“You mean, are we like salmon?” Max asked. He had an image of a fish with a man’s head. Or maybe that should be a man with a fish head. “Clarify. Humans are not required to return. However, good humans care about their home and do want to go home. I do not want to go home. Conclusion. I am horrible.”
Rick was silent for a time, and Max stewed in his own guilt. He had lied to Rick because he was required to go home. The Code of Conduct required him to escape as soon as possible and return to the nearest American military facility. When he’d taken this job, that’s what he had been trying to do. Only now he found that three weeks was far too soon for him to return.
“The people do not return to the place of birthing. We move with waves. On and forward and on,” Rick said. “When Kohei and James and Xander grow large enough, they will leave and not return.”
“I hate that idea,” Max said.
“I am in agreement,” Rick said. “I am happy the offspring will require several years of tending before offspring have skills to earn compensation other places.”
Anger caught Max like a knife under his ribs. Rick got years; Max got three weeks.
Rick shifted closer until his tentacles spilled over Max’s thigh and his stupid, floppy hat hit the side of Max’s head. “Query. Is human fathering an imperative, motivating you to stay with offspring?”
“That's part of it,” Max admitted. “I know they’re cognitively mature, but they're so small, and they don't understand how shitty people can be.” Although they had gotten an unfortunate crash course during the invasion.
“Clarify. Query. Do not all creatures produce excrement?”
Max's brain was locked in first gear, because it took him a second to connect excrement to shittiness. Rick’s literalness would have made him a great foil on some sitcom. “Clarify. Shitty means horrible and undesirable. It implies a person's actions are as disagreeable as fresh excrement in plain sight.”
“That is wonderfully descriptive.” Rick’s tentacles shimmied. “Shitty. I approve.”
Despite his foul mood, Rick’s delight made Max smile. “I'm glad you like my profanity.”
“I like much of you Max, although Earth fathers are weird.”
“It is not weird to protect offspring.”
“No.” Rick leaned against Max. “I came to this space because I too wish to protect offspring. But protecting offspring is genetic for the people. Human fathers attach genetic imperatives to emotional connections.” Rick hesitated before adding, “I like weird.”
“Then you'd love Earth,” Max said dryly.
“Earth quiet. I can camouflage offspring on Earth. Max can protect offspring.”
Horror stole all Max’s words for a moment before he shouted. “What? No!”
Rick jerked all his tentacles away.
“You can’t come to Earth. People are so quick to judge.” Max burst up and made it to the door before he whirled back around. “You have to promise you will never take the boys to Earth. People hate each other for having the wrong skin color or being born on the wrong continent or for believing something different about supernatural beings that can’t be proven to exist at all. If you come in with your tentacles and your... tentacles. No. You have to stay away.” Max ran out of air, but the panic still raged through his guts.
Rick slid off the bed and approached slowly. “Query. Clarify. Humans’ feelings toward the people.”
Fuck. Max hadn’t wanted to get into any of his planet’s irrational responses. However, if he had to out the assholish nature of humans to protect Rick and the boys, he would. “Humans fear. A lot. Before the ships came to Earth, my people believed they were alone. Maybe they hoped they were alone. But now... I don’t know how they have reacted since I left, but I know you will never be safe there.”
“I am not warrior. Human planet one of warriors. I will keep away,” Rick said. The translator voice didn’t sound any different, but Rick’s voice was softer than normal, more burp than belch.
“Clarify. It’s not because you aren’t a warrior. My planet would be dangerous for a warrior with tentacles.” Any alien would be in danger, but Max had never gotten the computer to spit out a name for species outside one’s own, so he had no way to say “alien” in alien-speak.
Rick did the half turn thing that meant he needed to study Max through a different set of eyes. Maybe different eyes tracked different wave lengths. Maybe they connected to different parts of the brain and Rick was trying to find some half-baked logic in Max’s words.
Max caught Rick’s tentacle in both his hands. “Query. Do you remember our discussion about why other species avoid the people?” Max asked, using Rick’s name for his own species.
“Yes. They disapprove of the growing of offspring inside the body. They find us unsanitary. They are more group oriented and find our individual orientation unsettling. They question the cognitive complexity of offspring who are formed cognitively mature. They disapprove of volume and range of tones used for communication. They disgust at the people’s lack of symmetry in form of body.” Rick listed all the reasons as casually as someone might list ingredients in a pie.
Ironically, humans wouldn’t have a problem with most of that. The belch-talking would be a huge hit on certain college campuses, although Rick did have a point about the lack of symmetry. That and the lack of a neck had made Max uncomfortable when he’d first taken the job. Now he liked Rick’s appearance. The pale green of his skin contrasted the red-orange of the tips and undersides of his tentacles. And his eyes were freaky, but that lack of symmetry moved them away from spider-like creepy to an oddly constructed stuffed-toy aesthetic. But none of that would prevent humans from hating Rick. “My people don’t need reasons to avoid others. They make reasons up.”
“Correction. Max does not. Max is of his people. Logic is missing from the statement.”
Max sighed. “I have hated illogically,” he said, and when he thought about his own ridiculous hatred of all things touching on jock popularity, he knew he was right. He’d been uncomfortable with Pete even being on the football team because Max had looked down on the whole Neanderthal clique. He headed back to the bed and collapsed. “Some humans might accept you, but you will never be safe on Earth because some warriors will stop at nothing to kill you. They will be afraid. You will challenge their beliefs, but that has nothing to do with you. Those people would hate anyone who came to the planet for the same reason.”
“Query. The safety of you.” Rick moved close again.
That was the crux of the matter. Max sighed. “I don’t know.”
Rick’s tentacles jerked and then curled into tight balls. “I change ship course.” Rick twitched several times before he uncurled his tentacles enough to let go of the edge of the bed he had grabbed. And then, with most of his tentacles still tightly balled, he headed out.
“Wait.” Max followed.
“No wait. No go Earth. No danger for Max.” Rick was making pretty good time down the corridor, and Max ran after him.
“Wait a second. Just listen.”
Rick reached the lift. “No listen. Max avoids pleasure to remain autonomous. Acceptable. Guards offspring. Acceptable. Puts himself at risk. Not acceptable.”