PART THREE OF THREE
We made our way to the brig, directly across from which was the Captain's quarters. What she would surely claim as her new home. She opened the door.
The brig was really just a hallway that went about 40 feet inside. On one wall, there were six closet-sized cubby holes shielded by glowing red force fields. Two Hork-Bajir had their backs to us, stiffly aiming Dracon Beams at three puffed-out Andalites against the hull wall, muttering threats about blowing them into space and watching them burst like too-greedy mosquitoes. Two were discussing between themselves in the dark, furthest corner of the hall, and the other was glaring furiously at his Hork-Bajir guards, stance set far apart, stalk eyes and tail twitching furiously.
(Just like Andalite arrogance to make one cell block with only six cells…and besides, why aren't they being used?) Terliss asked the guards and Nagrit. The guards' shoulders stiffened a little, but they couldn't respond without letting the Andalites know we had no where to put them.
(They probably couldn't disengage the force fields,) Nagrit said, walking over to a control panel and hitting a few buttons. The force field flickered and disappeared.
(File them in,) Terliss ordered. The Hork-Bajir herded the three Andalites into the cell as we stood back, watching. Nagrit tapped a few more keys on the control panel, securing the field in place. One Andalite in one of those cells would have been uncomfortable, three reminded me of the amount of space that a livestock transport truck provided. They shifted and writhed in anger, fear, and claustrophobia.
(How much of the ship is infested?) Terliss asked the guards as they stiffened in salute.
"Nearly three-quarters, sir," one said. "We sent troops to the Dome to work backwards. We're meeting in the middle."
(Very well. We can expect one more uninfestable, then,) she said. (What is this ship's complement?)
The Hork-Bajir looked to each other, unsure.
(The ship's complement is 429, sir,) Nagrit said privately to her. (Unless you wanted—)
(Right,) Terliss turned to the glaring Andalite, whose eyes were gray like clouds. (Andalite, what is this ship's complement?)
(You can't even infest me! How could a filthy piece of scum possibly believe I'd honor any question you have?) He growled. (You've already sullied this ship with your presence, but my integrity is invulnerable to you.)
(I don't sully, Andalite, I simply reclaim,) Terliss said quietly, still made uncomfortable by his unceasing look of hatred. (Will you answer the question?)
(You cannot get inside my head,) he said with something like a laugh, though fury replaced all mirth. (You can't infest me. I will not allow you there willingly.)
(Just because I can't infest you doesn't mean I will ask for permission to harvest you,) she whispered. (Not everyone is so strong, and I will certainly remember that during interrogation.)
His gray eyes narrowed even further, intensifying the glare.
(It's insanity, then? That is what makes you different? Immune?)
He did not answer.
(What about you?) She asked the other two Andalites. They each glanced back with a stalk eye, but did not answer.
(What do I have to threaten to get you to answer?) She asked them all. Nagrit put a hand on my shoulder, a warm claw cutting through my gut.
(They'll give us information,) he said privately to me. (We'll need to prepare first. You're good at intelligence work, but you're distracted now.)
(Very well,) she told him, longing to reach back and touch his hand. She controlled herself. I whined in frustration.
Nagrit turned to leave, but just as he did, three Hork-Bajir crashed through the door, carrying a middle-aged man—one on each arm, two wrist blades pressed to his throat, the third barely controlling a wild, thrashing tail.
(Number four,) Terliss said with a smile. (Perhaps he'll be more cooperative.)
A Hork-Bajir punched him in the head, and he let out a squeal from his wind pipe. He fell to the soft deck of the ship, rubbing his nose which was now drizzling navy blood. The remaining Hork-Bajir raised their Dracon Beams to the three other Andalites. Nagrit powered down the force field, and they shoved the newest prisoner inside. Tails and arms and stalk eyes all tangled in the claustrophobic space. It had the same affect as a Picasso painting.
(What is this ship's complement, Andalite?) Terliss asked the newest prisoner with a disappointed look from Nagrit.
(Rot in hell, Yeerk,) he spat, blood running down his chest as he shoved away another Andalite's arm. The Andalites quickly righted themselves, standing in tight, collapsed postures.
(Tell me or I'll kill them,) she said, taking her Dracon Beam and gesturing it at the group of two conversing Andalites who smiled defiantly.
The man wiped his chin again, gauging to see if she was bluffing. (You should kill us all,) he said.
(I'm considering it,) she said, cocking the weapon. (I thought I would give you the choice.)
(There is no choice,) the twitching, glaring, gray-eyed Andalite said.
(Then why haven't you made it yet?) She asked. (You're conscious, the poison has worn off enough in this sealed room for you to make the decision. Make it, Andalite.)
He laughed, raised his tail blade high above his head and smiled. (This will never be for you, Yeerk,) he said. He cracked it down hard over his skull. A splintering sound. Blood exploded from his head like shrapnel, hitting the force field and sizzling. I watched his eyes the whole time, saw the stab of pain, saw the life leave them. He crumpled over, blood dripping down his face in thick streams, bursting out with the last two beats of his dying hearts. Even when he hit the ground, his tail was still stuck in his head like an axe in wood.
The newest uninfestable immediately knelt over him, losing his footing and tripping, carefully examining the wound, inspecting for any chance of miraculous recovery. There was none. He bowed his head, eyes closing solemnly.
(One has upheld his responsibility and devotion to the Andalite race,) Terliss said, powering down her weapon. (Perhaps there are things more precious to the rest of you.)
She looked down at the kneeling Andalite, who was still absent-mindedly inspecting the new corpse. (Are you a doctor?) She asked him. He glared up at her with a stalk eye.
(You've made the choice between life and death,) she said. (There is another you have to make now. Cooperation or resistance?)
(What do you think?) He growled.
(You have nothing to lose, then?) She asked. (You are here with no mission, no directive, you have no motivation to stand before me with such reckless audacity?)
He looked away. She smiled in triumph.
(I don't use the word "cruel" to describe myself often,) she explained to him. (I don't like being cruel. But you are an anomaly, Andalite. You are unexpected. When presented with situations I don't know how to handle, I tend to err on the side of cruelty.)
(What do you want from us?) He asked.
(Just cooperation. Not even treason. You're prisoners of war,) she said. (If you're a doctor, then be a doctor. Help your Andalite brethren not lucky enough to exhibit your...strength of will. A Yeerk Pool will be constructed on this ship. I would rather not waste my precious new hosts on hard labor. Build me a Yeerk Pool,) she said.
The Andalites were saturated with fury. But they were considering.
(What is your name, Andalite?) She asked quietly, bending down so she was just inches from his electric green eyes, separated by the force field. (No,) she stopped herself, smiling now. (What are their names?)
One of his stalk eyes gazed over at the other two Andalites. Conversing silently, looks of determination changed to looks of disgust.
He breathed, waving his stalk eyes apologetically, closing his eyes in shame as the other two Andalites rolled their eyes and twitched their tails in frustration. (They are—)
(Traitor!) The shorter one shouted, bucking up on his hind legs. (With one simple defeat, you surrender all of your loyalty! Celebrity has gone to your thick skull, you deficient vecol!)
Terliss stood up slowly, rolling her stalk eyes in the direction of the interruption. She glanced back down at the doctor.
(I'm waiting,) she said.
(Trylast and Isstarim,) he choked out. The shorter one flung his tail blade forward, but the taller one put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.
(Very good, Doctor. "Doctor Benedict Arnold," I think I'll call you. It will please your friends,) Terliss said, gloating a little to Nagrit, who shrugged with a smile. She looked at the two remaining uninfested Andalites. (And I don't like Andalite names, so I'll call you "Firecracker," and I'll call you…) She looked at the tall one, who gazed back with a pitying look on his face. Terliss looked away, suddenly terrible ashamed.
(But he looks familiar, doesn't he, Sub-Visser?) She gestured back to the doctor.
(Once we crack the computer, we can answer that question. Personnel records. Genealogies. All the private secrets Andalites have died to protect,) Nagrit said to all the Andalites. (We will find the things he is most unwilling to lose.)
"Sir," A Hork-Bajir entered the brig and looked at me with worry in his eyes.
(What is it?)
"There's, um, a problem. No. A development," he said.
Terliss sighed. (Where?)
"Follow me."
The Hork-Bajir led Nagrit and me down the hallway. Only a few doorways away from the Dome, he stopped at the entrance to a small set of quarters.
"He...well he didn't say anything at first. We were joking while we infested him, talking about where we'd retire if we found Jennor ourselves. I said the Elysian nebula, but Terkix here…well, it doesn't matter. We were just breaking the tension. He was awake, staring at the ground. He was quiet. We weren't sure if he was just having trouble infesting his host, or what, but then he spoke up. He...he told us he needed to speak with you right away. We told him to wait, but he insisted, and then finally he told us why, and I came down here as fast as—"
(What does Jennor have to do with any of this?)
The Hork-Bajir looked like he was about to cry. "Please don't get angry," he said.
(What have you done?) She asked. She looked back at Nagrit, whose devoted brown eyes were now engulfed by curiosity.
(Open the door,) she ordered. The Hork-Bajir bowed his head and complied.
His back was turned when I entered, but even then it was hard to mistake. Tan, aged, stone-like skin covered muscles earned through such hardship and pain that they'd never atrophy. Still so big, his tail was long and heavy, his medieval tail blade hovered motionless over his head. He turned a stalk eye slowly, moving as irresistibly and decisively as the glaciers and tectonic plates he seemed composed of. He was massive, unmovable. A planet. Terliss stared back in shock.
(Now this is a position I never thought I'd see you in,) he said in his quiet, controlled voice.
Terliss didn't respond for a moment, but then gasped, (Likewise.)
He turned around, each step sending an earthquake through the floor, and his face, which had aged since the last time I saw him, still punctuated by that terrible diagonal scar, smiled down at me. (I take it there are gaps to be filled, ma'am?) he asked.
(Yes, everything,) Terliss gasped incoherently. (I want to know everything.)
He shifted again, a mountain range, the spark that incites a celestial event, an impending natural disaster. And then, in an act entirely unsuited to him, Jennor's father laughed.