Lackofa made no answer. We returned to the MCQ3 and parked the Crate within a flutter of the main perch. We had to confer with Farsight. I suggested Lackofa go.
“No. No, Ellimist, you. If I get out of this box I’ll never get back in. I can rest here, keep my eyes closed. Or maybe look at this alien. You go. Besides, you’re the gamer.”
I didn’t argue. He was right. He could be of some use examining the Capasin. I found the hatch and the release. Sky! I moved with deliberate slowness to exit the death trap. If I allowed myself to feel panic then like Lackofa, I’d never come back.
Once outside I saw that the Polars had killed momentum and were nearly stopped. They were maintaining station and half a dozen of their people were racing toward the EmCee. I beat wing and reached the main perch minutes ahead of them. Farsight would want my report first before having to cope with the no-doubt-panicked Polars.
The Wise One was resting in a hammock. He looked a bit orange. Sick or just old? Either way it was disturbing to see our only leader being supported in a hammock with never a stir from his tired wings. He was surrounded by advisers, maybe a dozen, all looking scared or confused or sly.
An officious female Pink I’d never met cut me off. “Go away. Farsight is busy.”
“I am Azure Level, Seven Spar, Extension —”
“There is no Azure Level. Not anymore,” she snapped. “Go away. Don’t you know what’s going on?”
“I’m the one who just blew up the Capasin ship,” I said, not in any mood to have some mid-level pull rank on me.
Her eyes narrowed. Her expression went from stony dismissal to clever anticipation. “You’re Toomin?”
Lackofa must have given them my chosen name. She grabbed me and nearly shoved me through the press of hovering advisers. All at once I was eyes-to-eyes with Farsight. I tried not to look at the hammock netting.
The Pink, whose name was Tatchilla, introduced me in quick, almost brutal terms. And she stayed close. I had the feeling I had just become her protégé. Even her property. Deep worms, were there really people who could think of ambition at a time like this?
Farsight fixed his gloomy eyes on me. “What do you know?”
An admirably appropriate question. “Lackofa believes they are Capasin. We can fly the Crate — the small ship of theirs — and we can fight her. But if we encounter more of their ships the odds do not favor Lackofa and me.”
“More ships?” Tatchilla shrilled. “What do you mean more ships? Why should there be more ships?”
I was unsure. I was operating on instinct. I knew there were more ships, I knew it. But could I convince them?
“They play … I mean that they fight slowly. They take their time. They enjoy the process.” I was on the verge of explaining that they were very much like a species called Endrids from the game. The Endrids, too, derived pleasure from the act of killing prey. But bringing the game into this would not help my credibility.
“The number of home crystals that are missing, presumed destroyed, the leisurely way the Capasins play … I assumed there are several more ships,” I said, sounding unconvincing even to myself.
This was not good news. Tatchilla denounced the idea. She was no longer standing beside me claiming me as her own. “The issue is not this juvie gamer’s fantasies, the issue is where we should take the EmCee. We need to find a new home crystal and claim protected status.”
Just then the Polars arrived in a rush of wings and breathless questions.
“What is happening? That alien ship chased us as though preparing to attack!”
Farsight held up one feeble hand to cut them off. “Who speaks for you?”
“I am called Jardbrass,” one of them said. “I will speak. This ship is within our rightful station. This is no Dance By. You are welcome here, but you will submit to our democratic authority.”
“What?” someone guffawed. “We just saved your lives and you want to assert the primacy of your experimental system?”
“Saved our lives? We have no proof that the alien ship was —”
“You were running away,” Tatchilla snapped. “Don’t be a skimmer. You weren’t flogging the wind for that cloud bank because you thought the aliens had come to trade metals.”
Farsight said, “We have so far counted twelve home crystals known to be destroyed or at least missing, far from their presumed stations.”
That made Jardbrass gulp. But he was not prepared to go beyond his particular concern. “Just the same, this ship and the attached alien box are within our jurisdiction. You will submit to our elected council, or you may move off.”
It was unbelievable. Tatchilla came back with some obscure legal point. One of the Polars cited a long-ago precedent. And in a flash the entire perch echoed with the sound of wrangling.
People are what they are. They have their limits, I guess. I was trying to be philosophical, but it was getting hard. I was acutely aware of the fact that Lackofa was boxed up in the Crate, sweating and deep-breathing. And that Aguella was docked, wounded, no doubt feeling abandoned.
Deep worms, shut up, I said silently. Only when I saw the shocked stares and heard the sudden silence did I realize I’d said it out loud.
Too late to take it back. And anyway, I didn’t want to take it back. Squabbling wasn’t going to win the game.
“There are more Capasin ships,” I said. “They’re here to exterminate us. They’ll be back. You need to conceal your home crystal in the clouds for as long as you can. And start building weapons.”
“Who … what are you?” Jardbrass demanded.
I started to answer, but a new voice interrupted. “He’s the only one who is playing the game.” It was Menno. How had
