Chapter 4
((Are we confirming Yeerks?)) Cassie questioned.
Jake replied, ((Right now, yes. Assume Yeerks.))
((Jeanne,)) I called, passing on the message. ((Assume Yeerks.))
She passed the message onto Marco and Santorelli, who were out of my range. Now, Jake was on edge and eager to make sure that nobody became isolated.
((Start heading to the meeting point. No divergences,)) he ordered. ((Once we're at the tower, we'll stick together before heading back. We don't want any problems here.))
I was surprised how quickly he'd come into thought-speak range since we'd located the Bug Fighter. I had started to move away again, acting as just another Mak going about my daily business. The tower was my next destination, but I continued to look for clues.
I spotted more and more Taxxons as I moved on and reported on them every time, detailing their activities. Most of them were engaging in manual work, which involved shifting sand or rock. Others lazed about or sifted through piles of garbage. They certainly didn't appear to be engaged in warfare activity, nor did I see any other signs of Yeerks, other than the downed Bug Fighter. The Mak were not bothered by the Taxxon presence at all.
I couldn't avoid them. Any attempt to do so would seem out of place, so when I escaped a small crowd and bumped into the squishy side of one of the gargantuan centipedes, I had no choice but to calmly step aside and allow its passage like a good, friendly citizen.
I got out of the clearing and into an area with yet more blue buildings that hugged the ground tightly, closing me in. Suddenly, a report came through from Jake, whose voice was growing distant again. ((Marco and Sarge have found someone new. Keep a lookout for guys in white overalls. Apparently, they look like radiation suits.))
((Are they Mak?)) Cassie asked.
((No. Different body shape,)) Jake clarified.
We passed the message down the line, and now we were all on alert for the strange new creatures in white radiation suits.
Another report came through. The new creatures were all armed and on guard, and things were beginning to seem a little more dangerous.
I didn't increase my speed, didn't allow myself to appear on-edge or anxious. I kept my body forward, taking a steady stride onwards to the next area. It took me through a narrow street, doorways made of loose fabric on either side. Mak jogged up and down around me, taking absolutely no notice. That is until a Mak child actively approached me.
It gazed up at me with yellow eyes and a toothy grin. I thought it was a grin. In its hands was a thick, rough-edged piece of black material. The Mak child seemed very pleased with the black fabric and hoisted it up at me, urging me to appreciate it.
With Mak hands, I took the item. It crumpled beneath my claws and drooped, so I wrapped my other hand around it. I flipped it over to discover some kind of artwork scribbled on the reverse side. The lines were white and drawn with evident artistic skill.
The drawing was of a Mak. Lowering the picture, I brought the child back into view and concluded that it was he who had been drawn. He widened his mouth into what I could only imagine was a smile of excitement.
I wished that I could speak with him, but the language barrier restricted me to vague facial expressions, which I allowed my morph to perform instinctively. I could not display my true feelings.
The child took back the image and ran off past me. I watched him right up until he disappeared around the corner from where I had arrived. I had to carry on, and I did.
Eventually, I found the exit of the narrow alley. The sun shone brightly onto the small clearing. It illuminated a busy section of the city within a slight, shallow dip under the watchful gaze of the great spire tower that had crept slowly closer.
And then I saw one of them. The sunlight bounced off of the white suit brutishly, making the creature stand out like a beacon among the swarm of aliens that span like a whirlpool around. It was at least a foot taller than the average Mak, its limbs longer, and the suit tapered into the shape of a tail much thicker. The white suit covered the entirety of the body, from the head down to the powerful legs. The visor for the eyes was tinted, so I could not see through, but I didn't need such evidence to tell me that it certainly was no Mak.
More noticeably, it held a weapon: a big, metallic gold weapon that resembled an oversized rifle. The new creature's gloved hands curled around the monstrous, gleaming firearm but remained far from the trigger distinguishable on the underside.
((I found one of the suited guys,)) I announced. ((He's standing in an opening. Doesn't look like he's guarding anything specific.))
The Mak, again, seemed unfazed by the presence of the alien. There was another Taxxon crawling around the area, and the suited creature had no adverse reaction. I was intrigued to find out what race the suited alien belonged to, but I knew that I couldn't simply walk up and ask.
I continued into the clearing. To one side, nearby the suited guard, was a Mak sitting before a rock table, watched by a cluster of passers-by. The sitting Mak was busy doing something, the space before him occupied by small containers.
He reached forward into one of the containers and pulled from it a piece of black material. It was the same kind that the Mak child had shown me earlier. It was the artist, and he was about to create another picture.
His hands moved expertly, speedily crafting a black-and-white image for one of the viewers. By the time I had subconsciously walked over, the picture was finished, and the receiving Mak took it cheerfully.
At the edge of the table, nearest to the viewers, was a selection of completed pictures held down with pebbles. Most of them seemed unimportant and trivial, but my eyes snapped to one far on the left.
A hand slapped down hard on the table beside me, sharply interrupting my focus. Another followed, and then another. The Mak around me were slamming hands onto the table, and the artist watched each one carefully. I had no idea what was going on.
Then somebody else squeezed in beside me. I fell into the shadow of the suited creature, its white costume brushing up against my side, its weapon clanking against the rock of the table's surface. Its head turned from side to side, glancing at the pictures just like I had done. The artist continued to acknowledge the others' table-slaps, but it wasn't until the glove of the suit came down that he reached back into the container to bring out another canvas.
"Rik gyurap," the artist spoke casually to the suited creature.
"Fru tridrin! Akha durnet ra," the suit replied with a muffled but smoother voice.
The artist began his next piece. Meanwhile, I stood firm in my position beside the suit that loomed over me like a ghost. I had to keep calm, composed. To distract myself, I returned my sights to the picture that had previously caught my attention. I moved to grab it, carefully removing the pebbles. Nobody seemed to care.
I saw a Mak, unmistakeable. Beside it, though, an arm intertwined with the Mak's, was another creature. It was taller, more slender in its build, and from its back sprouted a bush of wavy vine-like growths. It was a little like a hedgehog in that regard, as the vines grew from the back of the head and all the way down to the legs and tail. It had a face like a cat, with pointed ears and large horizontally-slit-pupil eyes. The pair of them together appeared victorious in their stances.
There was something below them, small but with explicit detail. It was a Yeerk. It was upside-down and seemed lifeless.
I studied that image carefully, almost forgetting that the suit beside me awaited a picture of his own. On remembering that, I placed the Yeerk picture back in its rightful place, just as the artist finished his drawing. He turned and showed it to the suit, who barked out in a contented voice.
It was the Mak and the vined race again, side-by-side. Before them, an Andalite lay dead, the upper body entirely separated from the lower. The crowd around us started to slam the table once more.
