Chapter 6

            Mentally, this was like trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle in the dark.  A decoy?  Why?  What did it mean?  Then suddenly, two of the pieces fit together.

            "Bobby, can you try to see if there were any other breeches in the area say…in the past month?"  I heard his keyboard clicking rapidly in the background.

            "Sure.   Not a problem, just gimme a sec here…no, nothing here.  Although, there was one suspicious entry.  Two weeks ago, bout 15 miles off the coast over the Pacific Ocean.  They didn't investigate though because they picked up the same energy signature leaving just minutes later.  Labeled it under the heading 'lost freighter'.

            "Okay, now just stay with me here.  Isn't it possible to fake an energy signature?  I mean, they just pick up the ion debris and follow the trail right?"

            "Well, yeah, if you launched a pod or missile or probe that was similar in size to the ship."

            "Okay, say they did that and this ship remained inside the atmosphere.  As long as they were cloaked and not moving, radar wouldn't pick them up, right."

            "Right…where are you going with this?" he questioned me in that 'talking to crazy friend' kinda voice.

            "Just listen.  So you're a ship, trying to sneak into the atmosphere.  You drop of your crew, pick an out of the way spot, park in mid-air, launch a little probe to throw 'em off the trail, and chill for two weeks.  The decoy was launched so that the ship had less of a chance of being spotted as they picked up the ground crews and headed to a location here on the planet.  That's feasible, isn't in?" I asked desperately.

            "Well ye-," but I cut him off.

            "Then I have one more task for you.  I need you to try to find a possible site in the area.  Something tells me they're nearby.  Alright?  Thanks a bunch."  I hung up without waiting for a response.  He'd find something, he had to.  Still, I found that I could breath a little easier knowing that they were still on the planet.  I looked up with a start.  I'd almost forgotten Mr. King was there.  I smiled sheepishly.

            "Sorry, but it was pretty big news…"

            "I know.  My hearing is pretty good," he retorted, grinning like no 60 year old should.

            "I'll forgive you for eavesdropping later," I said, maybe harsher than I'd intended to.  "So know we know 'where', but I still haven't figured out 'why'," I continued, more to myself than to anyone.  Still thinking I stuck my phone back into my bag, but on the way out, my hand brushed against something.  I grabbed and wrenched it out.

            "What is this thing," I said, handing the object to Mr. King.  "It isn't mine, that's for sure."  It was black and resembled an outdated Palm Pilot.  It was about the size of my hand, rectangular in shape and had a screen that took up most of its front.  Underneath it there was a row or six buttons, but instead of numbers, there were symbols that I'd never seen before.  Mr. King turned it over in his hands.

            "It's a Z-Space transponder of some kind.  Newer model.  Hard to get on Earth though.  Only world leaders and military personnel have them."

            "A Z-Space whatsit?" I questioned, utterly confused.

            "Think intergalactic cell phone," he explained.  "You dial these buttons with the serial codes of the ship and then communicate normally.  There's speaker on the side here," he said pointing. 

            "The symbol's are Basic?" I asked, referring to the universal language most races spoke either primarily or secondarily.

            "Yes.  The ship codes can be from 4 to 20 symbols long and each ship has one," he said.  "But I think the main question is not how it works, but how you got it in the first place."

            "I have no idea.  All I packed was some cash, my phone, some clothes from Bridget, and my father's bo…oh."  I had almost forgotten about my father's box.  Unconsciously, I added another piece to the jigsaw puzzle.  I decided it was finally time to see what my dad was hiding. 

            "I was told to take this with me," I explained to Mr. King.  "It was the last thing my father told me before…well, you know.  The transponder must have fallen out of the box."  Quickly, I drew out the box.  One corner had popped open.  Slowly I drew up the lid.  There was only one thing inside: a lumpy, wad of cloth.  It was an old towel, I think.  I peeled back the layers, finally exposing the object hidden inside.

            "Well," I said, "this changes everything." I muttered sarcastically.  Sitting in my hand, wrapped in a moth-eaten rag, was one of the most coveted devices in the entire universe.

            "It's an escafil device," Mr. King whispered

            "It's the blue box," I murmured.  We were both right.

            It was Elfangor's Blue Box.

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            Suddenly, there way too many puzzle pieces.  All the information I had gathered was circling around in my head.  But I felt like I was overlooking something.  What?!  What was I missing?  Then it hit me.

            "The other motive!"  I cried triumphantly.  That's it.

            "What?  What do you mean?" demanded Mr. King.

            "The Yeerks.  When my friends and I were talking earlier, I said that the Yeerks always had another motive.  That they weren't strong enough to just come back for revenge.  But there was no other reason for them to come back.  Until now," I said, waving the half-wrapped object triumphantly under his nose.  "They're after this!  Ha Ha, that's it!"  I got up and spun around in place. 

            "There's just one problem," Mr. King said, interrupting my euphoria.

            "What?  No, no there isn't"

            "Yes, why do they want it in the first place?"  Well, that about killed my good mood in one fell swoop.

            "Gee, just spoil my first bit of happy news in like two days, why dontcha," I responded.

            "Sorry, but we must be realistic here," he said seriously, but his eyes held sympathy.  "But until your friend finds any information, we are stuck.  So I'd suggest that we go upstairs and get something to eat," he suggested, then he smiled.  "Don't worry, I was Wolfgang Puck's teacher in culinary school."

            Halfway through the best grilled cheese I've ever tasted, I had an idea.

            "How hard is it to operate one of those transponder thingies?" I asked Mr. King, who was loading his dishwasher.

            "Not to hard, so long as you have the correct codes.  Why do you ask?" he wondered, eyeing me dangerously.

            "Well, we need to know why the Yeerks would go to the trouble to steal the box.  The Andalites are heading the eradication of the Yeerks.  Do you know anyone in the Andalite fleet?" I wondered.

            "Yeeeessss.  Prince Aximi…oh.  No.  He is one of the foremost leaders in the Andalite army.  You'll never be able to get a hold of him.  He'll be surrounded by assistants, you'll never get through to him."

            "Not even if it's an emergency call from his grand-niece?" I asked mischievously.

            "His grand-oh!," he raised his eyebrow in my direction, then surprisingly, he laughed.  "That just might work.  And he'll probably have some helpful info and advice.  One of our people is an Air-Force control tower employee.  He's lives across the country, but he'll probably know."

            "What, you telepathic now, too?" I demanded sarcastically.

            "No, Chee-Net…I'll explain it later."   Man, it was amazing how quickly the strange becomes normal.  I just sat there, munching on my sandwich while the ancient robot across the room used his telepathic Internet to contact another robot for the phone number of a spaceship.  Jeez, life had gotten weird in the last 36 hours.

            "Got it!" Mr. King cried triumphantly.  He wrote down a series of symbols on a napkin and pushed it across to me.  "There!  That should help us get some answers."  I have to admit, my stomach soured a little at the thought.  I mean, my Grandfather and my Great-Uncle were both aliens.  But family is family…hey, if I could spend holidays with my Aunt Jordan…well, enough said.  I was getting ready to go downstairs and grab the transponder thingie, when a much more normal phone rang.  I fumbled with it, finally answering and getting it up to my ear.

"Tell me it's good news," I demanded.

            "Hello to you too," Bobby complained.

            "Sorry…so, what did you find?" I questioned eagerly.

            "Only one facility in the area that's a possibility.  Abandon military base 'bout 300 miles south of where you are."

            "What kind of base?"  Better to be prepared.

            "That's the thing, I can't find out.  It's labeled as Classified, and all of those records would be stored as paper work."

            "So, nothing?"

            "No, I did get a layout map.  It has a hangar and runway strip, but it's too small to be Air Force.  Only outside info I could dig up on it is that it was run by the late Captain Torrelli and it's serial number was six, zero, zero, three, ninner, one.  Sorry, I always wanted to say ninner."  Torrelli?  Why did that name sound so familiar?
            "Hey Bobby, I got another question for ya'?" I said, remembering where'd I heard that name.  "You ever heard of the fabled Zone 91?"