PART TWO OF THREE

"Ughgngh!" He moaned. He faltered back. He bent over. He put his hand to his nose. He pulled it away. No blood yet.

I kicked my barefooted leg forward. My toes were stiff. I aimed for his septum. I connected. His head snapped back with cartoonish force. It was very possible I'd broken his neck. I did not hear the snap that would indicate that. I'd jammed the second toe on my right foot.

He landed on his back. I followed. My pants drifted loose, down toward my ankles. I stomped my heel into the sensitive pouch between his legs. He cried out. It was a high-pitched, prickly, unnatural sound. I did not know the effectiveness of hitting that particular organ before my additional Earth combat training. He only knew about the gymnastics and Tae Kwon Do. That would also play to my advantage.

He was crippled, moaning, and subdued. I was not done. I accepted him between my legs, sitting hard on his abdomen, pinning him with my tailbone. The amount of blood he'd surrendered was still insufficient.

I balled my hands into fists and went to work. Once hard in the cheekbone, once up through the jaw, his tongue caught between clapping teeth. He moaned and sputtered red. Feeble arms reached up to stop me, unassisted by reeling eyes. I punched him again in the septum. With a satisfying snap, thin, dark streams began to flow, down his mouth, running along his jaw and off his ears.

I kept hitting him until his flesh was spongy, purpled, veiled in sticky, translucent blood. I kept hitting him until blisters formed on my hard human knuckles. I kept hitting him until after his arms dropped to his sides and his head did not snap back to center after I'd hit him. I kept hitting him until the air tasted like salt and iron.

I stopped and looked down at him. His eyes were swollen shut. A tooth hung at the corner of his lips. His nose no longer pointed forward. Blood trickled from his nose, mouth, and bruised cuts on his cheeks. I scrambled to my feet and dug through the dirt at the base of the marked tree, black crumbs and clumps sticking to my bloody hands. I pulled the Shredder out, dialed down the power, and shot him. That should keep him unconscious for four hours. It was an unreliable weapon and energy discharges were unreliable ways to keep people subdued.

I held the gun at arm's length and looked down at my defiled hands. They were shaking. The gun slipped through my fingers and clattered on the ground.

How had I let this happen? I was in charge. The prince. I must be obeyed. What natural law could have allowed this?

Stop the hands, I told myself.

You knew he was a threat when you offered to be his Prince, yet you did nothing to prepare for this. You didn't accept this as a possibility. You denied it. You are weak.

My hands won't stop.

The trembling had crawled up to my shoulders. I wrapped my muddy arms around each other to calm them.

Shelve the fear, coward. Put it away. It has no use now. You allowed it to blind you, and it almost destroyed you.

My chest and diaphragm began to spasm. I could not breathe correctly. My face stretched into a contorted mask, lips pulled back from teeth, eyes squinting down hard.

Get up, Warrior. Get up now and finish what needs to be finished. Overcome by your own indulgent self-pity, distracted by this irrelevance. Starve the Yeerk. You have work to do.

I stumbled over to the tree with the "x" and rested my forehead against the rough bark. I could not catch my breath. Strange, whining, coughing sounds emerged from my chest. Thick saliva gathered at the tip of my lips and escaped my mouth in a long, slimy strand.

Your father would be ashamed of you.

I caught the breath.

I pulled the arms from each other.

I wiped the saliva away.

I was in control of the body. I was in control of the mind.

A drop of sweat fell off the nose. I wiped it away. I noted that it had emerged from one of the human eyes.

I did not know humans had sweat glands in their eyes.

I realized I needed appropriate material to bind the aristh. He would become a nothlit. It was a necessary sacrifice.

The aristh heaved and moaned on the ground. I did not know how much time I had. I returned to the scoop.

The scoop was untidy at best, mostly disheveled and unorganized. My search left muddy, clumped handprints everywhere. I could not find much in the darkness. I did not know what his organization strategy was. I spread piles of notebooks and magazines everywhere. I tripped on a stack of cassette tapes. I spun around in circles. I returned to piles I'd already ripped through. I began to panic.

I looked up at the moon. A silver ray of light slipped through the crack between the metal tent pole that served as the structure of the scoop and a wire that delivered electricity to his appliances from the generator he'd constructed. A thin strip of plastic wound around the pole and wire, binding them together.

A wire tie. I recalled seeing an industrious human use a similar method to subdue a prisoner in a human instructional film called "The Usual Suspects." It would suffice for the aristh. I walked up to the edge of the scoop. I tried to unfasten the wire tie. It was hooked into place. I would have to cut through it to release it. It was far too narrow to contain both of his wrists or ankles.

There had to be more.

I continued to search. The aristh coughed and jerked an arm forward. I kept glancing between him and my search. I spotted something out of the corner of my eye.

A fat, short cylinder reflected a sliver of light into my eye. I walked over. There was a large hole in the middle of the cylinder. It was some material rolled around a cardboard base. I dug my fingernails beneath the edge and pulled some free. It made a loud, satisfying unzipping sound as the adhesive stretched apart.

Duct tape. A strong material. Enough force could break it. It would suffice for now.

I began walking towards the boy. Another metallic glint distracted me. I discovered a pair of handcuffs beneath a deck of cards and white gloves. The handcuffs were designed to keep humans captive. They would be useless on an Andalite. I took the duct tape and handcuffs with me. I would find the key later.

I decided not to keep the boy in the scoop for the duration of his purge. The scoop was too well-trafficked an area. I was aware that the Animorphs would sometimes visit it. They rarely delved any deeper into the forest than that.

The duct tape was around my wrist. My holster and Shredder were around my waist. I handcuffed the aristh. I draped the aristh's body behind me, arms over my shoulders. I dragged the body into the meadow where we both fed. I hit him in the head with my gun to make sure he would not regain consciousness. Tobias knew the consequences of informing the Animorphs of my presence. I believed he and I alone would be suitable enough to handle one starving Yeerk.

I reached the meadow. I bound the aristh's legs together with the duct tape. I caught my breath. I realized I was covered in sweat and still topless. My white pants, now stained with red and brown, were only on one leg. I believed I had enough time to rinse off and get dressed. I bottled some cloudy water in the river. I ripped the sleeve off of my Tae Kwon Do robe to press against his swollen face.

I removed my cotton pants and entered the river slowly. The cool water washed the vibrating tension from my muscles. I submerged my head to clear the sweat from my hair.

I needed a plan.

Tactile contact would be necessary throughout the length of his infestation. I had damaged him badly. It was my responsibility to repair his injuries and to prevent the Yeerk from causing him new ones. I would require the dexterity and precision of appendages normally adapted through brachiation. The Yeerk would not make this quest easy. I would need to use force to keep him subdued.

I needed both hands and a weapon.

I emerged from the water and stared at the human hands. How different they were from my Andalite palms and digits. Thick fingers wrapped in ropy veins, powered by wire-like tendons. Forceful, yet delicate. Designed to support the entire weight of the body high in the trees, many generations ago. They were sensitive. They were strong.

They were warm.

They would not invite suspicion. I would have liked my tail blade. I would have my Shredder.

I could only guard the boy as a human.

I considered my current situation more deeply. A single Yeerk had invaded my home with the likely intention of subduing me and bringing my unconscious body to the Yeerk Pool. That seemed like an unsuitable plan. Was there another uninfested Yeerk on his person? Or had he, more likely, informed Visser Three, who would follow him as soon as a reasonably sized army could be assembled?

I replaced my sullied, one-armed Tae Kwon Top top. I returned to the meadow. Grayness was spreading through the sky. The boy was still unconscious.

I could not leave anymore. I divided my plan into two contingencies: until the Yeerk army advanced, I would protect and defend the boy as if they weren't coming at all. Upon Tobias' return, I would inform him of the situation. We could watch him in shifts. I would not waste precious sedatives on the boy or shoot him every time he awoke to keep him incapacitated. Shredder fuel was limited as well. Let him feel the pain.

My presence would be required when the Yeerk army advanced. I could not allow them to take the boy back with them. Tobias could escape. The boy and I would not. I could kill the boy before killing myself.

A little after dawn, the boy began to stir. I kept the wet sleeve pressed against his face so his swelling would continue to diminish. He could partially open his eyes when he awoke.

I pulled the rag away. (Morning,) I said.

"Good morning," he mumbled in response. His eyelids bobbed and dipped.

(I did not mean "good morning." I meant "it is morning," which means you have roughly four hours less to live.)

His eyes rolled into his head. He tried to pull his arms forward. His shoulders shook in frustration.

"You have four hours less to live, too," he said with a frightened laugh. His voice was unclear, garbled in blood and swollen tissue.

(That means much less to me than it does to you.)

"What is this, Jennor? Unbind me."

(I already told you not to address me so informally,) I responded.

He continued to test the handcuffs. He paused for a moment. He thrashed about wildly.

He exhausted himself. He stopped. He rolled over on his back to see me more clearly. "This is because of what I tried last night," He said.

(It is because you are a Yeerk,) I replied.

He laughed, then moaned from the pain it caused him. "You think I'm infested? Really? Jesus, Jennor," he said, rolling onto his front again.

(I know you are,) I said. (The disrespect. Your use of Earth idioms. You had a human host before the aristh, didn't you?)

Disappointment rolled through his eyes, and his mouth bent into a deranged smile. "You crazy fucking BITCH, take these off of me!"

I allowed him to catch his breath. He accepted my knowledge of the truth. (Do you really want to spend the last three days of your life denying what you are?)

"Why do you assume I have three days to live?" He asked.

(Less than that? When did you last feed? Did Visser Three himself pull you from the molten sludge and present you this invaluable gift?)

He laughed again, trying to contort his rigid body into a sitting position.

(No, that's not it,) I continued. (Visser Three grants no charity to his subordinates. He would not sacrifice the leverage of bearing the only Andalite host. You took the boy for yourself. But how could a human host overcome an Andalite aristh?)

His eyes looped up toward me.

(You weren't a human,) I concluded. (Taxxon? No, that's unlikely. A Hork-Bajir body was discovered in the Yeerk Pool. That was you, wasn't it?)

"That was nothing. I am me," he laughed.

(The boy killed you. How did you infest him?)

"Such faith you have in your pathetic, lovestruck aristh," he said.

I leaned in close to his face. (When are they coming here?)

He laughed again, then opened his mouth wide, reeling. "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! THIS CRAZY BITCH IS TORTURING ME! RAPE! FIRE! HELP!"

Surprise momentarily snatched my head back. I calmly grabbed the duct tape. I pulled off a piece. I held his thrashing head still between my knees. I wiped the blood and sweat from the lower portion of his face. I applied the duct tape over his slick mouth.