By: T.B. Stormshot
I warned the Drode that I would make a story about him turning human. He thought I was bluffing. Heh, WELL THIS SHOWS HIM! BWAHHAHAHHEHWAHAHAHA!
Believe it or not, this is angst, drama, self-discovery, and humor rolled up into one. It'll all depend on the situation I suppose. So far it's coming out to be a pretty good story... and I'm really tired of ME producing all the really good stories about the Drode. Currently It seems I'm the only writer who plainly LIKES him! (currently) ... what the heck is WRONG with all of you?? *looks confused and dismayed* He was the best Animorph character ever, and he didn't DIE (there's a story behind that)
On another note, to all those participating in, or reading Interactive 6.0!!!, I'm currently taking a break from that story. In fact, the reason why it is no longer appearing on Fanfiction.Net is because they went off and DELETED it. Because it did not follow their new rule banning interactive stories... I will eventually put it back up, but when it does eventually, it will pick up a different title-NonInteractive 6.0!!!. Right now I'm going to wallow in self-pity though... I specifically said that it was cancelled for the moment in the summary...
Disclaimer: I don't own the Animorphs, but if I did have a shot at it, I'd go for the exclusive rights to the Drode. Because he's just that cool.
The landscape was a barren one, bereft of all life except for a scattering of stunted, wizened trees, and not many of those either. The ground was only a covering of reddish-brown dust that picked up at the slightest breeze and covered anything in its path with a thick covering of dirt. The sky was dark, but not from night for the sun was at its highest peak. But rather from a dense covering of hazy discolored clouds that rolled violently, lightning glowing among them in a foreboding way. The vague sun might have barely been noticed beyond the clouds at their thinnest point.
This was the land of Crayak, a wasteland of hate. No kindness ever reached inside its keep, pity and mercy were simply words, and love was less than even that. A depressing place for any who dared to walk its surface and lived long enough to comment on it. At least those that were not used to it.
The Drode was, but that was not why he did not notice the dark mirth of his surroundings, but rather because he was too frightened to really care about anything beyond his nose. The Drode was practically fearless, not by nature of course but rather long practice that came from the power of near-omnipotency. However, right then he was afraid. Not only that, but he was barely keeping himself from the verge of panicking and becoming a blubbering wreck.
The Drode had done a stupid thing, a very stupid thing. He had failed Crayak, and now he was waiting to die. The Drode sweated heavily, breathing harshly through tightly clenched teeth.
DRODE. A silent yet terrible voice shouted, the Drode heard and only chose to tighten his hold on the illusion he held over himself of a dwarfed tree. A pathetic attempt to hide from the terrible voice which was the source of the Drode's fear.
Crayak was coming to get him. To kill him for his failures. The Drode had made a mistake, a big mistake. Crayak had lost Earth, and he was blaming the Drode for it. Which meant the Drode was going to die. So the Drode was doing the only thing he could think of, he couldn't run, he couldn't fight, so he hid. He hid like a sniveling coward, but then again, in the dark light of Crayak no one could call themselves brave and also be sane. And though the Drode was often the accused, he was quite sane.
DRODE, DON'T HIDE FROM ME. Came the voice again. The Drode's small hands were damp with sweat and trembled violently, but he paid no attention, choosing to exert his energy into the illusion, trying to make it as real as possible so as not to attract the attention of the eye of Crayak. A useless gesture. The Drode's power was Crayak's own, and Crayak always knew where his power laid. The Drode knew this, and some faintly rational part of him deep inside chided him for his foolish act, but the more fearful, unthinking side of him which was usually buried was now in control and would not be guided with reason.
DRODE. Crayak's terrible voice came again, and though just as horrible as before, this time it carried a final note. The Drode knew he had been found, he knew. The Drode was unable to cry, his physical structure had not included tear ducts, but he was aware of a high-pitched, almost inaudible whining coming from deep inside his throat. It was a sound he had not heard in a long time. A sound his kind made under intense fear or pain. The Drode was only afraid right then, but he would soon be in pain as well.
The Drode knew that it was useless and draining to keep the illusion up now, but somehow he could not bring himself to tear down the woven walls of power, the illusion itself seemed to give off a sense of protection. A false hope, but all he could cling to.
DRODE. Crayak's voice came again, and suddenly the Drode felt part of his power suddenly ripped away from him, it was soul-wrenching-if the Drode indeed had a soul-and the Drode gasped in pain from the gesture and collapsed to his knees. Unable to keep up the illusion, the tree simply faded away, leaving the Drode alone on the barren landscape. All alone, except for the looming shadow which towered over him, and the harsh red glow which centered him out. The Drode did not get up and did not dare to look up, instead keeping his eyes to the ground below him. He trembled with terror.
"L-Lord," the Drode stammered, "I-I-"
YOU HAVE FAILED ME. Crayak shouted as his voice echoed inside the Drode's head.
"NO! NO Lord Crayak! Please! I have not failed you!" the Drode shouted in a panicked voice, so panicked he looked up once and found that the eye of Crayak was the sky. The Drode wanted to burst into hysterics but found himself unable to speak, his fright was so great. He looked towards the ground again, his breath was uneven, and he blinked to keep sweat from blurring his vision.
YOU HAVE FAILED ME AND NOW THE EARTH IS LOST TO ME. YOU HAVE FAILED. Crayak's voice bellowed, blinding out any thoughts the Drode might have had. The voice which was not heard was huge, enveloping every crevice of the Drode's intelligent mind, overpowering, the type that made you go insane from the sheer power of it. The Drode did not go insane, he was too frightened to think already.
"It wasn't me! It wasn't my fault! Please Lord Crayak! Please don't-" the Drode pleaded hysterically. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die.
SILENCE. YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN ONE CHANCE TOO MANY DRODE AND I AM TIRED OF YOUR FAILURES. YOU ARE OF NO USE TO ME.
"NO! NO THAT'S NOT TRUE! PLEASE! ONE MORE CHANCE MASTER! ONE MORE CHANCE!" the Drode screeched, he lifted his hands graspingly towards Crayak but Crayak looked unblinkingly down at him with the menacing red eye, the harsh glow unwavering.
NO. Crayak said, a single word but one that sealed the fate of the Drode. The light of Crayak's eye suddenly became searingly bright and the Drode closed his eyes in pain.
"No..." the Drode whimpered as the light suddenly blasted forth to envelope his body.
Silence.
And then...
The Drode wondered if this was what death felt like, a sudden searing white light and then nothing. It was only then he felt the rough gravel beneath his knees and realized he was still alive. But why? The Drode knew that Crayak was about to kill him, that blast would have incinerated him... Could he be showing mercy upon the Drode? No, the Drode knew Crayak too well for that. Crayak knew no mercy to anyone. It had to have been something else, and so the Drode looked up, his slitted eyes widening at the realization of just why he had failed to die. "The Ellimist...?" he whispered in surprised, unable to speak louder in light of his brush with death.
The Ellimist was standing in front of him, close enough so that the Drode might have touched his fabricated clothing, though he had no want to, he hated the Ellimist almost as much as his lord Crayak did. The Ellimist stood in the form of an old human-like man, with only an almost elf-like quality to him with slightly pointed ears and an unearthly beard to separate him from the human race. The Ellimist wore long robes, unsure of color as he was already covered by an angelic blue glow. The Drode squinted at the glow, his eyes more used to the murk of Crayak's realm. The Ellimist held his back towards the Drode, and rather faced Crayak's enraged red eye. "Crayak," the Ellimist acknowledged.
ELLIMIST! WHY DO YOU INTERFERE WITH MY BUSINESS? Crayak roared angrily, the crimson red of his eye flaring like fire.
"I have need of this one, though foul he is. I can not use him if he is dead," the Ellimist spoke quietly, a calm contrast compared to Crayak's rage. Immediately the Drode felt a flare of anger at the Ellimist though he chose not to betray himself with it, better to keep quiet and perhaps he might live a little longer.
Crayak laughed ominously, a fearful tone that made the Drode's black heart skip a beat-though at any other time he might have added his own high-pitched cackle. YOUR WANT OF IT ONLY FUELS MY PURPOSE MORE. I WILL KILL IT NOW RATHER THAN LET YOU HAVE USE OF IT. AS YOU SAY, YOU CAN NOT USE IT IF IT'S DEAD, Crayak mocked the Ellimist, his eye glowing slightly brighter in the meanwhile. The Drode's fear began to return...
"You might still have use for him as well, Crayak," the Ellimist spoke calmly, the blue glow around him intensifying for a moment. The glow of Crayak's eye dulled for a moment at this suggestion, though not enough to quell the Drode's fears. "You might still have a chance at Earth if you listen to me."
YOU WOULD NOT PUT THE EARTH INTO MY HANDS WILLINGLY ELLIMIST... WHAT IS YOUR AGENDA...? Crayak asked suspiciously. Crayak was a monster, but he was no fool. The Ellimist wanted something, something big enough that he would risk putting the Earth into Crayak's hands again, something important enough to risk this galaxy's safety... The Drode also knew this as he listened, and felt his own calculative suspicions drive upwards-though he bit back his own drilling comments.
"My agenda is not important. This is not a bargain, it is a bet. Will you hear it?" the Ellimist asked in a voice that was almost a whisper, but was also a roar of thunder. The glow around the Ellimist seemed to intensify in strength, though did not seem to grow in brightness. It made the Drode squint, a practice which annoyed him.
Crayak was silent for a moment as he mulled over the proposal, before the harsh red light of his eye diminished-though only a mere fraction. I WILL HEAR THIS BET, He roared silently.
"We will take this one, and put him on Earth. There he will be able to do as he chooses freely-within the rules of course," the Ellimist proposed. Behind him the Drode snorted at the Ellimist's plan, if the Drode would truly be free, then it would be obvious about what he would do. He would turn the Animorphs in to the Yeerks, he would uncover the free Hork-Bajir colony, and he would be able to expose the rebel Yeerks. Easy. And it would put him back in favor with Crayak as well...
THERE ARE ALWAYS RULES. BUT NO RULE CAN PREVENT ME FROM CALLING YOU A FOOL ELLIMIST. IT IS MINE, IT WILL DO MY BIDDING. AND BECAUSE OF THIS YOU ARE A FOOL. Crayak laughed and the Drode growled inside his throat-though not out loud. He was to be a pawn of the Ellimist-a despairing thought in the least. But he would not obey the Ellimist's commands! Oh no, if he was to roam freely on the Earth, he was going to do it his way.
Or was it Crayak's way?
The Drode blinked in surprise at himself. Where had that thought come from? He shook his head lightly to forget it, on Earth he knew that it would be up to him to turn the tide of the battle. At the moment it seemed perhaps that the Yeerks were winning, but when Crayak had lost it would only have been a matter of timing before the battle was won by the Animorphs. However, if the Ellimist changed the rules to allow himself into the game...
"I will take the Drode then. We will discuss the rules, and then the game will begin, yes Crayak?" the Ellimist said calmly, a slight smile formed upon his thin lips. The eye of Crayak narrowed, red light pulsing between the massive blackness of what might in someway have been his eyelid. It was blinding, evil light that bathed his kingdom in blood, covering the Drode as well, though nothing-not even Crayak's light-could touch the blue glow of the Ellimist.
SO BE IT, Crayak acknowledged as he closed the red eye in decision, at least for now. With that note of authority, the Ellimist turned to face the Drode who was still down on his knees. He gave a warm smile, though the Drode only scowled in response.
"I don't expect gratitude," the Ellimist shrugged as he studied the quietly seething Drode.
"Good, because you're not getting any from me. Try those slobbering dogs of yours, oh wait, they're dead aren't they? I wonder why," the Drode sneered angrily, though it came out as only a half-hearted response. The Drode had come very near to a sudden and excruciatingly painful death... only to be saved by his absolute worst enemy. The strain of the recent events was pulling hard on the Drode's sense of sarcasm.
Still, the remark left a smarting mark on the Ellimist, who looked off slightly to the right and into the distance, a longing look upon his face. The Drode took some satisfaction in that longing look, he wasn't going to go willingly, though he would go despite. His power came directly from Crayak's, and was only a tiny, miniscule fraction of that power. The Ellimist was much stronger, though the Drode did not like to admit this.
"Let us go," the Ellimist said solemnly as the dreary background of Crayak's planet began to faze, replaced by light and dark specks of all colors. The Drode gritted his teeth and growled savagely at his helplessness. He looked up at the glowing Ellimist, his eyes at their narrowest point in anger.
"You will never use me Ellimist! I won't let you! I'LL NEVER LET YOU!" He howled as his body disappeared from Crayak's realm. The eye of Crayak was already gone, returned to his dark temple where he would watch all.
Soon the game would begin.
Light.
Light all around and nothing but. The Drode hated the light, it was always painful for him at first until his eyes adjusted from the eternal twilight of Crayak's dwellings. That was the lesser excuse for the hatred. The more powerful was what light represented. Light was the symbol of hope, the symbol of happiness, and the symbol of life. The symbol of Good.
In short, light symbolized everything the Drode wasn't and despised. And now it was all around him. The utter terror of Crayak and intense hatred of the Ellimist slowly began to quell as the Drode began to contemplate the recent events. He still could not understand why the Ellimist had.
The Drode sneered in disgust. "I'm afraid I could care less for the decore. Much less," he said sarcastically, feeling a presence from behind his own energy. At the moment he had no real body, this was a realm beyond the normal dimensions. This was Z-space as the Andalites called it, or at least something much like it. But it was not the type of realm the Drode was used to. This was the Ellimist's dwelling place, a place of bright sheering light that cut into everything, and brought things best left unseen to light.
And then suddenly-
"It is quite beautiful to the Ellimist and I... but then I suppose different people have different tastes in beauty..." the Pemalite said softly, as suddenly the bright light contorted and shifted into a field of green with soft violet skies. Pale pink and sea green trees with slender pleasing forms dotted the landscape, while in the violet sky, pastel birds and lizards floated among the wispy butter-yellow clouds.
"Don't speak to me like that Pemalite, I am no friend of yours. And as for beauty, I'm afraid I've never been able to stand anything as shallow. I'm afraid I much prefer what is ugly, and there is a lot more of that in the universe," the Drode sneered as he crossed his now physical arms.
"Then perhaps you find what is ugly... beautiful?" the Pemalite teased good-naturedly as it smiled widely with its canine mouth. It then gracefully bent down to pick a delicate pale orange flower off its stem. It stepped back up and held the flower to its nose, sniffing deeply before giving a peaceful sigh. The Drode heaved a heavy sigh of disgust, if his body were weaker he might have felt nauseous.
"No, no I don't. But maybe I'm simply despicable. Many would agree," the Drode shrugged, suddenly he noticed that his normally green-black skin had taken on a rosy-pink color. He held up a hand to the happy Pemalite, flexing it once to emphasize it. "Cute," the Drode said before willing his body back to its normal coloring. The Pemalite frowned unhappily, but quickly excepted it, annoying the Drode further.
"I hate Pemalites," the Drode said firmly, recrossing his hands. The Pemalite simply smiled condescendingly upon him before replanting the flower, which quickly took root and flourished. The Drode watched the flower in disdain for a moment, before deliberately seeking the nearest flower to him, a pale orchid of some type, and smashing it was a bird-like foot. He kept an eye on the Pemalite as he grinded the flower into the rich dirt. "I hate flowers too."
The Pemalite watched the Drode as he killed the flower, his pearl-colored eyes sparkling in the bright sun above. Afterwards he let his eyes settled unto the Drode's yellow, slitted ones. They both stood for a moment, simply contemplating each other, the pure good and the pure evil, a staring contest that was slightly more than a game. And though the Pemalite was the first to look away, it was not because he was backing down.
"The flower may die, but in its death we must rejoice for other flowers will grow from its soil, and it too will be rebirthed through them," the Pemalite said softly as it looked at the broken flower. The Drode scowled and rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Well that takes some of the joy out of murder," the Drode commented sarcastically. The Pemalite smiled, but did not respond to the comment. The Drode looked thoughtful for a moment, before smiling maliciously. "Of course, it does not take all the fun away. No... the mass murder of your race was especially fun. At least I suppose for myself... and the Howlers... and the mighty Crayak. Of course, it might not have been for your species. Now tell me... how were you killed? You don't fool me, I know that all the Pemalites were wiped out from the youngest child to the oldest elderly. I know. You're dead. Just a spirit the Ellimist dragged from who knows where. Lord Crayak does that from time to time when he's really annoyed with a victim. So how was it? Was it from a gun perhaps? The death would have been quick... only a searing, thought-blotting pain for an instant before nothiness..." the Drode said as he began to circle the Pemalite slowly.
The Pemalite turned with him as the Drode circled. Despite the Drode's attempts to anger the Pemalite, the canine-like alien's gentle nature forgave him even as he said those hateful words. The Pemalites had been a peaceful race to the point of where they could not even contemplate hate, and even less, deliberant attempts to hurt another being. Even in their deaths they could not understand why they were being killed. It was simply a thought they could not process, a thought they could not adapt to. And so they could not hate those who had murdered them. They could not even fear them. But they could forgive. And so the Pemalite before the Drode did not react to the mention of the extinction of its race.
"Or perhaps it was with the Howler's blades... deadly razors, a slow and masterfully painful death. Torture really, I rather like the idea..." the Drode suggested silkily as he continued to circle. The Pemalite still did not respond, pain was a fleeting thing, all one had to do was remember that it would be gone one day.
"Or perhaps... just perhaps, it was by, well by me... Tell me Pemalite, did you know I was promoted for the murder of the Pemalites? That's what we call it by the way, none of this 'destruction', or 'extinction', or even 'killing' business, but murder. The mass murder of the Pemalites... anything else sounds too weak. That occasion was so much fun, a good memory... You realize of course that I was the one who constructed the quantum virus that killed the last of your disgusting race off, yes?" the Drode asked in a nonchalant tone of voice. He ended his circling in front of the Pemalite, crouching slightly to look up at the chin of the taller Pemalite. With that remark the Pemalite froze. The Drode simply grinned. "I see..."
Then the Drode dropped the subject, he would have liked to pursue in any other case, emotionally hunting down the prey and making the kill-as painfully and bloodily as possible-However, if he pursued he doubted anymore damage could really be done. The Pemalite had frozen, whether in fear, or pain, or anger-the Drode really had no idea, but it was a negative reaction, and this was good. He simply gave one last malicious grin that said 'I know your little secret' and stepped back to his original position, crossing his arms again and balancing comfortably with his tail.
The Pemalite stood, looking blankly into the distance for a moment, before looked gently back at the Drode. The peacefulness that had been gone from the Pemalite for only moments came back with a force, though a new wariness-hardly there in terms of most races, but inconceivable for the Pemalite species-surrounded it. "You know the Ellimist is to send you to Earth, yes?" the Pemalite asked softly as he looked upwards at the sky and studied a light green bird, not looking directly at the Drode.
"I believe that point was made," the Drode shrugged, he waited then for the Pemalite to go on. He didn't believe he had been brought to this sickly-sweet place for nothing.
"But there will be rules of course," the Pemalite said as it refused to look directly at the Drode. The Drode simply grinned in response to the Pemalite's discomfort.
"There are always rules," the Drode sneered in annoyance, he really hadn't been expecting not to be binded...
"In order to blend in, your form must be changed to one of the inhabitants of Earth," the Pemalite told him as it began the recitation of the rules from which the Drode would have to play from. To that the Drode simply snorted, as a species, the human race was pathetically weak, and too confident in themselves to realize the Drode could crush them with one finger if he were allowed. However, they did have certain qualities that he did have to admire, such a violent race! One by one they were nothing, but when they came by swarm they drove themselves into frenzy, rivaling the Yeerks in their own way. Their wars were spectacularly vicious, and the reasons for them were so petty it was pure pleasure for the Drode to witness them. Yes, they were so violent it was hard to believe they had come thus far without wiping themselves into extinction, but they had. In a way, the Yeerks sort of ruined the fun, once they enslaved the humans, they would no longer be able to fight each other...
"You won't be able to use any of Crayak's power as well. I'm afraid we can't give you that advantage," the Pemalite went on to say. The Drode gritted his teeth, none of his power? He tried to think back to any time when he had been without, and couldn't think of any such period. That would leave him defenseless, a weak human only. But surely he could get along, couldn't he? Many of the humans on that pitiful planet managed to survive somehow, of course he didn't admire their violent tendencies for absolutely no reason. But surely he could survive, he had the knowledge of the Cosmos to put basically, they were all idiots.
"The Ellimist and your master Crayak have also agreed to erase certain memories from your being, to make the game fair," the Pemalite said, finally recovering enough to look the Drode in the eye, though at the moment the Drode was too deep in thought to look back. He balled in fists and looked upwards at the Pemalite, a dangerous glint in his eyes though the Pemalite took no heed.
"What memories?" the Drode asked quietly.
"Memories of who the Animorphs are, of who certain hosts are, where Yeerk hideouts and entrances are. Things such as those," the Pemalite told him. Suddenly the Pemalite stretched his elegant neck upwards to look at the violet sky, ears stretching in response to some unknown command. He then looked back down at the Drode and spoke again before the Drode could become angry. "And now we must part ways minion of Crayak, perhaps we will meet again, but for now I will say good luck. I hope we can meet again under better circumstances."
The Drode would have snapped at this point if the dimension around him hadn't fazed outwards. Soon he was energy again, a being without a body. At this point it didn't matter if he exploded or not, he couldn't do anything about it.
Again, the Drode sensed an essence from behind. More powerful, much more powerful. The Ellimist.
It is time to go, the Ellimist said, the soft warmth and light emanating from his being failing to reassure the Drode. The Drode tried to sneer but found that without the capacity of a body, it accomplished to nothing. Instead he resided to giving off an abundance of black and hateful energy, a dark aura to repel the good of the Ellimist.
You have no right to my memories Ellimist! the Drode yelled angrily, sending a spark of cold power towards the Ellimist, which dissipated in the light which surrounded him.
Crayak has agreed with me, your master, and therefore I have all the right I need. Tell me Drode, what rights does a being such as yourself have anyway? the Ellimist asked sweetly, a tone of humor evident. The Drode growled mentally, the Ellimist may have had no right invading his mind, but his master, Crayak, owned him. There was nothing he could do about it.
You, Ellimist, are more devious than you might think despite everything you stand for, the Drode growled, trying in vain to keep his breaking composure. I have no idea what you are doing this for. And frankly, I don't care all that much. But I'm going to take advantage of this little game of yours to regain Lord Crayak's favor... even with this sick handicap, the Drode said in a quiet and very dangerous voice. The dark power emanating from his spirit pulsing with cold hate.
I wouldn't have it any other way Drode, the Ellimist laughed as the Drode was on the verge of pure unadulterated rage. Suddenly he sensed a gesture of power as the Ellimist's energy suddenly expanded over the Drode's blackness, completely enveloping his essence. The Drode instinctively tried to expand his own power, but was overpowered almost instantly. The Drode panicked.
Darkness.
And then...
Murky thoughts stirred inside the Drode's mind, though nothing so strong as words. It was a lack of alertness the Drode had never experienced in millennia. Even in his sleep he never truly shut down his mind, going through whatever algorithms, plans of destruction, or suspicions he had no time to deal with during the day. He was constantly alert, keeping one eye and an ear open for whoever might dare to disturb him during his brief resting periods, ready to spring to action if need be. Even his high ranking with Crayak did not protect him from the jealousies of Crayak's other minions.
The type of unconsciousness he was now experiencing left no room for thoughts, no room for emotions, no room for the world. His body was paralyzed below the neck, immovable, relaxed, and vulnerable to whatever attack might come. It was peace to some, suicide to others.
Air. Warmth. Breeze. The Drode felt warm, a light breeze swept across his face. It felt good, being warm. There was nothing but warmth all around. He wanted nothing more to stay like that forever. Warm everywhere, except across his face where a soft and cool wind played... A breeze...
A breeze?
Slowly, the Drode's thoughts began to clear at the thought and feel of the breeze, and as he woke up he became more and more alarmed. A breeze? The Drode's skin was thin but with his power he kept himself safe from weather conditions at all time. He could not feel cold, he could not feel warm, and he could not feel wind.
The Drode became more and more aware, little by little, about how weak he felt, how weak! He couldn't move! He couldn't hear, he couldn't see! And he felt so damn weak! Someone could attack him, he was helpless. Even with all his power and Crayak's trust he couldn't avoid enemies among Crayak's non-Howler underlings. When he was fully awake he was much too strong to contend with but when he was asleep- What was wrong with him?! Where was his power?! Had he been attacked?! Where was HE?!
He was... on Earth.
He remembered what had happened. His imminent death, the rescue by that despised Ellimist, and the game...
The Drode opened his eyes, it was dark, pitch black. That was wrong, his eyes were usually nocturnally adjusted, the dark was as bright as day to him. He was human. A weak human who couldn't see a damn thing.
The Drode involuntarily groaned as he forced himself to move, it was hard, he felt like he had absolutely no energy at all. The Drode noticed and forced himself not to panic when he realized he was wrapped tightly in some bulk of cloth. He wriggled and flipped himself onto his belly, noticing as he did so that his legs and body were positioned differently and not very reassuringly. Suddenly, he fell, a short distance only, but enough to cause some surprise on impact. The bondage came loose and he quickly pulled it off.
The Drode panted, feeling some strength slowly starting to flow into his muscles as he worked them. He was more alert now as he slowly rolled up into a sitting position and rested. The world was still dark, his human eyes only able to adjust enough to read vague outlines between various objects and where a possible window might be. He shivered in the darkness, it was nerve-wracking for him though he managed to keep himself under control. An enemy could be right next to him and he wouldn't know it until it was too late... and then he would be unable to defend himself in this weak human body the Ellimist had forced him into. He would die...
The Drode shook his head, trying to clear those nasty thoughts from his head. He would not die. He would not allow it, even in this weak human body. The Drode blinked and looked around the room. A human room. Since this was a human room, and humans' needed light to see... uh, they had switches for these sort of things. I'm not going to let that know-it-all the Ellimist beat me... they need lights... light switches! And they're usually near the doorway I believe, the Drode thought as he looked around himself into the shadows-looking for the door he knew humans desperately needed to have. He spotted an out-lined area on what he believed was a wall and tried to stand up, but thought better of it as his legs began to wobble. Idiotic humans, it's a wonder they got anywhere in these legs of theirs'... He crawled tentatively towards the door, trying to ignore how embarrassing crawling really was for him, he had done enough groveling in front of Crayak already.
Once the Drode reached the wall, he slowly crawled a hand up over it, feeling the door's edges and the knob, he felt the sides and quickly came upon the wall. Tentatively he felt the wall until he came to what he was sure was the light switch. He flicked the tiny knob upwards and cried out in surprise as the bright lights on the ceiling came on with a sudden flicker. He growled as he pressed his eyes together tightly, daring to blink in order to become used to the light. "Damn all humans," he muttered angrily as he finally became used to the light.
The Drode scanned the room suspiciously. Human eyesight differed slightly from his usual vision, in trade for his better eyesight, humans saw in brighter and more vivid colors. Not that the Drode saw that as a fair trade off. More of a distraction than anything, the Drode thought bitterly.
The room was large with white-painted walls and a large window in the wall opposite of himself and the door. The Drode recognized the platform he had awoken on, it was a bed. What humans laid themselves down on to rest. It was a totally defenseless platform and the Drode again wondered how humans had managed to survive this long. He looked and picked out several other objects in the room. A soft, fabric-covered chair, a wooden desk, a dresser, an awful painting of a gaudy seascape on the wall. The room was devoid of personality, worse, it was arranged to be welcoming and devoid of personality.
"Cute," the Drode sneered, the remark meant for the Ellimist though he was nowhere in sight. The Drode blinked as he heard his own voice. It was not his. Specifically, it was not his normal voice. The harsh, sarcastic voice he usually commanded had softened, and grown deeper. Normally the Drode could drip sarcasm from every single word he said with hardly a thought, but he found that in that one spoken word, there had been hardly a trace. The Drode felt cold as he looked down at his hands. Five-digits. Claws of weak, easily-torn cuticle, skin totall smooth and an unbearably pale-tan color. The Drode opened his mouth to say something terribly obscene, but nothing came out. The Drode could only look quickly for a mirror, locating one above the dresser. The Drode pressed his unfamiliar lips together and struggled to stand up on the oddly-placed legs. There would be no more crawling, the Drode told himself. No matter how wobbly his, no this body's, ridiculous legs might be.
The Drode reached up and grabbed the handle of the white door and struggled to pull himself up. One plus of this body was that the arms were very strong, able to lift the human body's weight. Hardly needed with the power of Crayak, the Drode reminded himself. With near-omnipotency it mattered not what the Drode lifted with his normal skinny, multi-jointed arms, anything felt as light as a feather. One of the many powers I no longer possess, the Drode thought angrily. The Drode lifted himself up onto his two strong, straight, and human legs, wobbling, but standing. He looked at the mirror at the other side of the room, and carefully stepped forward with his right foot, keeping a tight hold on the doorknob. When that held no ill consequence, he took another step and let go of the doorknob.
"Not so hard," the Drode muttered in that strange voice. He took a larger step, but while his foot was in the air, his other leg started to wobble uncontrollably. He quickly brought the other foot down and balanced himself. He tried again, taking a smaller and quicker step, lifting his foot up in the air and quickly bringing it back down again. His other leg began to wobble, but his other foot was down to balance himself before he collapsed. He growled, recalling vaguely that the Animorphs-whoever they were-had at least one andalite with them. He knew logically, to blend in the andalite probably took on the human-form once in awhile, he wondered if it, or they, or whatever, had this problem. Of course, the Drode thought to himself. And what one primitive andalite can do, I can do as well. The Drode made his way, with starts and stops, to the dresser with the mirror, feeling some satisfaction in that accomplishment.
Whatever satisfaction he had was wiped instantly the moment he looked into the mirror.
He was human.
He had already known he was human, but it was an entirely different thing to look in a mirror and actually see it. He stared with his mouth wide-open, his eyes wide with surprise. "By the suns above," he swore. So utterly shocked he was reduced to using an ancient phrase he had not uttered since before he could remember.
His face was the same color as his hands, covered with the same conventional human features. Two large deep-blue eyes, a large nose, and a horizontal mouth below. The Drode lifted up a lip with a single finger and studied with disgust at the white, blunted teeth of a human. They would be of no use if the Drode was in a fight, in the Drode's normal body, if he had no other defenses, not even Crayak's mighty power behind him, the least he could do was bite out his enemy's throat with his long, sharp, silver-colored teeth. The only thing better about the human's mouth was the jaw, which was much wider and stronger, capable of more powerful bites.
He was horrified to find that his ears had become the stunted, blunt and round things of a human. Not only was he not capable of hearing as much as he could in his usual body, but he had always taken a certain pride in the long, straight standing ears-though he would admit that pride to nobody but himself. His beautiful ears... reduced to these things.
And finally, as if to crest the humiliation, the Drode ran a trembling hand through the thick, chestnut-colored hair topping his head. Bangs fell across his eyes and he brushed them away in horror. He realized for a human, having hair was only natural, being bald was actually unnatural, but for him...
He was a monstrosity.
A tall monstrosity, he reminded himself. Something inside himself took pleasure in the fact that he was now, compared to his normal height, a giant. Most of his conscious mind however, was still horrified at what the Ellimist had forced upon him. He looked down, noticing he was fully dressed, despite being in the bed only a moment before. Yes, let's praise and thank the Ellimist for lending me a set of clothes. Hardly, the Drode snorted. Simple dress, a pair of blue jeans, a black T-shirt saying something the Drode didn't bother to translate, black sneakers... at least he picked my favorite color, the Drode thought sarcastically.
And as if being human wasn't enough... he made me an adolescent, 17 I believe. Wonderful. I'm a teenager. The Drode groaned audibly. And then growled. "Ellimist! You might find this funny now, but when the Animorphs are captured by the yeerks thanks to me, and Crayak has claimed the Earth as his own, I will be the one laughing at you! Do you here me Ellimist??" the Drode yelled angrily. He paused, but received no reply of any kind. "Damn you Ellimist," the Drode muttered. He folded his hands across the desk and slumped down, his head fitting perfectly in the space created by his elbows.
And so ends the first chapter. The Drode is human. A teenage human at that. He doesn't know who the Animorph are. Or even who any of the hosts are. He's a pawn in the worst sense, only he can decide where to move. You have read, and now you may review.
Thank you, thank you and goodnight.