Earth Fathers Are Weird (Earth Fathers #1) - Lyn Gala Page 0,9

figure. The hologram got larger and shifted to display a vascular system. “Query,” Rick said.

Max sighed. He preferred it when Rick lost patience and dragged him across the ship. At least then Max wasn’t risking death by boredom or frustration. “I’m going to get sick of hearing that word, aren’t I?”

Two tentacles twitched. “Query.”

Max sighed. “Blood. Vascular system.” And that started the most boring four hours of Max’s life since he’d taken the SATs in high school. He identified hundreds of words for various parts of the human body. When Rick decided he wanted to check the health of his new nanny, he took that job seriously. Eventually, the digestive system led to discussions of intestines.

Rick zoomed in to show the wall of the intestines, and as the tiny sliver grew to fill the whole hologram, candy-shaped structures wriggled. “Ew.” He had been half lying on the desk, but now he took a step back.

“Query.”

“Yeah, yeah. Either I’ve picked up alien parasites or those are bacteria.”

Two of Rick’s tentacles shook. “Query!” he said louder. Apparently he didn’t like ambiguous answers.

His temper fraying, Max shouted back, “Bacteria!”

Rick ran the scan down the intestines, the camera view turning and twisting to show different segments. “Query bacteria.”

“Answer. Digestive system,” Max said. He had no idea how to reassure Rick that bacteria were normal. Hell, maybe Rick thought the bacteria was the intelligent life form he’d hired and Max was the meat suit it was wearing. Max got an up close and personal view of his colon all the way to the end before Rick shifted to the reproductive system.

At least he didn’t obsess over it as much as the bacteria, although Max did spend too much time looking at his own sperm. He was grateful when Rick moved the scan down to his feet. “Check health,” Rick said.

“Yeah. I thought that’s what we were doing.”

Rick slid a few inches closer. “Health offspring.” A thinner tentacle darted out and ran up the cuff of Max’s uniform shirt.

Max jerked his hand away. “Whoa. Hey. Bad touching.”

Rick blasted the air with his weird musical belching and caught Max’s shirt. Before Max could free himself from the tiny finger tentacles holding him, another tentacle had pushed his shirt up and over his head. Rick had some real muscle, because he lifted Max onto the table.

“Rude much?” Max asked, but then one tentacle pressed a flat instrument of some sort against Max’s cheek while another pulled at his undershirt. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t rip it. It’s not like I have anything else to change into. As it was, Max needed to figure out washing facilities. On the military ship, those had been marked, so Max only had to look for the symbol shaped like a worm with three horns. So far, none of Rick’s doors had any signs. He stripped off his undershirt and put it next to his uniform shirt on the edge of the table. At least Rick had been polite enough to keep it off the floor. The whole time, Rick kept the cool metal instrument against his cheek.

“Query.” Rick followed that with another blast of words, these closer to whale song than burping.

“Yeah, I didn’t get any of that,” Max said, but then a tentacle reached for his waistband. “Okay, so we’re going for the full physical. I would normally ask that a nurse sit in for this part.” He slid off the table/desk and unbuttoned his pants. When Rick had first started asking about his health, Max had expected the full monty. The existence of the magical scanners had given him a glimmer of hope that he could avoid it. “I suppose I can’t blame you. I’d feel guilty if I gave them the measles.” He folded the pants and underwear and put them with his shirt and undershirt. “I don’t know whether your nudity makes this better or worse.”

“Translation matrix failure.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Max got back onto the table, his bare ass right over where the hologram appeared. He felt like a kid trying to photocopy his butt. Rick pressed the flat metal against Max’s thigh.

“Health offspring digestive system.”

Max frowned. “I don’t think my gut bacteria will hurt your kids.” He didn’t know if that was true. Neither college nor the Air Force had covered cross-species contamination with aliens. Thinking of home caused an all-too-familiar jolt in Max’s gut, so he pushed those memories away. He couldn’t afford to get maudlin, especially when he was flirting with depression. It was one thing to sit