CHAPTER 12
Next was one hundred twenty-two. The abomination, or so I thought.
What a fool I was, about my own aatoju.
I wished Nrintai could have accompanied me, but she had crossed her instructors too many times - refused to cooperate, to stop looking past her sparring partners to the individuals they were, to do anything more than defend herself in what was considered a cowardly manner - and had been sent to the salvage rooms to be raised there - there was nothing I could do. She was too weak to survive elsewhere, and the salvage rooms were where the weak went to die. All my attempts to aid her covertly, all I had done with what pitiful power I held, had failed her.
I vowed not to fail anymore. Of course, all my vows since becoming this Yeerkless Controller I was had been completely empty and pointless.
I nodded. "Proceed," I said curtly. The technician, accustomed now after several failures, entered the code to start the process I had memorized. The canister began to rise, the liquid draining automatically. Three-taloned feet of an odd, pale blue-green color; definitely othyb - a freak, to put the translation kindly, as my children had been officially designated an equivalent of two Earth months prior. Nothing natural was of that color. His tail held a merged and short blade, like a mix of Jrikvelh's and the clones - Deruil and Liured, the former being the clone. Two-fingered hands, like Arctesch and all other Bayetai. A complete absence of any chest-plates whatsoever, just continuous, water-colored skin. The mouth was a beak, but perfectly straight, like that of an Earth bird called a crane. He had perfectly yellow eyes and two, Hork-Bajir-like horns, but for the fact that the one from his forehead pointed straight forward and the other pointed almost straight up, rather than having any sort of curve to them. The yellow eyes were deep-set and brooding, as if even at this age the othyb was plotting against the Empire. The only thing natural about this one was his pale violet hair, hair like I remembered my own mother having. It made him look all the more disturbing.
The technician sighed. "To their dam?"
"May as well. The other males have proven their worth - he might as well." However, for the first time I had doubts in one of my children. This one was too strange, too deeply-minded.
The voice came to me, as it tended to. «He is Yuuktesl, Jirrell. He may prove his worth in ways I approve of, but have not the courage to follow.»
What do you mean, aatojuik? I had learned that I could speak to her as well, but no others. I had felt a stirring when I tried to bespeak the other othyb, and Arctesch had seemed disturbed when I watched him, during one of our sessions together as I attempted to communicate - he was spending less and less time in the make-shift nursery that had been set up for my freakish aatoju, and more among Controllers; he was old enough to be brainwashed to the Yeerks' evil. Now that he knew how to use his wings, I was instead in charge of teaching him what I knew of flying elsewise - that is, to pilot. Even in that he was disturbingly quick.
For all my attempts with the others, only Jrikvelh had ever answered me.
«I fear his spirit is stronger than ours combined. The Yeerk Empire will not soon forget him - slave or no.»
How are you so certain?
«There are times - sometimes it is enough that I know, and I wish that it weren't so. Best you have less to do with Yuuktesl than you have with Nrintai, Jirrell - or your life will be at stake as well, and others need you. I might need you. We need you to remain strong, Jirrell. It is best that Yuuktesl remain but a memory of what you saw today - he will only become worse in time.»
What are you speaking of? Explain yourself!
But, as it always was when I least wished there to be, there was no
reply.
Little was I to know....
Yuuktesl was the last othyb for a long time. Three standard years, as it turned out. He went from being a freak of nature - an othyb true to all forms of translation to the word - to a decrepit creature. From the first he was uncooperative and in all ways contrary. The reports on him reminded me greatly of Brenjuum, but that it was impossible to goad him - it was as if he was incapable of being angry, as if he just was. He was Yuuktesl, nothing more.
Of course, yuuktesl means something to the effect of "long, torturous death".
Yuuktesl was a creature of his own making. He utterly refused to do what he was told; when, while in combat training, he was told to attack a Hork-Bajir by a low-ranking Controller within a Gedd host, Yuuktesl was reported to have nodded, then taken his incredibly short, two-pronged tail blade, and twitched it; there was no more Gedd officer. He lost his tail blade for that. Later, another officer, this one a Taxxon-Controller, instructed him to fix something. Yuuktesl lost the talons on his left hand for shredding the beast because, according to him, he "didn't like his tone". There was something new to torture him over nearly every evening. Soon my naturally thin, slightly-taller-than-a-Hork-Bajir, seawater-colored fourth othyb son was reduced to a pile of hideously-colored skin and broken or badly-healed bones, a Yeerkless slave working in salvage of any ships or debris the mother ship took in while flitting from one end of the universe to the other.
There was a bit of excitement one day, a day otherwise like any other. I was at my post. "What is it?" I demanded of the on-board sensor engineer on duty at the time.
"Rrrr... Andalite ship salvaged," they replied crisply. Those in Gedd hosts tend to mince words because Galard isn't a very comfortable language for Gedds to speak. "Rrr... hopefully technology to be found."
I thought immediately to Yuuktesl. What would he do, if he got ahold of Andalite technology? I doubted Nrintai would do much about it. She had not shown the same sort of independence her brother had. She had shown compassion, not independence.
The next day, as I passed the salvage bay, I saw the crews working on the badly damaged ship. It was in horrible disrepair, full of blast holes and crumpled in places as if some giant hand had reached out and crushed it like aluminum foil; it was so badly damaged I had no way of telling what model fighter it was. My eyes scanned quickly over the crew, when I saw something. Or, more precisely, didn't see something. I didn't see Yuuktesl's ugly greenish-blue skin among the other starving creatures. Nrintai, with her green flesh, would have been nearly impossible to pick out, but Yuuktesl should have been readily visible.
I paused, taking a moment to look more closely. There was no sign of Yuuktesl anywhere; none of the two dozen or so mangled, dismembered creatures that dragged themselves wearily from different places in the bay to others were of the ugly color my son was, or had anything nearing the color of his pale violet hair. Yuuktesl wasn't there.
I lowered my head then, closing my eyes. I didn't feel a thing, I told myself. Have I fallen so far that even my Feelings have died? Or was his impure blood too strong?
My brooding was interrupted by a hissing sound. I cocked my head slightly, listening. The sound came again. I turned, slowly, then returned my vision to the bay, but my hearts hammered in my chest. I made a show of stretching my wings - in spite of the great resistance they now had at any willed movement - and a furtive figure darted into safety beneath them. "Yuuktesl, I presume?" I whispered.
"Aye, sire," a surprisingly dry voice replied. It sounded as if the owner were laughing at some private joke he wouldn't tell because no one else would understand. It bore an odd accent, one that, as it turned out, was how the salvage workers spoke when necessary. I had never met any other, Yeerkless creature, but for Arctesch, and therefore was unprepared for Yuuktesl's accent, one that was predominant among the slaves. One, as it turned out, he faked very well. "I knew 't'was you, on smell. Sight's near gone. Eyes ne'er were verr' good, an' now I've somethin' that's killin' what I've got. 'Tis rather unpleasant goin' on th'other senses, but what I've to lose? I'd be rather useless if they took 'nother digit." I didn't dare look at him; his breathy voice could be attributed to the movement of my wings, his sanctuary, by any passing by. They hid his broken frame quite well. It was only later, a few weeks later, that I discovered exactly what sort of hideousness he had taken on that I was oblivious to. "Thank you kindly, sire, for the sanctuary f'r now. P'haps we'd best move 'long? Worry not 'bout sight, sire, f'r I've a trait or two. Ain't a pretty thing, but I c'n move when I need to. M' body's 'alf gone, but m'mind's still proper." I moved away from the window, walking slowly, as if deep in thought, my head lowered to improve my hearing. I caught sight of a yellow eye clouded over with a thick layer of cataract but still, impossibly, focused and strong. He walked silently; after all, he had no talons to click against the flooring. Only his breathy voice and knobby body against my wing revealed his existence to me - and because those were the only proofs, he was revealed to no one but me. "Bet'r," he whispered, pleased. "Nex' access 'atch, sire, an' I'll be on m' way."
"What are you to do?" I asked him.
I felt his near-toothless smile. I didn't really see that he had no teeth; I just knew that no salvage slave kept theirs for long. "I'd thought to visit what relations I could trust," he said easily, even though what he said - "relations", "trust" - was of an obsolete age. "You save me th' trouble o' finding you, sire. I'd thought pr'aps Nrintai'd like a chat, maybe a game o' Dullot wi' Jrikvelh. How is that sister o' mine? I've somethin' f'r 'er, if she's willin'."
I didn't dare ask what he could have of interest for my Hope. "I don't know," I answered truthfully.
He chuckled a little. "You make it diff'cult, sire. No matter. She'll be found. Thank you kindly, sire. This's where I take leave. May the Kandrona be irreversibly damaged for you, sire." He slipped from the cover of my wing, into a garbage disposal chute. His decrepit body almost seemed to fold in upon itself as he forced himself downward.
So that was my freak-son, Yuuktesl. May the Kandrona be irreversibly damaged for you. A cynical parody of the Yeerk wish for good luck - May the Kandrona shine and strengthen you. I chuckled. He was right: he wasn't the least bit attractive, but he had his mind in the right place.
CHAPTER 13
Three years later, and another othyb. I was supposed to be in the infirmary for some kind of treatment for all Bayetai blooded creatures, but I chose to interpret the Visser's order to oversee the "birth" of the female othyb one hundred forty-nine as more important than that of the head of the infirmary. The medical bay was only a little down the hall from the genetics laboratory; they could wait.
She was very much Bayetajin, but unnaturally small - smaller than a Hork-Bajir would have been, even. Her skin was a shade between the two, like Jrikvelh. She had a forward horn much like her sister, but her second and third horns, although in the same places, were shorter and straight. A fourth poked from the tip of her snout, abnormally dull and so miniscule I was surprised I had noticed it at all. Pale, tawny-orange "mane" - nothing more than a few strands growing from behind the forward horn, a darker version of the gray-gold one Brenjuum had once had - still had. A sharp, short snout, very beak-like but not truly a beak. Glaring pale green eyes, as if she distrusted all surrounding her, a color vaguely similar to Vreren's but of a nature closer to Lydyiuh's mate. She sat on the solid platform, her two-toed feet splayed out before her, three-fingered hands helping to keep her upright. A short blade rested behind her, like mine but stunted, as most othyb had. Most surprising, however, were her wings - because she was completely undersize, the wings were actually to scale. Klindas! I whispered to myself, in my mind. "She keeps the wings - they should serve her," I said. "Send her to her dam." I frowned: it had been long since Yuuktesl's "birth", too long between him and this new one.
Suddenly, the ship was rocked right out from beneath my feet. Instinctively I flared my wings for balance, but it was no use; I suddenly reeled in a shock of pain, mind-numbing and all-encompassing, that made me prone on the floor. The aatojuik slid off the table with a cry. She hit the floor, and her eyes rolled back under her low brow. My head, too, struck the floor, but my stronger skull and already benumbed senses left me only dazed.
«Jirrell!» I almost jerked in surprise at the wail of Hope's voice. It had been so long since I had heard it, and was surprised at the intelligence it held now. How mature was she now? Arctesch was nearing maturity. She could not be so far behind - no doubt she was full grown. How mature, however, was a guessing game: Hork-Bajir were mature within six cycles. Bayetai took at least twenty. The othyb could take anywhere in between.
What is it, child? I asked distractedly. My mouth turned downward as I tried to put my hands beneath me to help right myself. My limbs didn't quite want to function properly. I had never known her to panic at the birth of her brothers. What was so different with this sister?
That was not it, it seemed. Not at all. And the pain I had felt, more numb than an actual Feeling, was not completely part of the sudden rocking, either. «Can you not feel it? Can you not feel the absence? He's gone, Jirrell! Yuuktesl is gone!»
I shuddered, freezing. The numbness nearly overwhelmed me. What? No!
«He's gone, Jirrell.» She was whimpering. She had told me six cycles ago not to become attached to him: had she, instead? «He's gone! The martyr is gone!»
Martyr? Where had she learned such a word as that? Martyr?
«He was never a sight to see, but his spirit was pure, Jirrell.» I was surprised: she was crying for him. No one ever cried over a loss. The mourning of another's loss was from the times before, not now. «He was not at all tainted, not like you or me. The Yeerks did nothing to him but physical harm that did not touch his spirit. But... it's gone now. His spirit is gone. Gone!» There was a sense of violent shuddering, of intense pain. «Those that fight will always know him as a martyr, Jirrell. We will always know him to be, and all others will know.» She was quiet for a moment. I was suddenly struck with the realization that she was probably on the same deck, in the infirmary. It was nearly all I could do not to run there and see her, just once. Her voice took on a hurried note as she continued. «This is Gloift. She is much like me, but will never near my brute strength. She'll always be compared to me, Jirrell, and will not measure up. Make her a pilot, if you can. She'll beat me in that. But... there is something I cannot place. I think... I think she will die early, too. I must go.» Then she was gone without a trace.
"Why is she not with her dam?" I demanded.
"Grer? There is a message for you."
"Put it through."
I turned to a screen close to the door. A Hork-Bajir face greeted me, one distorted with barely-controlled panic. "What are you doing up there?" I demanded coarsely. "I leave the bridge for two minutes-"
"There is no bridge!" the Hork-Bajir screamed at me, eyes blazing. "That- that othyb - that freak-son of yours took out the bridge! The Kandronas! The main Yeerk pool! The Visser!" I stared at them, unable to speak. What?
"What nonsense are you talking about?" I demanded as soon as I could remember the words.
"The only reason I haven't ordered you dead, Grer 004, is that the red-haired one's force fields are the only thing keeping the rest of us alive."
"How did that abomination destroy half the ship?!" I shouted, for the benefit of the doctors. They sat bolt upright. The aatojuik stirred.
The Hork-Bajir glared at me. "Somehow he learned of - and managed to activate - the Mutiny Protocol." Of course - the restricted code that immediately blew the bridge and the main Yeerk pool in the event that the Controllers in the cages there managed to break free and take over. "He was Draconed, but not before he managed to key in the final sequence. He should have been starved dead by now - dead for years!! - but someone kept him alive, and we will find out who." The scowl they wore deepened. "You are the highest-ranking bridge officer still alive, Bayetajin. What do we do?"
"We go to the homeworld or the shipyards on the Hork-Bajir or Taxxon world - whichever of them is closest to us - and those left that might be responsible will pay for it," I replied, as if the question were foolhardy. "I will be down shortly. Try to keep the rest of the mothership intact, will you, until I'm there?" I shut off the communications link before they had a chance to reply.
"You aren't even saddened by the death of your 'son'?" one of the doctors hissed sarcastically at me.
"An othyb is dead." My voice sounded dead, too, like it didn't matter. Like it didn't matter the slightest bit to me what happened to the othyb. "What does it matter? One less othyb. Why is it that all seem to think they would mean something to me?" I sneered suddenly. I glared at this new one, this... this runt, for lack of a kinder term. "Get that out of here, and try again," I said. "And don't dare fail so terribly. Look at it! It has the size, but nothing else." I snorted. "Pathetic." With that, I left-
-and nearly collided with Grer 074.
Arctesch.
CHAPTER 14
"Hello, Acting-Visser," he said amiably, showing his neck slightly. "Is it another othyb?"
"You know it is," I snapped in reply. "Now get out of my way, Grer."
"Oh, yes, sir."
«Jirrell!»
The panic in her voice made me flinch, which made me see the movement of Arctesch's long tail blade. This allowed me to avoid it. I didn't realize until later that, for her to have warned me, she had to know who I was - and that she had to be able to see me. Once again, I just missed the opportunity to meet with my Hope, as what she had become. But, as I said, I did not realize that until much later.
I easily wrapped my fingers around Arctesch's throat and held him off the floor. "What are you doing, waif?" I snarled. "Raising yourself... against me?"
Arctesch bared his teeth in threat, although his hands remained limp at his sides: he was not following through with his assassination attempt. "Do not think that your othyb are so easy to kill as you claim," he hissed. "Yuuktesl was the weakest of us, and he lived three years without food, water, or covering. And he had been mutilated, beaten, and worse. Jrikvelh and I are stronger than that, sire. You'll not be killing us. Nor Deruil, I would think." He raised his lip from his teeth more. "Just try and destroy Liured, Jirrell, and Deruil would make my mock attempt quite real. And quite painful, I might add."
"You think I forced death upon Yuuktesl?" I asked, keeping the amazement from my voice. Arctesch thought that? Perhaps others would as well.
Good.
"Who else?" the young one sneered. "Our dam?" He laughed harshly. "She is simplistic. An idiot. But she loved us anyway. You are part of the Empire, and know no such thing."
"I knew a time before, fool," I hissed in reply. "I knew love, once. But it is a dead thing. You'd best not hold onto such pretty trinkets, boy, if you wish to live."
"The hard part for you, Jirrell, is that you know we are a part of you." Arctesch was full of a quiet rage, a fire that was consuming him. The worst part about it, I knew, was that it was entirely misplaced. I was one of the few the boy could afford to trust. "You are Bayetajin. And you know that we are freaks. Part enemy - and yet family. And I know you would hate us for that. You have to - you are Bayetajin." I was silent: I did not point out that, as part of the Yeerk Empire, race had no more place than love - there were only Controllers, non-Controllers, and slaves. And that the Bayetai pride the boy spoke of had been beaten out of me very long ago, on a day I would not ever forget. A day that would haunt me forever. The day I became almost alone - until this one was born. I just had not seen it that way until that very moment. "You are a face.
"But we are not, Jirrell. We know who each of us are. We othyb are together." He let out a wordless snarl, a vague threat. "And those who kill othyb have the rest to deal with. Yuuktesl was suffering, he is better dead - but if you attempt Liured or this one, sire, then do not expect your life to be worth your rank."
"Does she bespeak you as well, Arctesch?" I whispered. The boy was immediately quiet. "Did she tell you to have little to do with Yuuktesl? What does she tell you now? What of your new sister?"
Arctesch stared at me, surprised. "She is Gloift," he murmured. "You will teach her to pilot."
"As I have you," I said under my breath. "And I enjoyed that, boy. I did. I liked spending time with you. I wished I could spend time with Nrintai, but I cannot. I wish I could spend time with Jrikvelh, but I have found no excuse to go near her. I wish I could spend time with Liured, but he is under the instruction of another. And like Jrikvelh, there is no reason that I be near Deruil, either. But I have been with you, Arctesch. And I will be near Gloift. No matter your threats, I will be near you both. You cannot change that." I dropped him to the floor. "And no matter what you might believe," I whispered, my voice taking a note I had never used as part of the Empire, "you are not the enemy." I whirled away, to make it appear as if I had finished snarling out the lower officer. "I do not hate you, boy." I continued on my way, leaving the confused othyb behind. "Sometimes I wonder," I muttered to myself, although I still addressed the "Bayetajin" who could no longer hear me, "if you were not the first othyb, boy. Sometimes I must wonder if the first was me."
I checked up on my "children" on my first off-shift. Actually, I checked the "results of the Orba Project".
So far, the third - Jrikvelh - was the closest they had come. The wings had been right - perhaps too small -, and the number of vertebrae, and the number of horns: but she had been too dark, with not enough digits and much, much too tall. And those talons of hers!
Also so far, however, was that I had been correct so far - she was as strong as a Hork-Bajir and as smart as a Bayetajin, and more agile and deadly than the two, even combined, seemed to have the right to be. But something held her back.
It took me a bit too long to find out what - her mental condition. Decidedly unbalanced, the reports told of her. She could be provoked endlessly and give no response, but at times no provocation at all ended in the death of someone - usually higher ranked than she, I saw. There could be a method to her "madness". Each cycle brought her a micron closer to Grer status, and that to that of an officer.
I shuddered at that; I was barely able to force myself to continue. Had my Hope been somehow misnamed? How could hope rest in a mad creature? No! I refused to believe that it could possibly be true.
Like I said, I was a rather large fool.
The Visser had considered it bad enough that Arctesch was climbing too quickly than his age allowed, but, for another othyb to follow him, perhaps destroy him in the end? This had pleased the Visser: it had not cared for Arctesch all that much. His sights were set directly on what he could reach. He was a perfect officer, according to the ex-Visser - too perfect. For a non-Controller, much, much too perfect.
I decided to keep that in mind.
CHAPTER 15
Eventually came embryo one hundred-eighty-one. Its supervision was left to me alone: with the death of my Visser, I was the most knowledgeable in the Orba Project and, therefore, it was left up to me to finish it. The irony of it was halfway amusing.
«He is Juvrenz. Watch him carefully, Jirrell. He will do us proud.»
I listened, but Jrikvelh said nothing more. I frowned: after so many failures, with only a dozen embryos left... yet another othyb.
Not that this male was as small as Gloift. In fact, he most greatly resembled Nrintai, but that his skin was pale, paler even than hers. This one had no wings, a trait seen only in Nrintai and Yuuktesl before, and the two horns of a Hork-Bajir female, seen before only in his eldest sister. He had three-fingered hands and a double-edged blade that was not as short as most of the othyb had, but stunted when compared with that of a Bayetajin. He was abnormally large when compared to a Hork-Bajir - close to the size Jrikvelh was at birth. His eyes were an odd, pale green color. Like only Arctesch and Jrikvelh before him, he was able to stand immediately, but like his brother, not his sister, had not been able to remain so for more than a few moments.
Arctesch stood beside me, nearly equal to my height, now. I glanced at him: he showed no signs of having heard Jrikvelh. "To his dam," he said as he and I turned to leave the new othyb behind. He had been given the observing position I had once held.
"Where else?" the doctor replied with slight sarcasm, but grabbed up the aatojuik without ceremony and rushed him away. Again, unlike Jrikvelh and like his brother, this one didn't struggle.
"Juvrenz," Arctesch said. "Such peculiar names she gives us, no?" I did not respond. "He's a strong one. Take after the brood, I suspect."
"Othyb are no two alike," I answered. "Look at yourself and Yuuktesl. No relation but blood."
Arctesch laughed. "Liured and Deruil have a little more in common than that."
"But their similarities are only skin-deep, if you have not forgotten," I reminded him as I took my leave of him.
I found myself dwelling on the thought of my growing pair of identical-appearing "sons" - quiet, contemplative Liured, whose mind worked lightbands faster than his non-existent temper, and outspoken, angry Deruil, who let his brother do the planning and carried things out himself. Their obvious inter-dependence was often a target of attempts to destroy them both, but to no avail; truly, they were the only team of those non-Controllers - perhaps even Controllers, as well - that completely trusted each other and let everyone know it. It was as if they shared not only appearance and birth, but one mind as well.
One mind, two halves. One of contemplation, one of action.
I had managed to spend some time with Liured. He was shorter than I had thought he would be, and his wings had surprisingly caught up with him; although their span was not at all impressive, if he should ever be given permission he would be able to learn to use them. Liured had been an absolute surprise - soft-spoken, inquisitive, and, most of all, submissive. That he was still alive at this point was far more than a miracle.
"I don't want to fight," he had explained himself. "But I can't help that." He had lowered his voice to a murmur. "Deruil is the fighter of us. I only plan out the battles - he's the one that fights them. And he's thought up something... something that scares me. I'm the one who's supposed to do the thinking... when he does it, it often goes wrong, somehow. I do not understand him, sub-Visser 098 - I trust him in all things, but understanding is something we do not need between us two." He had frowned: his snout was harshly hooked, like a Hork-Bajir's, but unnaturally short. There was a delicacy about him, with his angleless, drawn features and all back-turned horns. "I do not know how to explain it. It is beyond the spoken word, what my brother and I have between us."
I had mentioned Jrikvelh, but Liured knew little of her: he had seen her, yes - he knew Grer 122 by sight, but little else. "Her hair is like a beacon," he had said. "Absolutely stunning. She deserves a rank so much higher than what she is, sir. She is a stunning, stunning creature. Something about her denies any form of disrespect. Her claws, her tail blade... and she is tall, sir. Near as tall as a Bayetajin. Stunning." He had scratched at his thin-skinned chest, then shifted jet-black hair over his shoulder distractedly, as if it was habit. "Yes. Stunning." He had lifted his tail a little higher. "Although how she is able to carry her tail, with that blade - it is a wonder, sir, her tail blade. Longer than yours. Most impressive."
"And character?" I had inquired.
Liured had glanced at me from odd-colored, yellow-green eyes. All the othyb had unusual eye color - it was one of the few things that applied to all of them, not three or four. "She is Jrikvelh," he had replied quietly. "Demands respect - if it is not automatically given, she earns it, or if that would not work, she proves herself... elsewise." He had looked away, his eyes going out of focus. "You think Yuuktesl was a martyr?" he had said under his breath. "His life was too short to compare to what Jrikvelh shall be."
But when I tried to follow up on that thought afterward, Liured did not remember saying anything on the subject of his elder sister. Nothing at all. "She has red hair," he said, "and a most impressive tail blade. She's near as tall as a Bayetajin. But that is all I know. I've only seen her once or twice, and have not had reason to speak with her."
Late that night, unable to sleep thinking of my newest "son", I forced myself to read into each and every medical file on othyb.
Arctesch was described as a brilliant, if somewhat suspicious, officer. He showed a preference for his own kind that bordered on a paranoia. He was unusually hardy and insisted on toning his wings everyday, giving them strength enough to carry him. He was taking a steroid serum daily, one expected to accelerate his growth into maturity, which he felt would increase his performance as an officer. After reading that I found myself unable to look at his file anymore simply out of disgust.
Nrintai was a breeder who was expecting her first child in a few months. Arctesch had requested any females be separated and prepared for him especially. No one had objected to it: what was the point? She, too, was unusually hardy, although not physically strong. Whereas most breeders were near-prone, toothless hags, she was still able to move about easily and had all teeth that had not been physically, rather than medically, lost. She was known to try to comfort ailing breeders, saving some without any form of medication. A request to promote her to a doctorate for this unusual ability had been denied four times. There was no recording of who made this repeated request, nor who denied it each time.
Jrikvelh was a powerful soldier who had proven herself well but did not climb so quickly as her brother because she seemed intent on holding herself back. She was not easily goaded, but had absolutely, positively nothing against killing in self-defense, and sometimes for no reason at all. Direct attacks to her usually ended within seconds, with her unscathed. However, she sometimes lashed out without reason or provocation, taking anything and everything with her. A warning of caution was in her file; she was deemed mentally unsound, and rather dangerous. Strange enough, she had never become ill, only going to the infirmary for three split talons and once for a broken collar bone.
Liured and Deruil were inseparable, even in ailments. Liured would always become ill whenever Deruil was injured, and Deruil would always become injured whenever Liured was ill - and it was never, not once, the other way around. For some reason, Liured did not have the constitution most of the other othyb had, which his clone, Deruil, did. Conversely, Deruil seemed more prone to accidents, while Liured seemed immune.
Yuuktesl's report was short. He had been subjected to the removal of his scraps of wings - actually just flaps of skin that ran down his back parallel to his vertebral spines - when he was born. All vertebral spines and talons were eventually removed as well. His horns were sanded to nothing when he attacked an officer with them. Other cases of misconduct led to the loss of all but four digits, and later the loss of an entire limb, which left him with only one finger. By the time he was mature, at six cycles, he was blind in one eye as well, and close to it in the other. Dead soon after.
Gloift was rather uneventful. Normal childhood illnesses and injuries, although she was constantly plagued with headaches that distracted her completely until it was realized that she had suffered brain damage when she had fallen off the table at her "birth". Now she sometimes seemed to "zone out", to simply stop, but oddly it was never when she was on duty - only when she was eating, or otherwise off-duty. Although a promising pilot, this trait made everyone wary: what if she "zoned" at an integral step of locomotion, and killed everyone?
Needless to say, Juvrenz's files were not in existence yet. His name - Othyb One-Eight-One, as it was - wasn't even on file yet, much less any problems.
I leaned forward, looking at the readouts with a musingly blank stare. Arctesch, Liured, and Deruil had four horns; Jrikvelh and Gloift had three (Gloift's fourth had been deemed an "anomaly", not a horn); Nrintai, Yuuktesl, and now Juvrenz had been born with two. Arctesch, Jrikvelh, Liured, Deruil, and Gloift had been born with wings; Nrintai, Yuuktesl (in the literal sense), and Juvrenz had not. Arctesch and Jrikvelh were tall; Nrintai, Yuuktesl, Liured, Deruil, and Gloift could not be, although Juvrenz promised to be much larger than an ordinary Hork-Bajir. Arctesch, Jrikvelh, Yuuktesl, Gloift, and Juvrenz had the forked forward horn of the Bayetajin, although only Arctesch had an actual ridge of bone; Nrintai, Liured and Deruil did not. Only Nrintai and Juvrenz had been born without vertebral spines. Only Nrintai, Yuuktesl, and Gloift had not been born with some form of chest plates. Only Nrintai, Yuuktesl, and Juvrenz had been born without a mane of any sort.
But all had odd skin pigmentation: Arctesch was too dark, Nrintai and Juvrenz too light, and all the others some odd plateau in between, except Yuuktesl, who had simply not fit into any description of the sort; he'd been more blue than green. All had unique eye colors. And all were as vastly different as their names. More so than their names.
As I stared at the screen, an idea formed in my mind.
I and Arctesch, as well as Liured and Deruil, could not be saved. We were too important. Yuuktesl was dead, and Nrintai was far beyond my reach.
But there was Jrikvelh, who the Yeerks would be happy to be rid of, and Gloift and Juvrenz, who they barely recognized as existing. They could be spared.
I had an idea, based on a simple fact: the othyb were not the othyb at all.
All that could matter was that my children were not the freaks.
We were not the freaks.
One last note on my identical sons.
They were, genetically, more strongly Hork-Bajir-blooded than the others, which allowed them to age quickly without the aid of steroids. One day they approached our new Visser. It was Deruil, with the sneering expression and taunting voice he had taken to using, who suggested they be fitted with Yeerks that could allow them to find their individual potential. All othyb, at this time, seemed completely loyal: confident, the Visser gave each of them sub-Vissers of far greater rank than I. Together they were infested.
Some in the empire suppose that their flailing was because, with their "half" Bayetajin blood, the infestation went wrong. No Bayetai can be infested without the Yeerk, and most likely the Bayetajin as well, being lost. But I know that more than that was involved: I heard them, crying out with voices I thought only Jrikvelh had. Deruil, his false arrogance missing and his mind triumphant as he felt the Yeerk dying in his grasp, Liured, panicking, trying to force the Yeerk back out, scared for all four of them. They knew quite suddenly that Liured was losing, that the Yeerk was starting to take hold. I remember with pain Liured's request that Deruil not let the Yeerk take him, Deruil's shrill cries that he wouldn't let either of them be taken. As Jrikvelh has a mind's voice, so didn't they: but thought-speech only goes to whomever it is directed to. And they had been so absolutely certain that only they two were able to hear it that I didn't hear them until then. That was the secret to their powerful alliance - they had known the other's moves as soon as the other did, and had acted appropriately.
And I remember the emptiness I felt, the sudden loss of atmosphere I could inhale. The freezing pain that wasn't real, the shock as they both swung wildly with their elbows, decapitating each other. I can never forget that taste of the losing my othyb-aatoju. Not even Yuuktesl's loss had been as painful as that time.
It wasn't the greatest pain I'd ever felt, of course. After all, they were only partly Bayetajin. And I'd lost far more than a mere two of my family in one day before.
And so life went on without them.
CHAPTER 16
Supposedly, none of the remaining embryos were any good. Supposedly, Juvrenz was to be the last. Supposedly, there would be only six othyb - the five of mine that remained, and the one son Nrintai had borne alive.
Supposedly.
That was how it was until I was told there was one more. The real last one. The last othyb. The last viable embryo - though this one had been lost. They had said they were all gone, then "found" this one. It sounded peculiar, but it needed not be questioned. All that was needed to be known was that there was to be one more othyb, one more child of my blood.
I didn't know what to think as I stood beside Arctesch, as the process began, one last time. I tried not to think at all. I tried not to think of Nrintai, who had "lost" two daughters and had one, live son. So there were six othyb now. And soon to be seven.
But this one was the last of my children. The last of my othyb-aatoju. The rest would be born, truly born. Like Nrintai's children - though, for their sakes, I hoped that, like her daughters, they would not be alive.
I thought back to the birth of her first, the shock of it, and smiled faintly. The Yeerks had thought her to be Hork-Bajir, so they bred her to a promising Hork-Bajir warrior. What shock they felt to see the little corpse bearing three Bayetajin-like horns and wings, not to mention three toes.
But it had been a female. And Nrintai wasn't giving any daughters to Arctesch as his own private breeder. So she had killed it, choked the air from it before it could cry.
The records showed it to be stillborn. Arctesch had been told it was so. Everyone but Jrikvelh hadn't known. And, through her, I had known.
The cries of the doctors brought me back to reality. I uttered one of my own.
Four toes. Four!
Four!
No... I prayed to my ancestors, most of which I had long ago forgotten. Please, no....
A bladeless, whip-like tail.
No...
Back-turned knees, mid-toned skin. Hands with four fingers, one thumb, apiece, but no talons. None.
No...no...
Wings that were small, but no smaller than the creature. It was smaller even than Gloift had been.
No, please, no...
Finally, the face, and the truth.
A face much like Jrikvelh's - the resemblance, in fact, was staggering. The two horns over the ear holes were relatively longer and more curved, but the rest was the same. Absolutely the same. The short mane was a pale orchid, the eyes a beautiful violet so dark as to be almost as black as its pupils.
It sat there in the silence, staring at me. It was then I heard it.
Gibberish. A questioning voice that spoke no words. Sweet and pure and absolutely meaningless.
«No!» I jerked slightly at the strength of Jrikvelh's "voice". «Oh, no, it cannot be! They can't have-»
They have, I replied, more harshly than I wished to. They succeeded.
It was then that the doctors became cheering, dancing around, embracing one another. Arctesch regarded me with a cool expression that was none the less pleased. I forced myself to return his son's gaze. He serves the Yeerks, I reminded himself. The once-rebellious son I had once had, the one whose traitor-name was centered toward the Yeerks, was gone. Instead, he had grown into a traitor against his own people. He had personally led to the destruction of four Andalite Dome ships. He would do anything for his othyb, but he is of the Yeerk Empire, and knows nothing else, I forced myself to remember. I was talking only to myself. He does not know the true meaning of love - only infatuation. Do not tell him of Nrintai's daughters. Tell him nothing Jrikvelh tells you.
"So it is finally done," Arctesch said. "And none too soon, either. This was to be the last."
"Do you think I did not know that?" I muttered in reply.
Arctesch looked to the little creature. "I know how it is... Father." He had learned the word in his studies. I always felt a rage within myself when Arctesch profaned that forgotten word. "You've no more children. And any more othyb must come from those that exist." He smiled a bit, the insane smile I had learned to healthily fear. "Do not worry, Jirrell. I will make sure there are enough that we do not die out."
"With a daughter of your sister?" I replied. I didn't mean to sneer, but I did. "Why not take some breeders of both races? It works just as well."
"No!" Arctesch snapped. "I'll not infect myself on a pure-blood. Only othyb will be mine, and othyb alone."
"I'm surprised at you, then." Arctesch glared at me and my sarcastic tone. "Most your age, with that foolish goal in mind, would have snatched a sister."
Arctesch laughed. I had not expected him to laugh. I had not wanted him to laugh. I had wanted him to attack, to give me cause to tear out his throat. The abomination. The disease that had come from me. The... the traitor. He looked at the little creature once more. It - she - was trying to get on her feet, but was having no luck. She was very brittle, I noted - she looked as if the slightest jarring would break her in two, probably more, pieces. Like the slightest little thing would shatter her like micrometer- thick glass.
I remembered my awesome hope to meet our ancestor-race. I remembered the innocent fool I had been, how I would bring dignity and honor to my people by showing the utmost in respect and honor to the orba, above that I would show even myself. But now, here one was. One whose father had been me. Once, it would have been the greatest of honors. An honor beyond my imagining, because we Bayetai would never consider attempting genetic engineering of this unnatural nature. Now, though... now, all I could think of was how easy it would be to kill the thing. How easy, and how much I wished to. How much I wished to put that beautiful creature out of any oncoming pain, to save it from the life it was to lead.
I suppose I did honor it above myself, after all.
"Nrintai would kill me if I entered the same room!" Arctesch chuckled, interrupting my morbid thoughts with words I had no want nor reason to hear. "And Jrikvelh?" There was temptation there, I saw it well. I suddenly felt sickened. The boy had actually considered it? I tightened my jaw, keeping my feelings within. This is a different era, I reminded myself - brother raped sister if it suited him and he was the stronger, and vice versa. Blood ties were usually forgotten within the Yeerk Empire, among hosts and non-Controllers - although it was impossible for the othyb, considering how few there were, and how all had the same origin. Perhaps it wasn't temptation, I told myself, but simply respect, love of a sister from a brother. Like so many other lies I told myself, I could not believe it. "She is most beautiful, is she not?"
"I haven't seen her since her birth. Haven't heard a 'word' from her since Juvrenz's birth."
"Oh, you would love her, Father." Arctesch smiled a bit, then gave the equivalent of a shrug. "Unfortunately, she's a sight to see, but not to be near. She's gone rather insane, you know." I couldn't keep the anger from my expression, but fortunately Arctesch didn't notice. "And rather... independent." I was startled to see the look of hunger - pride? - on the boy's face change to one of well-concealed fear. "She would gore me with that tail blade of hers if I even neared her. It's rather hard to breed one raised as a soldier. Did you know that she is Grer 055 now?"
"No, I hadn't heard that," I lied again. She had told me months before.
"And Gloift?" He dismissed it. "She is too little yet. Perhaps, when she is a pair of years or two more. But I'll not have a child. I'm not so desperate as that." He regarded me again. "And you, Jirrell? Why do you not have shared quarters?"
"What need have I of one?" I replied disdainfully. "Do you think so foolishly that you were my first, at the age I am?" Arctesch bristled at that, but made no reply. "Or do you think fourteen is not enough in my lifetime?"
"Oh? And how many of those remain?"
I focused on my new daughter rather than my abominable son. "Seven," I admitted. At least, I thought so. I was almost sure my younger son - younger Bayetajin son, from the time before - still lived.
Arctesch shook his head. "Oh, no, Father. You have six. Six, six, six."
My eyes narrowed unconsciously. "And how do you know this?"
Arctesch chuckled. "Grer 028 met a rather... depressing fate eight
years ago. Or hadn't you heard?"
"Grer 028?" I echoed. The rank wasn't familiar, but I knew.
I knew what Arctesch was saying.
Six.
Six othyb.
I once had five, in the time before. And a mate. She hadn't been beautiful, but she had been smart and wise and all I ever wished for. I had three daughters and two sons. Pure and beautiful Bayetai.
My mate had been killed immediately. She was killed even as I watched. And as I watched, my daughters' corpses were thrown into the waste incinerators. The eldest had fought her enemies and was killed. The middle one had cried out to me in fear, and I had responded to that rather than doing what should have been done, and she died for it. My infant daughter's body, scarred with burns from a low-level Dracon beam, her form ravaged from rough handling as nothing but a pile of biomatter, her body as limp as an overcooked root. My elder son had been killed before it all; he was the first casualty. The second son had set his jaw and held onto his life while the rest of his family was murdered but for his father. His respectable father, who was broken and not the father he remembered anymore.
My wife, Vreren. Instead of her I had a nameless breeder whom I had twice seen but nothing else. Nrintai and Jrikvelh were both mine rather than Sevelde, but that they lived. There were no likenesses between Gloift and Klindas besides their small size and large wings. I hated to admit but could not refute that the Yeerks would have likely made Fyvwiu just like Arctesch. Deruil had been comparable to Brenjuum, as Juvrenz seemed to be doing now, but that, strangest of all things, that Juvrenz somehow had a sense of humor. Brenjuum had always been a serious boy, but then, he was such an angry young Bayetajin back then. And Lingrii had been too young to have much personality to compare to any of them.
Sevelde, Klindas, Fyvwiu, Brenjuum, Lingrii.
Brenjuum.
Arctesch had arranged for Brenjuum's death. There was no other explanation why he should know so clearly who Grer 028 had been eight years ago.
Brenjuum.
«She has no name, Jirrell,» I heard Jrikvelh tell me, but I made no reply. All I could think of was Brenjuum. «She is strange. There is something unnatural about her. Something....personal.» She paused a moment, but continued as if she had not. «But her life is short, Jirrell.» There was a wave of emotion in her words, something uncertain. «She will be murdered.»
Good, I answered darkly. I had five before. I should have no more
now.
A doctor rushed through the door. A familiar smell wafted into the room.
Five.
I shouldn't have more than five. And I wasn't going to wait for this one to die on her own time. Let the filthy Yeerks have it. I would have five now.
I hadn't realized that I had closed my eyes. Arctesch looked amused; he probably thought I was suffering from the loss of my last tie with the time before.
But no. That wasn't it at all.
Five.
"Take the thing to her dam!" I called over the noise of the doctors. "And someone inform the Council. I have a pupil to teach." With that I turned and left.
A small creature, less than a third of my height, was receding from view on my right. They had a short, thin mane of glossy yellow, and wings that appeared too big for them. They had a sharply hooked beakish mouth and three horns, and a short tail blade with a protrusion part that was as long but not nearly as wide.
"Pilot!" I barked. "To me."
"Yes, sub-Visser 102." The little thing turned smartly on the ball of one foot and quickly fell in step beside me.
"Did you know that we are related, pilot?" I asked off-handedly.
"I was not aware of it, sir," she replied. "You've not mentioned it before."
My hearts pounded in my chest. "I was the one that provided your Bayetai DNA, girl."
"I was not aware of it," she said again, tonelessly, without even politeness or skepticism. Gloift was not the emotional sort, of what I had seen of her. "I thank you for my wings."
I was surprised to detect something in the second statement. I noted the undeniably cynical tone with amusement. "Do you like your place here? Frankly, now. As offspring to sire."
She frowned at me. I saw it, and nearly smiled in relief; there was spirit there, to spare. Spirit like I remembered Sevelde having. This one was stubborn, I knew. I had always known she was impatient, but had always chosen to avoid her gaze. But her bright green eyes told me everything.
She was no happier than I was.
"Frankly, sire?" she said in her normal, blunt, toneless voice. "Frankly, I wish I had half the courage of my brothers. And I speak not of that abomination sub-Visser 084."
She was of the same spirit, I realized, my hearts aching. I could not
think of a better name to put on my now eldest son. "So you would wish to fight?"
"Fight?" She snorted. "There is no such thing as fight."
"What of flight?"
"There is no such thing," she said again.
"Not... necessarily. Come with me, girl."
"Where?" she demanded.
I regarded her. "Does it matter where you escape to?"
"Escape?" Gloift yelped. "What?"
"Escape," I confirmed. "Do you wish for it or not?"
"Wish?" She grinned. It resembled Arctesch's, but did not discomfort me the same way. "Wish? I'd rather die than stay here. And die I will, if I am caught." She laughed. "Wish? Sire, I can taste it."
I laughed with her. It felt good. "Yes, you make me proud, Gloift Sevelde," I said.
"Sevelde?" she echoed, giving me a wary look.
"Someone I knew a long time ago, girl," I sighed. I couldn't believe I had laughed. Brenjuum, I whispered silently. It was not a name anymore, I knew. To me, it could never be a name again, for Brenjuum was dead. It could only be an oath, like so many I'd made in my life. But this oath, I knew, would be one I would keep. "She would be proud, too. Of both of us."
CHAPTER 17
I know Arctesch far better than I could ever wish to.
I never truly met Nrintai, though she did well for a breeder. Seven strong sons serve the Yeerk Empire with almost the same zeal as their eldest uncle. He holds a special pride in each of them; he is their father, in all things that matter. I have nothing to do with any but Cruisra. His name is an odd mangling of Crir - "Fire" - and Uisa - "Dirt". There is no translation for that type of merging. Cruisra was the only pilot-worthy one among them; he has webbed hands, though, which hinders him slightly. His toes are webbed as well; it comes from the DNA for his wings, which were removed at birth. He has a severely short mane of an unusually dark gray, closer to black, and the near-black skin of a Hork-Bajir; overall, he appears to be covered, horns to spike-tipped tail, in soot. I suppose that's a possible translation for "fire-dirt". Soot. He reminds me a little of the twins, in appearance, and sometimes he is like a merging of the two - spirited, but submissive. Angry, but equally terrified.
I only met Liured, once. Never did I see Deruil up close, but for at his birth. It is too late for me to ever see him as he truly was, but I can guess. I can only guess. I know that I always will.
I never saw Yuuktesl, not really. Met, yes, and respected. But who he was, and his appearance, are equal mysteries to me. Mysteries I shall never solve. Some things, I suppose, are better left as unknown.
Gloift was my student until her... disappearance. According to the records, a forcefield malfunction sucked her out an airlock. There was no Feel of death when that happened. I was passed caring by then. I had my Brenjuum Oath, then, and no matter if the records were true or not, she had her escape. I had known her well enough - stubborn, suspicious, partially talon-minded. She'd have made a fine officer if she ever learned the slightest bit of discipline. Ah, well. What matter is it what she was like? She is gone, now.
Perhaps not out an airlock. Perhaps out one, I do not know. But gone. I had kept my oath to my younger son - my oath to save as many as I could, as I had not saved him.
Juvrenz is a bit of a shock in all things, to all creatures. A Hork-Bajir look-a-like with skin of a faded, soft olive green, far too pale to be natural, not to mention almost twice the height he would have been if his blood were pure. An operations officer. I know him now, too. He worries me, sometimes. He is cautious to a fault, but just as stubborn as his sister was. That sometimes blinds him from careless mistakes. I have saved his stunted, two-pronged tail blade far more times than I care to admit. For one his age, his rank of Grer Two is impressive, considering our present Visser is somewhat more difficult than those we've had before; of course, we've never been under a single-digit before. He only has fifty Grer. (Grer are the personal officers under Vissers. The only reason I did not revert to a rankless pilot after the mortal damage of our first mother ship was that I managed to return the heap to the Yeerk homeworld. Despite my non-Controller status, the Council of Thirteen chose to rule that I was worthy of sub-Visser status for the deed. From there, my othyb were given the chance to do just what Arctesch did - outrank me.) As under-Visser 83 (I've been slipping downward a lot lately; my age, and other things, are catching up to me....) I am passed such trivialities. What is peculiar about him, however, is not his ability to succeed - Arctesch has far more advantage in that realm. It is his sense of humor. Juvrenz, much to my surprise and possibly his discredit, has a very cynical and wisecracking nature. Insubordination would be a severe problem for him if he weren't so damned charming about it.
The last one was labeled Orba, for lack of any other name. At times I would go to her, touch her face, her hand, but never when she was awake. I couldn't possibly bare the guilt I felt at her existence, the shame that I did not have the heart to destroy her and put her out of her future misery, if she were to open her dark violet eyes and speak to me. No, my visits were done under the cover of slumber. She was a beautiful creature, small and frail as a newborn for all her few years. She died, but not of murder, as my Hope feared she might. Something happened in the infirmary, where she spent her entire life, while she was awake; she witnessed someone virtually gore a Bre'Tak surgeon, but refused to speak a single word afterward. She was dead by morning - she'd simply stopped breathing. Many thought she just gave up. Others cried murder, to avoid admitting failure. Fingers pointed at Jrikvelh because she had been there for a fourth split talon and for her known unpredictable nature. But there was no proof - and no injury, so those pointing talons at Jrikvelh came upon their own dead end - so the entire project was dropped. The subject had died too soon after completion of the embryonic generation. Simply put, all that came of the two hundred embryos were ten failures. Not a good use of twenty standard years.
I did not mention my Hope's fate for a reason. I did not see her, it's true, for years upon years. Since her birth, a glimpse of crimson in a hallway might be the most I ever saw. When I was transferred, along with Arctesch, Jrikvelh, and Juvrenz to the mother ship of Visser Three above the Human homeworld, I was a little perturbed at the fact that Nrintai was shuttled along as well. But I mentally dismissed it. It was of little matter - probably that abomination Arctesch pulling some minor threads of power. I was sent because they needed someone with a great many years of familiarity with the ship systems to fix glitches and shot systems that their current compliment were having difficulties dealing with. Turned out a tertiary motherboard to the central core had fused. Sabotage. The workmanship was definitely shek. It made me smile softly inside, to think Lydyiuh's four spies might still be at work. I never learned who they were.
Juvrenz was sent to help me. Jrikvelh and Arctesch were sent for to help deal with the planet-side problem of Andalite terrorists. The Visser had become desperate enough to chance using sentient non-Controllers to solve a problem that did not matter to them. He was so desperate, he kept them on it even after their first failure. So very, very desperate.
But he didn't count on the fact that I was, too.
No, I was the only one who knew of my oath to Brenjuum.
The only one who knew my plans for my children.
So far, it had worked for one. Gloift was gone, because of that oath. Alive or dead, I did not know, but gone. Out of the Empire, for good.
It was not much. But it was my start... at living again.