“They took our planet!” He turned toward me. “I’ve studied your Earth. How would you feel if someone came into your home and stopped a fire? All they ask is to live in a room for free. At first, you are grateful. Then you are no longer allowed into a room that used to be yours.” He looked up into my eyes. “Would you allow the fire to burn to save your room?”

I shook my head no, and he understood the gesture.

“My ancestors thought they were gods. They came from the sky and offered to fix everything.”

“Now that you know better you want to alter the deal.”

“We want to live on our planet as equals. You Humans don’t understand. You’re unique. They need you. If they didn’t they would own part of your planet.”

I breathed in deep. There were questions whether that was true. Nobody smart made an enemy of them. Our treaty said Earth was ours. That was why Matros couldn’t directly leap to save me from Nate until I was Volardi.

Well, that and the security collar.

Still, I’ve seen plenty of folks back home give everything they had. When hard times came to them, nobody helped.

“As far as I’m concerned,” he said. “You’re Volardi.”

There were implications in that statement. Matros consider it a point of pride. A loving title to give. I was his equal or at least Earth was to them. With the Ryba? That meant I was the enemy. Maybe worse since I joined their race.

The ship or rather the fish-snakes took us past fields for lack of a better word. Green and yellow vegetation grew on the floor and along the walls. Squat, green-beige males swam up along the cliffs. That’s convenient. I suppose it made sense now, but it was something I didn’t consider before. Back home, we wouldn’t raise crops along cliffs. To a race that could swim up, it didn’t matter.

Perhaps he guessed my thoughts. “It has been centuries and we’ve mastered our ‘land’ if you’ll excuse the expression. High yield food capable of feeding us without Smart-Boxes.”

I think my Pa would like you.

He gestured toward the skittering ‘crab’ behind me. “A genetic alteration.”

I stopped in mid-step. “That’s how you got me out.”

Some expression I couldn’t interpret flashed over his face. “I was led to believe the Earthlings were primitive. You yourself are the son of a land tender, are you not?”

My eyebrows rose. It wasn’t exactly confidential information but not something he should know. Still, I nodded the affirmative. “Farmer is the word. We tend the land and raise animals.”

“Yes,” he said. “Volardi scan for their own technology. They don’t think to look for animals.”

Jesus.