Chapter Four
The dock turned out to be under the landing; vehicles had arrived to drag the ship into storage underground.
Dee and Xander were fine staying inside, but the doors couldn’t be opened during transport, leaving Max stranded.
With nothing else to do, he headed to the trading town.
If he had his way, he’d put all these traders out of business because they all offered pennies on the dollar for products they would sell to the rest of the universe for full price.
It wasn’t fair.
The weather mirrored his mood as the dark clouds seemed to sink toward the ground and a few spittles of rain hit his face.
A guard followed Max to the ugly trader town, which left Max aggravated and uncomfortable.
Despite Rick’s reassurances, police involvement felt serious.
And the idea of losing the ship... it was unthinkable.
Literally. The same way Max didn’t think about everything he owned back in his apartment.
Had the office tossed all his stuff into the trash when he didn’t show up to pay rent?
Had the Air Force packed his stuff up and shipped it back to his parents?
Max pushed that thought away, refusing to consider what he might have lost. As long as he ignored reality, it didn’t exist. None of it.
But now these assholes were threatening to take the ship that was his home, and the fear was a cold beast gnawing at his entrails.
And making him dramatic, because he knew he had the emo turned up a little high.
And yet, he couldn’t get control of the emotion.
By the time Max reached the first of the squat buildings, aliens were coming out.
The Hidden ones had built this as a giant “fuck you” to the outsiders because not only were the structures squat and ugly and devoid of any color, but they were perfectly, annoyingly symmetrical.
The lack of interesting details on the offensively dirt colored buildings made him feel distinctly unwelcome.
Even the air had an acrid edge that made his nose twitch.
Each building had a structural strut in the middle. On either side was a square door with slightly darker metal. Each door was flanked by two square windows that further divided the wall in half again. It was industrial... very institutional.
Max had been hanging out with Hidden ones too long because he’d never had an opinion on architectural design in the past, but now he hated this place. Loathed it. It felt like being trapped in a dentist’s office. A military dentist, and Max didn’t have the best history with those.
And each building had its symmetrical twin on the opposite side of the road.
Max had seen enough Hidden one videos of architecture with surprising angles and lopsided arches and interior pools and streams and waterfalls that interrupted the structure to know exactly how ugly Hidden ones would find this whole village.
Max was a little impressed with the petty this represented.
A Tribes alien stepped forward, and Max had to stomp on a gut-level dislike even though he’d never met this specific alien.
Maybe the social worker who had introduced him to Rick was a Tribes alien, and he would forever appreciate the man for introducing him to his husband.
But Carrington had also been a Tribes alien.
That bitch in her oversized floppy hat had gone out of her way to try to ruin not only Max’s life but Rick’s chance to get a fair price on his navigation program.
This new alien was one questionable fashion choice shy of looking exactly like Carrington.
He plastered on a fake smile. “Good morning or afternoon or whatever,” Max said as he glanced up towards the dense cloud cover.
The clouds had dropped even lower and had bottoms so flat that it was like the clouds were sitting on a glass-topped coffee table, and they were all looking up at them from below.
The pastel colors had deepened into corals and purples that slowly roiled.
Max suspected a storm was brewing up there. A dangerous stillness hung in the air.
The Tribes alien bent her snake-like neck and lowered her head.
Even though Max had met multiple Tribes aliens, that neck trick still turned his stomach.
Rick had been surprised that Max didn’t find Tribes aliens aesthetically pleasing since few other species had internal skeletons, but that neck. ...
“Who are you?” she demanded. “Unknown species, but we hold contracts with Ugly ones. If you seek profit, we will drive you out of business.”
That was aggressive. Behind her a dozen other aliens watched with guarded expressions. Max recognized the pith helmet of tentacles that was a Pajekh and the purple striped People of Red, but there were also aliens he’d never seen before.
“I’m visiting, and the name has changed. They are Hidden ones, and calling them ugly is rude.”
“They are ugly, and I am unconcerned with rudeness,” the Pajekh said. Max wondered what their name translated as. Max’s computer consistently failed to process his query; however, he now mentally translated Pajekh as “People of the assholes.”
“We get first access to profits,” an alien in back called out.
Max took a deep breath. “The Hidden ones should get first access to profits since this is their world.”
“I am of ship that identified new trading route. I will defend my access to unregulated profit,” a People of Red alien insisted.
“Wait. What?” Max focused on this new speaker. “Define unregulated profit.”
The People of Red alien, who was not red, offered a less than helpful, “Profit that is not regulated.”
The Tribes alien raised her head to its full height.
“I pay to claim profits. Hidden or ugly, I will not give my profits to those of inhospitable ugliness.” The head dropped, and the neck folded into the tight s-shape that made Max’s stomach churn.
“I have paperwork.” She said that like it was the final word on the matter.
Star Trek had given him an unrealistic view of aliens.
Most were bureaucratic assholes who made love to their paperwork and permits.
He knew military officers back home who would adore that, but Max didn’t.
“Don’t let me get between you and an admiration of late-stage capitalism,” Max said dryly.
“I am married to a Hidden one, so if anyone has a right to profits after the Hidden ones themselves, it would be me. If you treated them with more respect, you wouldn’t have to fear losing all your profits. ”
A greenish blue alien with an upside-down triangle mouth responded by baring a set of vicious-looking fangs. That felt like a threat, but the moment Max thought that, he realized he’d been showing off his own teeth to aliens who lacked them. Huh. He should stop smiling so much.
The Hidden one guard slid forward. “You take profit being surrogate for Ugly one. You develop weapons.”
“Disgusting,” the Pajekh snapped. Max assumed it was scandalized by the surrogate parenthood and not the weapons, although a logical creature should switch those. Improving ways to rip out each others’ guts was more ick-worthy than childbirth, even if both were... not pleasant.
“Hey!” Max pointed his finger at the guy. “Those are my children. I gave birth to them and they are mine, even though we are not genetically related. So watch how you talk about them.”
The Pajekh retreated to a spot behind the green-blue fanged dude. Max wondered when dealing with aliens had become an annoyance rather than an adventure. Somewhere around the time he figured out that Gene Roddenberry was far too optimistic. The only aliens Max liked were the ones he was related to.
“I will be a trader with Hidden world. How does one get unregulated profit?”
The People of Red alien bellowed in distress and most of the aliens shifted, many sinking lower on tentacles. While Max couldn’t assume that meant the same as it would for Hidden ones, he’d hit a sensitive topic.
“I am asking for clarification. I am not claiming unregulated profit here,” he said before the crowd turned into a mob.
“Go away!” the Pajekh screamed, although he stayed behind the protection of his green-blue bodyguard. Unwilling bodyguard. The guy kept trying to escape by sliding sideways, and the Pajekh moved with him.
This was useless, and Max didn’t have the patience to keep beating a dead horse or an annoying alien. Max pulled his radio and touched the symbol for Kohei. “Hey, kiddo. It looks like a storm is moving in. Are you and James heading back to the ship?”
“We can leave the waters and return Max Father,” Kohei said.
Max knew it was unfair to ask Kohei to wrangle his brother, but now that Max’s righteous anger had worn off, he was exhausted.
He wanted to crawl into the bed he shared with Rick and fantasize about hiding in deep space–just him and his family.
And Dee, not that she wanted to hang out in space.
She was all about heading home to Earth.
The radio clicked. “Max Father,” Xander said, “entry has registered Rick Father as missing individual rediscovered by government.”
Max blinked. “What?”
“Entry in computer of government has registered Rick Father as missing individual rediscovered by government,” Xander said in a patient and serious voice. One day Max would explain how questions could be used to indicate surprise, but so far, every conversation had ended with more confusion.
“Considering that Rick has been in space working on his programs, he has been missing from Hidden world,” Max said. “Why is that important enough to radio me to tell me?”