Chapter Seven #2
“However,” Max continued before he lost his train of thought, “if the genetic parents take new partners, those new partners will become family with the children. So I am the father of our three children. Not only did I marry their father, but I carried them. They were eggs in my body. I sat in the water for hours on end, holding Xander because he couldn’t swim.
If you suggest they are not my children, I will be deeply offended. ”
“And offended Max Father rips out guts with a maintenance hook,” Xander added, not so helpfully. Max groaned when his carefully worded argument was buried under the horror of that image. Hidden ones shrank back in fear.
Rick spoke up before their children’s “help” sent Max to the local hospital for the criminally insane.
“Unbalanced one parenting resembles the obligation of the eldest sibling,” he explained.
Something in his body language must have communicated his displeasure because Xander sank down until he was tucked behind the side of the bed.
Max added, “Among my people, it's also common for a surrogate to have an emotional bond with the child or children they carry. The pirates would have killed the children and probably killed me and Rick, too. I don’t eviscerate anyone for an insult... or a broken bone.” Maybe he wanted to for that last, but he couldn’t have Rick’s people think he was a psychopath.
“Correction. They would enslave me after killing family,” Rick corrected him, like that was any better.
Max continued. “My people only kill to save our families.” Max winced.
“Usually. Good Unbalanced ones will only kill for family. Or to protect the innocent or, you know, to defend themselves in case of...” Max saw the growing fear in his audience’s asymmetrical eyes and closed his mouth.
The silence was claggy and stifling, but Max didn’t know what he could say to improve the situation.
Diplomacy was not his forte. It wasn’t even his mediocre.
The government official seemed to be having some trouble typing, but given that his tentacle had a tremor, it wasn’t surprising. “How many Hidden ones have chosen Unbalanced ones for surrogate?”
Max gave him credit. His voice was calm, even if his arms shook. Hidden ones survived by hiding or running, not by confronting pirates with maintenance hooks, so Max was probably their worst nightmare. “Including me? One.” He smiled. “I’m unique.”
“His internal digestive tract is pleasantly asymmetrical,” Rick agreed. Max’s face warmed.
The official twirled around until his largest eye was on Max, and Rick’s tentacles tightened to the point it was almost painful.
The official paused for a moment as though thinking about that before saying, “Confirmation, occupation of Max is surrogate.”
“Oh, hell no. My primary occupation is military pilot.”
Kohei slipped his tentacles out of Max's grip and whirled in front of the official. “Max Father is killer of outsiders who would steal from Great Thinker and end his genetic line. Max Father trained to protect those who do not fight from those who would kill those who do not fight.”
Max suspected that was Kohei’s attempt to define war, but it wasn’t like Max had spent much time fighting. “My occupation is flying a plane, one with weapons capable of destruction. But most of the time, I fly a plane and watch the enemy or search for them.”
“And kill them if they threaten those under protection,” Kohei said firmly. Max had to wonder what Dee had been telling the kids... or more precisely, what the kids had been asking her.
The official did a quarter turn. “So you are surrogate and operator of machine capable of killing, but your primary purpose was to gather information on enemies?” He sounded confused.
“Accurate.”
“Correction. Primary purpose in previous months is designer of weapons,” James said loudly. “Max Father and I improve many, many weapons for outsiders who are foolish.”
Xander then spoke up. “More primary purpose is deciphering laws to improve trade for Hidden ones. He creates hidden places inside laws when outsiders believe they have trapped Rick Father in unprofitable trade.”
“Max can be surrogate and fighter and designer and negotiator. He can hide and confront,” Rick said proudly.
Max knew that for Hidden ones, that was unusual, and unusual was attractive for them, so he didn’t point out that most humans did multitask.
Hell, parenting and having a second job was absolutely normal.
Max wondered if Hidden ones would eventually decide it was normal and stagnant and boring.
“Age of Surrogate, Operator Max, query.”
“Thirty two.”
“Identify number of children carrying your genetic pattern.”
“Zero,” Max said with confidence. He had three children, but none had his eyes. In fact, they would look odd with colored eyes because Max was used to the milky white color of Hidden one eyes.
“Number of tentacles dominant. Query.”
“Dominant?” Max asked.
“Two,” Rick answered for him. That made no sense, but before Max could react, he noticed the bubbly sounds of amusement, and that with the curled tentacle tips suggested it was not a kind sort of humor.
Kohei surged forward and grabbed several tentacles of the nearest bubbling Hidden one.
He jerked so the guy’s bulbous head hit Kohei’s in a squishy head butt.
The official’s tool hat–filled with computer displays and pens and weird little gizmos slipped off his head.
“Disrespectful of differences!” Kohei bellowed, and all the bubbling stopped.
“Kohei requires more calm,” Rick bellowed.
Max was too shocked to say anything as his calmest child appeared to shake and head-butt the other Hidden one into submission before he dropped him in a tangle of tentacles and eyes on the floor.
Then Kohei retreated as the other Hidden one slowly untangled himself and retrieved his hat.
“I attempt to complete required answers for paperwork!” the official complained, but most of the Hidden ones had their dominant eyes focused on Kohei, which made sense.
Hidden ones hid. It was in the name. Even James and Xander–with all their talk of weapons and violence–had retreated to the corner of the bed.
Talking was one thing, but Kohei had channeled his inner wrestler. They were as shocked as the strangers.
“Kohei acts irrationally. Infected by beliefs of Unbalanced ones,” a mint-green alien with pink tips shouted.
“Unbalanced ones show more logic than Hidden ones who expect universe to have sameness with Hidden ones,” Kohei shouted back.
“Hey!” Max shouted. “Enough. Let’s finish the questions for the paperwork, so anyone not part of my family can leave my room.”
“Logical!” Rick said with a shimmy of approval. “Ask queries.”
The official edged along the bed, away from Kohei. Apparently an alien Unbalanced one was not as scary as a Hidden one who had decided to imitate Hulk Hogan. The official raised his computer display and when he spoke, his voice was softer. “Report length of longest tentacle.”
“I have no idea,” Max said, but Rick spoke over him. “Thirty one inches.”
Max blinked for a second, collecting his thoughts before saying, “You’ve measured?”
Rick slowly rotated and gave a little shimmy. “I enjoy the significant length difference in tentacles.”
Before Max could process that, the official asked, “Report length of shortest tentacle.”
Panic hit Max as he realized what Rick called his shortest tentacle. “Whoa. NO! Unbalanced ones do not report the length of our shortest tentacle. Half our population doesn’t even have the shortest tentacle. The short tentacle will not be discussed in public.”
“Records!” the official belched.
“No!” Max returned.
Rick traced soothing circles against Max’s shoulder. “Length difference is impressive. Shortest tentacle is attractive and short.”
Max groaned. “My shortest tentacle is perfectly average for my people.”
“Query. Clarify,” the official said, “half of Unbalanced ones are missing short tentacle. Do you average those members into your statistical data set before averaging?”
“No.” Max’s face was so hot that he feared he might burst a blood vessel.
“What is average for Unbalanced ones?” the official asked. Maybe he thought he was being sneaky by trying to get the information that way. He wasn’t.
“For Unbalanced ones, discussing the length of the reproductive tentacle is as taboo as saying that a Hidden one has an unfortunate number of symmetrical and equal eyes.” Max stared right at the eyes in question, and the official slowly sank down several inches.
Max then felt guilty because this guy was trying to do his job, and he was having a terrible day because of Max and his family.
“Leave entry blank or make estimate from fact that tentacle fits into lower tentacle hat without external bulge,” Rick suggested as a compromise.
First, Max had no idea why he could not get the translator to use “pants,” but second, he wanted to loudly proclaim that he did have a bulge.
He had a nice bulge because he had a nice cock.
At the very least, he had an average cock.
He hadn’t needed to hide in the shower room during basic training.
“Illogical,” the official muttered semi-softly, and the audience of strange Hidden ones made bubbly sounds of derision. “Markings on dominant tentacles.”
“If you’re asking about my reproductive tentacle again, the markings are as private as the size,” Max warned. Here he’d thought the military doctor had been invasive during his first physical for the military.
Rick curled a tentacle around Max’s right wrist. “A white line two inches below the hinged elbow,” he said, touching the scar where Max had cut himself falling off his bicycle as a kid. “Irregular brown spotting with much asymmetry.” He ran a tentacle over Max’s arm.
“Freckles,” Max said. “Those are called freckles.”
“Two marks raised from the skin on the anterior of the hinged joint where tentacle meets torso.” Rick ran a tentacle tip over the back of Max’s shoulder.
“Moles,” Max said. “I have two moles.”
Rick let his tentacles drift down to Max’s hand. “Visible lines of veins branching in irregular patterns,” he said. His touch was feather light, and Max regretted their audience because his shortest tentacle twitched in a way that made it clear it wanted to get longer.
Max jerked his hand away. “Are we done?”
The large Hidden one with salmon-pink tentacles moved forward. “Outsiders are dangerous.”
Max scoffed. “All sentient life is dangerous. A sentient species becomes dominant by being dangerous.”
The new guys stood straighter. “Hidden ones hide. We are not dangerous.”
Max had seen enough documentaries with his kids to know that was not true.
“Hidden ones hunt smaller creatures. Jellyfish have intelligence. You are a danger to them.” Technically, the animals weren’t jellyfish, but a local life-form that Hidden ones still hunted in the ocean to show off their prowess, and they farmed commercially for food.
“Hidden ones kill whales that approach Hidden one cities.” Again, the whales weren’t whales, but enormous prehistoric monsters that hunted in the deepest parts of Hidden one oceans and sometimes threatened their ships and swimming paths.
Hidden ones had huge machines to kill them, and their meat was a delicacy.
An expensive one. As far as Max could tell, the machine required to kill an encroaching whale was huge, costly, and likely to be destroyed in the process.
“Outsiders are dangerous to Hidden ones,” the official said.
“Yes, they are.” Max used Xander’s terms from earlier.
“That is why I create hidden places in outsider laws to shelter my family. But outsiders are dangerous because they see danger in Hidden one technology. They fear the machines that deny them the ability to travel here,” Max said.
“All sentient life is dangerous.” Max looked around the room. “Are we done with registering?”
“Yes,” Rick said loudly, adding a belch at the end. “Registering is complete.”
The new guy curled the tips of his tentacles in frustration, but then seemed to relax. “Agreed. Registering is acceptable. Designation mate of Great Thinker. Ceremony will continue.” He turned and headed toward the door, and the other Hidden ones followed.
“Who was he?” Max asked.
“Official of senior ranking,” Rick answered. The translator couldn’t assign names, but this guy seemed like a know-it-all, rule-following, officious butt-licker, which was annoying even when he was kissing Rick’s ass.
“Percy,” Max said. “He is a perfect Percy. Now, what are you guys doing here?” he asked the kids.
“James provides inadequate assistance,” Kohei bellowed, his largest eye focused on his little brother.
James sank lower until most of his eyes were hidden behind the bed.
“James is adequate,” Rick said. “Hidden ones are uncareful with boned tentacle structure. Harm was unintended or intended harm was minimal.”
“Max Father should still use maintenance hook,” Xander said with a little bugle at the end.
“I will not take a maintenance hook to anyone,” Max said.
“Killing is never acceptable unless you are trying to prevent more deaths. Understand?” he glared at his three children.
Xander and James sank lower, but Kohei straightened his walking tentacle until he was as tall as the medical equipment at the side of the bed.
“Understand,” Kohei said with a seriousness that only Max’s eldest child ever seemed to have.
“Thank you for coming, but I’m fine. You three should head back to the ship.
It’s unkind to leave Dee alone for too long.
” Max still felt bad that she had been isolated for so long at that space dock, and he didn’t want the kids ignoring her.
Maybe Hidden ones were independent creatures, but humans weren’t.
“I agree,” Rick said. “You three may return to the ship or explore the city. You are not required for healing of Max. He will be repaired by sunfall.”
Wow. Hidden ones had great health care, and Max noticed that Rick was no longer worried about the ship.
Something had changed... either that or Rick had a little paranoia that made him assume the worst of his people.
Max would ask directly, but sometimes that sent Rick into a full retreat. He’d talk when he was ready. Hopefully.