And the two people standing on either side of him, of course.

His father sighed. “Looks perfect from here, doesn’t it?”

Leo knew what he meant. From here you couldn’t feel the earthquakes. From here you couldn’t measure the rising oceans or spot the unidentified fungi creeping up the trees. The planet had problems, sure, but Leo would still rather have his feet planted firmly on the ground down there than up here in artificial gravity on a ship about to blast away to devil knows where for who knew how long. Six months? A year? Two years? His father refused to say. Only that they wouldn’t be on this ship forever. That this wasn’t their permanent home.

Leo was still looking at his permanent home.

He hoped.

“You remembered the flowers, didn’t you?” Gareth asked, glancing at their father.

“I remembered,” he answered. “They said they automatically place them by the graves on the anniversary of the attack, but I requested they do it for her birthday as well. Sunflowers, of course.” Dr. Calvin Fender rubbed his hands together. “We’re making the jump in less than two hours. I’m going to check with Captain Saito and make sure there’s nothing I can do to help. You two going to be okay without me for a bit?”

Leo’s instinct was to say no, but Gareth nodded and said, “We’ll be fine.”

His dad gave Leo’s shoulder a squeeze. “That’s my boys. Brave and strong and ready for this new adventure.”

Leo was none of these. Not today, at least. He watched his father leave, walking with his shoulders back, saluting ship’s personnel as he went.

“This feels so weird,” he said. “It’s like I know I’m supposed to say goodbye, but I don’t know how.”

“Oh. That part’s easy—just say, ‘So long. And thanks for all the fish.’”

Leo squinted at his brother, confused.

“It’s from a book.”

“A good book?”

“It’s kinda old, but it’s hilarious. The Earth gets blown up right at the start.” Gareth must have noticed Leo’s frown. “It’s just pretend.”

“Obviously,” Leo said. “Does it have to be fish? Can’t I just say thanks for everything?”

“You can say whatever you want,” Gareth told him.

Leo thought about it for a moment, then whispered his goodbye under his breath. So long. Thanks for everything.

Then he added, And don’t worry—I’ll be back.

Gareth reached out and took Leo’s hand.

The brothers stood that way, shoulder to shoulder, feeling completely out of place on board this unfamiliar, giant starship, staring longingly across the black expanse at the only home they’d ever known, making one unspoken promise after another, though they all amounted to the same.

It felt strange not to be on the Icarus.

And it felt strange for that to feel strange, because it meant Leo had somehow gotten used to the rickety old pirate ship. That he actually felt comfortable there. Like he belonged.

Crayt’s transport, like all things Aykari, was sleek and smooth, the ducts hidden beneath titanium plating, the floor so shiny slick that Leo could look into his own eyes as he watched his step. The berth where they situated the wounded Aykari exile was spacious, cushioned, and clean, with enough room for even a Queleti to stretch out. The cargo compartments were not littered with used equipment and empty beer cans. The drains were not clogged with fur. It all felt off to Leo, who had grown familiar with the exposed wires jutting from the Icarus’s control panels and the rusted floors. No rock music thudded down the corridor from the cockpit. The chairs in this new ship were, naturally, of Aykarian design, meaning the seat was too small and the back too stiff with nowhere to rest your elbows. Leo struggled to get comfortable. It all felt off. Alien.