Episode Five: Power of Evil

Part Two: Into the Storm

September 29th, 2000, Eleventh Moon of Yeerk Occupied Mining Planet, Clemiac…

DAVID

"Fuck you."

"Shove it, Ripper. Just do it, for the Christs sake," Aleks muttered.

"No. No bloody way. I do everything on this damn ship. Make the dog-bitch do it. She does nothin'!"

"'Cept listen to you cry every freaking night!" Countered Aleks.

"Shit, Ripper, just DO IT ALREADY! That's an order," I sighed, exasperated.

Ripper looked at me begrudgingly, and reluctantly nodded. He would do it.

"Right hand, green," Read Skorre.

Ripper bent backwards over LaRouche and Sara, making an awkward shape with his body.

I hate Twister.

"This is gay," announced Aleks, "We can either watch a sandwich of Ripper, LaRouche and Sara, watch 'The Shawshank Redemption' for the millionth time, or eat excess amounts of ground beef. This sucks balls."

Ripper collapsed onto the others. The game was over.

"Game sucked anyways," Said LaRouche, standing up, "I'm going to check out more of the Disc's code, see if I can crack it."

"Jesus, man, you've been working on that for months! Still haven't gotten into it?" I asked.

"Nope. See, when Ripper and Sara downloaded it off of the Yeerk computer, they could have easily bypassed all the vigourous security. But, for some reason, it passed their minds."

"I told you once, I told you a thousand times: We had Bugs chasing us! Fucking Hell, LaRouche!" Ripper growled lowly.

LaRouche went off to look at his Disc. One of these days he would crack it, and on that day, I'd buy him a Keskit-Steak.

We had been laying low after we left the Noldor system. We took everything we wanted from the Sehkmet and dumped it in an asteroid belt near Taloraan.

The Empire was in total chaos. Taxxis was almost a total wasteland, 70% uninhabitable, with 59% casualties from our attack. Roughly ninety million Yeerks. Relief in the form of Kandronas, hosts and food was coming everyday to Taxxis, whatever wasn't needed for the war, which had turned against the Yeerks badly.

They were stuck on Mirichir, the seventh planet of the Andalite system. The Andalites had recalled nearly all their fleets to be a defence.

And speaking of the Andalites, we had received some very interesting messages addressed to us lately:

"You are war criminals guilty of violent and genocidal atrocities. Surrender to the Andalite Federation and you will be given a fair military trial."

Just who did they think they were? Fucking Nuremburg?

So anyways, we were laying low on the outer-Empire planet of Clemiac's eleventh moon. Pretty out of the ways, really. Roughly seven hundred Yeerks on the planet, four hundred more around it or on its inner moons. Nothing to worry about, plus, who would dream of finding the Anubis, nicely cloaked near the Empire Tiberium mines?

No one.

"Cracked it."

"What?"

"I cracked the code. I was almost done the last time, but you made me re-organize the armoury."

"Shredders needed cleaning," Piped in Skorre.

"Whatever, dude…" LaRouche trailed off, looking into his computer terminal.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Our next big case, if I wager correctly."

NAHARA…The Naharan Homeworld

Efflit 1318, the newly appointed Visser Eleven, stood by the principal docking platform on the dusty, canyon littered Naharan planet.

Long ago the Naharans had crawled like spiders up and down the perilous canyons (that had, in turn, been great rivers and lakes) breaking the rocks that they used to regenerate their body fiber.

Then, with their new Hork-Bajir hosts, the Yeerks had come. Within eighteen months, the planet was overrun.

It was close to Bajir, close enough to be well defended by the Andalites, and close enough to re-enforcements to prevent those damned Antimorphs from making yet another appearance.

Taxxis had been a major catastrophe, one never such seen in the entire history of the civilized galaxy. Never had such a terrible and demonic fire been brought down onto an unsuspecting planet.

"Not yet, anyway…" Efflit muttered.

Indeed, high above the planet, the Emperors long awaited project, known only in code as "The Eye", was under construction in the Erialis shipyards,  but, if the information provided to him was correct, it would be a weapon of terrible power.

Apparently, the Emperor had stolen the blueprints for the weapon from an ancient, Galaxy wide Empire whose furthest border was billions of miles from the depths of the furthest Yeerk or Andalite probing. According to the word of Sauron 001, it had been desposed by a petty rebellion after building two of the weapons, long ago.

Efflit 1318 was, indeed, in charge of constuction, but the content of what he was building was known to only a few in the highest circles.

Efflit frowned. If this ancient Empire had two of these "Eyes", then how could a rag tag rebellion overcome it?

"Such tales are commonly spun out of control," Efflit mused.

Efflit looked to the sky.

The Bug Fighter was falling, descending onto the landing platform.

Efflit turned warily to one of his Hork-Bajir bodyguards, "Inform the…security detail…that Lord Eussh's shuttle has arrived."

The Bug Fighter touched down, and, after the lowering of the gang plank, two especially burly Hork-Bajir stepped out.

Then a third.

Then, a tall, handsome and sharp looking Hispanic human, Eussh 013, human name Rico Muerte, came stepping onto the ground.

"Lord Eussh, this is an unexpected pleasure, we are honoured at your presence…"

"Dispence with the pleasantries, Visser. I am here to put you back on schedual."

Efflits hear sank, "The Emperor asks the impossible! We need more men, rations are too low, security…almost too tight, and I have no idea what it is that I'm constructing!"

Eussh walked on, uncaring. "Perhaps you can ask them when they arrive."

"The Emperor?"

"No, but a High Council of the twenty highest ranking Vissers of the Empire, to discuss the invasion of the Andalite System, and possible future aggression against the Kelbrid. You have three weeks, Visser. Do not disappoint us."

Eussh walked off the landing platform flanked by his three bodyguards, leaving Efflit alone with his entourage.

"I'm getting too old for this shit," he muttered.

Unknown to Efflit or any other commanding Yeerk, on the other side of the planet a hole in time and space brought the Lord of Doom to the Yeerk Empire.

A patrol of ten Hork-Bajir warriors was called in to investigate a massive energy flux around the area of the Shrikes arrival.

"Hey, you! Identify yourself!"

The Shrike stood silent on the dusty plane of Nahara.

The Hork-Bajir captain walked dead up to it, his nine troopers keeping their Dracon rifles trained eagerly on this new entity.

"I am Under Visser 9182, Asal 1299 of the Cren-Jirla pool on Pentasera. I order you to identify yourself, immediately, and without question!"

The shrike, devoid of anything a mortal would call a mouth, spoke in an icy hush.

~Are you a God?~

"Uh…no," The Hork-Bajir stammered, confused.

~Then…DIE!~

The Shrike raised its arm, becoming a glimmering dark spike, that it jabbed into the Hork-Bajirs chest, impaling its heart.

Green blood flowed.

The remaining controllers fired their weapons, crimson Dracon beams flying toward it.

With a thought, the Shrike stopped time for all but itself, and, with super mortal speed, eliminated the Yeerk squad.

~I have killed ten of their warriors. It is too easy killing these 'Yeerks' as they know themselves. I long for a good Archron to duel, once more!~ It thought.

At least those Nazi's, 50 years past, had had the sense to run away.

The Beast would come to this world soon.

Very soon.

All the Shrike had to do was wait. And It would.