“Hey now, what
are you doing here, little guy?”

      Two-Five’s inner
eyelids snapped down as he turned his back on the grate. Looming over him was a
large and hairy male in the uniform
of a warrior for Earth Central Command. Beige hair sprouted from his head, from
his face, even from the backs of his hands, and he smelled like a sh’pkr’ah factory. On instinct, his left
tail whipped around into the air between them, ready. He dipped his head in
submission.

      “Two-Five of Four-Seven,
Slash Second, is lost, male human,” he answered, tail tip quivering. “He stops
here to gather his thoughts.”

      The human revealed
his teeth. Two-Five stiffened his muscles, preparing to flee, then relaxed,
remembering his Slash First’s words; these creatures showed their teeth to
express friendliness. He waved the end of his left tail, weaving a complex
message. More teeth showed.

      “Name’s Jackson.
Don’t stop here too long now, understand?”

      “He understands,
male Jackson.”

      The Jackson male
bobbed his head and turned away, heading anti-spin-wise down the outer ring.