Max didn’t want to discuss this issue with non-humans. 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.
Human transmissions were making Max’s life difficult. He hated having to explain these concepts to the children, especially Xander who never accepted a quick or easy answer.
“Query. How does Max define marriage?”
Max held up his hand, and Rick curled his 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. They lay on the floor, entwined. Max couldn’t imagine ever being married to anyone else in the universe. When Rick got too heavy, Max started shifting. That made Rick pull back. “We retreat from space contiguous to Earth transmissions.”
That was new. Up until this point, Rick had insisted that he needed seclusion to work on his computer program and the part of the galaxy close to Earth was exceptionally private. Max propped himself up on his elbow. “Why?”
Rick shifted down to Max’s lap and 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 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, Rick’s voice belched out an approximation of the word “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 hadn’t read the chapter. Max filed that sort of trivia in a part of the brain that got flushed regularly.
Rick made a bubbly, spitty sound and several smaller tentacles undulated, suggesting the irony of the name amused him.
“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 Ugly 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 of Rick’s arm tentacles balled up