“What does sim-bee-otic mean?”

“It means when two species help each other out. Like a ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ kind of thing.”

Leo’s mother scratched his back all the time while they were sitting on the sofa watching TV. He couldn’t ever recall scratching hers. Not once. He would if she asked him to, but she never asked. He supposed that meant they weren’t symbiotic. But at least they could be.

Grace Fender looked at her son’s meager little plate of crackers. “There are pizza rolls in the freezer. Want me to heat some up for you? It will give me an excuse to get away for a little bit. Dr. Kawalski over there won’t stop telling terrible science jokes.” She pointed out a stout man wearing a black leather jacket that didn’t quite jibe with his orthopedic shoes. “You can be my savior.”

Leo nodded and led his mother back into the house, taking one last glance at his father, still arguing, hands flying in exasperation. He’d understood only half of what he’d heard, but he assumed his father was right, because his father was always right. And besides, he’d heard about all of the wonderful things the Aykari had done. He even had a model of one of their starships hanging from his ceiling. No question: they were the good guys.

“What did the one uranium atom say to the other uranium atom?” his mother asked.

“Gotta split,” Leo answered.

“Looks like Dr. Kawalski got to you too.”

Leo reached up and took his mother’s hand, thankful to have someone he could talk to.

Baz holstered his pistols—slowly, reluctantly—as the alien approached. Though it was definitely Aykari, it didn’t dress the part. It wore the same drab coverings as the purple-hued creatures surrounding it, though cut to its size. Leo noted several small sores and scabs on its skin, which clearly lacked the lustered glow of other members of its species. Most Aykari appeared faultless, but not this one. Its time on this planet had not been kind to it.

The Aykari announced that his name was Lark—“At least that’s the name bestowed on me by the Orin,” he said, indicating the pointy-eared inhabitants of the planet, who still had the crew of the Icarus surrounded. “In their language I believe it means ‘outsider.’”

The swarm of fur-faced creatures continued to watch Leo and the others warily. Though with the Aykari’s arrival, they had backed off, many of them disappearing into the cracks and crevices they’d swarmed out of. Only a few stayed within reach of Lark, protecting him perhaps. Or maybe it was the other way round.

“The Orin are the most advanced species on four ninety-four,” the Aykari continued, “but their language was never encoded into our translator chips because it was deemed unnecessary, a waste of resources. I admit I have only acquired a rudimentary comprehension of their tongue. It is very economical—they are not ones to waste words, so I would not be surprised if they called you Lark as well.”