Earth Husbands (Patreon)

Max is starting to figure out how this universe works...

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Max was assaulted as he came out of the secured door to the upper levels. “Max Father, I made new adjustment!” James waved a plastic part in the air.

“What is that a new version of?” Max asked as he reached for the model. According to Rick, the children were all precocious. He speculated it was because he had added too many nutrients to the gestation pool, but Max had another theory. Maybe Rick’s people underestimated the value of parenting, but Max didn’t. He knelt down in front of James and turned the model around in his hands. While all the children had grown considerably, James was half his father’s size. Ironically, Xander was nearly as tall as Rick, but he still had an unusual lean look while James and Kohei still had a certain cute factor. While only months old, they acted like teenagers, so Max tried to avoid saying as much.

James ran a tentacle tip over the plastic model. “Pirate energy weapons lack focus,” James said. “New mechanics provides control over intensity of directionality.”

“That sounds like a great idea!” Ever since the attack, Max had made a career out of teaching himself self-defense and military weaponry based on a rather limited computer database. However, limited information was better than blind ignorance. “Have you tested it?”

James’s tentacles sagged. “My replicator only makes plastic prototype. Father Max, 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 grasped the basic engineering concepts behind laser guns and space ships, but he didn’t have the skills required to check someone’s math. Even Rick struggled to understand some of James’s more outlandish bits of engineering.

“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 tentacle 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 you designed,” Max said. All James’s tentacles twitched and stretched.

“I’m talking at Xander!” James hurried away, using all his tentacles like feet.

Max chuckled. Like father, like son. Hopefully Xander would check the numbers because Rick had been extremely busy lately. 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… that was a little less clear. Turning the plastic part over in his hand, Max wondered if James was an actual prodigy. The thought concerned him because James put too much of his focus on 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 started 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 face 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.”

James glided toward the main computer. “I am testing of navigation computer. I have no tentacles unburdened with tasks.”

“That’s fair.” Max sat in the stool that had mysteriously appeared in the room after Max had started coming in here. “I told him to ask Xander to check his work.” 

“Kohei must should work more math,” Rick said. He was probably right. Kohei was far more interested in physical tasks, though, and Max didn’t want to force the kids to do something they hated. His father had tried to get Max involved in business, and that had not ended well. Max wondered how they were handling the violence that followed the Nish invasion of Earth space. Luckily the United States seemed to be handling the news 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 told Earth they were safe, and the evening news proceeded to obsess over how unsafe they all were. And the irony was that the universe was unlikely to ever wander into Earth territory again. It was just too far out on an arm of the galaxy that the aliens didn’t care about. Apparently Earth was in the older half of the Milky Way and space-faring species had largely 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 arm of the galaxy was devoid of heavy metals because it was already mined out.

The computers reported that the engines were running. “Where are we going?” Max asked. They had been stalking he edge of Earth space for a while, and Max had grown used to being able to get word from home, even if it was in the form of distorted signals that had leaked out of Earth’s atmosphere by accident. Apparently humans were a noisy species. 

“I require compensation for supplies necessary to running of our ship.”

“So, we’re out of money?” Max translated.

“Query. Clarify ‘out.’”

“Out. Clarification. Supplies have been depleted. We are devoid of money. We are out of money.”

“Out is hyperbole. We are limited in resources,” Rick said. “Critical alloys are depleted. Fuel is 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 to you earn compensation. I can earn compensation without….” The sentence ended with a series of belches. It had been a while since that happened.

“Translation matrix failure,” Max said.

Rick’s tentacles twitched and then curled up again, so clearly this issue was seriously upsetting him. “Ship returns to Hidden Planet. 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.”

The communication difficulties were as annoying now as ever. “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 up tighter. “Irrational. Rational, Max earns compensation the way Max chooses.”

Max held out his hand and waited until Rick curled a tentacle around his wrist. The tiny tentacles along the underside curled around 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 then quickly added. When it came to communication, it was best to be direct.

“Ship is too small for additional offspring,” Rick said despite the fact that most of the ship consisted of empty crew quarters. The ship had obviously been purchased from another species because they had more than enough crew space, although the kids did tend to get into everything. Max was just happy that 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,” Max said, “Or fight.” That did limit his job opportunities. Max’s guidance counselor had definitely not prepared him for this. He felt a little sympathy for Buffy who was a great slayer, but a pretty sucky breadwinner. Some skills just didn’t transfer into the job market, and psychotic father willing to kill for offspring apparently fit into that category. “I could sell translation matrix,” he suggested. When they’d been at the docks, it hadn’t seemed like a valuable option, but Max wanted to bring some money in.

“They think of human as language of morons,” Rick said. He slipped a tentacle under Max’s shirt and caressed the 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. The “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. They were assholes, even the ones who hadn’t tried to kill them.

“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 in 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 actually 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 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 understand us? 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.”

“I dislike other people,” Max complained.

“Agreed,” Rick quickly responded. “They last chance markdown the skills Max offers.” Rick said seriously. He had definitely heard too many commercials, but Max got the point. He also didn’t entirely trust Rick’s judgment of other people. He had been made fun of and called ugly to his face. Worse, he sometimes talked as if he accepted the universe as it was. Max wasn’t as sanguine. If the universe was some form of Glee, he would happily play the part of ______________ (whoever challenged status quo the most).

“Maybe you can sell the linguistic database for me.”

“The other peoples special markdowns the skills from any 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 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 asked in a perfectly calm voice, like 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 he squeezed Max’s wrist with that one.

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 certainly 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 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 on despite the translation failure. “The peoples cannot ship navigate that part of space without…” More wailing.

“Wait.” Max caught one of Rick’s tentacles. “Query. Have the Hidden People set up defense that block other people from traveling in their part of space?”

“Yes.” Rick didn’t even twitch a tentacle.

Oh, that explained most of the anger; 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.