“What do they think is wrong with it, though?” Leo asked as they passed a girl who nearly smashed her sign against his window. It read THE AY-KAR-I ARE KILLING ME. That one almost rhymed. At least there was no blood.

“It’s not the V. It’s what it takes to get it. Every good thing comes at a cost, Leo. And they’re afraid that this cost will be too high,” Grace Fender said. “Take that cheeseburger. Some adorable cow died for that, you know. Some cow that they had to raise, using land that could have been used to feed a lot more people. And then I turned around and paid ten dollars for it, which I realize isn’t that much of a sacrifice on my part, but still, it factors in—that’s ten dollars I could have spent on something healthy, like a bag of apples. And that’s not all: once you eat it, that grease is going to find its way into your body, and after a while it’s going to start clogging up your arteries and you’re going to have to have surgery to get one of those bionic hearts that are all the rage right now. That’s the cost.”

Leo glanced down at the cheeseburger leaking grease through its wrapper. Suddenly it didn’t look quite as appetizing. The fries still looked good, though. She must have noticed his worried look. “It’s okay. One cheeseburger isn’t going to kill you. Though you might try eating a salad every once in a while.”

Leo stuck out his tongue, summarizing his position on the matter.

“What was I thinking. I take it back,” his mother said with a smirk.

Outside the window the protesters began to chant even louder. “Pack up. Go home. And leave our Earth alone.” It was jarring. And confusing. Most of the people Leo knew loved the Aykari, or at the very least admired them. Some even worshipped them.

“The problem is, there are no substitutes for ventasium. If we want the Aykari’s help—or even if we want to go out and explore the galaxy ourselves—we have to mine it. Even if it means we lose some trees and birds and land in the process. It’s sort of pay to play.”

Leo knew all about the birds. They’d discussed it in science class. How certain species were experiencing sharp declines in population. How some of them quickly found themselves on the endangered list only a year after the Aykari arrived. And it wasn’t just birds; there were many animals whose habitats had been disrupted, destroyed, diminished. Not to mention the tremors. And the strange haze that appeared in the sky anywhere the Aykari set up one of their mining platforms. And the odd, almost metallic taste of the water that had caused Leo’s dad to install an expensive filter on each of their faucets.

But then there was also Mr. Inman, the music teacher at Leo’s school, whose battle with cancer took a turn for the worse two summers ago, small tumors infiltrating his brain. Inoperable. Untreatable. A death sentence. At least, it would have been, before the Aykari. They had medicines human doctors could only dream of, and yesterday, a completely cancer-free Mr. Inman started teaching Leo’s class how to play the recorder. It sounded horrible, a mess of squeaks and blurts, like Satan’s very own marching band, but through it all Mr. Inman smiled like a kid eating birthday cake.