IV: I need to get myself away from this place

Dedicated to Myitt for the RP fun!

(( and )) indicate thoughtspeak.

"What do we do?" Buctarl had asked, once the four of us had gotten sufficiently far away not to be too disturbed.

"We play more," Jonkswa replied, "and if we're lucky, we win."

His words proved to be as prophetic as Kribzag's. The remnants of our team wandered after that: even though most of us were still intact, Kribzag had united us for the game, and after it, we had no bond (except, of course, Flaquiv and I). Gradually I realized that I was being seen as the leader, which I attempted to change. Unsuccessfully.

We were solicited, of course, by potential opponents. When Jonkswa thought we could beat them and they were still desperate to play, Buctarl would usually recruit a fifth person for us. Obviously, we won: they had learned Kribzag's version of the game, and would not have let us leave alive had we lost. How we won was impossible to determine: I didn't understand Jonkswa's assessment of talent, though it seemed we had more than most, as evidenced by our continued survival. But the other teams played with a unity we couldn't imitate, not with the addition of a fifth.

Though, sometimes, between the four of us "originals", there would rise up a sort of connection completely unlike the bond between Flaquiv and me. When it was there, it didn't really enhance our play, but I felt like it could, and exerted even more effort to excel. But the feeling would dissolve as quickly as it came.

We were truly the originals. Once in a while, someone would realize the futility of the game. The Pothmurs of their time, they refused to play: some stole moss, others deliberately let the disk pass them, crossing the line, and then stalked off. Some went as far as to reproduce, claiming there was no shortage. While I wept for them, a part of me hoped that what they said could be true.

And it never was. Those who returned soberly admitted defeat, and joined us in teaching the message to a generation produced in error. Flaquiv saw that as proof that we needed to be more active in letting others know why the game was important, but in fact, the responsibility had shifted from our hands. One generation's rebels would become the instructors of the next, leaving us as antiquated exiles.

"These we can take," Jonkswa ruled. "Easily. They're so small, I can't believe they haven't lost yet."

"Maybe it's their first game," Buctarl suggested.

"They could be the…children of our, of our children, and then theirs…"

Generation counting or not, mathematics had never been Jonkswa's strong point. Not even intellectual Kribzag, I reasoned, would have been able to keep track of the time that passed. Days and nights were relevant only in that it was much harder to play in the night. The stranger's curse meant that we could not die.

And yet, we weren't smart enough to even be able to consider killing ourselves without the game as facilitator. We had never lived very long with the Folk as a threat, and our increased age brought no maturity. Bound in the confines of the game, we didn't have the intelligence to do anything new except shoot down impossible ideas.

Until that day, the day of my last game. Buctarl was strolling off, stagnant in her role as scout, when I yelled for her to stop. She turned slowly, feet like large pads.

"Jonkswa, how bad did you say they were?"

"Impossibly bad."

"We can win, or lose, just as the four of us."

"It'll be losing," Flaquiv muttered.

"Do you mind? Really?"

I looked at her. Stared her down, as she glared right back at me.

But for the first time, I didn't look away.

"We will play," Jonkswa called to them. By this time, they feared us, but not enough to flee in shame.

We took the same positions we always did: Buctarl and I in front, Jonkswa and Flaquiv behind. Anyone Buctarl dragged out would be consigned to Kribzag's former location. This formation was copied by most of the other teams, though some made minor modifications. This time, though, we were acutely conscious that Jonkswa and Flaquiv were the last defense.

Yet we won handily. The other team was as disorganized and inexperienced as Jonkswa claimed, and it did not take us long for Buctarl to slide the disk across. She no longer felt shame in doing so: early on, Jonkswa and Flaquiv had urged her to surrender her position, knowing they'd be more capable of consigning others to death. But she had hardened, and whether or not I accepted it, I had too. Somewhat.

The others casually performed the ritual of defeat. Would I be as complacent, when my turn came? The question always nagged in the back of my mind, but I'd pushed it aside, waiting to lose. Maybe I'd just be glad to get it over with.

We set out silently. Many days could pass before we found others. The longer the better, to some degree. The fewer there were, the more moss for us all, but that meant some young people would rise up again proclaiming that there was enough. And someone would be forced to quench it.

But later that day, we did find another team. And a team it was. A team was a group of people, once different, that had joined together in a quest. Some would be successful, some would die in the process. But the unity they had formed would be what made them a team, or only people traveling in the same direction.

The fleet we had seen was no team. There was one mind behind it, one shamed and broken mind. In retrospect, we should have been predicting that same solidarity when even more spaceships descended, but thought was not a strength of our people.

They were disks, shining like our own equipment. But it would take someone as powerful as our first visitor to propel any of them with a stick.

While most of them hovered in the air, one descended vertically, spinning as it went. A metallic panel dissolved, and an alien scuttled through. As wide as we were tall, it slowly approached us.

((Hello?)) Its voice seemed to resonate in my head. All of ours: we turned to each other and the creature. It could have looked at all of us at once: it had many eyes, constantly blinking. ((Are you sentient?))

It came as a thought, simple for even us to understand. It asked us if we heard, if we knew who it was and who we were. Of course, the fact that we comprehended that much should have been enough for us to immediately assent.

Yet I was unable to respond. It was Kribzag's role to do such a thing.

It walked backwards, towards its craft, but Buctarl was able to come to her senses. "Yes! Yes, I could hear you!"

It paused, deciphering our language (I never knew how it could), and slowly approached. ((Are all these others sentient as well?))

"Me?" Jonkswa asked. "I can hear you."

((Thank you for your confirmation. How many of you are there?))

"Four."

((Of your entire species?))

Jonkswa was puzzled, but I knew what to say. "No. Many more."

((Would you please stay where you are for a moment?)) It returned to its ship, did something inside, then emerged again. ((My people are in search of a home: our planet has been destroyed. Would you be willing to share your planet with us?))

"There is no food here!" Flaquiv screamed. "And how can you play the game?"

((Perhaps we could manipulate the environment to make it conducive to growing?))

It took us a while to parse that, but Flaquiv remained adamant. "The last person that tried to change us made us like this."

Abruptly it jerked, as if listening to a message we couldn't hear, then backed away. As an afterthought, it paused at the door to its spaceship. ((Do you know if there are any other inhabitable planets in your system?))

The images flooded me. Our land, a great ball? Our sun, others' star? Other worlds like our own? There was another of complexity: this alien believed us to have already been aware of the existence of our neighbors. Maybe we had been: I didn't know where the first visitor was from. Was this creature confusing us with the Folk? Would Flaquiv react? Too much information. I couldn't handle it.

Stumbling, I vomited. Immediately, Flaquiv was at my side: not to comfort me, but to lap up what I had wasted.

The alien saw our desperation. ((This planet is as poor a home for you as it would be for me. If you will not let us transform it, would you want to leave?))

"It is not a question of "if"." Flaquiv evaded the real issue. "You will not destroy our world."

((This is not your world. You do not belong here.))

"We don't belong anywhere," Jonkswa muttered.

((Neither do my people, but we do not lose hope. We migrate, in search of a new planet. Come with us.))

Again, we could not face the prompt. "Why did that last person not offer us that opportunity?" Flaquiv replied.

((We do not know. All we know is what we can offer you.))

"All of us?"

((The four of you, certainly.))

"No." For all Flaquiv's objections, it was Jonkswa that spoke first. "We need to teach the others how important the game is."

"We do not," Buctarl countered. "There are enough who can do that."

((So you will come with me?)) it eagerly asked.

"No, she will not," Jonkswa ruled.

"I can so!"

"Hey, I'm sorry. But you don't want to go off to some world you've never heard of. What if you don't find anything?"

"It won't be worse than here." Looking down, she muttered, "I hate the game."

"Speak up!" I urged her.

"I…" she stammered. "I hate the game."

I signaled my agreement. "It's okay. You should be able to leave if you want to."

She clumsily made her way over to the spaceship, standing between it and the alien.

"There's no point," Flaquiv argued. "You might not even be able to survive on the same planet that you-whatever you are-can."

((Mercora,)) it clarified, but nobody cared.

"It might be worth it just to leave," I defended Buctarl.

"Oh, sure, go with her too," she bitterly said.

"Should I?"

We stared at each other for an indefinite time, like so much of our existence was. "Kribzag was right. The game's yours."

"I don't like it any more than Buctarl does."

"Nobody knows who Kribzag is. They know who Coaratt is."

"Then let me start over."

She looked at me again, and when she silently broke her gaze I knew I could go. Eventually, she muttered while looking away, "You and Buctarl could…"

"We won't."

"Then you'll die, as surely as we will."

"We don't mind anymore." Buctarl came back over to stand by Flaquiv. "All we want is one last shot."

"And not at the line that the disk has to cross," Jonkswa joked.

We shook our fur, but did so knowing it would be the last time.

"So I guess," I tried to sound lighthearted, "if you and Jonkswa…"

"We'll continue the game," she snapped, "and that's all."

We stood there awkwardly, not fully wanting to leave. The Mercora sensed our discomfort and tried to alleviate it. ((I've told my computer to analyze this environment. On the spaceship, we can make an area suitable for your conditions.))

Were they ours? The star that fell had changed our "planet", then the first visitor had changed us. But maybe, after all the time that had passed, there wasn't enough change.

"If we don't leave now, we're not going to be able to," I admitted, stepping away.

((Let me contact the others and let them know we're ready.)) The alien stepped into the ship.

"Nobody's stopping you," Jonkswa said sarcastically.

"This is just our chance to…" Flaquiv trailed off.

We'd spent our lifetimes in each other's company. The insignificant bit, back when the Folk were a threat and the bell was a harbinger, was long forgotten. There were no goodbyes to say: we knew each other well enough.

"Thanks for letting me do this," I finally whispered.

"You're welcome," Flaquiv's fur twitched. "Have I always been too forceful? Stopping you from doing what you want?"

"Yeah," I replied without thinking.

"I'm sorry. I never wanted that." She misinterpreted my lack of response (I was fairly stunned) and continued. "Did you?"

"No."

"Okay."

Luckily, I had no interest in staying behind, trying to start over with her. "All right. Well, I…I'm glad I could be your friend. Whatever it was we were."

"Teammates."

Our silence lingered until the Mercora returned. ((We're ready for you.))

We were ready. Buctarl clambered on, and I followed with no regrets.

The force fields the Mercora set up were indeed comfortable. I looked at the planet, not looking back, but simply looking.

I had never seen anything as magical as the takeoff into space. Our world, much bigger than I could have imagined, receded until we were in a nonexistence whiter than the land we had walked on.

Traveling through that shortcut, it took us a relatively short time (by Buctarl's and my reckoning: the Mercora found it longer) to arrive on a suitable planet. The two of us exited among mountains in a climate similar to the one we had left. We lived together for the beginning of our stay on the world, then separated.

Though I never allowed myself to come close to the residents of the planet (there were others, after the extinction of the Mercora), a few glimpsed me. I learned their language as I could, eventually able to write this down to serve as a record. I have lived long, and with any luck, will die someday. But I hope this will live after me, so that the tragedy of the Anati will never be repeated.

"Anati." The name would not be spoken for millions of the years of the planet on which I now resided. Flaquiv would utter it first, trying to introduce herself to the third race of aliens that came to our homeworld: the race that destroyed her.

"Daunla Anati."

We are Folk.