Author's Note: Voila! Ladies, gentlemen, and not-so-gentle-men, I give you—the perspective of Esplin Nine-Four-Double-Six lesser of the Sulp Niaar pool!
Disclaimer: I can't say it! I won't say it! See previous chapters!
Chapter Ten: Esp's POV"Elfangor, we have better things to do than driving you crazy." Tom informed him.
"Then why don't you DO them?"
I rolled Tom's eyes. This is a human activity that I frequently use to express annoyance, or to cause it in others. In this case it was both. "Because this is way more fun."
"I don't know why I even bothered asking."
"Neither does anyone else, and since it's so pointless, let's just say that this conversation never happened, shall we?" I suggested. Or maybe it was Tom, even I couldn't always tell.
[No, that was you,] he told me.
RING, RING-RING-RING RING RING-RING! Tom's cell phone began to play 'It's A Small World After All'.
[Refresh my memory,] I requested. [Why exactly did you have to pick the most irritating song on this planet for your cell phone to ring the tune of?]
[You just explained.] I gave a mental sigh.
[Are we going to answer it?]
[No, it's probably not important.] The song had been completed—the answering machine was activated. With the way that the phone had been programmed, everyone heard it.
"Hi, this is Tom. I A) am busy, B) can't get to my phone, or C) don't feel like talking to you right now. If it's important, leave a message, and I'll hopefully get back to you... eventually."
"Gee, thanks, Tom," snapped the irritable voice at the other end. "I'm going to die because you couldn't be bothered to answer your own phone? PICK UP!"
Tom picked up. "Loren? What happened?"
"Nothing serious, I'm just being chased by Hork-Bajir and I think Visser Three recognized me."
"Where are you now?" I asked her.
"The mall. I'm hoping that the Visser will somehow be sensible enough not to want any witnesses, but since I doubt it, I'm starting to think I should leave before I endanger innocent people."
"Good idea. Um, go through the construction site, and hide in the smallest building. We'll be there in a sec—"
"GIVE ME THAT!" Elfangor screeched. He attempted to tackle us, but as Tom was an athlete and used to tussle with Jake or his friends we had the advantage. Tom usually fought rather crudely, though. He still had to fight the Hork-Bajir while I was feeding, so as not to blow our cover, but he didn't really want to escape.
Once Elfangor was on the ground, Tom placed a foot on his chest to hold him down and said to Loren: "Al says hi. You want to talk to him?"
"Um, let me think... YES, obviously." Tom passed Elfangor the phone.
Elfangor jabbered semi-incoherently into the phone for a few minutes. He was filling Loren in on what had happened with us and demanding details on what had happened to her. Or at least I think that's what he said. I wasn't sure if Loren could understand him either, and she didn't seem able to get a word in edgewise.
"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, ELFANGOR, JUST SHUT UP FOR FIVE BLOODY SECONDS AND I'LL EXPLAIN!" I heard her bellow finally. Elfangor fell silent, but it was mostly from shock.
"Who is Loren?" Aximili wondered. Elfangor made a little 'go away' gesture towards him, so I took it upon myself to explain.
"Loren is Tobias' mother, Elfangor's wife, and a person who, as a teenager, threw a rock in Esi's face, which is why he'd recognize her."
[ Must you add a bit of pointless information to everything you say?]
[It's not pointless, Tom. It's just barely relevant to the conversation.]
"She also looks a great deal like Rachel, which may explain why Tobias seems to like Rachel so much—ESP!"
[What? It's true. Tobias may be attracted to Rachel because his subconscious mind connects her appearance with his mother's, and thus-]
[Maybe true, Esp, but as Rachel is my COUSIN I'd personally rather not discuss that sort of thing.]
"Okay, Loren, we'll see you in a few minutes." Elfangor hung up and glared at me. "Why didn't you answer the phone on the first ring?"
"I didn't think it would be important."
"Well, if Loren hadn't been exaggerating to impress upon you the importance of answering, it would have been!"
"So I was right?"
"I suppose...but that's not the point. If it had been important, Loren could have been killed."
"If that phone call was tapped, we all will be killed. Wait a moment—Loren wasn't in danger?"
"Not as seriously as she said—"
"Then could someone please tell me why you're still acting hysterical?"
Elfangor froze. Then he laughed. "Delayed reaction, I believe. The fight gave me an adrenalin rush. I need to demorph soon," he added suddenly. Like me, he was prone to remembering things at the last minute.
In about 30 seconds, he had gone from teenaged 'Al' to age-unknown Elfangor to middle-aged 'Alan Fangor'. Having been practiced in repeated speed-morphing, he wasn't tired out by his efforts.
Tobias took a bit longer, but he seemed fine. Aximili, meanwhile, was having trouble. It took him almost two minutes to demorph, and once he had, he seemed exhausted. His attempts to go into human morph were half-hearted at best.
"Did you get any sleep last night?" I asked. He responded by falling unconscious then and there.
Jake took charge. "Tom, Esp, you two go get Loren, and bring her to the barn. Elfangor, tell us anything and everything that might explain what's wrong with Ax."
How they got Ax to the barn neither Tom or I ever knew. We—or rather, he—had taken off at a run as soon as Jake told us what to do. He slowed down a bit when we reached the city, but just enough to remain inconspicuous.
Loren was waiting for us. "Where's Alan?" she asked, the very second that she realized he wasn't with us.
"Hello, Loren, I'm fine, thanks for asking, how are you?" Tom had a habit of being deliberately unhelpful and annoying around Loren. And Elfangor. And his friends. And pretty much everyone else except his parents.
"I'm fine. So where is Alan?"
"With his brother and the Animorphs. Aximili's unconscious for some reason, and Jake wanted Elfangor's help figuring out what's wrong with him," I explained.
[Hey, you didn't add in pointless, irrelevant information this time,] Tom commented. He sounded impressed.
"Shut up," I muttered.
"Was that addressed to me or Tom?" asked Loren.
"What makes you so sure it wasn't me telling Esp to shut up?"
"Lucky guess, I guess. So, where are we going?"
"Follow us." After ten minutes of walking, we reached the barn.
"How's Ax doing?" Tom asked, kneeling down next to Elfangor.
[His breathing is raspy and his pulses are weak.] Elfangor hadn't even glanced at us. [Hi, Loren.]
"Any idea what's causing this?" she asked.
Elfangor sighed. [Not yet. I don't think this has ever happened to him before, and I'd probably know if we had a history of this in the family.]
I suddenly jumped. 'I' being the physical, Yeerk me jerked sharply, accidentally twitching Tom's brain in the process.
[What's wrong, Esp?] Tom asked me.
[Why didn't I think of it before?] I gasped. I began rummaging around in Tom's backpack. Where was it?
Success! I found the laptop, popped it open, and turned it on. I had fiddled around with it a bit, so it only took five seconds. The opening message popped up.
HELLO. WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO DO TODAY?
I typed HACK ANDALITE MEDICAL FILES.
In two more seconds, an icon flashed onto the screen. It was shaped like a bright blue A, with a smaller black H inside the triangle. The A signified Andalites, and the H signified hacking. I had designed the icon myself. It was a shortcut to one of the Andalite fleet's minor files.
I had another icon (a bright green Y with another small black H) as a shortcut to the Yeerk Empire's files. I ignored it for the moment, but kept it visible incase I needed it.
After about ten minutes of frantic typing, trying to read un-translated text, and trying to figure out just what I was looking for, I found it.
"No way," I whispered. Aximili didn't have a chance.
Author's Note: Okay, I'm as confused as you are now. I'm thinking I've mixed up books 16, 23, and 29. Until I figure out what's wrong with Ax, let's just say it's an Andalite disease so rare that the cure is unknown.
Mob: (still mad) WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
Me: I'm not sure.
Mob: (incoherent bellow of rage.)