“Interface with what?” Max asked.
“Interface,” Heetayu said. “Translator matrix limits.”
“Yeah, I’m not impressed with the translation matrix.” Max stepped up to the interface. It made the cockpit of his F-35 look like a child’s toy. “What do I touch?”
Heetayu then touched dozens of buttons all at once, his eight fingers dancing over the controls. Max had no hope of following the commands he used, but a long tone sounded and then Heetayu reached into a recessed niche and pulled out a translator cuff like the aliens on the ship had worn. He held it out.
“Thanks.” Max took the thin metal and looked at it. Before he could do anything, Heetayu took it back and pressed it to Max’s wrist. The metal adapted to Max’s arm and Heetayu trilled.
“Touch,” he said, tapping a two inch glass square.
Max tugged at the translator cuff a second before he laid his fingers on the glass. A new set of lights flashed, and then Heetayu did his finger dance over the controls again. If this was supposed to be some sort of explanation, this guy sucked at his job. But after a second, Heetayu pulled Max’s hand away from the glass and then repeated his request.
“Touch.”
Max touched it, and this time, the computer made a humming sound. It then squealed. Max flinched, and the second he broke contact, the interface went silent and dark.
Heetayu twitched and the single line of hairs down the back of his head and neck shimmied. “Touch,” he said again.
Max felt a need to defend himself. “I was startled.” He stepped up and touched the glass again. Once again the computer interface hummed and then squealed. This time Max noticed that the flaps on the front of Heetayu’s neck closed. “You don’t like the sound either,” he guessed. Most animals had some sort of flap or protection over their ears, so it made sense that Heetayu was closing his ears, especially since his own language used the same lower tones as humans. “Does this thing even know English?”
The panel projected a stilted but understandable voice. “Interface updated. Query: Current language. Designation English confirm.”
Max had to do a little mental translating to make sense of that. “Yes. Current language is English.”
“English. Confirmed. What I assist you?”
Max looked at Heetayu. Since he had two front-facing eyes, Max could tell that the alien was watching him; however, he didn’t offer any suggestions. Max only needed one kind of assistance. “I need to find transportation back to my planet.”
“Which planet claim you as yours?” The computer asked.
“My planet means the planet where I was born. I don’t own it.”
“No smart. Logic.” Heetayu’s quiet voice might have been an admonition for Max to be more logical or it could have been sympathy for the frustration of dealing with a computer. Who knew. However, Max took a deep breath and tried to focus on achieving his goal. “Do you know the ship I came in on?”
“First noted coming from the....” The name of the ship translated as a child’s scream. “... fought the Nish illegals... law ... an inhabited planet exterior... trading network.”
Max could have cried. Heetayu had understood some part of Max’s request, and he had explained why the aliens had come to Earth. Maybe. Max assumed that broken sentence implied that the ship that had taken Max captive had been chasing criminals called Nish. Either that or Max had been on a ship with the Nish. None of that mattered; finding Earth did. “Do you have the location of that planet where they were fighting?”
There was a moment of hesitation, and Max’s heart stopped. If he couldn’t tell anyone where Earth was, he couldn’t find his way home.
After a pause, the computer offered: “Planet...” before ending with a squeal.
“Planet Earth,” Max corrected it.
“Updating database—local designation Earth. Transportation queried.” The computer paused. “Three ships responding...” More wails.
Max was getting tired of the screeching. “I don’t understand the last part of that.”
Heetayu pointed at a dark square. “Touch.”
Max suspected Heetayu was either a tourist guide or a social worker. He touched where directed and alien symbols appeared. “I can’t read that,” Max said.
“Touch.” Heetayu pointed to a symbol in the lower left corner. The text shimmered and then English words appeared. Flyer was followed by a set of alien figures. Erogingingin was followed by another. Then three lines listed Uber with figures following. Max assumed that the aliens had assumed uber was the generic English term for taxi service. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
“I don’t understand local currency,” Max said.
Heetayu lowered his head again. “Currency. Question.”
“That’s what I’m asking. Currency. Question.” Max knew that wasn’t helpful, but he had passed the limits of human frustration and was now exceeding the number of problems a saint could handle without losing his mind. “How do I pay for these ships? How much are they charging? Currency. Economics. Money. How do I get and use money?”
Heetayu touched a number of buttons on the interface and then pointed at the glass square again. “Touch.”
“This is getting old,” Max muttered, but he did as ordered.
“Request currency,” Heetayu told him.
Max was fairly sure that any economic system that worked would be more complex than simply requesting money, but he gave it a try. “Request currency.”
The computer made a long screeching noise, and Max touched the dark screen before his alien helper could prompt him. Three lines showed up. “What are those?” Max asked. None of the titles were translating into English and the numbers were still indecipherable.
Heetayu’s finger hovered over the first line. “Language. Improve translation matrix. English.”
“Yeah, your matrix needs some work,” Max agreed softly. He wasn’t sure he was the man to do the work to improve it. He’d nearly lost his Air Force scholarship over his Spanish grades, and he usually guessed on when to use who versus whom. His English teacher had tried to explain, but Max found it far more complicated than calculus or disassembling an M16. However, if he had to play English teacher to buy a ticket home, he’d grit his teeth and do it. “How much would that pay?”
Heetayu’s answer didn’t translate, leaving Max to rub his temples as his headache intensified. “Let’s try this another way. At that rate, how many years would I have to work to pay for a ticket?” Max wasn’t sure that would translate either. After all, he didn’t have the vocabulary to ask about food costs or housing. However, it would give him a rough idea of the local economy.
Heetayu reached across Max and typed in a number of commands before answering. “Three hundred and seven Earth years.”
Max gritted his teeth and fought back an urge to punch someone. The unfairness of the whole situation pressed against him like a hundred needles stabbing his soul, but there was no one to hit. No one to scream at. Now if Max could get his hands on the captain of the fucking ship that had taken him away from Earth and refused to return him... well, he would happily spend a few hours trying to find vital organs with a dull knife. A sharp one would be too quick and merciful. He took a deep breath.