Elfangor woke up suddenly, but the nightmare that had chased him from sleep refused to follow. He was glad for that small favor, since he didn't have time to waste thinking about dreams. He could see light shining in through the torn off cargo bay doors. Elfangor followed it to the exterior of the craft.
As he had guessed, the sun was now shining on this part of the planet. And, Elfangor also found that he had guessed correctly about another aspect of his unintended journey. The ship had crashed in a deep valley, Elfangor could now clearly see the high, clifflike sides.
Exploring further, Elfangor saw the one thing that he would have been happy to remain in ignorance of. There were small, sharp tracks all over the reddish dust where he had lain. At first Elfangor tried to convince himself that they were made last night, while he had been safe inside the Skrit Na craft. But the tracks were older than his, as evidenced by the fact that his own set of wandering tracks were made over those of the Taxxons.
The Skrit had also been taken; Elfangor could see its distinctive, wandering tracks behind and over those of the Taxxons. Elfangor saw that there had been five Taxxons, and wondered again why he was still standing there by the Skrit Na ship. Wondered why he was even alive at all.
Judging by the drag marks, it was obvious that the two Skrit cocoons had been taken by the Taxxons. Elfangor didn't much care about the Skrit, but he knew that he had to find Arbron. Looking back at the ship, Elfangor wondered again why Taxxon-Controllers would have ignored a live Andalite. And, why they would have ignored the Time Matrix as well.
Then Elfangor remembered Sub-Visser Seven's reference to Mountain Taxxons, Taxxons who refused to accept the Yeerks' domination of their planet. Rebel Taxxons. There might still be hope then; at least rebel Taxxons wouldn't be interested in him or the Time Matrix.
Okay. So Taxxons came. They took Arbron, and the Skrit. And probably the two cocooned Skrit.
Elfangor stared at the spot where he had lain unconscious for he didn't know how long, the Taxxons had to have seen him, and failing that they would have most certainly smelled him. So why was he still alive? It hit him then, with the force of a falling meteorite, Arbron. Arbron was wounded, wounded and a captive of the Taxxons! It was as good as a death sentence!
Elfangor stumbled backwards, his legs giving out underneath him. He had let the Taxxons take Arbron! Taxxons were Taxxons, whether they were Controllers or not, and Arbron had been wounded. Their hunger would assure that Arbron would never recover.
No, Elfangor said weakly, shaking with the realization of how deeply he had failed his friend. What am I supposed to do now?
One thing Elfangor was sure of; nothing would happen if Elfangor did not get back to his feet and do something. The question now was, what should he do? Should he try and follow the Taxxon tracks, hoping to find Arbron? No, Elfangor knew he had to think logically. Arbron and the three Skrit would most likely be dead by now, doomed by the voracious appetites that all Taxxons possessed.
Alloran was the War-Prince, so it would be most logical to seek him out, if only to ask for new orders or fill him in on the situation. But therein lay a problem: the Taxxon world's spaceport was hundreds of miles away, and by now was more than likely swarming with security. And the Taxxon world was mostly desert, hot desert at that.
It was at that moment that one of the pictures Elfangor had seen in the magazine popped back into his head. It was one of two humans sitting in a red machine that bore a striking resemblance to the yellow machine in the cargo hold. The humans were sitting inside the machine together.
Elfangor went back inside the ship, back to the cargo hold where he had found the Time Matrix. He looked at the yellow machine, the "Mustang", and wondered what the name meant. He supposed that it didn't really matter, but it might have been interesting to consider if he wasn't so pressed for time.
Elfangor set about enlarging the hole in the cargo hold, using the Skrit Na's Dracon beams to burn through the hull. Next, the removed the seats and the canvas top, then, with a bit of searching, Elfangor found what he thought to be the main control computer. It was small, with a pair of black knobs on either side.
Elfangor tried twisting one of the knobs, but all it was currently doing was giving off static sounds. Elfangor took a closer look at the computer, then he noticed the tape drive. This was a type of technology that he'd only seen in museums.
He pushed the tape into the computer, and all at once the most annoying screaming sounds began to come out of the computer.
"Can't get no… satisfaction!"
Elfangor quickly shut off the tape drive, wondering about the mentality of a race that would use a computer to play screaming sounds. Looking over the array of buttons and knobs in front of him, touching the notched brass shape that was lying on a flat surface above the control array.
Elfangor saw a small slot in a chrome ring on the right side of the wheel; it was about the same size as the narrow part of the brass insert. Elfangor decided to try putting the insert in the slot, it fit, and Elfangor wondered what he should do next.
After a few minutes of contemplation, Elfangor turned the brass insert in the slot. This action elicited a rather unexpected response. There came a loud, horse roar from somewhere within the body of the vehicle. Elfangor was surprised, to say the least. The humans were still using chemical engines?
It was thousands of years behind the systems that Andalites and any other truly civilized race in the galaxy were using. But, as Elfangor pressed down on the accelerator with his forehoof, the engine roared louder. Elfangor found that while it was primitive, he strangely enjoyed it.
Once he was moving, Elfangor really started to enjoy his new ride. He had nothing to compare to how driving this Mustang felt, except for maybe running, and even he couldn't go this fast for as long as he intended to in this machine. He knew he needed to find Alloran, or at least avoid the Yeerks' security patrols, but somehow all of that seemed not to matter as much as going as fast as this machine could.
Elfangor knew that Arbron was probably dead, and he did miss the company of the other Andalite. He had the human music, that was what it had seemed to be to him at least, turned down to a level that he could handle. He had also taken the time to collect an assortment of glass bottles than contained fluids of some sort.
He had broken two of the bottles before he had figured out how to open them. Elfangor was now sipping Dr. Pepper out of a shallow pan that he had set up for himself. It was an odd black-brown color, and it bubbled all the way up his leg.
It was not an uncomfortable sensation, in fact it was rather pleasant, and he could imagine Loren sitting beside him as he guided the Mustang through the desert. Wind in his face, Dr. Pepper bubbling its way up his leg. It was a pleasant thought.