So, how are you enjoying the war, aristh Elfangor? The Hork-Bajir asked, using Andalite thought-speak.
War-Prince Alloran?! Elfangor was so surprised, he almost ignored the Hork-Bajir who were attacking him. Elfangor managed to regain his composure somewhat, at least enough of it to keep himself alive. Elfangor kept his right stalk eye trained on Alloran.
That was how Elfangor saw Alloran trap the Sub-Visser with a wrist blade against his throat.
Don't move, Sub-Visser. Don't even breathe. Call off your soldiers. Do it now, or I'll laugh as your head goes rolling across the ground.
"Hold! Back away!"
As the Hork-Bajir-Controllers backed up, leaving Elfangor, Arbron, and the two humans alone on the boarding ramp, Elfangor took the first deep breath he had taken since the battle had started. Loren ran up and pressed her hands against the still bleeding gash in Elfangor's chest, the second large wound that he had received in the battle. The pressure slowed the loss of blood, at least somewhat.
"You're still alive!" Loren said happily, not removing her hands from Elfangor's chest wound. "I was so worried."
Elfangor smiled with his eyes, touching Loren's left arm with his right hand. He was glad that she was safe, since he had been worried after seeing her be captured by the Yeerks.
Now, here's what we're going to do, Yeerk Alloran continued, ignoring the intimate moment that Elfangor and Loren were sharing. As far as he was concerned, it was none of his business. The two humans, my friends, and I are going to go back aboard the Jahar. You, Sub-Visser, are going to come with us. Once we get off the cradle, we'll toss you back out. How does that sound to you?
"Do I really have a choice in the matter?"
There is always a choice, Yeerk. I can cut you right out of that Hork-Bajir host and feed you to my friend the Taxxon. That's one of your options. Or else you can order your troops back down the ramp. All the way down.
"Whatever happened to the Andalites' reputation for decency and kindness?" Sub-Visser Seven mocked.
What happened? We left that image in the ashes of the Hork-Bajir homeworld.
"You were there?"
I was there. My name is Alloran-Semitur-Corrass. War-Prince Alloran.
This finally shut the Sub-Visser up; in fact, it was the first time that Elfangor could recall the Sub-Visser actually seeming… afraid. It was certainly a far cry from his usual, arrogant demeanor. As the six of them backed up the ramp, Alloran dragging the Sub-Visser by his neck, Arbron turned and walked back down the ramp.
Come with us, Arbron, Elfangor implored, taking a step toward Arbron, back down the ramp. Look around you. The free Taxxons have lost; the Living Hive will probably be destroyed. There's no place for you here.
Elfangor, there's no place for me anywhere.
You can't stay here. Elfangor was getting desperate now. Who's going to remind me not to be so stiff all the time? Who's going to laugh at me when I start talking about being a great Prince?
You go on, Elfangor, Arbron said sadly. Go save the galaxy.
Leave him, Alloran said, firmly but kindly. Aristh, I mean Warrior Arbron is a casualty of war.
Once they were all aboard the Jahar, Alloran sealed the hatch and they launched the ship. The Yeerks were too preoccupied with the Taxxon attacks to do anything about the Andalite ship, if the even noticed it. At least, that was what Elfangor told himself.
Alloran was starting to demorph from his Hork-Bajir form; he must have seen Elfangor's expression of relief. He turned to Elfangor with a look that could only be described as… smug.
Did you think I had ended up like Arbron? Trapped? A nothlit? No, aristh Elfangor, I am still myself.
I'm very glad about that, sir.
Sub-Visser Seven was standing, silent, in the far corner of the Jahar's main cabin. Loren seemed to be in shock, staring numbly at nowhere in particular. Chapman… Chapman seemed to actually be afraid. As if he expected to be severely punished, or even killed for what he had done. If he was, it was no less than he deserved.
What are your orders, sir?
Orders? Alloran asked, sounding incredulous. Ah, now you want my orders. Now you want me to tell you what to do. When I ordered you to flush those Yeerk pools out into space, you disobeyed me.
What? Alloran was still thinking about that? It had been two days since they had come to this planet aboard the Taxxon transport ship. Elfangor did not want to get into another argument with Alloran, though, and so he stayed silent. Elfangor knew that his refusal to follow Alloran's orders aboard the Taxxon transport ship had undoubtedly cost him what was left of his military career, but somehow Elfangor couldn't make himself care.
The Yeerks in those pools had been helpless, and he had not been - nor would he ever be - in the habit of killing helpless creatures. Even if the were Yeerks. Elfangor could see that Alloran wouldn't understand this line of reasoning, so he stayed silent about that, too.
Sir, the Time Matrix is-
Silence, you young fool! Alloran snapped. We don't have time for that yet. We first have to take care of some business that you would not let me take care of earlier. That transport ship full of Yeerks is still in its cradle. It hasn't even been unloaded yet. What do you think I was doing for the last day and a half? I've been hiding in the shadows, morphing and demorphing. I've been watching that ship.
With all due respect, War-Prince Alloran, is that really the most important thing to do?
Alloran glared at Elfangor with his main eyes, seething with barely suppressed rage. How dare this child question his judgment? What did he know of war?
The most important thing in war is to destroy your enemies, aristh Elfangor! There is nothing more important than that! Do you understand that?
Alloran turned his stalk eyes to regard Sub-Visser, glaring harder at him than he had at Elfangor.
You understand, don't you? All of you Yeerks understand.
"You said you would let me go!" Sub-Visser Seven said, sounding like he was pleading.
And so I will, Alloran said, sounding almost jovial now. Open the hatch, aristh Elfangor, the Sub-Visser is going to find out if that Hork-Bajir body of his can fly!
He is insane! Elfangor thought to himself. But he did as he was ordered, since he did not want to start a fight with Alloran. The Sub-Visser tensed up, preparing to fight if he had to. But then, he glanced over at Chapman, and something - some look - seemed to pass between them. But it was gone as quickly as it had come, and Elfangor wasn't even sure he'd seen it at all.
The Sub-Visser's entire body relaxed, even his eyes half-closed.
Slow to dead stop. What is our altitude?
Fifteen-thousand feet. We are still within the atmosphere. Airspeed is now at dead stop, Elfangor informed him, his silent voice flat and emotionless.
Dead stop, Alloran mused. How appropriate. Open the hatch, aristh Elfangor.
Elfangor hesitated. This was wrong, he knew it was wrong. But what could he, alone, do against Alloran? He opened the hatch.
The warm wind blew in, ruffling Loren's hair and making the golden strands sparkle.
Get out, Yeerk, Alloran hissed.
Elfangor turned away from the hatch, closing his main eyes and focusing his stalk eyes on the instrument panel. Elfangor was not going to watch this.
Close the hatch, Alloran sounded satisfied.
Elfangor felt sick. The Sub-Visser was gone, and when Elfangor checked the exterior display screens, he saw a minute figure tumbling through the clouds. Elfangor looked away.
Now we go back and fry that transport ship, Alloran said briskly. Good to see you've grown up a little aristh Elfangor. Take us in over the southeastern corner of the spaceport. Maintain present altitude. Then we can go and pick up our missing Time Matrix, eh Elfangor? Alloran sounded jovial again, as if this was all just a game to him.