It Doesn't Translate

By Ofelia Gränd

Noir Kioko had only ever seen one human before his undercover work brought him to the diner at the Luna Terminal, and that was at a distance. Humans are rare, most of them disappear without a trace, and he hopes hanging around the restaurant will give him a lead on the smuggling ring he’s investigating. There was no way he could’ve known the human would turn out to be his mate, and no way he can let it show without putting his mate in danger and possibly jeopardising his mission.

Max Welch is the proud owner of the only restaurant within a light year’s distance. He left Earth four years ago to create a better life for himself, but he hadn’t considered the possibility of scary alien pirates making his restaurant their favourite hangout spot. As a measly human there isn’t much he can do about it, but as one of the pirates starts coming by almost every day he has to come up with something before he loses all his customers. That the giant cat man is rather nice to look at changes nothing.

When rumours of another human arriving at the space station start to circulate, Noir's species trafficking infiltrate and observe only mission may need a revamp. But will Noir be able to protect his mate and another one of his rare species?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Mar 17, 2021
• ISBN: 9780463154410

Ofelia Gränd

Ofelia Gränd is Swedish, which often shines through in her stories. She likes to write about everyday people ending up in not-so-everyday situations, and hopefully also getting out of them. She writes contemporary, paranormal, romance, horror, Sci-Fi and whatever else catches her fancy.Her books are written for readers who want to take a break from their everyday life for an hour or two.When Ofelia manages to tear herself from the screen and sneak away from husband and children, she likes to take walks in the woods...if she’s lucky she finds her way back home again.Subscribe to Ofelia's Mailing List!https://subscribepage.io/68FxpG

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Author

Acknowledgements

I BOW TO MY KNIGHTS in shining armour—Dante, Al and Amy, without you this story would still be named Just For Fun and be hidden away among all the other half-done stories I try to forget I have.

Author’s Note

THE IDEA OF THE TATTOOED Corpse series started with Amy Spector, Al Stewart, and I talking about doing something for fun, something short and easy where we could play around with genres and experiment a little. We decided we should, when we felt like it, write a short story, 5-15k, with the same body reoccurring but with nothing else in common. I screwed up, this story is 25k...but the same body reappears, and this time the poor sod is in space.

Pirate Invasion

MAX WELCH GRABBED ONTO the counter as the sound of metal soles clinking against the titanium walkway on the arcades of The Luna Terminal reached him. They shouldn’t be here yet. It had only been two days since the last time.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to relax his shoulders. When opening the Hamburger bar, Max had figured they’d be kind to him since he was the only restaurant for at least a light year—days’ worth of travelling in the fastest high-speed ships—but of course, the fucking pirates didn’t care.

Maybe they’d only come here to fuel up... Yeah, right.

Maybe they’d come to the floating city to do some grocery shopping. Pirates probably needed to stock up on necessities too, right? They couldn’t steal everything they needed.

He held on to his hope as he glanced over to where Quam sat and sipped on his coffee. Max was proud of his coffee; not many were able to get it on their menu and Max had managed to land a deal with one of the top brands. It was the real thing, not the bland laboratory-grown kind you could pick up at any space colony.

When the hollers of men jostling and laughing came close enough to make the one customer who had been enjoying a cup hurry out of his—her?—seat, Quam sighed and put down the tablet. They’re early.

Max swallowed and gave him a terse nod. He hated when Bair and his crew came, but he’d be damned if he was to give them the satisfaction of showing it.

Why don’t you go to the office? It isn’t Friday; you could be occupied elsewhere.

Max snorted out a laugh. Yeah right. He appreciated Quam’s offer though, he really did, but there was no way around it.

He knows I’m here; there’s no use in hiding. Bair had insisted on Max serving him every Friday, the threat of things going bad if he didn’t hung in the air. Bair was capable of ruining his business at a whim. Max, like everyone else in this small port, wouldn’t survive for long without the deliveries coming from the mainland—from whichever mainland they ordered. The Luna Terminal was one tiny floating fake city—his restaurant, one grocery shop, one barber, one fuel station, a bathhouse of all things, and the health centre. They were close enough to Earth for Max to get deliveries, had he been farther away they'd refused his orders.

He was proud of his burger joint, all his products came from Earth, and he suspected a good part of his customer came only to have a look at the only human they’d likely ever see.

Smoothing out the wrinkles on his half-apron, he looked into Quam’s black eyes—the entire shape of them was black, no whites. At first, they had freaked Max out, but he didn’t notice it anymore. Quam was about seven feet tall, black eyes, and the texture of his skin reminded Max of a snake he’d once patted—apart from that he looked mostly human.

He wasn’t though; there weren’t many humans left. The population on Earth had dwindled rapidly due to wars, infertility, and environmental issues. Max hadn’t seen a human since he’d left, and that was four years ago. On lonely nights, it was hard to remember he wasn’t the only one left. People still lived on Earth, fewer and fewer, but they did exist. Sadly, most of them were deranged.

With a shrug, he went into the kitchen to prepare the fryer. It was still early in the day, but so much could go wrong in a blink of an eye, and not being ready to receive lunch orders would be just one more thing that could set off Bair’s temper. No one ate cheeseburgers and fries like Bair and his crew.

I’m serious, Max. He can’t know for certain you’re here. For this once, spare yourself the trouble.

Max wanted to, his only consolation in the whole situation was that Bair and his crew only came once a week. Why the hell couldn’t they stick to their schedule? He breathed out a sigh, hoping Quam wouldn’t notice how his body wanted to tense up.

They know I’d never leave. Humans didn’t cope well with the high-speed vessels other species used to travel. With human transportation, it took years to get somewhere. Bair knew nothing short of a life-threatening illness or injury would make Max leave. He bet the giant puffer fish liked those odds.

Quam clenched his teeth together, making the overlapping scales on his jaw stand out like little horns.

You getting irritated won’t help. The snapping wouldn’t help either, but Quam could read him easily by now and wouldn’t take offence...probably.

Max paid Quam to take offence, sure he manned the grill on occasion too, but his contract stated his occupation was doorman/bouncer, and if you read between the lines, bodyguard was on the list. He had worked for Max for four years and their relationship, in Max’s opinion, was perfect. Quam sipped coffee as if his life depended on it and he did so while reading on his tablet, if things got busy he helped out, and if things turned hostile, he dealt with it. They didn’t talk much, no one bothered the other with unnecessary questions or made any claims of wanting to spend more time together than they needed to, but Max trusted Quam to keep him safe—even from Bair and his crew.

The clinking sounds of metal soles against the titanium gangway right outside the door made Max want to scurry away and hide in the back. Instead, he double-checked that his apron was clean and got ready with a pen and paper.

Despite the door already being open, they managed to bang it against the wall. There was no overhead light, but Max saw Bair’s shadow fall over the doorstep anyway. Shoes were clinking as more of his men gathered behind him.

Max didn’t look up—some aliens interpreted eye contact as a challenge, so Max made sure never to look at any of them. He probably should make more of an effort to learn about different species and their customs, but he didn’t have the time—okay, maybe he was lazy.

Quam was some form of Reptoid, which was enough for him. What Bair was he didn’t know. His face reminded Max of a blowfish, thankfully without the spines some of them had. His jowl wobbled as he turned his head, his round eyes sat close together, and his mouth resembled a fish’s. It was too small for the round face, and there weren’t any real lips, just hard-looking edges. His best feature was his skin, a beautiful mocha-colour with small white dots