You haven’t stopped smiling which, strictly speaking, isn’t particularly kind of you.
“Oh he’s a king,” you say again, just so everyone will know that you absolutely didn’t know that.
Lieutenant Ramirez wants to punch you again and glares about it, but he’s busy saving Captain Diresko from another one of your adoring followers. You all have enough flower crowns to last a lifetime, thanks.
“In my defense,” you sidle away from the dais they keep herding you toward, “the translator didn’t say ‘king’ so I had no way of knowing-”
“SHUT! The HELL! Your mouth!” Dr. Yani is waving his bioscanner at you angrily. “Just! For one second, shut your stupid first-contact-botching mouth!”
“Okay but this is second contact,” you hear your irreverent mouth say. “I met these guys literally ten years ago. As a cadet.” And if that meeting had gone swimmingly because you had slept with the king before knowing he/they was important, you keep that to yourself. And if you had met them at all because you were drunk, that stays between you and Elian Roque-Jones, who is staring at you from the medical tent. He’s fine, the big whiner. So the new king tried to kill him once. He’s only scratched.
“You stumbled into first contact,” Dr.Jones, who is scarier but also has a better sense of humor, scans you again before removing another projectile space-porcupine quill from your arm, “by ditching your landing party and going clubbing with my husband.”
“And to be fair to us-” Elian Roque-Jones really needs to keep his mouth shut but instead he’s made his way through the emergency medical outpost to sit next to you like solidarity is what you need at that moment, “-we apparently did the dance of Peace fucking perfectly.”
“Like we were made for it,” you agree, and Elian high-fives you.
“The youngest people to make first contact and you somehow became an Elite Guardian!?” The representative the United Coalition sent by 5x Lightspeed transport has been tapping madly at his data pad throughout your story. They’re completely flummoxed by the whole situation.
“They wouldn’t let us leave the dance party until we agreed to be a Knog-G’R-”
“Noch-Gare-”
You and Elian attempt to sound out the words.
“G’noc Gre’eb,” the Xeno-linguist practically snarls. She slams her data pad down on the bench next to you. “You are Elite Guards of the old regime!”
Which brings you to your current problem.
“So new king what, can’t fire us without marrying us?” You look from Elian to Dr.Jones who looks a bit like he wants to pick his idiot husband up like a sack of potatoes and spirit him off the planet himself. You shrug helplessly.
“According to the new king, he fired you a while ago but when the people needed us, they used the emergency United Coalition distress beacon you gave them, and since you arrived to help you are now officially the king’s Official Guardian again.”
Elian starts laughing at you.
“You need to be fired again but they, um.” The xeno-linguist covers her face.
“Ah ha.” You nod sagely. “So now he needs to what, un-dance me?”
“You slept with the old king, he seems to think that in order to re-fire you in a way that you understand he needs to sleep with your boss.”
“Oh hell no,” Captain Diresko snarls.
You are laughing again, which still isn’t helpful.