CHAPTER 4: MARIEL
A few weeks passed and my concerns about that evening spent walking home with my parents had flown. Feeling exceptionally compatible, I decided to accompany my father to the military base for the follow-up work that was required of him. I went to make an effort to be sociable. I felt I owed it to my father to make up for missing the homecoming events at which so many of my peers seemed fuss about my absence.
I know you're thinking, "yeah, right," but I was. I was just hoping to be more sociable with certain people than with others.
We entered the base from the same outpost that I had used on my previous visit. It was my luck that the same guy just happened to be working today. He admitted my father my father with a flabouant show of respect for the old war-prince. To me, he sneered. My father didn't seem to notice. Not that he would have actually cared. All that mattered was that I was where I was supposed to be, at his heel. I felt gracious, and did not embarrass my father by causing a fuss over the way the guard had looked at me. Instead, I gave him a quiet gesture close to what you would consider "shooting a bird." The guard started to come after me, but I hurried to catch up to my father. No one in the right mind would be so eager as to shame a revered member of society; therefore, I was safe.
I cringed. I always do. It is a big change from plush grass to hard-packed earth.
The port was bustling this crystal morning. It seemed that a pair of Skrit-Na raiders had been intercepted and were fresh brought in from space. A patrolling fighter must have intercepted the ship on the way back from a raid. Apparently, it must have been brought in so as to be deprived of all the goodies (junk to most other sentient species) that the Skrit-Na had stolen. It was a self-appointed duty for us Andalites to regulate what the Skrit-Na had "collected." The way it goes is: the Skrit-Na steal and our military makes sure that none of it is worth anything. We usually liberate the Skrit-Na from those pricey trading goods such as weapons, advanced technology that most of the Skrit-Na's trading partners would either misuse or cause great harm in ignorance, food items that are potentially dangerous to the peoples allergic to substances that those items may contain, and the odd abducted member intended for a life in a zoo or torture on a medical table. You know the crap most pack rats pick up along the way.
It took me a minute to find what I was looking for. Karrass is almost always in the same place at this time of day. I knew that he would be on break, because he made a point to lay off to see me.
He was standing with a group of about five others at the mouth to one of the raiders that I was speaking about. They all seemed alert, bodies taunt, tails held in the defensive position, all eyes forward, and slightly crouched. Something was going down. I could tell by their being crouched down, if nothing else. It is instinct for Andalites to bolt when they do not know, instantly, their approaching enemy.
It seemed so with the group gathered at the ship now. I could clearly hear why. Coming from the interior of the ship was a chorus of bangs, thumps, and hoarse screeches.
All of the warriors acted on their instincts and leapt away. It was a good ace to be holding at that time, because immediately afterward a Hork-Bajir erupted from the doorway. The two blades on the top of its head were a dead give away that the Hork-Bajir was a female. She had obviously reacted with such force to whoever was unfortunate enough to be inside that ship with her that she tumbled down the docking ramp. In a violent panic, she lashed out, catching the warriors at the end of the fleeing Andalites.
Then, everything dropped to dead silence. All of the previous commotion stopped. The shock of being struck caused the Andalites to pause and stare from the blood drooling down their arms to the Hork-Bajir female. The latter was glaring at her assultants and daring them to come at her again. I was watching the whole scene with intent interest when I saw Karrass move. The motion seemed strikingly vulgar against the stock stillness of everything else around him. My eyes were glued to him as I watched him pull a shredder from the hilt of a nearby officer. He set it to low power and fired a single shot at point-blank range at the Hork-Bajir.
The distressed creature did not fall immediately. She sat heavily, stunned, and slowly sank to the ground, and unconscieceness, from there.
As I was watching, feeling pity for the poor Hork-Bajir and her fight to save herself from what she believed to be danger, I understood her fear. I would have been in the same stricken and confused state, myself, having been kidnapped, deserted by the sensible I relied on, and left to my own extremely simple mind. But then again, I wasn't a Hork-Bajir.
As soon as she dropped to the dirt, I heard Karrass release the gun to follow the same path of the Hork-Bajir. He put a hand over a wound oozing blood from where the Hork-Bajir's taloned feet had raked across the muscle of his upper arm. He looked up at three rough looking Andalites I had just noticed. It occurred to me that they must have come from inside what the Hork-Bajir considered a private hell. It seemed the same for the three warriors who were looking quite disgruntled to say the least. I turned to catch the end of his tail as slipped behind a bush, out of sight.