Earth Fathers Are Weird Read online

  The alien stepped over a low rail and headed for a mint-colored wall. The wall had a whole series of alcoves, some narrow and others wide, and set into each niche was a computer panel. Heetayu chose a wide alcove and stepped into the shade before turning toward Max.

  “This looks interesting,” Max said.

  Heetayu touched a trident symbol at the side of the panel. Then he said, “Designation interface.” It lit up with hundreds of lines and individual displays and alien text. In the upper center, it had a red light that reminded Max uncomfortably of Hal 9000. Hopefully, that was coincidence and not evidence that Stanley Kubrick was trying to warn the human race about the unreliable nature of alien computer systems.

  “Interface with what?” Max asked.

  “Interface,” Heetayu said. “Translator matrix limits.”

  “Yeah, I’m not impressed with the translation matrix.” Max stepped up to the interface. It made the cockpit of his F-35 look like a child’s toy. “What do I touch?”

  Heetayu then touched dozens of buttons all at once, his eight fingers dancing over the controls. Max had no hope of following the commands he used, but a long tone sounded and then Heetayu reached into a recessed niche and pulled out a translator cuff like the aliens on the ship had worn. He held it out.

  “Thanks.” Max took the thin metal and looked at it. Before he could do anything, Heetayu took it back and pressed it to Max’s wrist. The metal adapted to Max’s arm and Heetayu trilled.

  “Touch,” he said, tapping a two inch glass square.

  Max tugged at the translator cuff a second before he laid his fingers on the glass. A new set of lights flashed, and then Heetayu did his finger dance over the controls again. If this was supposed to be some sort of explanation, this guy sucked at his job. But after a second, Heetayu pulled Max’s hand away from the glass and then repeated his request.

  “Touch.”

  Max touched it, and this time, the computer made a humming sound. It then squealed. Max flinched, and the second he broke contact, the interface went silent and dark.

  Heetayu twitched and the single line of hairs down the back of his head and neck shimmied. “Touch,” he said again.

  Max felt a need to defend himself. “I was startled.” He stepped up and touched the glass again. Once again the computer interface hummed and then squealed. This time Max noticed that the flaps on the front of Heetayu’s neck closed. “You don’t like the sound either,” he guessed. Most animals had some sort of flap or protection over their ears, so it made sense that Heetayu was closing his ears, especially since his own language used the same lower tones as humans. “Does this thing even know English?”

  The panel projected a stilted but understandable voice. “Interface updated. Query: Current language. Designation English confirm.”

  Max had to do a little mental translating to make sense of that. “Yes. Current language is English.”

  “English. Confirmed. What I assist you?”

  Max looked at Heetayu. Since he had two front-facing eyes, Max could tell that the alien was watching him; however, he didn’t offer any suggestions. Max only needed one kind of assistance. “I need to find transportation back to my planet.”

  “Which planet claim you as yours?” The computer asked.

  “My planet means the planet where I was born. I don’t own it.”

  “No smart. Logic.” Heetayu’s quiet voice might have been an admonition for Max to be more logical or it could have been sympathy for the frustration of dealing with a computer. Who knew. However, Max took a deep breath and tried to focus on achieving his goal. “Do you know the ship I came in on?”

  “First noted coming from the....” The name of the ship translated as a child’s scream. “... fought the Nish illegals... law ... an inhabited planet exterior... trading network.”

  Max could have cried. Heetayu had understood some part of Max’s request, and he had explained why the aliens had come to Earth. Maybe. Max assumed that broken sentence implied that the ship that had taken Max captive had been chasing criminals called Nish. Either that or Max had been on a ship with the Nish. None of that mattered; finding Earth did. “Do you have the location of that planet where they were fighting?”

  There was a moment of hesitation, and Max’s heart stopped. If he couldn’t tell anyone where Earth was, he couldn’t find his way home.

  After a pause, the computer offered: “Planet...” before ending with a squeal.

  “Planet Earth,” Max corrected it.

  “Updating database—local designation Earth. Transportation queried.” The computer paused. “Three ships responding...” More wails.

  Max was getting tired of the screeching. “I don’t understand the last part of that.”

  Heetayu pointed at a dark square. “Touch.”

  Max suspected Heetayu was either a tourist guide or a social worker. He touched where directed and alien symbols appeared. “I can’t read that,” Max said.

  “Touch.” Heetayu pointed to a symbol in the lower left corner. The text shimmered and then English words appeared. Flyer was followed by a set of alien figures. Erogingingin was followed by another. Then three lines listed Uber with figures following. Max assumed that the aliens had assumed uber was the generic English term for taxi service. That was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

  “I don’t understand local currency,” Max said.

  Heetayu lowered his head again. “Currency. Question.”

  “That’s what I’m asking. Currency. Question.” Max knew that wasn’t helpful, but he had passed the limits of human frustration and was now exceeding the number of problems a saint could handle without losing his mind. “How do I pay for these ships? How much are they charging? Currency. Economics. Money. How do I get and use money?”

  Heetayu touched a number of buttons on the interface and then pointed at the glass square again. “Touch.”

  “This is getting old,” Max muttered, but he did as ordered.

  “Request currency,” Heetayu told him.

  Max was fairly sure that any economic system that worked would be more complex than simply requesting money, but he gave it a try. “Request currency.”

  The computer made a long screeching noise, and Max touched the dark screen before his alien helper could prompt him. Three lines showed up. “What are those?” Max asked. None of the titles were translating into English and the numbers were still indecipherable.

  Heetayu’s finger hovered over the first line. “Language. Improve translation matrix. English.”

  “Yeah, your matrix needs some work,” Max agreed softly. He wasn’t sure he was the man to do the work to improve it. He’d nearly lost his Air Force scholarship over his Spanish grades, and he usually guessed on when to use who versus whom. His English teacher had tried to explain, but Max found it far more complicated than calculus or disassembling an M16. However, if he had to play English teacher to buy a ticket home, he’d grit his teeth and do it. “How much would that pay?”

  Heetayu’s answer didn’t translate, leaving Max to rub his temples as his headache intensified. “Let’s try this another way. At that rate, how many years would I have to work to pay for a ticket?” Max wasn’t sure that would translate either. After all, he didn’t have the vocabulary to ask about food costs or housing. However, it would give him a rough idea of the local economy.

  Heetayu reached across Max and typed in a number of commands before answering. “Three hundred and seven Earth years.”

  Max gritted his teeth and fought back an urge to punch someone. The unfairness of the whole situation pressed against him like a hundred needles stabbing his soul, but there was no one to hit. No one to scream at. Now if Max could get his hands on the captain of the fucking ship that had taken him away from Earth and refused to return him... well, he would happily spend a few hours trying to find vital organs with a dull knife. A sharp one would be too quick and merciful. He took a deep breath.

  “I won’t live that long, so what are
the other options?”

  Heetayu lowered his head slowly. “One options pay ticket in three and almost one years.”

  Max assumed that meant almost four years. Fuck. However, in the grand scheme, that was better than dying of old age on an alien planet. “What do I have to do?”

  “Translation matrix failure.”

  Max closed his eyes and counted to ten. Heroes in movies never had language problems. Alien abduction was not living up to the hype, but hey, at least he had avoided the alien probes. That was a small blessing.

  “In return for compensation, what action will I need to take? Will I help improve translation matrix?” Max knew he wouldn’t be, but hopefully that would help clarify the question.

  Heetayu raised his head again. “Raise young.”

  “A nanny? Someone wants to hire me as a nanny? Or, someone put out a job that anyone could answer. I could get there and they wouldn’t want me.” If Max was honest with himself, he wasn’t any better with kids than he was with English grammar. Every time he was around his little brother, Max managed to disappoint him or piss him off.

  Heetayu touched Max’s shoulder. “Jobs only for individual touches...” He pointed to the glass square. “Mass have compensation.”

  Max frowned. That sounded weird for more reasons than the questionable grammar. “Why would someone hire me to take care of their children?”

  Heetayu’s head lowered. “Compensation giver. Unpopular. Loud.”

  A bad boss. Well fuck. Of course Max would travel to another planet and find the alien version of Colonel Wilks from flight school. The man was an asshole, and apparently so was this alien. However, Max had sucked it up to get his papers to fly jets, and to get home, he’d endure a whole lot more than loud. However, he couldn’t walk into a job blind. He turned to face Heetayu, hoping that the alien would understand the seriousness of his next words. “I take compensation. Soon after, I regret it. How do I leave?”

  Heetayu lowered his head so they were eye to alien eye. “Translation matrix failure.”

  Max sighed. “I hate that phrase. Okay, question. How do I leave if this compensation giver is too unpopular or too loud?”

  “Leave ship. Find console.” Heetayu pushed his face toward Max. “Offspring hurt.”

  Max snorted. He sucked as a babysitter, so he doubted the kids would get close enough to him to suffer any emotional damage if he left. However, maybe alien kids were clingier. “I’ll try to avoid hurting offspring. How easy is it to find console?”

  “Translation—”

  “Matrix failure,” Max finished for him. He was grateful he didn’t have a sidearm because he was feeling the need to shoot someone. “How many consoles are there?” He looked at Heetayu, but the alien just looked back at him. Max tried again. “Question. Number of consoles?”

  Heetayu blinked. “Many.”

  Right. While vague, that did imply that Max would be able to find help if he wanted to leave the job. Max had signed up for the military despite an equally profound lack of information. Of course back then, Max had been young and stupid and desperate for an ROTC scholarship to pay for college. Now he was middle-aged and stupid, and desperate for a ticket home. Funny. Life hadn’t changed as much as Max had assumed. “Let’s go talk to this giver of compensation who needs a nanny,” Max said with false cheerfulness. If his life was turning to shit, at least he could smile. It always creeped people out.

  Heetayu lifted his head back up without reacting to Max’s expression.

  Unfortunately there was a lack of actual people in Max’s life right now.

  Chapter Three

  Heetayu led Max through a series of ever-smaller lanes. If Max had to guess, he would say they were leaving the official government and military landing sites, passing through the major commercial ones, and heading toward the sort of area where crime would lurk at the edges of society.

  Of course, that was assuming this world had criminals who thought as humans did. Max decided that was a safe assumption because this area did not have as many resources allotted to it in terms of computer interfaces and lighting. And fewer aliens walked the lanes. Those who did were larger. The two- and three-foot tall aliens had vanished. Heetayu walked toward a number of enormous ships that squatted at the edge of the yard. Hopefully the aliens inside wouldn’t be too big because Max did not want to deal with two-year olds that outweighed him.

  “Giver of compensation here,” Heetayu said.

  Max started second-guessing himself. “Question. Describe giver of compensation,” he asked.

  “Loud.” Heetayu stopped there, so either he was a particularly polite alien or the translation matrix was not up to the job. Max wondered if the aliens had a communication system set up that would allow him to do the translation matrix work as a side hustle. If he had to survive four years of bad translations, he would shoot someone. That made fixing the translation matrix was a mission-critical priority. He wasn’t sure what alien jail looked like, but he knew he sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

  Of course shooting someone required him finding a weapon, but he was resourceful. If MacGyver could make a harpoon gun out of a telescope and mothballs, he could improvise something.

  Heetayu touched a short pedestal and the top glowed amber. After several seconds, a hologram of alien letters appeared above the plinth. Heetayu spoke quickly, but the translator only caught a few words. Compensation. Nanny. Human. The hologram vanished, and then Max and Heetayu were left standing outside the closed ship. Since Heetayu didn’t seem interested in leaving, Max assumed that meant the employer was coming out to meet them.

  “I want to thank you for helping me,” Max told his alien tour guide/social worker.

  The alien’s head came down again. “Translation matrix failure.”

  Max rolled his eyes. “Of course it did.” Since he couldn’t communicate anything important, he fell silent—a condition antithetical to him. He might talk slow, but he rarely stopped. Even alone, he kept up a nice monologue, but talking to someone who couldn’t understand felt a touch awkward.

  The ship gave a thunk and the door rose. The alien who appeared fell into the tentacles camp. He had a minty green skin that seemed to be the fashionable color among all the best aliens, but as he glided, he flashed the rusty-red undersides of his tentacles, and the tiny fingers where an Earth octopus would have suckers. A few of the tentacles had red bands near the tips that reminded Max a little of a copperhead. Hopefully the vivid colors didn’t mean his new employer was venomous.

  He had a thick central tentacle he used for movement, and above a waistline bristling with tentacles, he had a bulbous head. Near where a human’s neck would be, he had dozens of eyes, and no two matched. It was as if Jackson Pollock or Dali had painted eyes on an octopus. Max wasn’t sure which of the freaky eyes he should look at.

  When the alien stopped, it blasted the air with a noise that crossed a whale song with an air horn. Loud. Yeah, that made a lot more sense now. At least the guy didn’t use the high tones most of the other aliens did. Those higher pitches hurt Max’s ears more than this guy.

  “Query: purpose,” the new alien’s translator said.

  Max glanced over to his buddy, but Heetayu was still. Max spoke. “The computer said you have a job.” He had no idea if that idea communicated correctly, but the various tentacles all stilled.

  “Query: Care for offspring.”

  “Query: Currency,” Max returned. Maybe that was a social faux paus, because both aliens went silent for a few seconds.

  Heetayu touched his translator wristband and the new alien retrieved a translator from his weird, floppy tool hat. The two aliens tapped on their devices, and Max stood between them feeling perfectly useless. Normally that brought out his sarcasm, but since this was the only job available for decent pay, he was determined to keep his mouth shut. Eventually Heetayu touched Max’s shoulder. “Mass Human. Currency. Agreed.”

  “How do I access currency?” Max asked. Heetayu
blinked at him. Great. Heetayu didn’t understand. Okay, he could take this one step at a time. He needed to earn money before he could access it. He turned to the new alien.

  “Designation Max,” he said.

  The new alien said, “Designation” and then made an obnoxiously loud burping sound.

  “Yeah. I can’t make that noise. Do you mind if I designate you Rick?” Max asked. Hopefully he wasn’t jinxing himself because he didn’t plan on playing Morty to any narcissists.

  “Designation Max,” the new alien said. Given the whale song nature of the language, Max was pleasantly surprised to get a recognizable version of his name.

  “Designation Max. Yes. Designation....” Max hesitated, gathered his breath, and belched as loud as he could. His sound came out nothing like the alien’s, and his mother would have been horrified at Max’s bad manners. “Query. Designation Rick?”

  The tentacles all pulled back toward the center leg. “Designation Rick,” the alien agreed. “Firewalled.” He turned and undulated quickly up the ramp. The military term caught Max by surprise. No doubt the aliens had heard any number of pilots calling out that they had their jets firewalled and they still couldn’t keep up with the invaders, but the aliens on the last ship hadn’t misused the term so badly. Max wondered how many of the men and women he knew were dead now, and how many had gotten back to the ground safely.

  Dee always pushed her damn jet too hard, even in training. She wouldn’t have bailed out, not unless she found a way to kamikaze right into the enemy. Zip and Piddle were solid pilots, but neither felt their birds the way truly great pilots did. Would they have known when to get out? The emotion caught Max unprepared.

  Heetayu touched Max’s shoulder. He was definitely more of a social worker.

  Max smiled. “I’m good. I guess I’d better firewall my legs, huh?” he said, mangling the term. He patted Heetayu’s thick forearm in thanks before he hurried after Rick.

  The ship inside was much narrower than the military ship that had picked Max up. With his tentacles spread out, Rick took up the entire corridor. “Query. Human feel offspring not human.” Without waiting for an answer, Rick headed deeper into his ship.