“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.”
“What?”
The lift opened, and Rick got in. The doors damn near closed before Max could get in with him. “Query. Clarifyavoids pleasure.” The lift jerked downward with far more speed than Max was used to.
“You produced seed when I activated your reproductive system.”
Max blushed. “Yeah, I remember.” Tentacle porn did live up to its name. It was the only kind of porn that did.
“You said to avoid sex because of emotions involved.”
“I did not,” Max protested.
A recording of Max’s voice came through the computer. “However, sometimes sex involves how bodies fit together and the emotions that people feel for one another. That sex becomes complicated, and turning on the reproductive system too quickly can be a problem.”
Max cringed. Okay, he had said that. The lift opened and Rick moved damn fast for a one-legged tentacle monster that imitated a snail’s propulsion system. “I said the sex was complicated, not that I was avoiding it.”
Rick didn’t answer. He headed straight for the control room, and even when Max caught a couple of tentacles, Rick didn’t stop. He dragged Max along for the ride.
“Will you talk to me?”
“Unacceptable risk. I will not allow Max to return to planet of danger.” Rick touched the computer screen and a complex set of symbols projected out in three dimensions.
“We need to talk about this. You don’t get to make decisions for me.”
“You cannot reprogram ship for navigation, so I can make decision,” Rick said.
Max ducked under a cluster of tentacles so he stood in the middle of the hologram. The light made him squint, but at least Rick stopped working the controls. “My people need to know the truth. My parents are back there. My brother is back there. I need to tell Earth that they were caught on the edge of a spaceship chase, not ground zero for an invasion.”
“Illogical. Query. Logic of organized units to invade small, undeveloped planet in isolated territory.”
Max sighed. “Because people fear. I have to tell them they can stop being afraid.”
“They inspire fear. They have danger.” Rick’s whale song was loud enough to make Max’s bones ache, and his tentacles were still curled. “Unacceptable.”
“I have an obligation to my people.”
Rick gave a huge belch before he backed away. “Reprogram navigation. I not stop. You fill obligation without me to navigate.”
Max frowned. “You know I can’t.”
“I stop ship. You can restart when you learn navigation to navigate.” A few of Rick’s tentacles loosened, although he still was curled up enough to make his distress pretty damn clear.
“Rick,” Max said softly.
“No! No move ship. You move ship.” As if to make a point, Rick backed farther from the controls.
Max dropped onto the couch. Rick might have been impressed by Max’s background as a military man, but not enough to listen. And Rick was right about one thing: Max couldn’t fly the ship. He put his hands to his face. After a few minutes, Rick touched him. A tentacle slid over Max’s shoulder and then encircled his upper arm. Max looked up.
“Sorries. Many sorries. No danger to Max.” Rick crept closer.
Max sighed. “I understand the danger.”
“You warrior. Warriors never protect enough self.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Max said. Service members were people, and in the end, most did put insane amounts of energy into saving themselves. Those who earned military honors garnered so much respect because self-sacrifice was the exception—not the rule.
