Page 6 of Space Daddy’s Guide to the Galaxy (Villains in Space #2)

6

ZIGGY

For as often as Micah referred to me as a “bad bish mercenary,” I certainly didn’t feel like one at the moment.

“Try making airplane noises,” my mate nonsensically suggested as Pedro once again turned up their snout at the perfectly adequate spoonful of hatini I was graciously offering. “Err… spaceship noises?”

“Are you asking or telling?” I huffed, tossing the spoon in front of the insufferable creature who, of course, immediately grabbed the cutlery and threw it on the floor. “Besides, why in Stellaria’s name would the sound of a quad engine, even the low speed of Mach 52, encourage anyone to eat?”

Instead of answering the question, Micah simply gazed at me with the same dreamy expression he got after I fucked him senseless.

And there’s been a distinct lack of fucking since the asset hatched.

Excuse me—Pedro the Asset.

“Just keep trying, Zig,” he murmured, fetching a fresh spoon and taking over. “This isn’t the kind of thing you can be perfect at right away.”

My bone-deep distaste for the task at hand suddenly made sense. There was no good reason for me to spend valuable time on anything I didn’t naturally excel at—which wasn’t much—or that I had no interest in.

Like spoon-feeding the cargo.

“Why not just put out food and water bowls for them?” I grumbled, glancing around the cluttered kitchen for a suitable spot.

Micah snapped back to focus, gasping dramatically. “Zig! Just because Pedro is cute and furry doesn’t make them a pet. Plus, they have opposable thumbs, so they should be able to get the hang of this… with a little guidance.”

I watched as Pedro snatched the second spoon out of Micah’s hands and launched it across the room. It bounced off the cold storage unit and clattered onto the floor, joining the ‘organized piles’ of displaced weapons and causing the blood pressure in my Earthling form to rise alarmingly.

In the past, I may have responded to this emotional overwhelm by shutting down completely or letting off some steam in a Muonova bar brawl. Both responses helped in the moment, but it was never long before whatever had been bothering me bubbled to the surface again.

And Dr. Micah does not approve of my old methods.

We were about communication and solutions nowadays, and since I wasn’t particularly eager to express my feelings of inadequacy to my mate, I focused on how to master this shortcoming.

“I need to… make a call.” I abruptly stood, grimacing as I preemptively regretted my decision. “To your… brother.”

Micah’s eyes lit up with interest. “Oh? What do you need to talk to Zion about?”

The way he was clearly fighting a smile told me he knew damn well what the subject matter would be, but I refused to confirm his suspicions.

This is embarrassing enough as it is.

“I promised I’d confirm your wellbeing on a regular basis.” A smug smile of my own broke through my terrible mood. “To ensure we don’t repeat the ‘space married’ situation.”

This was partly true. Zion Salah had asked for occasional ‘proof of life’ updates so he wouldn’t worry unnecessarily about his younger brother. More importantly, digging up the past seemed to have successfully redirected Micah from the current issue at hand.

“Ughhhh…” my stellar collision dropped his head back and groaned, causing Pedro to blink at him owlishly. “I am never gonna live down my goodbye note, huh? Carve it on my tombstone, why don’t ya…”

Unable to resist, I leaned down and kissed his perfect lips—using my hands to hold him in place, since I’d been told to keep my tendrils to myself in Pedro’s presence.

Yet another reason to be done with this mission.

I was more than ready to have everything in its rightful place again—my ship pointed at the stars, my weapons back on their racks, and my mate impaled on my tendrils and cock.

That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

However, I could also see how much properly feeding and watering Pedro meant to Micah, and since what was important to him was important to me, I was determined to do my duty and provide.

Which is why I need to talk to someone more knowledgeable than me.

More knowledgeable in this one area, that is.

“I’ll be back shortly,” I murmured, tearing myself away from my forever distraction.

“No prob. Tell Z I said hey.” Micah smiled encouragingly before a mischievous curve to his lips distracted me all over again. “Go phone home.”

Sigh.

Ignoring the Hollywood alien reference, I star hopped to the bedroom, sat on the sleeping pod mattress, and blew out a slow breath to collect myself.

You can do this, Ziggy.

You can… ask for… help.

I resolutely removed my phone from the intergalactic charging and Wi-Fi station Micah had created for us to stay connected with Earth before deciding a text would be less traumatizing than a phone call.

Hopefully.

Before I could change my mind, I brought up Zion’s number and sent my missive into the ether.

I have a question that requires immediate attention.

To my surprise—and slight dismay—the reply was nearly instantaneous.

Zion Salah/Scaled Justice

Hello to you too, Space Husband! How may I share my expertise with you today?

Siiiigh…

I need to know how to keep a child alive.

The reply wasn’t quite as quick. The three dots appeared and disappeared a few times, followed by a silence so long, I assumed the clan leader had stepped away to deal with family business.

Unfortunately for me, this family business now had his undivided attention.

Zion Salah/Scaled Justice

Any particular reason you’re asking, Star Hopper?

I frowned at my phone screen, unsure why I was suddenly receiving the supe version of a light warning when it was a perfectly acceptable question.

Because you have managed to maintain your offspring’s existence for 10 Earthling years.

Zion Salah/Scaled Justice

Okay, well, an Earthling kid might be a little different than… whatever you’re dealing with up there, but the basics are probably the same.

I huffed, beyond annoyed I was being forced to articulate exactly what I needed. Then, I reminded myself the countless blows to the head from Zion’s former profession were no doubt affecting his comprehension skills.

And the Lacertus DNA isn’t helping.

With a deep breath, I tried again.

Understanding what you consider “basics” will help me formulate a plan of action.

My phone abruptly rang, and my mild annoyance at the interruption morphed into horror once I realized Zion was calling me.

The things I do for my stellar collision.

“ How the hell did no one clock you as an alien while you were here?” The eldest Salah’s booming laugh rattled my eardrums as soon as I answered. “Your texts sound like a broken-down robot learning to human.”

“Just share the intel, Justice,” I growled, tempted to star hop back to Earth and interrogate the hero properly.

Another way I usually relax.

All this did was earn me another laugh. “Cool your jets, space boy. Okay, so Earthling babies survive on breast milk or formula for the first six months. Carbs, fat, protein. Then, you slowly introduce solid foods, but it’s gotta be stuff they can easily swallow, since they have no teeth.”

No teeth?!

I narrowed my eyes, realizing perhaps the supposed “basics” were not quite as universal as this so-called expert had claimed.

“The asset has two rows of fangs,” I countered before switching to an alternate angle. “Is there anything other than feeding and watering I should know about?”

Zion was silent for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. “Some parents swear by co-sleeping?—”

“No,” I brusquely interrupted, because no one was getting between me and my mate in bed.

Even if a certain twin is occasionally allowed to play with us on a limited basis.

“Someone needs a nap, huh?” Zion chuckled before wisely refocusing when I didn’t share his humor. “Okaaay… so an important part of raising kids is enrichment.”

Against my better judgement, I had to ask. “Enrichment?”

“You know, things to help their brain and motor skills develop…” He briefly covered the phone to reply to someone—probably Baltasar—who’d decided now was the time to involve themselves. “Like reading books to them or singing songs, playing with age-appropriate toys, tummy time…”

What in Stellaria’s name is tummy time?

“Do Earthling children not have fully developed brains when they’re born?” I deflated, internally questioning why I’d chosen to ask a lower life form for tips in the first place.

Zion laughed. Again. “Of course not! Supes develop faster than normies, thanks to genetics and being trained in certain areas from a young age. In general, though, Earthling brains aren’t finished developing until their mid-to-late 20s.”

WHAT?!

Despite having lived on Earth for over fifty years, this was news to me, since I rarely bothered researching the early life cycle of whatever planet I was infiltrating. My marks were always full-grown adults, and most alien species could survive on their own soon after birth.

Even if they shouldn’t have to.

Shaking off my own unpleasant memories of early childhood, I refocused on this shocking intel.

Wait.

“Does this mean Micah will become smarter?” I asked, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice.

My stellar collision was already one of the most impressive creatures I’d ever met, but he’d only recently turned 25 in Earth years. If his brain was still developing, there was no limit to how intelligent he might become.

I must breed him immediately.

“Have you managed to knock up my brother, Andromeda?” Zion’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Is that why you’re asking me all this?”

“W-what?” I stuttered, strangely caught off guard. “No. We are currently transporting a newborn of unknown origin to Stellaria and need to keep it… them alive until then. Besides, Micah and I aren’t in compatible forms for reproduction and haven’t discussed?—”

“Hey, no judgement!” he interrupted my rambling with a huff. “Lord knows, Daisy wasn’t exactly a planned pregnancy…” The muffled sound of Baltasar in the background again had Zion’s tone turning serious. “But, uh, if you were in, you know… compatible forms, would it be possible?”

As much as my traitorous heart pounded at the idea of actually impregnating Micah—or having him do the same to me—this was not a topic I wished to discuss with Zion Salah.

The entire extended family would know by nightfall.

“In your case, Lacertus, you’d simply need Baltasar to develop the necessary female reproductive organs,” I huffed, already mentally done with this useless conversation.

A crash followed by the sound of pounding feet had me frowning down at my phone.

“Thanks, Star Hopper,” Zion chuckled darkly, his voice dropping the way it did when he took his true form. “Good luck with parenting.”

Parenting?!

The miniature Lacertus abruptly hung up, which saved me from needing to reply to his closing words.

Small mercies.

Returning my phone to the charger, I star hopped to the kitchen, only to find the room empty. Unleashing a few exploratory tendrils, I found Micah and Pedro in the weapons room, and from the rhythmic vibrations surrounding them, I determined Micah was… singing.

Of course, my incredibly intelligent mate already knew about “enrichment.”

Despite the resonance building in my chest, I stubbornly resisted the urge to watch him care for the child—to imagine this random creature was one we’d created together.

Just complete your mission, Ziggy.

Then you’ll never need to worry about this again…