The trader interrupted, and the computer translated his impatient tone. “Programming can't be accessed or reproduced by examining externally various systems and their functions.”
With one last smile for Rick, Max turned his attention back to the trader. “We call that reverse engineering. We look at the function and attempt to recreate the process. However, I don’t know how you would stop someone from trying to create their own version.”
“People try to create one, but they don’t have access to facilitator’s linguistic database,” the trader said. He stepped up onto a platform so he was as tall as Rick, but he was still several inches shorter than Max. “If your people know to reverse engineer, then you have more technical sophistication than database suggests.” He sounded suspicious.
“And what does the database suggest?” Max gave the trader his most charming smile.
The trader made another flute whistle. “It says you are simple, non-spacefaring race with limited intellectual capacity and almost no skills. It says the larger of the two known humans in civilized territory took job doing surrogate work for Ugly People.”
Max’s stomach knotted. Two. Who the hell else was running around the universe? Max wanted to ask, but he had an obligation to Rick first, and he would look for the other humans as soon as he taught these assholes a little respect. “Not Ugly People,” he said firmly. “The Hidden People. And my people have a great respect for surrogates and an emotional attachment to children that should not be underestimated.”
“Clarify,” the trader demanded.
“If someone touches the children I surrogate for, the children I have helped raise, I am very likely to take a sharp object and remove one or two tentacles,” Max warned.
“He killed pirates who were Hunters,” Rick added.
The trader touched his computer. “I should add violent to database.”
Max stepped forward quickly enough that the trader flinched away and fell off his stupid little platform. “I wouldn't say my people are violent by nature, but we certainly have an ability to defend what's ours. That’s why I will not allow someone to cheat us on the price of this navigation program.”
“The program is not yours.”
“It is mine,” Rick said. “We are husbands, so we share resources. It is, therefore, his.”
“Demonstrate worth of this program,” the trader demanded.
Rick manipulated his tablet’s screen and code flashed on the main screen on the facilitator. The trader moved closer. He had tentacles that ended in long, boned fingers that he ran along the screen as he read the code. “This is exceptional level of sophistication.”
Rick shrank as his leg tentacle curved. It wasn’t a curl, but it was close. Max moved to his side, although he wasn’t sure why the compliment would upset Rick.
“You could make excellent profit from that,” Max said.
“I cannot buy work of one Ugly, Hidden People.”
Rick straightened. “I have not registered my work.”
“So I can be the seller of record,” Max said. They needed a desperate trader for this step. Apparently the universe took copyright very seriously, so they needed someone to buy the program and help register the program to Max.
The trader moved around Max, giving him a wide berth. He stopped in front of Rick. “What would inspire you to offer without registering your work on program?”
Rick rose to his full height. “My faith in my husband. If you were to take what is mine, he would do great harm. He has killed.”
Max cringed. That was not where he had wanted the conversation to go. However, Max had to back his play. The only way to get this guy to help was to convince him that he could make a good profit and that Max and Rick would take his secret to the grave. That required a united front. “If you try to steal Rick’s program, I will take a very sharp object and shove it into a very tender body part. But, we have a proposition for you. One that might make us both wealthy.”
“My continued ability to earn compensation requires that I not trade with Ugly, Hidden People. They have angered most of universe by claiming territories behind their world, territories they don't have right to.”
“We do not claim,” Rick protested. “We wish you not to fly through our space. We only prevent you from doing that.”
“And that prevents people from reaching space behind your world. To navigate around requires extraordinary time. You know this.” The trader turned to Max. “Do you understand how his people anger other peoples?”
This asshole was trying to drive a wedge between them. He was playing a con of his own. At least, that was what Max would have assumed if a human was trying to split a partnership. Max leaned against the computer and rested his hand on his weapon. “My people would congratulate him. In fact, we do tend to claim territory preemptively, sometimes when someone else is already standing on it. Don't look for me to get upset because the rest of the universe can't figure out how to get around their security system.”
The trader whistled, and the computer translated with a whispered, “Fuck you.” He then spoke louder. “I will not trade with Hidden, Ugly People. If I do, I will not have any customers. I need compensation beyond one trade.”
“But what if your customers didn't know that a product came from one of the Hidden People? What if they believe the product came from a previously underestimated species that had been grossly misunderstood?” Max smiled and tapped the screen on Rick’s tablet.
“You are not genius to create this.”
