There were so many ways that Max could’ve answered. However, he chose to go with the definition that concerned him the most. “Clarification. Gross: relating to the bodily fluids of another. Occasionally, relating to one's own bodily fluids if they are fluids that one would rather have on the inside of one's body.”
Max could remember once or twice when he had been particularly gross. As a young man, most of those cases involved alcohol not alien impregnation. Of course the leg impaling incident had also been a little gross. Both blood and urine had been involved, and the medic’s attempt to reassure him by explaining how peeing was natural had traumatized him more. Having someone compare him to a gazelle that peed itself when getting chased by a lion had not restored his dignity.
Rick's tentacles slowly uncurled. “Water is not gross.”
“Well that's good. So now I just have to worry that your child appears to be trying to crawl out of my bellybutton.”
“Clarify bellybutton.”
Max touched his own stomach where his outie bellybutton was on display, since he had so far failed to explain bathing suit in adequate terms. It was also possible that Rick understood what a bathing suit was, but simply thought it was stupid. Either way, Max had grown used to skinny-dipping. “This is a bellybutton.”
Rick brushed a tentacle across Max's stomach. “Bellybutton lacks internal channel to intestinal tract.”
“I know.”
“Query. Offspring cannot appear through bellybutton.”
Max sighed. “Answer. Exaggeration in order to emphasize an argument.” Max was getting frighteningly good at these verbal games. He felt like he should earn a merit badge in annoying alien linguistics.
“Query. What argument are you making?”
“Answer. Offspring cause pain.”
A flurry of air bubbles came out from under Rick’s mantle of tentacles. Either that was an alien sigh, or farting was how Rick expressed frustration. Who knew? After the bubbles stopped, Rick said, “I regret offspring cause pain.”
“Thank you, and I accept your apology, but I still hurt.”
Rick used his largest tentacle to stroke the Kohei bump. “Offspring arrive soon.”
Max frowned. Rick didn’t make mistakes conjugating his verbs anymore, not unless he was trying to talk about things that might have been but weren’t. Rick and his computer both sucked at translating might haves. No doubt a linguist could’ve drawn some deep, meaningful conclusions from that. However, Rick’s verb implied that more than one kid might come out. Kohei was ready. Given the way Max's stomach had formed unnatural bulges, the second child might be ready even if he was smaller, but Max had yet to see anything from the third child. Thing One and Thing Two made visible bumps that caused localized cramping, but Thing Three was still too small to do either. “Query. Number of offspring that will arrive soon.”
“Query. Clarify soon.” Maybe Max was imagining it, but that seemed like an evasive answer. Max groaned as another cramp hit him. If soon wasn't within the next few hours, or at the very least the next few days, Max might give himself a cesarean.
“Query. When will first offspring arrive?” Max asked.
“Zero to six hours.”
Relief slapped Max right across the pregnant stomach. “Oh thank God. Query. Will other offspring appear within zero to six hours?”
“Unknown.” Strangely, Rick's tentacles now drew up tightly.
Max frowned. “Query. Should other offspring appear?”
Rick swam backward, taking him farther away from Max. “I dislike ambiguity of the term ‘should’.”
“Okay, now you're playing word games with me. So why don't you ignore your personal feelings about the English language and tell me what will happen if other offspring appear soon.”
Rick took up his circling sentry duty again. “I am unable to predict future.”
“Define probabilities,” Max challenged him.
“Probability.” After saying that word, Rick fell silent. No way had the computer mistranslated it. The damn thing adored using that word to test Max’s understanding of technology. It would show him a picture of a ship approaching a space station or an asteroid or a planet and then ask for probable outcomes. Max had learned that the computer had a diverse and disturbingly creative algorithms for ways a pilot could crash his ship. After a time, Rick answered. “Second offspring will appear soon after first. Development has been more rapid than anticipated.”
The tension in his tentacles suggested that Rick didn’t like the answer. “Query. Do offspring usually appear one at a time?”
“Yes.”
Max waited. Rick was uncomfortable talking about reproduction, and Max had learned that patience worked better than verbal sparring. Rick might play dumb, but he knew how to misinterpret questions and get the conversation off track. He was a master at it. After another long pause, Rick continued. “First offspring appears days or weeks first. It helps to care for other offspring, or in the case of nutrient shortage, cannibalizes other offspring.”
Max stopped swimming. Immediately Rick was there at his side, tentacles reaching out, but Max swam backward. “You had better tell me that there are a lot of nutrients on this ship, because if these children eat each other, I will not be happy.” Max’s stomach rolled at the idea. At least now Max knew why the computer had included cannibalism in a lesson that had defined herbivore, carnivore, and rock-eating. At the time, Max had suspected that some bored linguist had been fucking with newcomers. Apparently not.
“Offspring being cannibalized is not optimal.”
“If you had any other opinion on the issue, I would take two of your tentacles and tie them in a knot,” Max said. Then he pointed at Rick. “And I would pick important tentacles.”
Splashing, Rick made a comical production out of shifting his tentacles to a more protected position on the other side of his big bulbous head. However, he couldn't feel too threatened because he continued to float right next to Max. “Pool has excess of nutrients. Arrival of two offspring will not result in lack of nourishment.”
Max frowned. “Query. Is there enough nutrition for three offspring?”
“Nutrients in sufficient quantity for three offspring.”
Max didn't need a secret decoder ring to figure out what Rick wasn't saying. The two bulges in his stomach were enough to suggest there was a problem. Max lacked subtlety so he came right out and asked, “Query. Is third offspring large enough to survive?”
“Unknown.” The computer’s translated voice sounded so unemotional and factual, but Rick's tentacles drew up into spiral curly fries of unhappiness. Max had never planned to have children, and if he had, adoption would have been choice number one, with surrogacy and fostering two and three on the list. Alien impregnation was not something he had ever contemplated. But now that he was pregnant, he was surprisingly upset at the idea that one offspring was too small. “Query. Will small offspring remain inside?”
“When two offspring arrive, digestive tract is wide and flooded with hormone signal to arrive arrive arrive,” Rick said. His words grew faster. “Third offspring may arrive early.”
Max caught the edge of a filter island and pulled himself upright. “Do you have medical equipment for a premature birth?”