by Lyn Gala
James ran a tentacle tip over the plastic model. “I applied your theory on focus of weapon,” he said. “New mechanics provides control over intensity of directionality.”
“Wow! You did?” He stuffed down a little bit of hurt that James hadn’t waited for him when it was their shared project. He understood being excited, and James did lack patience. “Have you tested it?”
James’s tentacles sagged. “My replicator only makes plastic prototype. Max Father, make alloy version, query?” James curled his manipulative little tentacles around Max’s wrist.
“If either Rick Father or Xander check your numbers, I’ll run a copy for testing,” Max said. He didn’t have the skills required to check the math. Hell, he wouldn’t have made a plastic copy without running the design past someone.
“Rick Father never looks.” James was definitely whining now.
“Rick Father is busy. You ask Xander to look at your numbers and if Rick Father is available, I will show him. Put the schematics on the computer.”
James’s tentacles squiggled and curled, but Max stood. He would not be emotionally blackmailed by a six-month-old. Much. “I hope it works out. I would love to carry a weapon we designed together,” Max said.
All James’s tentacles twitched and stretched. “I’m talking at Xander!” Sadly, James was probably using that “at” accurately. Xander was best at languages, but James talked more. A lot more.
Max chuckled. Xander should check the numbers because Rick had been busy. His navigational program went far beyond Max’s simple ability to understand math, but he did understand it would make travel safer and cheaper. How it did that was a little less clear. After all, Max had only gone through advanced calculus and differential equations for his engineering degree. In the wider universe, that gave him a toddler-level math expertise.
It bothered Max that James focused so much of his greater mathematical genius toward weapons. That pirate attack had changed him.
The door to the computer room was closed, so Max activated the light and settled in to wait. Sometimes Rick was too busy to notice things like doors or invading pirates. However, Max hadn’t even pulled up his latest computer program on his tablet before the door slid open. Rick’s tentacles were at half-curly fry, but when he saw Max, they all stretched out.
“Max.” Rick curled tentacles around Max’s wrist and pulled him into the room. The door closed behind him, and Rick began his turning ritual. He glided around Max, touching bare skin—an ankle here, an elbow there. In humans, touch created oxytocin, and Rick’s circling probably did something biological because he loved doing it. Max turned in a slow circle the opposite direction until they were face to very large eye again.
Then Rick slid one of his smallest tentacles across Max’s lips. A shiver went down Max’s spine. Rick then leaned his head into Max’s chest. “I incorrectly assumed James aggravation.”
Max smiled. “He does want to test out a new weapon part.”
Rick made a sound like bubbles, which was usually a good sign. Maybe he would have time to help James with the work. “Many testing of many parts.”
“True.”
Rick glided toward the main computer. “I am testing of navigation computer. I have no tentacles unburdened with tasks.”
“That’s fair.” Max sat on the stool that had appeared in the room after he had started visiting. “I told him to ask Xander to check his work.”
“Kohei must should work more math.” Rick was right. However, Rick never voiced his opinions to the boys, and Max wasn’t going to get involved in this case. Kohei was far more interested in physical tasks, and Max didn’t want to force the kids to do something they hated. His father had tried to get him involved in business, and that had not ended well. Max wondered how they were handling the violence that had followed the Nish invasion of Earth space. Luckily, the United States was faring better than some areas. They had more suicide pacts in fringe churches than rioting.
Max’s message had done less to calm those waters than he had hoped.
He’d told Earth they were safe, and the evening news proceeded to obsess over how unsafe they all were. And the irony was that the rest of the universe was unlikely to ever wander into Earth territory again. It was too far out—and on an arm of the galaxy that the aliens didn’t care about. Earth was in the older half of the Milky Way and space-faring species had decamped and headed for the half of the galaxy that was still forming new stars. When humans finally got to space, they were going to find much of their part of the galaxy was devoid of heavy metals because it had already been mined out.
The computers reported that the engines were running. “Where are we going?” Max asked.
“I require compensation for supplies necessary to running of our ship.” Rick had repeated that phrase often enough in the last week that Max was getting suspicious. Usually Rick was quick to share information, and the improved translation matrix meant they should be able to discuss navigation.
“Clarify require.”
“Require. Develop need for lacking resource.” Rick kept his main eye focused on the computer. He sucked at lying, even lying by omission.
“So, we’re out of money?” Max translated.
“Query. Clarify ‘out.’”
“Out. Clarification. Supplies have been depleted. We are devoid of money. All remaining supplies are outside of our control.”
Rick hesitated long enough to suggest Max was not going to like his answer. “Out is hyperbole. We are limited in resources,” Rick said. “Critical alloys depleted. Fuel restricted.”
That sounded more dire than Max had expected. He put James’s model to one side. “Can I do something to assist with gathering resources?” After all, Max had used a number of those alloys to fabricate weapons and armor to counter the known attack strategies of the most violent of the aliens he’d read about in the database. If the Hunters or Nish or even the Pajekh chose to attack, Max had his countermeasures ready.
Rick’s tentacles curled. “I don’t want you to earn compensation. I can earn compensation without....” The sentence ended with a series of belches. It had been a while since that had happened.
“Translation matrix failure,” Max said.
Rick’s tentacles twitched and curled again, so this issue was seriously upsetting him. “Max possible not risk life as warrior.”
“Oh.” Max blew out a breath as he realized what Rick feared. “I don’t have to take a job fighting.”
Instead of reassuring Rick, that made his tentacles curl up tighter.
Max had clearly misinterpreted that bit of word soup. “Rick, what do you not want?”
“Translation matrix failure. Negative contradiction with desire.”
That was still annoying. “Query. What do you fear?”
Rick was silent for so long that Max wondered if he didn’t understand or if Max had crossed some cultural line. The question seemed simple enough to understand. Rick inched closer and said, “Irrational dislike Max surrogate for not-Rick.” Rick’s tentacles curled tighter. “Irrational. Rational, Max earns compensation the way Max chooses.”
Max held out his hand and waited until Rick wrapped a tentacle around his wrist. The tiny tentacles along the underside tangled with Max’s fingers. “Clarification. Irrational dislike of relationship with others is jealousy. You are jealous. I would be jealous if you chose another to be surrogate of future offspring.”
The tiny finger tentacles undulated. “Others do not father like Max.”
“I take that as a compliment,” Max said. “Not that I’m ready to have more children now,” he added quickly. When it came to communication, it was best to be direct.
“Ship is too small for additional offspring,” Rick said, even though most of the ship consisted of empty crew quarters. On the other hand, the kids did tend to get into everything. Rick restricted them to the lower decks, otherwise James might have disassembled something more important than a secondary fabricator. However, it
worked once James and Xander had reassembled it, which was impressive. “I am jealous of other surrogate Max compensation.”
“Then I will not surrogate... or fight.” That did limit his job opportunities. Max’s guidance counselor had not prepared him for this. He felt a little sympathy for Buffy who was a great slayer, but a pretty sucky breadwinner. Some skills didn’t transfer into the job market, and psychotic father willing to kill for offspring apparently fit into the same category as vampire slayer. “I could sell translation matrix,” he suggested. When they’d been at the docks, it hadn’t seemed like a viable option, but Max wanted to bring some money in.
“They think of human as language of morons.” Rick slipped a tentacle under Max’s shirt and caressed his skin. Despite Rick’s concern, Max didn’t care what others thought. It wasn’t as if these aliens had impressed him with their brilliance. They’d “rescued” Max from his jet and then ignored or terrorized him for weeks on that military ship, all without trying to have any meaningful conversation.
“We could prove that humans aren’t morons. We could introduce them to the polonium-headed idiots who tried to steal from us.” Max smiled at the thought of the pirates having to explain that one human had kicked their asses. They called their species “Hunters,” but one pilot had taken them all out.
Rick’s tentacles quivered with happiness, and Max laughed. Rick had a not-so-buried mean streak when it came to the pirates. He knew that would cheer Rick up.
“Okay, I wouldn’t do that, but, query, is there a way to convince people that humans are equal to other species?”
“Humans fail equality. They fail building spaceships.”
That was a stupid way to judge others, especially when most other species assisted each other in reaching space. According to the records, the species Max’s social worker belonged to had helped dozens of younger species, and they often allied themselves with younger races. It was like a galactic version of a pyramid scheme. Rick’s species, and humanity, had simply been left out.
“We are working on spaceships. And most people don’t know anything about humans. How hard would it be to convince them they needed to know English? Those pirates believed I was worth listening to.”
Rick pulled Max closer and curled more tentacles around him. “Max is worth listening to most always. Other species will not respect Max or listen to any of the Hidden People. Warrior species language worth money but humans never never seen warrior by others peoples.”
“I dislike other people,” Max complained.
“Agreed,” Rick quickly responded. “They last chance markdown the skills Max offers.” Rick said. He had heard too many commercials, but Max got the point. If the universe was some version of Glee, he would happily play the part of Santana Lopez and show these people what a real bitch could accomplish.
“Maybe you can sell the linguistic database for me.”
“The other peoples’ special markdowns applies to all the work of the Hidden Peoples. My program is worth...” whale song. “They give...” more whale song.
Max frowned. That did not sound good. “Translation matrix failure.” Max needed a way to judge relative value because the damn translation matrix always screwed up money, even if raw numbers were easy to program. Weird computer. “Query. How does the value of your program compare to the value of your ship?” he finally asked.
“Linguistic smart Max,” Rick unwound his tentacles and backed away. “My program is worth two and one-quarter ships.” Max was impressed. Damn. Max could hear the comedian Fluffy saying that in his exaggerated tone because that was a hell of a lot of money. Rick continued. “However, the special markdowns the Hidden Peoples suffer mean I will receive one-fifth of ship.”
“Wait. What?” Shock made focusing on the numbers difficult.
“Query. What what?” Rick was calm, as if getting cheated out of most of his money was normal.
Max closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. “Query. Who gets your money?”
“Only I and Max have access my money.” Rick untangled all but one tentacle and squeezed Max’s wrist.
Max sighed. “Query. What person gets the compensation you are denied because of special markdowns?”
“Brokers hire access to Hidden Planet. They pay to government for access to Hidden Planet market. Those people take trade items and get compensation on trade planets.” Again, the calm tone left Max in shock. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a problem Max could shoot, although he wanted to.
“Why don’t you go to a trade planet yourself?” If Rick was afraid of the other aliens, Max was more than willing to play bodyguard, and he might even consider a career in breaking knees—assuming he could find something that passed as a knee on whichever alien insulted Rick.
“The many peoples refuse compensation to Hidden People.”
Max thought about how his social worker had reacted to Max’s decision to take the job with Rick. Even then he’d known something more important than the volume of Rick’s voice was involved. “Query. How can they refuse to trade? Query. Isn’t refusing trade unfair?”
Rick shifted to look out of different eyes. “Query. Is fairness required for earning of compensation?”
Max blew out a frustrated breath. Rick had him there.
Rick shifted closer and Max spread his knees so Rick would fit between them. “Hidden People are hidden. Hidden Planet is hidden. The peoples dislike hidden. They retaliation.”
“Clarify. They retaliate,” Max said absent-mindedly. “Query. What do they retaliate against?”
“Answer. The hidden.”
One of these days Max was going to pound his head against a wall. However, ignoring communication problems had gotten him knocked up last time, so he had to put on his big-pilot’s pants and figure this out.
“Query. Why do they care if you are hidden people?”
Rick turned a quarter rotation, which almost always meant he was confused. Or worried. Sometimes it meant worried. “The Hidden People disrupt space...” and another series of belches and wails came through the computer. Rick continued despite the translation failure. “The peoples cannot ship navigate that part of space without...” More wailing.
“Wait.” Max caught Rick by the tentacle. “Query. Have the Hidden People set up a defense that blocks other people from traveling in their part of space?”
“Yes.” Rick didn’t even twitch a tentacle.
Oh, that explained most of the anger. Rick’s people wouldn’t let the others walk on their metaphorical lawn. And the others were retaliating by putting sanctions on the Hidden people. That made a lot more sense than discrimination against non-symmetry. However, if these assholes thought they could cheat Rick, they had another thought coming. Max had no idea how to fix this, but he did know the universe did not get to cheat his husband or his children.
Max was distracted when a tentacle snuck under his shirt. “You are horny.” Max was not complaining at all.
“Lack of horns,” Rick disagreed. “But I am the man your man could smell like.”
Max snorted so hard that he had a snot backup on the brain. “You like those deodorant commercials too much.”
“I am desired as is man of muscles.” Rick raised a tentacle to mimic flexing an arm. The gesture was ridiculous when gym rats did it, and doubly so when Rick copied it, but Max had to agree with Rick’s basic conclusion. Rick was hot. Max caught that red tipped tentacle.
“Tangle tentacles.” Rick curled a tentacle around Max's wrist and tugged him off the awkward stool. It was funny how Max had learned to interpret tentacle positions, even in the absence of any emotional tone. The translator was still monotone despite everything Max had done, but Rick’s happiness shone through. The finger tentacles tickled across Max’s arm before Rick wound the slender tentacle around Max’s hand.
“You have beautiful tentacles to tangle.” Max hooked his heel around one of Rick’s larger tentacles and pulled it closer. Rick twitch-shivered in pleasure. Then Rick grabb
ed Max’s legs and jerked them hard enough that Max lost contact with the floor. But Rick had the strength to hold him, so now Max was suspended as Rick slowly spread his legs.
“You can’t get my pants off that way,” Max warned. Their sex did lead to a significant amount of torn clothing.
Rick tugged the bottom of Max’s shirt, pushing it up. It got caught on Max’s neck, and trapped his arms in the fabric. Maybe that was an accident, maybe not. But Rick took advantage of the situation to curl around Max’s bare torso. Fingers pulled at Max’s nipple, and his cock hardened.
“No fair,” Max complained, his voice muffled in his shirt.
“All advantage fair in love,” Rick countered. He pulled Max’s legs up.
Max squirmed out of his shirt and grabbed the nearest tentacle. He knew Rick was strong enough to hold him. Hell, they’d had wall sex as often as they’d had sex in a bed, but some instinctive part still made Max struggle to get his feet under him. “You cheat,” Max said when a tentacle slid down his ass crack.
“Happily.” Rick popped Max’s fly open while tickling the edge of his hole and untying his shoes and tossing the shirt away. Max did appreciate a lover who could multitask.
“It’s not fair. You have too many tentacles for me to keep up with.” Max caught the thickest of Rick’s arm tentacles. It was shorter than the others with fatter fingers on the underside. And Max knew from experience that he could drive Rick wild by playing with it.
Max gasped as Rick counterattacked with a quick thrust into his ass. Then the little bastard curled the end of his tentacle against Max’s prostate. Losing control of his reactions, Max arched his back and clutched at whichever limbs were closest. Rick took the opportunity to yank Max’s pants off.
“You dirty bastard,” Max said with a gasp.
Rick hesitated long enough for Max to twist around in search of that vulnerable tentacle. “I am going to turn you into a ball of twitching tentacles.”
