Chapter Three #2
Yep, that was an “unwelcome” mat if Max had ever seen one. The rest of the universe might treat Hidden ones unfairly, but they retaliated with a little unfair treatment of their own. If Max saw that stunning city while being forced to live in alien versions of Army barracks, he’d be cranky.
Max was about to comment when a triangular-shaped bus with a pinched top careened toward them, not stopping as it sped through the ugly barracks village before turning toward them.
When the bus stopped, doors on either side flipped up like the old DeLorean’s doors, and Max had an image of an alien bus in the opening scenes of Back to the Future. However, the reality was closer to a circus as a dozen of Rick’s people tumbled out like clowns out of a too-small vehicle.
Max moved closer to Rick as Hidden ones glided up the unpaved road, the largest in the lead.
“Friends of yours?” Max prayed these were friends or maybe the local welcome wagon. Hell, he’d take immigration officers, but the stiffness of Rick’s tentacles suggested otherwise. His tentacles quivered with Rick’s efforts to prevent them from curling tightly in distress.
“I am not possessing of any friends on Hidden world.”
The Hidden one in front of the pack stopped fifty yards away and bellowed. His tentacles were stiff, and unlike Rick whose tool hat looked vaguely saddle-like with a few tools hanging in the place of stirrups, this guy wore a helmet.
It had a dome to top that shone dully almost like cheap imitation leather and a clear face plate that went all the way around and covered the wide strip of eyes that encircled his head.
A tentacle was slid through a ring attached to the bottom of this helmet, and the other end of the loop connected to a barrel that appeared to be a weapon pointed in their direction.
Max didn’t want to escalate the situation, but he was also not about to let anyone think of him as helpless, so he rested his hand on the butt of his own weapon. “Is this the welcome wagon?” Max asked in the calmest voice he could summon.
The stranger at the front of the pack said loudly, “We are the wagon of reclaiming.”
Up until now, Rick had been frozen in place, but now he shook himself loose and jerked forward. “There is nothing to reclaim!” he shouted.
“That is ship of –” The belch that followed went untranslated.
Max had learned that meant it was a proper name and the translation could not pick up any etymology it could use to define it.
Rick had once asked why Dee’s name was the fourth symbol in the linguistic coding system, so some names translated poorly, but most came through in the native language.
Still, it was clear that these guys were saying someone else owned the ship.
“That is registered as ship of reclaiming,” the lead guy said. Max suspected he was a police officer or maybe a repo guy.
“That is ship of mine,” Rick bellowed in answer. Max’s calm, happy husband was getting worked up.
“Paperwork is filed for ship of reclaiming.”
“Ship is registered to genetics of mine.” Rick and the guard almost shouted over each other as they each rushed to speak. However, Rick’s last answer caused some consternation among the gathered officers... guards... police?
The spokestopus slid forward. “Request for reclaiming is valid.”
“Ship belongs to genetics of mine,” Rick insisted.
“Reclaiming is valid!”
It was like listening to octopus toddlers yell at each other. No one was coming up with reasons or explanations. They shouted louder.
“Hey! It’s a mistake, so how do we let everyone know that this is our ship?” Max yelled over both of them. Or he tried. Human vocal cords were not designed to outshout aliens, but both octopi in question were polite enough to listen.
Apparently that was the right question because the spokestopus slipped his tentacle out of the loop that was attached to the weapon that was attached to his tool helmet. “Relocate to Trading City and file challenge for paperwork requesting reclaiming,” the officer said.
“Acceptable,” Rick said. “I go to Trading City,” Rick said with a gesture towards the distant spires. “I complain of inadequacy of paperwork. You stay and meet traders.” He gestured with a different tentacle towards the cluster of squat gray buildings.
“I think we need to stay together. Let’s go to the city and get back before the boys are back from swimming,” Max suggested.
“Negative,” Rick bellowed with a belch. “I am loving of unbalanced husband, but unbalancing creates unbalanced problems. I go and bugle at paperwork of inadequacy.”
Max blinked. That required more mental translating than usual, but he got it. “Are you telling me that I would cause problems?” Max might be offended. Honesty hurt.
All Rick’s tentacles curled up and snapped closer to his center walking tentacle. “Max is adjacent to many problems although I do not assign causal linkage.”
“Okay. Rude much?” Max asked before he lowered his voice. “If there is a legal challenge, I am not comfortable leaving you to handle it by yourself.”
Rick curled a tentacle around Max’s wrist and squeezed hard enough that it hurt. “Remain with ship. Remain with children. Talk to traders. When I am done expressing discontent with inadequacy of paperwork, I will return.”
“Query. Will you keep your communicator with you at all times?” Max asked.
“Yes,” Rick said quickly.
Max wanted to find an objection, but this was Rick’s world and he understood what was going on.
“I have your back, because that ship is our home. You’ve decorated it, we’ve upgraded it, our children were born there, and it is our ship.
” Max said all of that loudly enough for the guards to hear him.
He was breaking every legal rule he’d ever heard from the Air Force or television, both of which had pounded into his head that if something happened legally, he should close his mouth and keep it closed.
But this was his husband. This was his family.
The fingers on the underside of Rick’s tentacles undulated and even a couple of smaller tentacles joined in the amused dance.
“Max can be unbalanced later,” Rick promised.
“I will return. Ship belongs to genetics of mine. No one can deny ship belongs to genetics of mine. I file paperwork and I return.”
Rick released Max’s wrist and slid forward so that he was a few feet closer to the spokestopus with his red-tipped tentacles.
“I have life-bonded with Max of the Unbalanced ones. He is surrogate to my children. He is from a species that is biologically driven to protect family as Hidden ones are biologically driven to hide. They are unbalanced.” He pronounced the last word slowly and with great import, and Max had the feeling he was being insulted.
However, if Rick wanted him to play the part of the dangerous thug, he would.
Max jutted his elbow out a little farther while keeping his hand on the butt of his weapon.
He had learned that seeing boned limbs at sharp angles sort of freaked out people with tentacles.
Sure enough, the beige guard with white blotches standing right behind the spokestopus fell back a few feet.
The tentacle Rick had closest to Max curled up so that the tiny fingers on the underside were pointed upward and all of those fingers except one wrapped around the tentacle.
If the situation hadn’t been so serious, Max would have laughed.
He hadn’t even realized that Rick knew that their children had figured out how to flip each other off, but here he was flipping off Max.
“Fine,” Max said in an exasperated tone. “I will stay here.”
The spokestopus seemed to take some courage from Max’s offer. “And you will allow access to ship registered for reclaiming,” he said firmly.
Max bent his other elbow and propped his fist on his hip so that now he had two acute angles going.
“No,” he said. “My son and my fellow Unbalanced one are in the ship and they will stay in the ship and the ship will not open its doors. I want to speak with the traders in that ugly little town. Given how beautiful the rest of this planet is, did you intentionally make that ugly or did you put the town up too fast to care?”
Rick made bubble sounds of amusement. “Outsiders don’t like Hidden ones; Hidden ones don’t like outsiders.
” Rick paused for a second before adding, “But Hidden one Rick very much likes Unbalanced one Max.” He slipped a warm tentacle under Max’s shirt and brushed it over his side.
Max was turning into Pavlov’s dog because his whole body grew warm and every place the tentacle touched, his skin tingled.
Even when Rick kept secrets and annoyed him, Max adored his weird, belchy husband.
Max smiled. “And Unbalanced one Max loves Hidden one Rick and would burn the universe to the ground to protect him.”
The spokestopus slipped his tentacle through the weapon loop again, and now three of Rick’s tentacles flipped him off. Max dropped his arms to his side and rolled his eyes. “Fine. I will go talk to traders and wait for your return. But don’t take too long. I don’t have infinite patience.”
“You have no patience at all unless it is for offspring. You have too much patience for exasperating offspring.”
“Hey, I have patience for you too, so don’t complain about my double standard.
I will always have patience for family, but the rest of the universe, not so much.
” Max looked to the guards to see if they were taking his threats seriously.
The spokestopus had a weapon pointed at Max, so he assumed the answer was yes.
“I am returning soon. Ship belongs to genetics of mine. Legally there is no way for inadequacy of paperwork to make any argument other than ship belongs to genetics of mine,” Rick said firmly, and Max recognized his confident voice. It was the same as his insecure voice.
As much as he hated it, Max stepped back and gestured towards the guards. “Don’t take too long,” he said.
Rick slid a long tentacles around Max’s waist before brushing a red tip across Max’s lips in an imitation of a kiss. “I return quickly,” Rick promised.
Max had to watch Rick glide away towards the alien bus. Two of the guards stayed behind, the lightest one who had stood behind the spokestopus and one with darker green rings around his tentacle tips where Rick had red. They both turned their largest eyes toward Max, silently watching.
It bothered him that Rick’s promise to return quickly had only been one “quickly.” Given how many times Rick had repeated the word when he said they needed to get off the planet, having him offer to return quickly with only one “quickly” in the sentence was feeling rather ominous.
Max watched the bus doors fall closed and the bus trundled back down the road past the traders’ village and towards that alien city with its graceful and impossible spires.