“But it’s lots of fun. I never thought school could be so much fun. I’d like to go outside, though. ’Course, I know I can’t do that in space, and I don’t have a envirosuit.”

“We’ll be landing real soon now,” she informed him, “and you’ll be able to play outside. You’ll have new lessons to learn.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I don’t mind studying. I like school.”

“I know you do, Matthew.” She reached out, rumpled his brown curls. “That’s one reason why you were chosen to come on the ship for this special term.”

“Yeah. It’s sure fun.” He studied the lime sundae a while longer. Then his attention shifted to the figure sprawled on its right side on the high bed. He still held onto Bonnie’s hand but his other fingers were no longer in his mouth. That was a baby habit, he knew, and he wasn’t a baby anymore. He was determined to stop it.

“Hi, Ryo.”

“Hello, Matthew.”

“Will you wordwhistle for me again?”

“Anytime,” and he made the Thranx word for happy.

Matthew’s brows drew together. His face twisted and his mandibles pursed tight At first nothing happened when he blew through them. The second time a soft whistling emerged. He smiled. “How’s that?”

“Very good, but it needs to be higher at the end. That’s the whistleword for happy.”

“I know that. You think I’m stupid or somethin’?” He tried again. The sound floated through the room, louder this time.

“That’s better. Much better. Want to try the word for sun-up-morning?”

“Naw, not now.” He looked up at Bonnie, then back to the figure on the bed. It was a funny bed, he thought, but then Ryo was funny-shaped, so he supposed it matched up okay.

“Want to play horsey?”

“Sure.” Ryo slid off the lounge. Horsey was a young-human game, in which one partner assumed the part of a domesticated animal. It was all part of a much greater and far mora dangerous game.

He immediately lowered himself to the floor so the boy could climb aboard. It embarrassed him whenever one of the children asked to play the horse.

XV

XV

It doesn’t matter who or what you are, Ryo mused. Wherever home is, there is something about its smell that distinguishes it from any other world.

He inhaled deeply, his thorax expanding with a rush as he gazed around the little clearing. Off to his left, muldringia vine grew thick and close until the unscreened sunlight turned them pale and weak at the clearing’s edge. Tall grass wore a corona of bright little yellow flowers. Snuff bugs whizzed through the morning air. His antennae waved through the pollen recently dispersed by an overripe bombush. The heady aroma threatened to upset his balance on the ramp.

“My home.” He turned to the open lock and those standing there. “Is it not wonderful?”