Earth Husbands are Odd (Patreon)

I'm not sure where this fits in the novel, but I know I want to write.  Yes, I still have editing to do, but writing is where my heart will always live.

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“Query. Am I husband?”

Max looked up from the computer, and his brain stalled for a moment, long enough for Rick’s tentacles to twitch. “Answer. I see you as a husband,” Max said before Rick could get his tentacles in a knot. No one could do guilt like Rick when his tentacles went all curly fries.

“Your answer appears partial,” Rick said. Ever since he’d sent a snooper satellite to pick up Earth transmissions, Rick’s ability to understand English had taken leaps forward. Sometimes that was a boon. Sometimes Max missed the days when he could hide his feelings more easily.

After ending the computer program, Max turned in his chair. “I see you as a husband, but husband and marriage often include making vows in front of witnesses and informing others of the intent to pair bond. Others do not see the vows.”

Rick gave a quarter turn and studied Max with a new set of eyes. “Query. Others must be human to witness or not?”

“We are not going to Earth,” Max said firmly. He could not handle the legal or emotional damage that would inflict. To say he was disappointed with his home planet was an understatement, and while part of him felt like he should go home to defend his family and country, he already had a family and ship who needed protection, As much as he trusted Rick, the damn octopus had the common sense of Urkel. When he’d found out Rick had turned off the proximity alarms because they were annoying, Max could practically hear “Did I do that?” in whale song.

Rick pulled some of his tentacles up closer to his body and he slid closer. “Agreed. Human illogic is distressing. I am grateful you are less moron than many of humans.”

“I wish other humans would be less moronic.”

The tentacles on the near side gave a little spasm. “Query. Witnesses others must be human or not?”

“You lost a conjunction there, buddy.”

Rick pressed a tentacle against Max’s stomach, and then he used the finger tentacles along the underside to tickle. Max never should have taught the kids about the tickle monster. With a laugh, he pushed Rick away. Unfortunately, Rick had way more appendages than Max. So every time Max shoved one tentacle away, three more attacked him. Max ended up laughing so hard that he fell off the chair, and Rick had to catch him as he tumbled to the floor. Their limbs tangled, and Rick ended up sitting on Max’s chest and shoulder before he stopped.

Max gasped for air and grinned like an idiot. “Bully,” he complained softly. Rick blew a raspberry against Max’s shoulder.

After a minute, Rick said, “Query.”

Max let his head thunk back against the floor. “Yes. I know. Can witnesses other than humans witness a marriage? I don’t have an answer that works in all circumstances. Different human groups define marriage differently.” Max was not going to touch religion or gay marriage issues. He’d had enough trouble trying to explain looting and planetary war. Apparently most planets in this part of the universe reserved war for trying to kill individuals from other planets, not their own.

“Query. How does Max define marriage?”

Max held up his hand with his fingers spread, and Rick curled a tentacles around the fingers. “I define us as married. I like having sameness with you forever.” 

Several of Rick’s tentacles waved before they curled around Max’s arm. “We retreat from space contiguous to Earth transmissions.”

That was new. Up until this point, Rick had insisted that he needed privacy to work on his computer program. Max propped himself up on his elbow. “Why?”

Rick shifted down to Max’s lap and then his tentacles stilled. “I require trade for compensation.”

“Okay,” Max said slowly, not sure what Rick wasn’t saying. “Query. Are we going back to the port where you hired me?” With access to the manufacturing machines in the upper decks, he had managed to produce clothing and some lightweight armor patterned off the equipment Rick had scavenged from the pirates. That plus the weapons made Max feel a little better about visiting a trading port.

Three tentacles curled. “The people are disliking the people.”

Max snorted. “That made no sense.” He scooted around so he could sit up, and Rick lifted himself a few inches so they were at eye level. “Now that you have more words, you have to be able to give me the names of different species.”

Several of Rick’s longer tentacles curled around Max’s waist. Max was tempted to call Rick his cuddle bunny, and it felt nice to be able to touch without worrying about dirty looks or commanding officers. “People call themselves people.” The translator’s voice was equally unhelpful, but Max recognized Rick’s belching version of “human” in his own voice.

“That’s a problem. Give me a second,” Max said as he extricated himself from the tentacle nest.

“Query. Define problem.” Rick followed Max to the computer and leaned against Max’s back while he pulled up the translation program. Max had gotten terrifyingly good at working the glitchy thing.

“Answer. Human should not translate. Human should be human, not people.”

“Query. Does not people mean people?” Again, Max could hear Rick’s voice belch out “human.”

“People only means a generic group.”

“Query. How does one define human?”

That made Max hesitate over the linguistic parameters menu. “I’m not sure. It’s like Rick—I know it has a meaning, but I don’t know it because everyone just says the word.” When Rick had asked about the human origin of the translation Max had provided, Max had blathered about how it was a common name and often assigned to those in charge and Rick had been the boss. He might have even mentioned Magnum P.I., but given Rick’s general insecurity about the universe’s prejudices, he wasn’t about to bring up Rick and Morty. “It’s probably related to homo sapiens.” 

“Query. Define homo sapiens.”

“Um… upright man or thinking man… something like that.” Sometimes Max was embarrassed about how much he didn’t understand about his own planet and his own language. When he’d been in school, the formal definition of homo sapiens seemed like the sort of useless and stupid question a teacher would put on a test to catch kids who didn’t read the chapter. While Max had done his homework, he’d file the information in a part of the brain that got flushed right after the test.

Rick made a bubbly, spitty sound and several smaller tentacles undulated.

“Yes, yes. I know. The rest of the universe believes humans are morons. However, we don’t describe ourselves that way.”

Rick’s tentacles stilled and then several drew up closer to the bottom of his bulbous head. “Others’ peoples call Rick’s people the uglies peoples.”

Max’s hands stilled over the controls. He turned and studied Rick’s eyes. “They call you Uglies?” He blew out a breath and Rick’s tentacles curled tighter. “Can I shoot all the bastards that insulted you like that? I’ll aim for non-vital organs.” Max intended that as a jocular form of emotional support, but all his arm tentacles balled up and the fingers along the undersides waved madly.

“I prefer you shooting not.”

Max caught the nearest tentacle and drew it closer. “I didn’t mean that. Sometimes humans exaggerate to show emotion. I exaggerated my potential action to show the depth of my anger that anyone would call you ugly. I won’t shoot them. I’ll just fantasize about shooting them. Often.”

Slowly Rick’s tentacles uncurled. “Unclear fighter humor was killing of people.”

Despite the mangled translation, Max did understand the sentiment. He wound his arm around several tentacles and leaned toward Rick. “I only killed those people because they threatened harm. I would not kill over words. I only express depth of emotion.”

Rick leaned back and for a time they sat quietly. Eventually Rick said, “Boned tentacle better than liar words.”

Max laughed. “Probably.” He had explained facial expression to Rick, but those subtle clues were much harder to read than tentacle expressions. Rick projected everything he felt through his emotions. Max wondered if the other aliens said such mean things because they could see it bothered Max or if they simply didn’t care. They’d found Max a social worker of sorts, so they had some sort of moral code, but kindness didn’t seem part of it.

In the weeks or possibly even months Max had been on that first military ship, the crew had fed him and shown him how to piss in a retractable trough. However, they’d spent almost no time reassuring him or trying to improve communication. They were assholes, or as Rick would say, polonium-headed poop people. 

“What do the pirates who invaded call their people?”

Rick was silent for so long that Max wondered if he had missed the query word up front. He was about to rephrase the question when Rick spoke, “Others’ peoples cannot pronounce.”

“How would it translate?”

“People who hunt.”

“Of course.” Max grunted. “They don’t hunt well, though, do they?”

“Humans hunt better.”

Max ran a hand up and down a tentacle before he turned to work his magic on the translation computer. “Request. Say the name of pirate species.”

Rick moved back to his position leaning against Max’s back and burped a name. 

The computer started “Peop—” Max typed another command. “Request. Repeat name.” Rick did and this time the computer voice said, “Hunters.” Max grinned and held a hand up. Rick obliged with a tentacle version of a high-five.

“Clever Max not from moron species as others suggest,” Rick said, and Max imaged his whale song and burps sounded a little smug.

“Hell yes.”

“Clarify. Yes you believe you are from moron species? Option. Yes you are not from moron species?”

“Yes, you are right that humans are clever,” Max explained.

Rick’s tentacles twitched. “Max is clever. Humans are disturbing.”

Yeah, they had definitely watched too many transmissions from Earth, but on the bright side, Rick had finally gotten to see Star Wars. He loved Darth Vader just as much, but he had developed an unhealthy affection for Jar Jar. Max pulled up pictures of aliens he had seen on the military ship. He started with a tall alien with a huge upper lip and too many nostrils. Rick immediately offered a name, which the computer translated as “People.”

“How do they describe themselves?” Max prompted.

“Unknown.”

Max had learned that for Rick, that might mean he didn’t know, but it could also mean he didn’t have first-hand knowledge. “Query. Does anyone know?”

“Others’ people say they were sure of aloneness and distressed at finding spaceships passing planet because they called themselves the chosen ones. They no longer believe in chosenness.”

“Yeah, well ‘Chosen’ sounds like a good species name. So, when you’re talking about your own species, what do you call yourself?”

The computer offered the ever-helpful translation, “The people from the planet of the people.” Max smothered a curse. Before he could ask, Rick said, “Others’ peoples call us as Uglies. We describe ourselves as ones who hide. Our planet is hidden.”

“The Hidden People. That sounds like a proper name,” Max said. It was sure as hell better than calling Rick’s people the Uglies, especially since they weren’t actually ugly. Once Max got used to tentacles in general, it wasn’t so strange to have a creature more tentacle than head and the colors were beautiful. He loved Rick’s streaks of beige through minty green and his orangey-red tentacle tips. He loved Kohei’s streaks and spots and James’s white patches and he really loved that Xander’s red tentacle tips, which his brothers envied. “Who owned the port where we first met?”

“Every peoples. I cannot land ship on planet owned by peoples.”

Max spun around so fast he jerked on a couple of tentacles and dragged Rick closer. “What?”

“Clarify. Area requiring clarification?” Rick said it so damn calmly, but Max’s blood was near a boiling point. The assholes had segregated Rick’s people. They wouldn’t allow him to land on their planet because they were convinced that Rick’s people were ugly. Max was reconsidering his position on shooting these assholes.