Earth Husbands are Odd (Patreon)

I finished Aberrant Magic (FINALLY) and got Ends, Means, Laws edited and formatted, so now I can go back to the tentacle love.

The trader escorted them up a long ramp into what looked like either a living space or a more posh office. Wide windows overlooked the docks, and in the distance, Max could see their ship. Despite the fact that Max felt like the five of them rattled around in the huge space, the ship was one of the smaller ones lined up along the boardwalk. A swarm of small ground vehicles was pulling another ship back to the launch pad, and it dwarfed their ship.

“Reasoning moron people,” the trader said once the door closed behind the three of them. Rick’s tentacles tightened around Max’s wrist.

“Are we back to the poor translations?” Max asked.

Rick spoke. “Computer of human matrix lacks connection.”

Ah. That was the problem. The trader touched a table and a familiar console rose up out of the center. “There!” The trader said. Rick slowly released Max’s arm and took the computer over to the console to reconnect the human translation matrix Max had worked on so many hours to the fancy-dancy business communication facilitator. Max triggered a personal recording device he kept on him for those times when he needed to record language and work on the translation later.

“The computer is attached,” Rick said, and with the improved translator, Max could hear the worry in his voice. He walked over and took one of Rick’s smaller tentacles in his hand.

“So let’s talk about how to get a fair price for the best piece of navigation software you’re ever going to see.” At least Max assumed that description fit. Rick said it was remarkable programming, and Rick’s insecurities did not themselves to empty bragging.

The trader sat on a curved bench and pulled all his tentacles up onto the seat. “If I were willing to conspire with such a lie, I could not make others believe that you are the programmer.” Now that the translation machine was turned on again, the trader sounded snotty again.

“You couldn't now, no,” Max admitted. He looked around, but he didn’t see another bench. Aliens were really shitty hosts. If Max ever got independently wealthy, he was going to fly back to Earth, hire a whole shipful of southern grandmothers and Russian grandmothers and Greek grandmothers and basically every grandmother he could from cultures where grandmothers were terrifying, and then he was going to turn the whole army of old women loose on the universe. They could shame and lecture aliens into having manners. Right now, Max gave up finding a comfortable spot and just sat on the floor cross-legged. “But anyone who is good at lying knows that you have to put a lot of true words around the lie to make it all smell good.” Rick moved to Max’s back and leaned into his back.

“Most people do not use scent to identify accuracy of information. Smell is irrelevant.” 

Apparently the universe was just full of Mr. Spocks. “I suggest we start with something more believable.” Max pulled his weapon out and put it on the floor in front of him.

The trader fell off the back of the bench and scrambled to get his tentacles under him. “No violence. People from the world with no space travel have far too much violence.”

Max had no idea if the trader was insulting Earth specifically or just undeveloped civilizations in general, but either way, he had clearly missed the point. “I’m showing you the weapon, not threatening you. This weapon is modified. I didn't like how inaccurate the previous weapon was and so I requested that someone help me with a few modifications.”

James had done most of the actual technical work, but he had certainly done so at Max's request and he had already given Max permission to take credit for the improvement. 

“This weapon can be fired accurately, even over a long range without increasing the risk that it will rupture an interior wall,” Max explained. Since he was a warrior, it made sense for him to introduce himself as an inventor with an improved weapon. “It’s much more accurate.”

“What need is a more accurate weapon?” The trader went from arrogant to confused.

“Oh, I don't know. It could have something to do with criminals and pirates and people who board ships and try and steal things. I find it very convenient to have a weapon around when that happen.” Some days Max could not figure aliens out.

The trader climbed back up onto the bench. “Computer security on external ship sensors prevents that. No personal weapon is necessary.”

Max took a second to give Rick a dirty look. “Well, sometimes sensors don't work,” he said. Rick had the grace to curl a few of his smaller tentacles. Max took that as an apology, and he turned his attention back to the trader. “And sometimes you find you have to defend yourself. Considering that the local police force chased the Nish through my home planet’s atmosphere, I know that you have criminals. And anywhere there are criminals, there is a need for better weaponry. And that's what this is.” Max patted the gun.

“Weapon is uniquely superior,” Rick added. He might not be thrilled with the idea of running a con, but he was still doing his best to provide good backup. Funny, but he was better boyfriend than any of the actual boys Max had ever dated.

“Peacekeepers invest in weapons. There is very low profit.”

Max doubted that. Civilizations were always looking for better weapons, and traders were always looking to cheat someone out of profit. Max would let him strip the profit off the weapon if it meant they could get the universe to accept Max as an inventor. “Maybe the weapon will not bring the same profit as the navigation system,” Max said, “but if you convince everyone that I made the weapon, then they might believe that I am capable of making other improvements on your technology as well.”

For a long time, the trader didn’t answer. Rick pressed closer and Max’s butt started to hurt, but they continued to stare at each other. Eventually the trader said, “Very complicated. It would be easier to have the Hidden, Ugly One return to Hidden Planet to find a dealer permitted to trade. Then have licensed trader contact me to trade so we all have profit.” 

Max hated this guy, but at least he was honest about only caring about his own profit. If Rick could get a fair price on his own planet, there wouldn’t be any reason for complicated schemes. Max leaned forward. “You will not see a penny of profit unless you help Rick get a fair price. If you don't deal with us directly, we will make a deal that requires any trader to leave you out of any and all compensation.” Max took his weapon off the floor and shoved it back into the custom holster.

“That is illogical!” That hit a nerve with the trader.

“No, that is vindictive,” Max corrected him.  “And by the way, the correlation between human and vindictive is very high.”

“The hidden one requires compensation. He has ship registered to himself. Ships require resources to run them.”

Rick twitched, but he didn’t comment. Max slowly stood. “Yes, ships are expensive. I’m thinking of taking up the transport business. After all, using his program I can move goods and people from one place in the universe to another much more quickly than anyone else. I can make a very good living, and enjoy giving all your competitors discounts while making you pay more. Human…” Max held up one hand. “Vindictive….” Max held his second hand up at the same height. Of course, Max had seen one too many episodes of Firefly to want to make his living that way. When you let strange people on your spaceship, you never knew what kind of trouble they were dragging with them. However, the trader couldn't know that.

He stood on top of his bench. “The Hidden One could sponsor me on Hidden Planet. You sponsor application so that I can trade on Hidden World. I will offer far more compensation than other traders on Hidden World would offer you. That would be a successful for profits.”

“I think that's a no, especially since we have no guarantee that you would actually work with us after we got you the license. And, of course, you're assuming that we could get you a license, even if we wanted to.” Max held out his hand to Rick. Without hesitation, Rick slipped his tentacles in Max’s hand and rose up on his central leg.

“I could not get license,” Rick said. “Too few.  The peoples do not like the Hidden People and wish to minimize routes of profit.”

“Embargo,” Max said. “They have a partial embargo on your world, but they must recognize how good the Hidden People are at their work or they wouldn’t let anyone trade there. That means the program Rick made is wildly valuable.”

Max took a step toward Rick’s computer, but the trader stepped between. “How does improved weapon improve?”

“You want technical specifications?” Max could do that. “You use a pulsed plasma system. The narrow beam at the end of the weapon expands to create a shock wave that damages or even kills everyone in the path of the weapons fire. I took an idea my people had with the ionizing electorlaser only I modified it to ionize only a narrow beam and then send the electrical current down that path. If you had twenty people standing in a line, I could kill one without doing more than giving the people on either side a mild shock.”

Max wasn’t sure how much of that actually translated. James’s understanding of technology and Max’s knowledge of earth weapon’s systems had allowed them to create the new weapon, and all Max needed to do was convince the trader that he could make himself look like an expert in weaponry. “I have the file on Rick’s computer. We can register the improvements right now. You can buy the right to sell either the weapons or the plans for the weapons. But you need to introduce me to your buyers as someone new, someone who brings innovation to the table.”

“What table?” the trader asked.

Max sighed. Aliens. They really were annoying.  

“Humans are weird,” Rick said. “They perceive tables where there are none and find fluids of the body gross and undesirable. Twenty thousand credits for the weapon.”

“Five thousand. No one will purchase it. This is simple move toward establishing that humans are not morons.”

“Humans are not morons!” Rick said in an offended, trumpeting voice.

Max rested his hand on Rick’s mantle. “If you introduce me to buyers of weapons, I can impress them with the need to purchase weapons.”

“Humans are not impressive.” And there was the arrogant voice Max knew and hated. And here he thought that only people with ranks of lieutenant colonel and up could be that obnoxiously arrogant. Apparently he was wrong.

“You introduce me, and I will impress them and get them to buy the weapons. You don’t have to get involved at all.”

“I have no profit in introducing my buyers to potentially useless designer of useless weapons. Five thousand credits.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Max said. “When we sell these weapons to your buyers, you can keep twenty percent of the sale as your profit for making the introduction.”

“I need eighty percent. Buyers are more valuable than weapons design.” The trader moved closer, which left Max desperately wanted to grab the asshole and shake him until all his tentacles flopped. Maybe he was putting off some sort of aggravation vibes because Rick quickly slid between them. 

“Without weapons, buyers are not buyers because they do not buy. You may have thirty percent.”

“Buyers always buy something. To risk displeasing buyers on untested weapon from a moron species is dangerous. I need seventy percent.” The two of them continued fast paced negotiations until they settled on the trader taking sixty four percent of any sales. As soon as they had reached that agreement, Rick went and retrieved his computer, and Max followed him back down the ramp. The trader followed from a distance, giving Max the feeling that he didn’t trust them not to steal merchandise on their way out.

They were outside in the humid air before Rick said anything. “Danger. Other peoples lack desire for weapons.”

“Every people want what they see,” Max said.

“I see you,” Rick said. He curled tentacles around Max’s wrist.

“Awww. I love you too,” Max said. Rick was a closet romantic. And it turned out that Max was too because he found he would do anything and risk anything to get Rick the respect and compensation he deserved. And as a side effect, he wanted their children to have more opportunities in a universe that was a little less unfair than the one they’d been born into.

Funny enough, it turned the universe wasn’t all that different from Earth.