offspring are fine, but I'm not giving them back to you until you've eaten. You need to be strong.”
Rick came closer, his tentacles reaching out toward Max and the kids. “You have tended them long enough.”
“I had a long sleep. I feel wonderful, so you need to take enough time off that you feel wonderful before you take over. All the children are fine. Offspring Two seems a little overconfident, but Offspring Three is fine and healthy.”
“Query. Clarify overconfident.” Rick rotated, and he only stopped once his largest eye was pointed at the far corner of the pool where Offspring Two was busily sticking a tentacle out of the water like a flag. When Max turned, Kohei launched himself toward his brother.
“Bold. Reckless. He crawled out of the water before deciding that was a bad idea,” Max explained. At this point he was almost more worried about their little daredevil than he was about Xander. Daredevil. Huh. Matthew Michael Murdock was the original Daredevil. Max wondered if that would be a good name for the wild child.
“Offspring must learn boundaries,” Rick said. He turned back toward Max and reached a tentacle toward Xander.
“I agree. I just hope he doesn't break something before he figures out where those boundaries are.” It was probably a good thing that Rick's people didn't have bones because the middle child would've already broken a couple. He was precocious for a one-day-old.
Rick ran a tentacle along Xander’s back, and Xander reached for his father without letting go of Max’s hand. Rick might have a warm body, but his tentacles were far too chilly to keep Xander healthy. That was why Rick had to hold his son close to his belly.
“Query. Are humans born with full cognitive abilities?” Rick asked.
Max snorted. “No. Not even close. Humans are born with the potential for intelligence, but we pretty much roll around, cry, and eat for the first several months.” He frowned. “Actually, we can’t even roll for the first few weeks. And then it takes years before real cognitive processing skills develop.” Max had to assume Rick was trying to make a point, so he waited for Rick to continue.
“Query. How long is required between birth and attainment of cognitive processing skills?”
“Query. Clarification. Any cognitive processing skills or reasonably well-developed skills? Because those will have different answers.”
Rick floated closer. “The people are born with cognitive skills, but they lack experience to contextualize knowledge or apply innate instinct to universe.” He curled his tentacle so it surrounded Xander.
“Are you saying they’re born smart? I mean, are they born able to understand cause and effect?” Max asked.
“Yes.” Rick shifted his tentacle away from Xander and curled it around Max’s wrist. The contact caught Max off guard. A flash of connection—of longing—made Max ache even more when Rick then used his tentacle to wave Max’s hand through the water. Of course. He wanted to keep Xander fed and healthy.
Max tried to appreciate the break from the endless movement and his sore muscles, but the touch reminded him of a hard ache in his soul.
“It makes the people unfamiliar compared to other beings,” Rick said, and Max realized that Rick was trying to explain his species as a whole. “Others believe in raising young, but our young only need protection in order to learn context and language.”
Max studied Xander as he clung to Max's ring finger and pinky. No matter what Rick said, Max refused to think of Xander as anything other than a helpless child.
Rick didn’t say anything else, and Max started feeling like he was letting his half of the conversation down. “Okay,” he said.
Rick kept using his tentacle to propel Max’s hand. “I wish to contextualize information on human preference.”
“Query. What sort of preference?”
“Preference regarding entertainment.”
Max hoped that Rick was about to ask about some inconsistency in the Star Wars movies. Max didn't remember the prequel as well as he should have, so he had no doubt that he'd screwed up any number of details. However, if this was about to turn sexual, Max would rather avoid inappropriate conversations, and that went double when children were present. It went triple when he needed time to patch a few rough spots on his own soul.
Rick gently reclaimed his smallest son, shifting Xander to the side. However, he continued to hold Max’s wrist. The red-tipped end of Rick’s tentacle even curled around Max’s fingers in an alien version of holding hands that came too close to Max’s feelings for comfort. No way