“Query. Define swim,” Rick asked again. The water muted his natural voice so it sounded more musical, but the voice from the translator on his hat sounded the same. Max glanced at his wrist translator. If it died, Max would be more screwed than ever. However, if he took it off, he wouldn’t be able to speak to Rick. Max moved to the door, and in a millisecond, Rick was out of the water and standing near him, all his tentacles twitching.
“Answer,” Max said. “Swim is to move, to walk, in the water.”
Rick’s tentacles stilled. “Query. Human preference for swim.”
“Answer. It varies. I love to swim. Translator. Leave here. I will swim.” Since the floors sloped slightly, Max didn’t want to have such an important piece of equipment in the room. He opened the door and set the translator next to the wall in the corridor. Now Rick wouldn’t be able to understand anything he said, although Rick’s translator would still be able to generate English.
Once the door closed, Max stripped off his clothes. As much as the tiny sink in his quarters sucked for washing clothes, he should’ve worn them into the water, but then he wouldn’t have had anything to put on when he got out. The ship wasn’t particularly warm.
Taking the translator off freed Max to speak his mind. “If this were a porn, I know exactly how it would end.” He tested the water temperature with his foot. It had a touch of chill, just enough to encourage swimming rather than lazing around on a floaty. Throwing caution and the risk of radioactive contamination to the wind, Max belly flopped into the water and then dove under the surface. The four currents made the water unpredictable. He dove deep before touching the sloping bottom of the pool.
When he broke the surface, he gasped, both because of the need for air and because Rick was inches away, a large eye right in Max’s face.
Max flopped backward. “Hey. Warn a guy,” he complained before he did a few backstrokes.
“Query. Swim Max currently?” Rick asked.
“Yes,” Max said, even though without the translator, he didn’t give Rick good odds of understanding. Maybe he had figured out the simpler English words—those Max used often. He flipped around and switched to a breast stroke to cover the distance to the far side. Most rooms on the ship were little more than cubicles with one entrance. Others were central hubs with a dozen exits. This room had two doors. Weird. Max was equally baffled about why aliens would install a swimming pool. Sure, The Doctor had had one, and watching Leela swim had nearly made Max reconsider his sexual orientation. However, fictional aliens didn’t have much in common with real ones.
More than that, Max had no idea how one navigated with this much unstable and unsecured weight. If the ship had any gravitational forces pulling at it, the mass of the water would be an absolute nightmare. He had certified on a 135 Stratotanker, and that thing had flown like a fucking tank with wings. But this pool held more water than that old beast had carried fuel. Rick had mad piloting skills or the computer had an autopilot with crazy computing capabilities.
Max dove under the surface again and kicked through the water. The slide of warm tentacles across his leg startled him so much that he lost his air and had to surface fast. Again, Rick was right next to him. “Okay, you have to keep your tentacles to yourself because I am having pornographic flashbacks to my last checkup. Honestly, you could make a killing as a naughty doctor if you ever moved to earth. I know people who would pay a whole lotta money for a little tentacle love.”
Max backstroked away from the tentacles floating in the water around Rick’s head. “I feel totally guilty about how I reacted to what, for you, was a health exam. I know human doctors are generally unamused when someone comes all over them. Of course, I came on myself as much as you, but that’s not the point.”
Max wasn’t sure what the point was. Rick swam closer, but he was moving slower now.
“You know something is wrong, but you won’t ever guess what. I’m caught between humiliation and guilt. You know, I’ve jerked off a couple of times thinking about your tentacles, and considering you’re my boss, that’s in the not-good column. I turned a medical exam into a sexual situation when you don’t even understand what happened. I’d confess what a shitty human being I am, only I don’t think the translation matrix is up to conveying feelings yet. If it were, you probably would have shared your thoughts. Hopefully you’re confused and not grossed out by the human spunk you got on your tentacles.”
Max turned in the water and swam away. He saw Rick swimming for the edge, his head held up while all his tentacles did the spread and swoosh thing Max had seen in videos of octopuses. He climbed out and headed for the door, and Max switched over to floating. The current dragged him closer to a tiny island with a miniature waterfall. When he drifted close enough, he put his hand out and let warmer water run over his palm.
Rick didn’t even let the door close before he returned. He swam closer and raised his tentacle with Max’s translator held firmly in his finger tentacles and water running off it.
Max sighed. “I seriously hope that’s waterproof.” He fastened it around his wrist.
“Query. Human swim, human walk, preference.”
Either the translator was improving or Max was getting better at filling in the words Rick didn’t use. “Preference walk. Swimming is enjoyment.”
Rick gave another whale blast and Max was grateful the water dulled the noise. Rick then added. “Query. Correlation swim and run.”
Max laughed. When he’d started running the outer corridors, that had upset Rick to no end. It had taken Max almost an hour to pry all Rick’s tentacles off him and explain that humans were healthier and happier if they ran. Rick pretended to understand, but every time Max ran, Rick would show up. Unless Max missed his guess, Rick considered him slightly brain damaged. At least Rick supported his swimming.
“Answer. High correlation swim and run. I enjoy both.” Max gasped when tentacles gently brushed his leg. Rick made self-control difficult. Max swam backward to get a little more distance between them.
“Humans are...” Rick ended with a belching sound. Max was pretty sure he didn’t want to know what Rick was saying. He gave another set of blasts, this time a mixture of burps and whale song. The translator only sent through “children” and “healthy.”
“That’s good. Query. Can I see them?” Max swam farther away, but Rick followed. Another brush of tentacle against ankle made Max think such dirty, dirty thoughts. He was lucky the water was cold as a bitch or his cock would’ve been impossible to control.
“Not visible. See at time to come.”
“As paranoid fathers go, you’re good. You’re good. If you have a daughter, I suspect a shotgun will feature in her future dating life.”
“Translation matrix—”
“Failure. Yeah. Shocking.” Life hated Max. But if the only way to improve communication was to go back to the damn matrix improvement project, he would have to suck it up. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do until Rick decided to go pick up his kids.
