Title: The Post-Animorphs Saga

Author: weetzybat

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rub it in, why don't you? Hrmph.
 
*A/N*: Ooo, looky at my chapter-ness! This chapter will be dedicated to Myst4, for guilt-tripping me into typing it up. See, it can be done!

L.Emmist-you still haven't told me the typos from the last chapter...ya big meanie!

Liaranne-all questions will be answered...unfortunately, not in this chapter :)

Lady Ryuki-do I look like I have anything to submit? This is my life! *grin* I know I have grammer errors, I just want other people to point them out to me...

Myst4-hope all is well where you are! I can put the 8 year old in my cupboard and let you borrow Trentil...*wide grin*

DH-I'm glad I'm still a little funny at least...I was afraid I might have been winding down...that would really suck...

*Summary of Previous Chapter*
A battle is begun between the Oberon and the mystery ship, but just as the crew are about to get their butts kicked, the ship suddenly disappears into z-space. Isacor tries to locate Yossarian, who abandoned her post, and discovers that she is a coward under fire, the reason for her imprisonment on earth. With no time to think, he is contacted by the Yeerk homeworld, who claim to have no knowledge of the ship (yeah, right), only that they came before and destroyed the Andalite sentry posted at the homeworld. Our heroes are now preparing to touch down onto the planet of their enemies *suspenseful music is heard*

~

~

~

*~*~* Chapter 25...a tour of the Yeerk world...Isacor gets another morph...Ran becomes useful...and, as always, a cliffie... ^_^

I had not realized until we were entering the docking bay, that it would not be the best idea to let the Yeerks know we had a mixed crew. Andalite flight crews were simply that: Andalite. There had been talk of integration in recent years, but as of yet there was no part of the Fleet who was willing to try it. Humans could be brilliant technicians, but were not to be trusted with anything as important as a ship. I was not certain I felt the same way. Our crew did not work together in a seamless effort, like many Andalite crews I had seen, or been a part of, but one had to admire the fact that thus far, we had narrowly escaped destruction twice by an unknown enemy that outclassed us. The Yeerks, I felt, would not appreciate this so much, plus there was the issue of Andalite pride; so the last few minutes, while the Oberon maneuvered us into place, were spent in a rush to hide Ran Tobir, Yossarian, and Ecks from sight.

Trentil used the opportunity to inform me that Haieta should stay as well, since females on crews were also not common place, and, in his words, she would be nothing but a burden.

How dare you let him speak to me this way, Prince Isacor! I refuse to be left behind! You would not leave me here, would you? She looked at me worriedly, as though afraid I might be listening to Trentil. I told her of course not, but decided to leave out my explanation, that leaving her on the Oberon would mean I would have to be alone with Trentil, as it would only upset her.

One of the most frightening sounds to a captain's ears is their ship powering down around them. It could be in the safety of a Dome or station ship, and still my hearts would skip a beat at the end of every exercise, when our fighters returned to their stations. There was always that fear that it would happen in open space, out of reach, beyond help. Experiencing it before did not help matters.

The Oberon had balked at the idea of closing her eyes, so to speak. She informed me that, in her database, the Yeerks were still classified as an enemy. In the end, she had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and so now Trentil, Haieta, and I prepared to meet, or possibly confront, the Yeerks for the first time. As we descended the exit ramp, into the docking bay, I saw the Yeerk who had greeted us, and it was an effort not to wince at his features. Beside him stood another human-controller, and Hork-Bajir, both in the same deteriorating condition. Was this some kind of disease? It occurred to me to ask Trentil, but I felt it would be rude to discuss it in front of them, even if it was private thoughtspeak.

"Welcome, Andalites," the leader said with an insincere smile. "Allow me to show you around." In other words, we have nothing to hide. Go about your business and leave.

The Yeerk's architecture was as I expected it to be, far too big for any practical use. The ceilings toward above us a good twenty feet, and every room, while it was good for any claustrophobic Andalite, seemed oddly bare and disused. Occasionally we would meet another controller in the hallways, who would duck their head and walk faster.

There was one point where we nearly collided with a pair of human-controllers who had emerged from a small door in the wall. They looked like normal humans, and it was comforting to know that there were some who did not suffer from this disturbing disease. They stopped in their tracks and stared at us in a horrified fascination, until the Hork-Bajir barked something at them, and they scurried away. Trentil had stared at them, eyes narrowed, the whole time. He really was rude.

After we had taken a tour of the facility, the Yeerk led us to the hangers, where the great warships had been housed. Now there was only a gargantuan docking bay, and rows of empty docks.

Well, I said uncertainly. What was I supposed to do now? Look for clues? There was nothing here! The Yeerk's smile was just barely perceptible; he was thinking the same thing. I glanced at the others with my stalk eyes, but they just looked at me blankly.

I pretended to look about, and asked a few questions about the disappearance, succeeding only in convincing the Yeerks that I was a complete idiot. To my credit, Trentil was faring no better. He gave no belittling advice to me, only glared coldly at our guides while I fumbled around. Haieta did not even seem to be on the same wavelength as us, as she merely peered at the Yeerks, as though trying to diagnose their medical condition. She did this the entire time.

I was nearly convinced that the Yeerks were telling the truth, that the warships had been commandeered by the Skrit Na. It would be a prime target; undefended artifacts begging to be put in one of their hideous museums. The only thing that bothered me was how they had slipped past the Andalite sentry. The species was notoriously stupid, and even if they had used a cloaking device, it could not stand up to our scanning technology. I was willing to bet that even the Oberon could detect them.

"If you are finished with your inspection, Andalites, may we escort you back to your ship?" This led to another voyage through the cavernous building, now completely deserted. We met no one on the way back. As we reached the docking bay, the misshapen leader inquired. "How long may we expect you to stay with us?"

Prince Isacor, Trentil's thoughts broke into my own, before I could formulate a reply. They are hiding something. We must look further into this. We need time.

We will need a standard day to make repairs, I told them, suspecting that Yossarian would have them finished by the time we re-entered the ship. To Trentil privately, I said, we will need morphs.

I think we both had the same idea (Haieta still in her own world of medical textbooks) because we both stepped forward in unison and extended our weak Andalite hands.

I believe it is a human custom to clasp hands when an event has concluded. Even I knew that this gesture did not apply to enemies, but I could think of no better excuse. Haieta stared, not believing that we were willingly touching Yeerks. The human-controller looked at me suspiciously, but extended his own hand. I took it with great reluctance, trying to ignore the feel of his loosely connected skin sliding freely across his hand. I had to concentrate. As I held an image of him inside my head, I felt his grip, painfully tight on my hand, relax. I always forget how strong humans are. As soon as I could, I pulled away, and assumed Trentil had done the same.

I did not acquire anyone, Haieta complained when the Yeerks had left.

You would not be able to handle a human morph, Trentil told her loftily.

And Prince Isacor can? He has only morphed once! That was not entirely true. The many weeks of travel had left plenty of time to practice morphing in my quarters, and even though it had only been one morph, I felt I had improved. It had also helped to lessen the effects of the cold, gradually purging the bacteria from my body.

Well, then, I will ask the Yeerks to come back so you may acquire them. Would that be acceptable to you, your highness?

I am not even going to dignify that with a reply, Haieta said icily.

Is it possible for you two to wait until we are inside the ship to start your shouting match? It is embarrassing. I brushed past them and ascended the ramp leading into the Oberon, at the same time wracking my brain for a way to solve this dilemma.

"Andalites are gone so long with bad Yeerks. We think you were in trouble!" Ran jumped out in front of me, glancing over my shoulder to make sure we were all present.

"Who's we?" Yossarian came towards me, arms folded. "They were only gone an hour." Her eyes were fixed on a spot beyond me, anywhere but my eyes. "I've made the basic repairs, sir. She'll fly."

We are not leaving yet. There is something wrong about this place. We will look closer. I was focusing my main eyes on Ran Tobir now. If he was only a little more withered and stooped, he would be identical to the Hork-Bajir from earlier... Could Haieta acquire him? I asked Trentil.

But he is not deformed! How could he pass among them? Haieta broke in.

"Wait, they're deformed? Someone fill me in here." Yossarian and Ran Tobir had not seen the Yeerk host bodies...they did not know.

Their skin hangs off their bodies as if it is too big, and there are a large number of folds in them, I tried to explain, but her face was blank.

"Sorry, I need a visual." With a sinking feeling, I realized I would have to morph this creature in front of her. Closing my eyes, I focused on the picture in my head. I could not see my eye stalks receding into my skull, or my fur disappearing, but rather felt an acute bereftness. My spinal column shifted, and I felt a pair of my legs begin to fail in their support. I tried to quicken the morphing process, hoping that there was some natural sense of balance humans used to keep themselves upright. My hooves broadened into human feet, steadying my teetering frame. The morph was nearly completed, when Yossarian began to protest.

"Okay, stop. Stop. No, stop! Augh! That was something no one should ever see!" I opened one eye slowly, and saw her turned away from me, hands over her eyes. That was when I fell over.

"What did I do? Do. Dooooo." I had discovered the joy of mouth-sounds. "What. Wha-tuh. What."

"Oh, man, that could have been my grandfather..." Yossarian was muttering to herself. "Warn me the next time you're going to morph an old guy." She shuddered.

"Old? Ooold. duh."

This is the normal aging process for humans. I could have told you if you'd only asked. I glared at Trentil from the floor. He had to let me make a fool of myself, when he knew the answer...and why was I even surprised? It was in his nature. And Prince Isacor, you need to stop doing that.

"Doing...ooo-ing, ing, ing-

That. Do not play with the sounds. They will know we are Andalites if you do. I closed my mouth, not trusting myself to reply.

What about me? Haieta interrupted. I still need a morph. Again, I looked at Ran. He was older, but not nearly as old as the Hork-Bajir we had seen. Yossarian was shaking her head. She knew what I was thinking. Human emotions must me more easily read than an Andalite's.

"If Hork-Bajir age the same as humans, he doesn't look old enough."

Are you all blind? Trentil shouted out of nowhere. Haieta glared at him.

Yes, Trentil. Please enlighten us with your superior eyesight.

They were not all old. Some were in their prime. Doesn't that make you suspicious?

"Should it? Sh-oould. it-uh." Oops. Trentil sighed heavily.

I suppose you do not know either? he asked Yossarian grudgingly. At her blank stare, he seemed to resign himself to our incompetence. The war ended 50 years ago. The Yeerks were forced to withdraw to their homeworld and remain there. They were only allowed to keep the host bodies they had. Does it not seem strange that there are young humans about, when the youngest host bodies would look-- his eyes settled on my human morph. like this?

"But that would mean they were--"

Breeding. Trentil finished smugly. I was feeling ridiculous, not only because I was in a hideous human body that had fallen onto the floor, but I had thought that the small group of young humans we'd encountered was normal.

But that is violating the entire peace agreement! Haieta spluttered. We all began to laugh, and it was good to know I was not the only one prone to bouts of foolishness.

Ran, poor strong, silent Ran, was trying to appear as though he understood, but his small Hork-Bajir brain was overloaded. All he knew was that we were going to them, and I saw him tremble slightly.

"I go with," he volunteered finally, his voice small but firm. "I help you." Trentil's stalk eyes turned to me as if to say him?

"You do not have to, Ran. Haf...toooo..."

"No," he said, cutting me off. "I know Yeerks." He pointed to his head. "I know--where to go." It had not occurred to me that Ran might have retained the knowledge from when he was a controller, but then again, there were many things that had not occurred to me.

"Haieta. Yet-tah..." I began to speak out loud, but before I could fully appreciate the sound, or the amount of work that was involved in pronouncing it correctly,

No, Prince Isacor. You are not leaving me here!

"You are not equipped to accompany us on this mission. You will have to remain here." The longest lines I had spoken, and I had not played with a single word. I suppose anger made me forget all that.

That is the most selfish, sexist, chauvinistic... Yossarian shook her head as Haieta listed off the adjectives and turned to leave, having successfully avoided eye contact with me the entire time.

"You guys better get some clothes on before you go out there." She threw back over her shoulder. Ah, yes, the artificial skins that helped humans retain heat, since they had little fur to speak of. Where were we going to get those? Trentil had a look in his eyes, one that told me he knew, and that it would involve violence. Several minutes later, we had gained possession of several Yeerk uniforms.

"How you get those?" Ran asked curiously.

I saw! Haieta crowed triumphantly. That was a breach of conduct, Prince Isacor! She was laughing at me.

I do not want to talk about it, I muttered. Sneaking up on the Yeerk sentries posted at the docking bay entrances and rendering them unconscious with the flat of my blade seemed so...low. It was a Yeerk thing to do.

Haieta's taunts continued to ring in my head long after we had left the Oberon, morphed, clothed, with our Yeerk expert close behind. The only thing missing was a plan. I knew I had forgotten something.