James’s tentacles sagged. “My replicator only makes plastic prototype. Max Father, make alloy version, query?” James curled his manipulative little tentacles around Max’s wrist.
“If either Rick Father or Xander check your numbers, I’ll run a copy for testing,” Max said. He didn’t have the skills required to check the math. Hell, he wouldn’t have made a plastic copy without running the design past someone.
“Rick Father never looks.” James was definitely whining now.
“Rick Father is busy. You ask Xander to look at your numbers and if Rick Father is available, I will show him. Put the schematics on the computer.”
James’s tentacles squiggled and curled, but Max stood. He would not be emotionally blackmailed by a six-month-old. Much. “I hope it works out. I would love to carry a weapon we designed together,” Max said.
All James’s tentacles twitched and stretched. “I’m talking at Xander!” Sadly, James was probably using that “at” accurately. Xander was best at languages, but James talked more. A lot more.
Max chuckled. Xander should check the numbers because Rick had been busy. His navigational program went far beyond Max’s simple ability to understand math, but he did understand it would make travel safer and cheaper. How it did that was a little less clear. After all, Max had only gone through advanced calculus and differential equations for his engineering degree. In the wider universe, that gave him a toddler-level math expertise.
It bothered Max that James focused so much of his greater mathematical genius toward weapons. That pirate attack had changed him.
The door to the computer room was closed, so Max activated the light and settled in to wait. Sometimes Rick was too busy to notice things like doors or invading pirates. However, Max hadn’t even pulled up his latest computer program on his tablet before the door slid open. Rick’s tentacles were at half-curly fry, but when he saw Max, they all stretched out.
“Max.” Rick curled tentacles around Max’s wrist and pulled him into the room. The door closed behind him, and Rick began his turning ritual. He glided around Max, touching bare skin—an ankle here, an elbow there. In humans, touch created oxytocin, and Rick’s circling probably did something biological because he loved doing it. Max turned in a slow circle the opposite direction until they were face to very large eye again.
Then Rick slid one of his smallest tentacles across Max’s lips. A shiver went down Max’s spine. Rick then leaned his head into Max’s chest. “I incorrectly assumed James aggravation.”
Max smiled. “He does want to test out a new weapon part.”
Rick made a sound like bubbles, which was usually a good sign. Maybe he would have time to help James with the work. “Many testing of many parts.”
“True.”
Rick glided toward the main computer. “I am testing of navigation computer. I have no tentacles unburdened with tasks.”
“That’s fair.” Max sat on the stool that had appeared in the room after he had started visiting. “I told him to ask Xander to check his work.”
“Kohei must should work more math.” Rick was right. However, Rick never voiced his opinions to the boys, and Max wasn’t going to get involved in this case. Kohei was far more interested in physical tasks, and Max didn’t want to force the kids to do something they hated. His father had tried to get him involved in business, and that had not ended well. Max wondered how they were handling the violence that had followed the Nish invasion of Earth space. Luckily, the United States was faring better than some areas. They had more suicide pacts in fringe churches than rioting.
Max’s message had done less to calm those waters than he had hoped.
He’d told Earth they were safe, and the evening news proceeded to obsess over how unsafe they all were. And the irony was that the rest of the universe was unlikely to ever wander into Earth territory again. It was too far out—and on an arm of the galaxy that the aliens didn’t care about. Earth was in the older half of the Milky Way and space-faring species had decamped and headed for the half of the galaxy that was still forming new stars. When humans finally got to space, they were going to find much of their part of the galaxy was devoid of heavy metals because it had already been mined out.
The computers reported that the engines were running. “Where are we going?” Max asked.
“I require compensation for supplies necessary to running of our ship.” Rick had repeated that phrase often enough in the last week that Max was getting suspicious. Usually Rick was quick to share information, and the improved translation matrix meant they should be able to discuss navigation.
“Clarify require.”
“Require. Develop need for lacking resource.” Rick kept his main eye focused on the computer. He sucked at lying, even lying by omission.
“So, we’re out of money?” Max translated.
“Query. Clarify ‘out.’”
“Out. Clarification. Supplies have been depleted. We are devoid of money. All remaining supplies are outside of our control.”
Rick hesitated long enough to suggest Max was not going to like his answer. “Out is hyperbole. We are limited in resources,” Rick said. “Critical alloys depleted. Fuel restricted.”
That sounded more dire than Max had expected. He put James’s model to one side. “Can I do something to assist with gathering resources?” After all, Max had used a number of those alloys to fabricate weapons and armor to counter the known attack strategies of the most violent of the aliens he’d read about in the database. If the Hunters or Nish or even the Pajekh chose to attack, Max had his countermeasures ready.
Rick’s tentacles curled. “I don’t want you to earn compensation. I can earn compensation without....” The sentence ended with a series of belches. It had been a while since that had happened.
“Translation matrix failure,” Max said.
