Aximili's Headache – chapter 18
I did not know
And I could not see
Who was waiting there,
Who was hunting me
From Leonard Cohen's "By The Rivers Dark"
Aristh Nerlon's instructions were direct and uncomplicated. His part in the plan, he had been told, was small but crucial. The word 'crucial' struck a very pleasant cord. Seldom did an aristh hear that his existence, or anything he could do or say, was 'crucial'. Seldom was an aristh told he was anything but 'in the way' or 'constantly under hoof'.
His task was to monitor the Captain.
This 'crucial' task was made infinitely harder by the fact that Menderash remained true to his mission in life: pairing up idle youngsters with less-pleasant chores. Even though Nerlon himself knew he was very much busy when he loitered about, hoping to catch no attention but keeping a close ear and eye on the Captain, it clearly made Menderash's stalks itch. By the end of the first five days, Nerlon's fingertips were scrubbed raw from polishing the main shaft's walls with a rag.
This, the aristh thought bitterly, despite the fact that they needed no polishing – he himself had seen Menderash stop to frown at his reflection and rub some stray dirt off his cheek.
But the First Officer of the Intrepid was completely unfamiliar with the term 'good enough'.
Nerlon was, though, equipped with all a youth's endless energy, when something caught his interest. Secretly spying on the great Captain Aximili, at orders from an Apex Level War Prince, definitely caught his fancy. Thus there was no avoiding the fact that when something actually happened at the bridge which involved – in any way at all – the Captain, Nerlon knew about it.
So how could he miss the brilliant opportunity that opened?
He had been expecting the mammoth ship. He had known about it two days prior to anyone else on the Intrepid, and had been waiting most impatiently for it. When it finally appeared, on the screens, he was more excited than nervous and afraid. He dared closer to the bridge than ever before, standing just in the doorway to the main shaft, in full view of any who happened to glance his way.
The ship was beautiful, in a strange, erratic way. Even more beautiful, since Nerlon knew what waited inside it.
War Prince Tansol himself had explained the Apex Level's plan to the young aristh. Only the parts he needed to know, of course, but he had been assured that there was more to it, and he need not worry, and he would be rewarded if he did his part well.
All he needed to do was to report the Captain's decisions and course of action concerning the ship. He needed to listen to the orders given, and as soon as possible head down to the communications booth – he had been given the access codes to the emergency booth during his last contact with Apex Level – and repeat what he had heard, word for word, to the War Prince – Caysath, by name – who he had been told to contact. This War Prince – Nerlon had figured out himself, and was very proud of it – was waiting inside that mammoth ship.
He knew this because of the nature of the call he had been told to make. It was a short-distance call, a direct call, which made it more difficult to track unless specifically searched for. He had been warned that it would not work until the ship was in place. He had been warned that, should he try, he might cause it to be listened for, and ruin everything.
But as he stood there, watching the fascinating ship and listening to the commands being issued, he could feel his eyes slowly growing wider.
He would never have imagined the Captain to play so into Apex Level's waiting hands!
Aximili's plan was simple enough, and he had rehearsed it until he knew it well.
He would himself join the boarding party. He would find some way to separate himself from the warriors, and would sneak back towards the docking craft and the two fighters. The docking craft was an ungainly vessel at best, and he would need to gain access to a fighter, which should prove easy. They were both attached to the docking craft. Getting the pilot out of the fighter would be more difficult, but not impossible – not for the Captain. Once in the fighter, he could leave.
Of course, the pilots of the docking craft and the other fighter would be surprised if he took a fighter, and then began leaving, and would question him… he could fire at one engine on the fighter, before they had time to realise what he was doing, and render it useless. The docking craft would take too long to disengage from the ship and was too slow to pose any threat.
After taking the fighter, he could morph, perhaps to Hork-Bajir, and show them a face they would – with some luck – believe to be Yeerk. They would believe he had been a Yeerk in Andalite morph, in order to explain his behaviour.
Perhaps the Intrepid itself would react and try to follow him, but to what end? A fighter was small and fast. As soon as he vanished into Z-space, he would be safe, gone from the Intrepid's influence.
He would stay hidden for a while, until things calmed down, and then travel to Earth, find Cassie and… he had plenty of time to consider that part later.
The plan was well-known and relatively simple.
The problems were not.
The Captain! He's going personally! He's in the boarding party!
There was a short silence in the other end of the line after the aristh had blurted out his message. War Prince Caysath hid his annoyance at the youth, who let his eagerness overwhelm him, and asked a few curt questions concerning details. How many were coming, when, from where, in what type of transport, with what escort, what was the Intrepid doing at the time, who had been left in charge, and what type of communication did they have with the Captain? To the youngster's credit, he did calm himself and answer the questions well enough. He had clearly been attentive.
You have done well, aristh Nerlon, Caysath praised finally, with barely a change from the drawling voice he commonly used. Be assured that your help shall not go unrewarded. Now return to your duties – to avoid suspicion.
The young aristh agreed at once, eagerly, and Caysath ended the communication. At Prince Sariyon's questioning expression, Caysath said; It is good to encourage the young.
Yes, War Prince.
Even if they are about to die, Caysath added with a flick f his tail.
The Intrepid will be destroyed? Prince Riminar asked.
With the target allocated here instead? Of course. We want no evidence – thus, no survivors.
Riminar did not even blink. It will be arranged, War Prince, he agreed, and started giving out orders. One warrior sped away, to carry the order to the bulk of Caysath's troops, waiting closer to the centre of the large ship.
Caysath lazily stretched his tail and stalks, very pleased with himself, but then raised his tail-blade into attack and let his stalks resume their usual swivelling. Come, he said. Let us go meet our dear Prince Aximili. He should have followed the bait right into our little trap by now, would you not think?
Yes, War Prince, was Sariyon's only reply.
Certainly, War Prince, Riminar agreed.
As Caysath set off at a lazy trot, the remaining thirty warriors behind him followed closely. Sariyon held his place, just by Caysath's right back leg, and Riminar fell in by his left. The troop was the prime example of discipline; Caysath felt a small shiver of pride as he scanned their straight lines of proudly held tails and expressionless faces with his stalks.
After a while, fifteen of the warriors and Prince Riminar turned into a side corridor. The plan was that, while Caysath and Sariyon blocked one end of the trap corridor, Riminar would block the other.
Personally, Caysath was of the opinion that Riminar did too much of his own thinking to be part of what was delicately referred to as the Executive Branch of Apex Level; simply put, he was too damn independent. Usually that would have caused his superior to quickly depose of him: independence was not a sought-for trait in this line of work. But he was smart; always following orders, never asking questions, and for that Caysath trusted him – and knew how to turn Riminar's independence to an advantage.
Therefore Caysath could trust Riminar to do his part and settle back to focus on his own parts of the coming operation.
The warriors of Prince Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill were on full alert. The Prince himself had realised very quickly that something was very wrong when he suddenly lost communication with his ship and crew. He made sure he had not lost anyone in his group, and organized them into a loose formation in order to head back towards where they had left their boarding craft.
Leaving so soon, Prince Aximili? a voice rang out, as an Andalite stepped calmly into view at the end of the corridor. He was followed by several others.
What the… began the more than familiar voice of Issetha, worried, and Aximili silently agreed: this could cause a few last-moment changes in their plan to leave. Or worse: cancellations. What were those Andalites doing there..?
Identify yourself! commanded a young warrior, Tarili, who suddenly stood beside – almost in front of – Aximili, ready to leap between his Prince and the strangers, should they turn hostile.
Why certainly, agreed the newcomer, amused. I am War Prince Caysath of Apex Level. This – he indicated to an Andalite to his right – is Prince Sariyon. Prince Riminar should be joining us shortly.
Tarili watched him intently.
Step back, warrior, Aximili ordered. They are no threat.
But, my Prince –
Step back, Aximili repeated. Or do you consider me unable to fend for myself?
Tarili hurriedly resumed his place in the formation behind Aximili.
Nicely done, approved Issetha.
Yes, Aximili said. I thought so myself.
Although do not discourage him too much, love, the Yeerk continued. Remember yourself at that age? You were always eager to defend your Prince. And Jake probably owes you his life many times over.
I will bear it in mind, Aximili assured her.
And if you forget, I'll remind you, his Yeerk murmured fondly.
Aximili turned his attention back to the outside world just in time to hear Caysath begin speaking; Prince Aximili, I have orders for you; I am relieving you of command. Please turn these warriors over to me.
Aximili blinked in surprise before he could stop himself. His suspicion had been correct; this would definitely interfere with his plan. Or perhaps not. If he could be separated this easily from his own warriors… but then again… why? Pardon me, War Prince?
Caysath did not even twitch. He wore the unnerving expression of a cat that's just caught sight of its prey. Turn your warriors over. Now.
Aximili raised a hand to stifle the protest he knew would come from either Tarili or one of the other hotheads. War Prince, he began slowly, Issetha speaking with his voice. We have just discovered evidence that this craft carries or has carried Yeerks. Surely you understand that your unexpected presence is suspicious, and your request even more so.
Suddenly Caysath switched to private thought-speech. His face was somewhere between expressionless, strict, and predatory – or some strange mix of all three – but his voice was as sharp as a tail-blade. This ship indeed carries Yeerks, Prince Aximili – the name was a sneer – and one more so than it should! Or do you deny that you yourself are a Controller?
Aximili was silent. Any ideas of salvaging his plan to escape had suddenly been swept out from under his hooves – if Caysath knew he was a Controller, there was only one, very obvious reason for him to be there.
He was aware that his warriors were shifting uncertainly behind him; aware that a group of Andalites – probably led by the Prince Riminar Caysath had mentioned – had positioned themselves at the other end of the corridor, trapping them all… for a trap it was.
Despite his feelings – his like – and yes, he admitted, his love – for Issetha, Caysath's remark stung. That word, Controller, was everything he had ever been taught to hate, fear, and fight. Becoming one was the ultimate and final disgrace, and there was a time not long ago when he gladly would have walked through fires, broken every bone in his body, severed his own stalks, hooves, and even tail, and finally taken his own life to avoid it.
Not any more.
Yes, Controllers were the enemy – Yeerks were the enemy – Issetha was a Yeerk. But Issetha was his friend. Issetha was more than his friend – she knew him better than anyone else, understood him, cared for him, loved him, and was always with him.
He was never – and would never be – able to bring himself to lower his ear to the water for her to crawl in, and part of him still recoiled at actually lifting a Yeerk to his ear, but when he was alone he felt incomplete.
Issetha was a part of him. Yeerk she may be, but she was his Yeerk.
And if that made him a Controller, then so be it.
He is, Issetha revealed with Aximili's voice, as always reading his mind, knowing his thoughts and where they would lead; he would find no reason to deny the accusation. I am Issetha 948, of the Kin Dara pool, and I am Aximili's… friend.
Friend, sneered the War Prince privately, while openly he said; Very well, Prince Aximili. It is your choice. But to suspect us of being Controllers is ludicrous.
If I hand over command, Aximili said, also privately, will you keep my warriors out of this?
They are already involved.
They know nothing, and are not infested. I want your word that you do not let them suffer because of me.
They do not know? Caysath laughed, openly, surprising everyone with the sudden look of aggressive amusement that crossed his face. Of course – of course. Such a secret must be closely kept. Warriors, your Prince has been keeping secrets.
Aximili tensed.
Caysath leered balefully at him. He himself holds a Yeerk in his head.
Aximili went from tense to completely frozen. The warriors behind him shifted uncertainly. Those in front of him – Caysath's – did not even move. And then…
Liar! cried Tarili, starting forwards.
Tarili! Hold back! Issetha roared with Aximili's voice.
Tarili hesitated, but at a sharp look from his Prince, fell back to his place. The others were glancing from Aximili to Caysath and back to Aximili, as if they were unable to decide whom to trust. Most seemed to settle, finally, for trusting their Captain. Eyes sharp as only those of insulted Andalites turned with full force towards Caysath.
It is the simple truth, the War Prince went on, his voice almost a purr. Why do you not tell them, Prince Aximili? Tell them about your Yeerk. Tell them about Issetha, the Yeerk you have carried since Earth! Tell them how deep your treachery is rooted in your mind, how your every movement is controlled, and –
ENOUGH! thundered Aximili, unable to stand the other Andalite's insults any longer.
I give out the orders here! Caysath growled in a tightly controlled voice. You, and he glared at Aximili's warriors, from now on follow me. Is that understood?
There was a collective swish as the blades of Aximili's twenty-one warriors swept up into attack. Caysath's soldiers followed suit, and so did the ones in the back end of the corridor, until there was not a tail among any one of the groups that was not raised, not a face that was not tense, not a set of eyes that were not glaring. As if from far away, Aximili noted how his warriors inched up around him, ready to defend him if it turned necessary.
It only made him more determined to keep them out of this. But the thought of giving up his warriors, especially to this specific War Prince, and at that time, was uncomfortable. They were, after all, all that stood between him, Issetha, and whatever sentence this Caysath had been ordered to carry out.
For, Aximili knew with a bitter, sinking feeling in his hearts; there would be no trial.
He had to quench that last flame of rebellion in him that was still very much alive, writhing, burning, telling him to gather his warriors for a final battle. Battle – a blood bath; and one he would not be the cause of. Not. Not… but since he was almost trembling with anger – and fear, he admitted to himself – it was hard to avoid.
Issetha took gentle control of Aximili's body and the part of his brain that controlled thought-speech. She made him perform a ritual bow towards Caysath, before spreading his arm towards the warriors that surrounded them. All yours, War Prince. And to the group of warriors, with a tone that not even Issetha could make anything else than flat and empty; You are now under the command of War Prince Caysath.
The warriors gave Caysath suspicious glances, slowly lowering their tails, and lingered a bit longer than need be by Aximili. All of them stopped and bowed towards him before – reluctantly – joining Caysath's troops.
As soon as they had, Caysath sent them down a corridor together with Prince Sariyon and a number of his own. Remaining in the corridor was Aximili, with Prince Riminar and three warriors behind him, as well as the War Prince and four other in front.
Aximili straightened, cleared his face of all emotion and proudly raised his stalks and tail. What do you want, Caysath?
Caysath laughed coldly. I want to cut you apart, traitor, piece by piece, and hear you scream for every strike. Unfortunately, we do not always get what we want.
Unfortunately, Aximili agreed silkily. Then what are you planning?
Firstly, to remove that Yeerk –
She is staying with me.
Not after three days, spat Caysath.
Aximili stared coldly at him, knowing the hopelessness of his situation in that matter, and feeling his tail be lowered again by Issetha after it had threatened to strike.
It's no use, love, she murmured soothingly.
The Andalite-Controller glared at Caysath. Consider yourself lucky.
Whatever for?
My Yeerk will not allow me the pleasure of removing your smirking face from your head, and your head from your shoulders.
Caysath laughed, but cut himself short and met Aximili's icy gaze with one even colder. Then he looked past Aximili: the warriors from the Intrepid had just disappeared into a dropshaft, out of thought-speech range.
Someone inform Prince Sariyon that it is best to deal with the traitor's warriors as soon as possible, and then he is assigned the problem of destroying the docking craft and the two fighters, as well as their pilots.
Caysath had turned back towards Aximili as he spoke, watching for his reaction. Issetha wisely kept her host very still, and disappointment flickered past Caysath's eyes. The Yeerk did not stop her host from crying warning to his warriors, though, but judging from the lack of reaction from the warriors they had not heard. No sounds reached them aside from the far-off echo of the steady beats of retreating, marching hooves.
One more question, traitor, Caysath drawled conversationally. We will have that Yeerk removed, one way or the other. It is a matter of principles, you see. Unfortunately we do not have three days. My question is if you intend to cooperate or not.
What happens if I do?
You spare yourself and us a lot of trouble. The Yeerk will – naturally – be killed, but a world with one less slug is a better world, wouldn't you agree?
Aximili cursed privately but vividly as Issetha kept him from launching at the leering face of the War Prince. And what happens if we refuse? Issetha asked instead, paying no heed to her host's colourful, if shocking, use of vocabulary.
You suffer – and, eventually, you give in. Everyone always gives in… in the end. Do you intend to cooperate and hand us the filthy Yeerk… or not?
I shall tell you what I intend, snarled Aximili, swiping mentally at Issetha to make her let go of his voice. There is a human expression I intend to make use of. They sometimes say that one might have to beat it out. This is my reply; you shall have to beat her out.
Caysath's eyes were glittering dangerously. My idea precisely.
Aximili was led, escorted by almost-courteous guards, along the many, winding passageways inside the foreign ship.
And I almost forgot… Caysath said suddenly, and the entire procession stopped. Send word to the bridge for stage two: begin our retreat. Ask how the Intrepid has responded to our first assaults.
As quickly as the words were out, two things happened.
One, a warrior saluted smartly and galloped off.
Secondly, Aximili stumbled, but regained his footing and at once charged the War Prince, fury in his entire demeanour. Issetha was momentarily stunned in the back of his head.
The flat of a tail-blade whipped at his forehead, and he blocked it instinctively. But another came from the other side, striking his temple, and he staggered. Recovering and resuming his charge only took a moment, and he fought fiercely for several minutes, but the end result was the same. And now a third tail-blade had been placed in front of his hooves, tripping him. Before he could recover, the warriors were all around him.
He had barely landed on the floor before he heard Caysath's annoyed comment: Stop that, it is useless: shackle him.
Aximili's tail was caught in a metal shackle brought forth by one of the warriors, and his hands were forced down behind his back, set into another set of shackles. Still, he struggled, kicking and twisting, making it as difficult as possible for his captors. They kicked back, lashed him with their own, free tails, and finally overpowered him. The three shackles – hands and tail – were secured together with a force field rope. When he moved his tail, his shoulders were pulled uncomfortably back and up. He decided to avoid that, focusing on morphing instead.
Issetha stopped him: Wait, she murmured, soft pity in her voice at his powerless fury. Not yet. They're ready for you now. Wait.
Aximili agreed silently, trusting her judgement. But when they let him back up to his hooves, he stood trembling with anger. He felt Issetha stirring, wondering if perhaps it would be safer if she took over control. Ignoring that, he bored his gaze into Caysath and demanded: What are you doing to my ship?
What we must.
What must you do?
We must have it destroyed, Prince Aximili, said the War Prince in a flat voice. We cannot leave a Yeerk-nest like that to fly free.
Aximili did not bother to keep the anger out of his voice, and growled; It is not a Yeerk-nest. I was the only infested Andalite on that ship.
And on that, we have only your word, Controller, Caysath told him with a smirk, and gestured for the troop to continue.
On principle, Aximili did not move until they forced him.
An Andalite came trotting up, stopping next to Caysath and lowering his stalks and head in a short bow. War Prince, the Intrepid has been crippled.
Crippled enough for its scanners to be disabled? Prince Riminar asked.
Yes, Prince, the technicians agree that there is a 78% possibility that its scanners have been disabled, said the warrior.
Caysath flicked his tail. Wait until it is 100% certain, and then launch the Blade ship hologram. With their sensors down, they will not know the difference. Follow that hologram and keep firing at the Intrepid until it gives up chase. Also, remember to notify the Norshk pirates of where they can find it.
A crippled ship abandoned in space like that will be completely destroyed if hit by Norshk pirates, Aximili reasoned with ill-concealed anger. But I suppose that is –
Part of the plan, Caysath finished. Yes. He laughed. But no worries, traitor. We shall send your ship a rescue vessel. He flicked his tail. As soon as the day after tomorrow, perhaps. If you behave.
While Caysath dealt with the matter of the Intrepid, and the fake Blade ship led the way, Aximili was sent to a locked holding cell in the bowels of the ship. Now that his temper had cooled away and rational thought – thoughts of revenge and escape – had replaced it, he knew he was in a very difficult situation. Only in the cell there were four armed warriors watching him attentively, and more stood in the corridor outside.
Considering it, he was almost flattered.
Flattered? Issetha repeated lowly and fear was clear in her voice. Leefachir, this isn't a time to be flattered. We can't stay here. And we're quickly running out of options!
Then we play the wild card, suggested Aximili, putting on a brave front, hoping she would not see through it.
There's a wild card?
There is always a wild card, Issetha. Even for us.
Then what is it?
You.
The Yeerk, as usual, read his mind. He could feel her stirring, uncomfortable with what she found. I don't like it, she whispered.
Do you have a better idea?
No. Issetha shivered in the back of his head. Very well, leefachir. I hope you know what you're doing – I hope this works – I hope we'll have an opportunity to try.
So do I.
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Author's Note;
Yay! One week holiday. Have been very productive and gone through and corrected this entire story. Have added little Cohen lyric excerpts to every one. Will upload the corrections bit by bit after how mush free time I have.
But most importantly, as you see, I've finished another chapter. *pats self's head*
Now will live today (ehm, tonight) by the following rule: "read, write, and be merry, for tomorrow you must start your homework."
Ah, the world is evil.