Earth Husbands are Odd (Earth Fathers #2) - Lyn Gala Page 0,2
and the fingers along the undersides waved madly.
“I prefer you not shooting.”
Max caught the nearest tentacle and drew it closer. “I didn’t mean that. Sometimes humans exaggerate to show emotion. I exaggerated my potential action to show the depth of my anger that anyone would call you ugly. I won’t shoot them. I’ll just fantasize about shooting them. Often.”
Slowly Rick’s tentacles uncurled. “Unclear fighter humor is killing of people.”
Despite the mangled translation, Max did understand the sentiment. He wound his arm around several tentacles and leaned toward Rick. “I would not kill over words. I only express depth of emotion.”
Rick leaned back and for a time they sat quietly. “Unboned tentacle is clearer gauge of emotion than liar words.”
Max laughed. “Probably.” He had explained facial expressions to Rick, but those subtle clues were much harder to read than tentacle positions. Rick projected everything he felt. Max wondered if the other aliens said such mean things because they could see it bothered Rick’s people or if they simply didn’t care. They’d found Max a social worker of sorts, so they had some sort of moral code, but kindness didn’t seem part of it.
In the weeks, or even months, Max had been on that first military ship, the crew had fed him and shown him how to piss in a retractable trough. However, they’d spent almost no time reassuring him or trying to improve communication. They were assholes, or as Rick would’ve said, polonium-headed poop people.
“What do the pirates who invaded call their people?”
Rick was silent for so long that Max was about to rephrase the question with a “Query” when Rick spoke, “Others’ peoples cannot pronounce.”
“How would it translate?”
“People who hunt.”
“Of course.” Max grunted. “They don’t hunt well, though, do they?”
“They hunt well; humans hunt better.”
Max ran a hand up and down a tentacle before he turned to work his magic on the translation computer. “Request. Say the name of pirate species.”
Rick moved back to his position leaning against Max’s back and burped a name.
The computer started “Peop—” Max typed a command. “Request. Repeat name.” Rick did and this time the computer voice said, “Hunters.” Max grinned and held a hand up. Rick obliged with a tentacle version of a high-five.
“Clever Max not from moron species as others suggest,” Rick said, and Max imagined his whale song and burps sounded a little smug.
“Hell, yes.”
“Clarify. Yes you believe you are from moron species. Option. Yes you are not from moron species.”
“Yes, you are right that humans are clever,” Max explained.
Rick’s tentacles twitched. “Max is clever. Humans are disturbing.”
Yeah, they had watched too many transmissions from Earth, but on the bright side, Rick had finally gotten to see Star Wars. He still loved Darth Vader, but had developed an unhealthy affection for Jar Jar. Max pulled up pictures of aliens he had seen on the military ship. He started with a tall alien with a huge upper lip and too many nostrils. Rick immediately offered a name, which the computer translated as “People.”
“How do they describe themselves?” Max prompted.
“Unknown.”
Max had learned that for Rick, that might mean he didn’t know, but it could also mean he didn’t have first-hand knowledge. “Query. Does anyone know?”
“Others’ people say they were sure of aloneness and distressed at finding spaceships passing planet because they called themselves the chosen ones. They no longer believe in chosenness.”
“Yeah, well ‘Chosen’ sounds like a good species name. So, when you’re talking about your own species, what do you call yourself?”
The computer offered the ever-helpful translation, “The people from the planet of the people.” Max smothered a curse. Before he could ask, Rick said, “Others’ peoples call us as Uglies. We describe ourselves as ones who hide. Our planet is hidden.”
“The Hidden People. That sounds like a proper name,” Max said. It was sure as hell better than calling Rick’s people the Uglies, especially since they weren’t ugly. Once Max had gotten used to tentacles in general, it wasn’t so strange to have a creature more tentacle than head, and the colors were beautiful. He loved Rick’s streaks of beige through minty green and his orangey-red tentacle tips. He loved Kohei’s streaks and spots and James’s white patches, and he loved Xander’s red tentacle tips, which his brothers envied. “Who owned the port where we first met?”
“Every peoples. I cannot land ship on planet owned by one peoples.”
Max spun around so fast he jerked on a couple of tentacles and dragged Rick closer. “What?”
“Clarify. Area requiring clarification?” Rick was so damn calm,