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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/BlueFishcake on 2025-10-22 19:47:27+00:00.

Fortunately for Mark’s peace of mind, he wasn’t left to dwell on the realities of his soon to be lack of employment – and what recourses he had for someone choosing to cancel his contract early. Because he was reasonably sure his employer was required to pay out a portion of his remaining contract as a cancellation fee.

Probably…

Legal minutia was not his strong-suit, and the sort of legalese that went into Consortium contract writing made the equivalent verbiage you’d see on Earth – or most of the universe for that matter – look like it was written in crayon by five year olds.

He liked Tenir a lot, but he had little doubt that if she decided to screw him on this, there’d be every chance he’d somehow end up leaving Kalia’s employment owing her money.

Somehow.

Fortunately, even as he was mentally preparing for the fight of his life – or, more likely, to start begging - Saria spoke up.

“Ancestors, did you have to say it like that?” she grunted as she finally looked up from a thoroughly demolished set of pancakes.

Kalia blinked as she tilted her head, confusion knitting her brows. “Like what?”

Before Saria could respond, Tenir cut in. “Like we’re firing the poor guy.”

Kalia blinked slowly. “What?”

“What Kalia meant to say,” Tenir continued, ignoring her confused friend as she turned to the equally confused human. “Is that while your contract is most definitely still in operation, you most likely won’t be cooking for her going forward as her mother is likely going to be exercising her rights as the penultimate owner of your contract to reassign you.”

“I… that’s what I said though?” Kalia said.

Everyone ignored her as Mark turned what Tenir had just said over in his mind. “Kalia doesn’t own my contract?”

Tenir shook her head, her expression softening as she met his gaze. “Yes and no. Kalia hired you, but did so in her capacity as the Vorn heiress – not as an individual. Technically speaking, your contract ultimately belongs to the Vorn company.”

“Which Kalia’s mother holds supreme executive power over,” Saria muttered.

“I- so Kalia’s mother wants me to start cooking for her instead?” Mark said. “Why?”

Kalia sighed, her shoulders slumping as she dabbed her lips with a napkin, a rare hint of embarrassment coloring her crimson skin a dark shade. “I imagine her goal is less about acquiring your services for herself and more about depriving me of them. Personally, I doubt you’ll be cooking for her. In all likelihood, she’ll gift your contract to one of her board members or simply sell it off.”

That was… less than ideal. Certainly better than getting fired, but he’d come to rather enjoy working here. Especially given that he’d kind of been hoping to ask for some help regarding Jelara’s whole situation.

He sincerely doubted whoever he ended up working for next would have quite the same connections to professional mech fighting as Kalia did. Nor would they be as inclined to help him out as Tenir and Saria had been.

You know, unless he slept with his new boss’s support staff too.

Which, he wasn’t ruling out, but it was still less than ideal for a whole host of reasons. Some of which had to do with his pride as a person, but mostly to do with the aforementioned possibility that they wouldn’t be in a position to help out Jelara even if he ‘buttered them up’ first.

…There was also the chance that his gold digging ways would be entirely ineffective. Sure, aliens were a thirsty bunch, but there was every possibility they’d be of the pump and dump variety rather than the vaguely clingy girl failures Tenir and Saria were.

He actually felt a little guilty for thinking that… but the shoe fit…

So caught up was he in his hypothetical future man whoring, he nearly missed it as Saria dropped her fork and muttered under her breath. “That’s what she did with Vrenal…”

“Vrenal’s gone?” Mark asked in surprise.

“Yep,” Saria confirmed, her voice flat, her eyes hard as she stabbed a piece of chicken. “Along with the whole security team. They all got their new orders last night. And I know that them being split up and sent to different postings was a deliberate ‘fuck you’.”

Kalia’s eye twitched, a subtle flicker of irritation, but she didn’t argue, her silence a tacit agreement in Mark’s mind.

Tenir sighed though, hands resting on the table as she leaned back. “You’re exaggerating. There’s no doubt our recent circumstances or a result of Mrs. Vorn’s meddling, but she wouldn’t care about anyone other than Kalia herself to explicitly try to ‘screw them over’. Vrenal being sent out of system while our old security team returned to the company headquarters was likely a simple reality of the needs of the company.”

Kalia looked like she was about to say something, before simply falling silent. Clearly though, she disagreed on the topic of her mother. Which, well, it didn’t say great things about Mark’s own future career prospects.

“Either way it was a cunt move,” Saria grumbled, her voice a low growl, as she shoveled more food into her mouth, tail flicking about in irritation.

“Why’s all this happening? And why now?” he asked finally – gesturing back to the… silent guard stood in the corner of the room – who he’d honestly forgotten was present until a few seconds ago. “Last night, everything seemed fine?”

Kalia sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to carry the weight of the world. “While I’d be tempted to say my mother has finally grown tired of my reticence to give up my piloting career in favor of my duties as heiress to the company, I sincerely doubt that’s the case.”

She idly picked up a chicken bone. “No, even with her distaste for my current ‘hobby’, she’s enjoyed the prestige I’ve gained too much to cut me down just short of my greatest achievement yet. Not without good reason.”

Saria cut in. “Unfortunately, we gave her one. Because we’re pretty sure she found out that Kalia was close to cutting herself free of the company.”

Kalia eyed her friend and the guard, before sighing and nodding. “Essentially correct. It’s the only thing I can think of that would explain this response.”

Mark felt entirely lost. Oh, he’d known there was a certain amount of antipathy between mother and daughter, but he hadn’t known Kalia had been trying to escape the other woman. Or at least, her duties as the woman’s heir.

Though he supposed if it was a secret plan, there was no reason he should have known… Nor would he have particularly wanted to even if he had. That was the kind of skullduggery he’d literally just fucked over Jelara by getting involved in.

Unfortunately, it seemed whether he’d chosen to get involved or not, he was still being caught up in the fallout of it all exploding.

Though this all begged the question…

“Wait, why does Kalia need some kind of plan to get out from under her mom? Can’t she just… quit? Or leave?”

Sure, Krenheim was sketchy as all hell, but what it lacked in social safety nets, decent infrastructure, police and just about everything else, it generally made up for in protections regarding personal freedoms.

If you were on Krenheim, you were legally allowed to do or be just about anything or anyone you wanted – and heaven help anyone who tried to stop you.

…At least, provided you weren’t an ‘indentured servant’. After all, they’d ‘sold’ their personal freedoms.

And as far as he was aware, that most definitely wasn’t the case for Kalia. More than that, she had a very much in demand skill-set. If she left she’d be able to leverage her talents as…

Ah.

Now he got it.

“Funding,” he murmured. “You don’t own your mechs. She does.”

And mechs were not cheap. Especially at the level Kalia operated at. Hell, even beyond that, he’d seen the kind of struggle involved in trying to build your own mech. Jelara had spent thirty years working multiple jobs just trying to scrap together the most basic machine she could.

He could see why his boss – or was that now ‘former boss’ – might have chosen to engage in a little clandestine planning before cutting herself off from her very wealthy mother’s proverbial teat.

“Yes,” Tenir said, eying him oddly. As if she was surprised. Which was a little offensive. “That’s the issue.”

“Fortunately,” Saria said. “We had a plan to get around that issue. Though the emphasis there was on ‘had’.”

As she finished, she once more gazed meaningfully at the ‘guard’ still facing the back corner. A woman who they clearly didn’t much care about overhearing their gripes. Though he supposed the milk was already quite spilled at this point.

She continued. “I assume you’ve been keeping track of the ongoing tournament in which I’ve been competing?”

Tournament? She had? Mark’s mind blanked. He’d had no idea. And it showed on his face. Because he would swear that Kalia started pouting. Though the expression shifted across her features and was gone before he could confirm that truly what it was.

“I-In one month,” she coughed. “I will be entering the finals. Or rather, I would have been. If I had won the Consortium Plate - and my name would have been elevated from talented up and comer… to household name.”

She glanced up at him, but he could only nod slowly as whatever cultural implications said win would mean – beyond making her ultra-famous rather than regular famous – washed over him.

Sighing, she continued. “At that point, I would have been willing to sign deals with two major sponsors who prior to said win, have been… leery to take over the role of my backers …

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