workout hours on end.”

“And?”

“Nir’vina has less muscle than you.”

“So!” Girsha’lar approached the countertop. “I can choose to work out as much as I want.”

“But, you were going beyond. You were trying to feel the pain because you wanted to distract yourself from the other pain. Don’t try to mislead me. I’ve seen a few competitors like you back in the UWA.”

Girsha’lar knew that the man was going to chisel away at every reason why she was holding back from telling him. Finally, she smacked the countertop with her fist.

WHAM! “You want the truth, then fine,” she confessed. “Remember the man I helped kidnap from his pathetic planet? I ... fucked him. Happy now?”

Bransen gave a questioning look. “No ... Judging by your attitude, there’s more to it.”

She cringed. “I ... raped him.”

The man showed some shock upon hearing it. It all added up now. Girsha’lar held a stoic look of anger and shame mixed together. Her arms were crossed as she looked away.

“You raped him? You forced yourself on another?”

“Yes and ... I enjoyed it when I did it.”

The hint of malice could be seen on her face, but Bransen knew there was more to it. If the woman could cry, she would be doing it, but she was repressing it in every way possible.

“Why did you assault him?” he asked.

“Because he was the enemy,” she answered.

“Not good enough. Why did you hurt him?”

She sighed as she finally had to tell him. “In the Battle of Aphadus, the human that I kidnapped, tried to put a bullet into my helmet. Punched clean through and smacked my skull. I lived, but at the time, I was surprised that human weapons had the ability to even penetrate my armor. I was ... insulted. I knocked him out and brought him to the Garja. Once he was, I knew we would have our way with him. Gut him, eat him, cut him, hurt him ... whatever we were going to do, I wanted to do it first.”

“Isn’t the idea of mateship important in your society? Is rape allowed?”

“He was a male ... an alien ... but you are correct. Rape is ... the human word? ‘Shunned’ by our society ... assuming you’re caught. He wasn’t even Itrean, and I just wanted to kill him. Of course, I wasn’t allowed, so I just did that. I knocked him out and just did it.”

Bransen could see that the woman was defeated. He was shocked to hear it but did his best to remain professional with her.

“But that’s not what happened, is it?” he asked. “The worst thing happened when your ship surrendered to the UWA ... right?”

“Yes...,” she continued. “I was handed over as a POW to the T’rintar, stripped of everything that made me ... me. Then ... I learn everything. Humans and Shal’rein ... the end of Zilik’s Disease. Enemies become allies. Lies ... I wanted it to be lies until I saw that birth. So ... ask me, Bransen. What would a Shal’rein, like me, feel that the people I killed are suddenly my friends? That my clan is the enemy ... that my family is the enemy?” She pointed at the door. “Or that man that I assaulted? Huh? I was a good warrior! I was a good warrior trying to serve her people ... It’s ... all fucked up!”

He understood now. The man was left with a plethora of emotions. Her voice continued to echo the sounds of regret. No doubt, if the victim had been there, she might have apologized for her actions.

“Did he press charges on you?” Bransen asked. “Assuming that he was capable of doing it?”

“If he was, then he never did,” she answered. “There was a rumor that he became a mate with my prior Lesser Adjunct, but ... I don’t know.”

There was a pause as Bransen seemed to think about it. Girsha’lar was adamant about what she had said. Everything had been laid bare. From what he had observed, the Itreans had a turbulent history to them. No two Itreans were alike, but the general consensus was to do as much harm to the enemy as possible. Even the tournament was proof enough as it was. Some fighters seemed to fight to the brutal end, while others gave up quickly and let it go. It was a system that highlighted much of their society. While honor bound, it was plagued with horrible individuals. However, he nodded his head as Girsha’lar was waiting on him to respond.

“Well?” She said. “How does that make you feel? How does it make you feel that your mate is ... evil? Are you going to leave us now? Huh?”

He sighed. “I understand. It ... makes sense that you feel the way that you do. I’m sure that the T’rintar clan has their own set of laws and punishments. But I know that you’re serving that time. It’s something that ... I hope you get out of soon.”

“What?” she reacted.

“The only way that you’re going to get out of this is to forgive yourself first. Does she know about this?”

“Yes, she does. I recently told her.”

“And she never left you.”

“Of course, she never left me. She’s no human that runs away. She’s my mate.”

“Girsha’lar, I think you misunderstand us, humans. Yeah, it upsets me to learn about this, but I know that you’re trying to find a new future for yourself and Nir’vina.” He shifted his elbow as he cringed from his back. “Let me tell you something. Yesterday, when I was knocked out, I had a dream about the both of you.”

“Yes ... I remember you saying that.”

“Yeah,” he explained. “It was ... a nice dream. Had a wonderful home and beachfront property. But, what made it pleasant was that both you and Nir’vina were there.”

“I was?”

“Hmm ... for the most part. Actually ... it was our kids that I was with. You had a son, and Nir’vina had a daughter.”

The words seemed to seep into Girsha’lar. She paused for a little while as she considered it. A lot of her anger almost melted away. Even if she didn’t fully believe the concept of some prophecy in a dream, it was the thought that mattered.

“I ... see,” she finally replied.

“I don’t know about you, but after I had that dream, I wanted to be here with you two. Like ... I don’t know how else to describe it. Look ... as far as I feel. I can move forward. That was the old you. Now, it’s the new you. Throw the propaganda away. Throw it all away. I just want things to get better for all of us ... including my back.”

Girsha’lar thought about it a little more. Finally, she did her quick nod.

“What do you want me to get from your hotel room?” She calmly asked him.

“Check up in room ... ummm ... fih’jil,” he told her. “Check to see if Saburo is there. If not, check his room fih’not. He’s in one of them. Get all my ingredients, utensils, cooking ware ... all of it. I would call him in, but my arm isn’t working.”

“Fine...,” she slipped on her shorts. The man noticed that she wouldn’t put anything on over her chest as she approached the door. Itrean culture was a little bit different in regard to being topless. But, generally, from what he had observed, nobody cared.

Girsha’lar tapped the panel by the door and spoke in her native language. In a few seconds, the door opened as one of the guards approached her. Bransen knew that she was requesting to leave the room temporarily. One of the guards pulled out one of the bracelets before slapping it onto her arm. After exchanging a few more words, the door closed, and she left. This left Bransen to his own thoughts as he stood naked in the kitchen. By now, the water on his skin had mostly dried off.

“And here I thought she was going to eat you,” Nir’vina said in her raspiness. Bransen looked at the adjacent room as she came to see him.

“I didn’t even hear you get out of the pool,” he told her.

“You two were louder than a concussion grenade going off.”

“You knew about her past, didn’t you? ... What she did?”

“Yes.” She was dripping wet. The orange Shal’rein moved her matted wet hair to her other shoulder before approaching the countertop.

“I ... kinda wished that I knew about that before jumping into this relationship.”

“You wouldn’t love her?”

“I’m just glad I know about it now than later.”

“You are lucky she told you now,” she said. “We had been mated for all this time before she told me last month.”

“I bet you were angry at her.”

She seemed to think about it. “It is what she said. I never met the human we took on the Garja. I only heard of it. Then, I remembered thinking of what experiments we were going to perform on him. I was waiting to see if I would be called to see how explosive resistant a human body was.”

“Shit...”

“Remember. You were our enemies, allied with the T’rintar clan.” She put her hands on her hips and leaned in his direction. “But, I will say that I preferred what happened now than me serving my clan being ordered to blow you up. The explosion would have been nice, but it would only happen once, and then things would have gotten boring.”

“Well ... that’s reassuring from you. Agh...” Bransen placed his hand on his back. “I might not be able to cook at this rate. My back is still messed up.” He looked back at Nir’vina. “You mind ... taking some pressure off it?”

Nir’vina walked around the countertop. She got behind him and placed her hands on the man’s hips and armpits. She used a little bit of her strength to hoist him up. It was just enough that she didn’t lift him into the air but lessened the gravity exerted on his legs and feet. The man felt a sudden relief from the pressure.

“Oh ... that’s better ... much better,” he said. He breathed a sigh of relief. Nir’vina’s snout hovered and rested upon the man’s shoulder for a moment. Finally, he closed his eyes and pressed his hand against her face.

“Thank you,” she told him.

“What? I should be the one to thank you.”

“Our mate will be better.”

“You think so?”

“She was in much pain until she told me. I was more angry for her not to tell me sooner than let the fuse burn for so long. She will be in less pain now that she told you.”

It was precisely what Bransen knew that she had confirmed to him. Girsha’lar was being stubborn. The past had to be let go and shared with only her loved ones.

“I guess you heard everything that I told her,” he said.

“Yes, and I heard you talking about children. You wish to have children with us?”

“I guess it was something that we should have discussed before jumping into a relationship.”

“Don’t blame yourself. Girsha’lar interrupted the questions that I was going to ask before jumping into our mateship pledge. However, I can promise you ... umm ... the word for it? I can promise my fertility.”

Bransen nodded. “Same here. My previous made it difficult for us to have children. She just thought that kids were a waste of money.”

“Little value your species has for your offspring.”

“I’m not speaking for everyone. I’ve met some good parents that would do anything for their kids. But I appreciate what you told me.”

Nir’vina moved her snout away as she continued to exert some lift on the man. Bransen put his hand to Nir’vina’s. They both waited for Girsha’lar to return, but it wouldn’t have taken much longer. Once she did, the cooking could finally begin...

The sizzling pan echoed in the kitchen as Bransen would carefully watch the fish burn. The head had already been cut off, which Girsha’lar had tossed into her mouth. By now, Girsha’lar had taken her turn to help hold the man up as he was diligently cooking.

“Pan-fried,” Bransen said as he watched the cooking oil sizzle and pop. He was thankful that his white apron was keeping his naked body from getting hit by the hot oil as it tried to jump out of the pan.

“This Jak’ib is good,” Nir’vina commented. She was licking her fingers as she was pulling pieces of the fish and tossing them in her mouth.

“You bought all of this?” Girsha’lar asked.

“You can thank Saburo for getting some of this. The apron and utensils I brought with me. A cook never leaves his tools behind. Nir’vina, can you hand me the Bas’col?”

Nir’vina wasn’t that far from the countertop, cleaning her fingers. She took the bottle and popped it open before handing it to Bransen.

“Thank you,” Bransen said. “I should get this better than last time since the controls on this oven seem to be similar to the other one.”

“I still don’t see the point of all this,” Girsha’lar commented. She tried to reach the Bas’col with one arm, but Bransen smacked it to stop her from doing it.

“It’s good!” Nir’vina replied. “It’s like an explosion in my mouth.”

“It’s ok, Nir’vina,” Bransen commented. “You don’t have to defend me. I’ve had my skeptics. They are the famous last words before they eat it. In the cooking world, we call it ‘hunger anger, and full content.’ They always have that look of ‘I’m hungry. I’m pissed.’ But, once they get their fill, you can just see that glow from their eyes. It’s another satisfied patron.”

Bransen took a small container of Cebravin pepper before tapping it over the alien fish. He then began to tap a small amount of Bas’col over it before closing the bottle and pushing it away from Girsha’lar’s grasp.

“Can you hand me more of that,” Bransen was trying to remember the word. “Uh ... that red container?”

“This is,” Nir’vina picked up the container and read the alien label. There was red dust inside of it. “It’s Polo’godkl Click.”

“That’s it. It’s the Itrean version of paprika, although it has a little bit of a salty flavor in it.”

Girsha’lar had to admit that Bransen was diligent in his work. Her eyes seemed to study what he was doing even if she seemed bored. He began to sprinkle the paprika-like substance onto the cooking fish. The man used his hand to blow the scent toward himself. He paused and nodded his head.

“Good ... good,” he commented. “Another two minutes. I’m thankful that your fish are basically boneless.”

“Ugh...,” Girsha’lar commented as she shifted her stance. Her massive breasts were like pillows as the man rested his head back. She was still in her shorts. The bracelet had been taken off once she came back. However, she kept her shorts on. While she was strong, her arms had been in the same pose holding the man in place. Nir’vina could see her struggling.

“What’s wrong, my mate?” Nir’vina seemed to mock her. “A little heavy for you?”

“No ... I just can’t move,” Girsha’lar complained.

“Nir’vina can switch if you...,” Bransen tried to say.

“No. It’s fine.”

“Thank you for getting all of this, by the way.”

“Ugh ... I just hope this is all worth it.”

“Girsha’lar,” Nir’vina said. “Our mate is cooking for us. He’s the perfect mate.”

“Well, if he’s the great cook, then I need to see more than just hear it from everyone. You cook, but you might not be the ‘best cook’ in the UWA. I want to see these shows of his.”

“You can,” Bransen commented and pointed at the display. “Do they allow you to watch anything besides listen to music?”