5 Who the Rachel's crew didn't expect to meet
- - -
Jake landed shoulder-first and rolled. The air cracked above him and he felt the horn sting his back like a whip. He stopped rolling, pulling together and focusing to morph.
Tobias was still in the doorway. He would have been outside the Misfortune by then, if two of the horned beings hadn't blocked his way, standing shoulder to shoulder with horns whipping madly.
"Jeanne, stay hidden!" Jake ordered, hoping the aliens couldn't understand what he was saying, and knowing her well enough to know she would have been on her way out. He just hoped she'd do as she was told.
The air cracked again. A horn whooshed downwards. Jake tensed, jaws clenched, waiting for the horn to strike.
Instead there was another "whoosh". But neither horn ever reached his back.
He glanced up over his shoulder and saw two of the creatures standing there, their horns whipping back and forth above him, one set of horns keeping the other off his back. From their angry gestures, they were arguing. One of them wanted to hurt him – probably badly, too – while the other didn't.
Jake briefly wondered what they were saying.
But he had more urgent problems. He decided to take this chance while he had it.
He leaped to his feet and dove back to the Misfortune.
The horns were fast. Incredibly fast; faster than an Andalite's tail. But the creatures reacted slowly. The two that had stood over him took a step back each when he flew up. By the time they had registered what was happening, Jake had covered the two meters back to the relative safety inside the Misfortune, diving between the ones that stood in the doorway, and was trying to morph as quickly as possible.
Tobias leaped out of his way and then retook his place by the doorway. His tail was cocked; but Jake wasn't sure how much that would help.
"Tobias, tell the Complexity in thought-speech to be ready to morph bad and come out at my word. Keep Menderash out of sight. These things do not like humans."
«No kidding,» Tobias said, doing as he was told.
Another of the creatures appeared in the doorway, pushing his two friends out of his way. Jake watched through half-tiger eyes and realized it was the same one that had defended him. He had a curved line – possibly a scar – across his forehead.
He peered into the craft. He took a look at Tobias, whose tail still was cocked and ready, but turned away, unimpressed. He looked down at Jake, possibly intrigued by the morphing process, but again not that impressed. He generally had the unimpressed expression of a warrior who's seen too much to be easily daunted.
Then he lifted a hand. Everyone in the craft tensed, but the creature only pointed with his three fingers at Jake. "Human," he said.
He brought both hands to his chest. "Kelbrid," his voice again deep and harmonious. Then he pointed at Tobias and the question was clear.
«Andalite,» Tobias said.
The Kelbrid recognized the term and seemed to consider it for a moment, his ears turning this way and that to localize the source of the thought-speech which he was unused to hearing.
Jeanne came out from her hiding place, carefully watching the Kelbrid. He looked calmly back, ears slightly raised and aimed at her, making no attempt to move.
"Human," Jeanne said, pointing at herself. Then, doing the same thing again, added; "Jeanne."
The creature thought again, puzzled, but then understood and nodded. "Kelbrid," he snapped, slamming a fist against his chest. "Ka'an."
Jeanne smiled. "Jake," she said, very slowly. "He's seen humans before. Actually, he's been around humans a lot."
«Whatever makes you think that?»
"I don't think, I know. Didn't you see that? He nodded. A human habit. If he's picked it up, he's been a lot around humans."
«The only humans in this part of the galaxy are Yeerks,» Tobias commented dryly.
«So assuming they don't like Yeerks, that would explain why they attacked me,» Jake said. He was demorphing, and so was Tobias. «And also why they attacked the bugs. But not why our new friend here helped me in the end.»
"Let me try something," Jeanne said. She pointed at Ka'an and asked; "Yeerk?"
He shook his head fiercely, horns whipping irritably, the slits on his cheeks opening and closing more rapidly. His large claws clicked against the floor. He pointed at Jake. Then Tobias. And finally at Jeanne. "Yeerks?" he wondered, his voice shrill again.
The three of them shook their heads, and Ka'an nodded, pleased.
«This is good,» Tobias stated.
Ka'an looked down at him, again a hawk, watching the beak and wings and talons and trying to figure out what they were all for. He said, for some reason almost sounding amused; "Andalite?"
«Red-tailed hawk,» Tobias corrected, folding out his wings and flapping once. «Tobias.»
Ka'an turned both ears and eyes towards him. Again, the slits on his cheeks opened and closed more rapidly. Other than that, he didn't move. Until one hand was slowly lifted, eyes following it, and his entire arm pointed at Jake.
"Jake," he said. The hand swept over the three of them. His face shone up as if he had just won a guessing game. "Animorphs."
- - -
The Dome ship SwiftHoof exited Z-space far from the others. Then again, the three ships were supposed to spread out over a wide area. Their only backup was the half a dozen cruiser ships that patrolled back and forth, but at the time not one of them were within half an hour's distance.
The SwiftHoof'sCaptain, Prince Aragus-Piralidi-Toman, was a battle scarred former fighter pilot. He only had one arm after the other had been lost in a crash with his fighter, a scar over his face from a close encounter with a Hork-Bajir-Controller in his days as an aristh, and a deep jack in his tail-blade from cutting his way free – through a wall that had not been very cooperative. Also, that he swore a lot about when no-one could hear, he had a trick knee on his left front leg. Since he was proud over his injuries, as he well showed, he had never considered having them fixed. The scar could easily have been removed. The arm could have been replaced. And the blade-jack could have been filled in. And the trick knee, he was sure, could be healed.
And even more easily, just by morphing. But Prince Aragus didn't believe in morphing. Partly because he had managed most of his career without it and had decided to continue doing so, and partly because of his pride – he was allergic to morphing.
«Any enemy ships around, First Officer?» Aragus asked.
First Officer Jarathur looked over his screen and shook his head. «No ships, Captain,» he said. «Only a group of fighters. Almost straight ahead; five degrees right. Not ours; unknown.»
«How many?» Aragus asked.
Jarathur glanced up. Out from the bridge, out into black space. «Hundreds.»
The Tactical Officer, a younger but very bright Andalite called Kindelil, laughed. «Merely hundreds? They are only fighters. Against a Dome ship. They do not stand a chance. They'll be slaughtered. Like sending an army of un-hosted Yeerks to fight an armed Andalite.»
«Tactical Officer,» Aragus drawled. «These are fighters of unknown type. Let us not underestimate our enemy. Especially not before we have even seen him face to face.»
«I do not underestimate him, Captain,» Kindelil objected. «I am simply curious to see what kind of damage they think they can do with just fighters.»
Aragus glanced at him with a stalk. Kindelil was smart; what came through his thought-speech was not always as intelligent. Unfortunately. «Jarathur, put the ship in condition one. Let us go meet these fighters.» He smiled. «And see what they can do.»
«Condition one,» Jarathur ordered. Andalites around the bridge began moving. «Standard burn, course; five degrees right.»
The SwiftHoof shot forwards – five degrees right, to be exact – at standard burn. Its crew had spread out, each at their battle stations, and the fighter pilots had disappeared down to the docks to be ready in case the orders were to launch the fighters.
Since the foreign crafts were small and black, they were not easy to spot to the eye alone. But the Dome ship picked them up and displayed them on screen long before the bridge's crew could get a visual.
«How many, exactly, First Officer?» Aragus asked.
«Five hundred and sixty-four.»
«Why pick such an irregular number?» Kindelil mused. «Have they been to battle and lost a few, and sent the survivors here? Or do the Kelbrid have some sort of formation that turns such a number into an advantage? Or do they not even care about the number?»
«Very un-warriorlike not to worry about how many stand on your side,» Jarathur commented.
«No,» Kindelil disagreed, another smile peering forth in his eyes. «Very brave.»
Jarathur sighed. «Whatever you wish to call it, our primary problem is this; do we attack or let them be? Captain?»
«Standing orders are to protect the border, and observe. We do not attack unless they do. We keep a close eye on them and report back whatever we learn about them.»
«They are moving,» a pilot reported. «They are changing their formations.»
Aragur trotted up to the screen, glanced down at it, but didn't find anything useful. The markings that represented the fighters were only jumbled, and more so by the minute. Instead, he looked up, out through the window, to see things with his own eyes.
What he saw amazed him.
- - -
"Translation at fifty-one percent," Menderash reported when the Kelbrid pilot had silenced.
"That chip is certainly taking its time," Marco muttered. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the Kelbrid arrowhead-shaped fighter, leaning against a wall. Menderash was standing; he had never really gotten used to the concept of sitting.
Menderash shrugged. "It would be quicker if this Kelbrid was more talkative."
"I know," Marco sighed. This specific Kelbrid had turned out to be one of those against humans. "I know. You've told me that. A few hundred times. But we've been here, how long? Seven hours?"
"Five hours and sixteen minutes."
"Whatever. The point is, we're in a Kelbrid fighter. We don't know if the Kelbrid pilot is a friend or if he's planning to dump us in the nearest black hole. We don't know where he's taking us. We don't even know if we're guests, or prisoners. All we know is that Jake's latest crazy, reckless and ruthless plan meant us being divided into groups and going with these Kelbrid peacefully."
"And you don't like it?" Menderash guessed.
"Exactly. I'd trust my life to Jake's instincts, but fact is – he's not exactly here to be trusted. He's on another fighter, with Jeanne, and Tobias and Santorelli are on yet another. If these Kelbrid turn bad on us, we're dogfood."
"At least we still have our pack," Menderash said optimistically.
"I'd feel better if that pack contained some serious fire power," Marco said.
"And I'd feel better if I had my tail," the former Andalite replied. He was glancing down at the computer consoles and controls of the fighter, over the pilot's shoulder. The pilot ignored him. But Menderash was fascinated; the console was not even similar to anything he had ever seen before.
"Ask him if we're there yet," Marco suggested.
Menderash did so, in thought-speech to get past the language difference. That could be done because thought-speech is more structured by feelings and thoughts than actual words.
The Kelbrid replied curtly, his voice dwindling between sharp and harmonious tones. Marco didn't understand half a word, but Menderash nodded.
"He said 'we are not there yet'," Menderash reported. "Translation is now at sixty-nine percent."
"Ask how far we have to go."
Menderash did so. The Kelbrid answered. And Menderash said; "The numbers and units would mean nothing to you, since they mean almost nothing to me. But we have, even at maximum burn here in Z-space, at least half a day to go."
"Figures." Marco rolled his eyes. "And translation?"
"At eighty-six percent. But also, I believe he told me to shut up."
- - -
As Captain-prince Aragus watched, the triangular black Kelbrid fighters outside the SwiftHoof were building up like building blocks. Stacking on each other. Uniting. He saw two fighters line up side by side, and their hulls melted together like clay. A third joined them. And a fourth. A fifth, sixth, and more. More; a line of fighters joining with the next, joining with yet another group, until Aragur lost count.
«What are they doing?"» Jarathur wanted to know, also watching intently.
«Building a bigger ship,» Kindelil said, main eyes narrowed. «Very clever.»
«Captain? Should we attack?» Jarathur asked uncertainly.
«They have not yet showed any signs of hostility,» Aragus reminded them.
«When they do, it might be too late,» Jarathur pointed out.
«Yes,» Aragus agreed. «It might. Power up the shredders, aim at that… that cluster of fighters. If they decide to turn against us, we only have to fire. But in the mean time, bring the technicians to the bridge. They might enjoy seeing this.»
Jarathur made sure the orders were followed. Still watching the fighters build up a ship, he said; «Captain, it is almost as if they were alive. The fighters. They do not link together; they grow together. They switch shape. See for yourself; watch them.»
«I've noticed, Jarathur,» Aragus sighed. «I am not blind.»
«Captain,» a pilot warned. «They are constructing some sort of weapon.»
«Dracon? Or shredder?»
«Neither, Captain. Unknown. It might not even be an energy beam. Wrong construction, wrong…» he hesitated, frowning.
«Spare me the details. What is it?»
The pilot stirred, watching his screen with his main eyes, stalks staring out at the Kelbrid fighters. «It is not an energy weapon,» he concluded. «Perhaps it emits a pulse of some sort. But it is definitely being aimed at us.»
«Then prepare an evasive manoeuvre,» Aragus snapped. «As soon as that thing is ready to fire, we will move out of its way and return fire.»
«Yes, Captain.» And the orders were, again, promptly followed.
The weapon loaded, unaware of the Andalites' worries. A dim light began appearing in the centre; a sudden white flash made the light intensify – and made everyone present on the bridge jump, with the exception of the technicians that had just arrived. They stood with all four eyes intently focused on the fighters, on screens and on the weapon where the flash of white had appeared.
«Move!» Aragus snapped. «Before it has finished loading! Fire!»
The SwiftHoof sped to the side, aimed its giant cannons and fired.
Fighters exploded into flames. Large chunks and parts fell away from the monster ship that the Kelbrid had built up. But the damaged parts just reshaped themselves back into damaged fighters, fell away from the ship to meet their fate, and were replaced so quickly that when the SwiftHoof fired again, the beam of green had barely faded away by the time the enemy ship had healed itself.
«It is not taking any damage,» Jarathur reported. «It just rebuilds.»
«I have noticed that,» Aragus snapped. «Fire again! Full power.»
The TSEEEW was enormous. The ears of the Andalites rang like someone had set off an explosion in them.
But the ship rebuilt as quickly as it was damaged. Calmly continued charging up its single, occasionally white-flashing weapon.
Kindelil had been thinking. «If we fire enough… they will not have fighters to rebuild the main ship. The only problem is that the ship consists of perhaps eighty fighters. They have over five hundred fighters all together. By the time we take out all those… it might be too late.»
«That weapon takes a lot of time to load,» Jarathur pointed out.
«Yes, it does,» Kindelil agreed. «Which can mean one of three things; either it is very powerful, or just very slow… or they want us to think it is one of those.»
«I want a full analysis of that weapon,» Aragus commanded.
«Yes, captain,» a technician said. He took a few steps forwards towards a computer console and began working.
«It's preparing to fire!» a pilot warned in a thought-speech cry.
«Hard left!» Aragus barked.
The SwiftHoof jerked left, but the weapon didn't fire in a single beam. Instead, there was a flash of blinding white light. A pulsation, a wave sent across space. The entire ship shook, as if it had been hit by a giant-sized sledgehammer. Everyone on the bridge was thrown to the floor and Aragus' bad knee got another bruise.
«Damage report; zero percent,» a pilot reported. He was the first back on his hooves. Andalites were climbing back up, woozy but for the most part unharmed.
«What kind of weapon causes zero damage?» Jarathur said. «These fighters are even more chanceless than we thought.»
«No,» Kindelil disagreed. He brought a hand to his forehead. «The ship is unharmed, yes, but…»
Aragus blinked to clear his vision. Black spots were dancing around its edges. He ignored it and focused out into space. Focused. Focused. Focused… on what?
Ah, yes. The fighters.
«Captain, I seem to be experiencing a mild distortion,» Kindelil reported. «I believe I am not the only one.»
'Mild'? Aragus forced his thoughts back into place and held them in some sort of order. «Exactly what type of weapon was that?» he snapped.
«It…» the technician glanced at his Captain with a stalk, hesitating. «It emits a pulse that affects… affects the electricity in the brain. Negatively.»
«Which means?» Aragus said.
Kindelil was smiling. He was looking down at the technician's screen. And understanding it. «It means, Captain, that our brains are shutting down. Slowly, the weapon is not yet perfected… but effectively. It will send us into a deep coma.»
There was a thought-speech shout of alarm and Aragus's stalk swivelled around. A warrior fell heavily as his knees folded under him. The Andalite who had shouted took a step towards him and then stumbled. Fell.
It came as a shock. All of a sudden, warriors and pilots were falling as if struck by shredders at full power. The Captain's stalks were flying back and forth, trying to see each one fall, helplessly watching.
«Keep aware!» he ordered. «Keep aware, or I'll demote you all to arisths!»
Those who heard him tried to a do as they were told. Jarathur suddenly fell a step to the side, looked up at the captain with a «Sorry,» and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. Kindelil just smiled and collapsed, looking more curious at the process of collapsing than worried about the consequences.
«Activate the distress beacon,» Aragus instructed. Then he looked around, and saw that he was almost the only one left standing. The only one close enough.
He took a step forwards, towards the familiar computer console, and then fell face-first. His mind darkened, but he forced his hooves to obey him and pushed himself along the floor. He reached the foot of the console, and for once wished he had two arms instead of one.
Two weak Andalite arms would have done little good to pull him up. With only one arm, it might as well be impossible. Aragus's weak fingers closed on the edge of the console, and his arm strained.
Then the darkness overwhelmed him, and just minutes after that the Kelbrid fighters carefully began advancing on the helpless, unaware Dome ship.
- - -
What Marco considered to must at least be a day later the fighter and its hundreds of sister crafts had still not arrived at their destination. They still had no idea where Jake, Jeanne, Tobias, or Santorelli were.
Menderash, though, ruined all Marco's fun by stating that only thirteen hours (and forty-three minutes) had passed. At which Marco muttered something about details for at least another hour – five minutes, Menderash corrected smugly.
And that was when Marco became totally convinced that Andalites actually had a sense of humour. Not that he himself thought it much fun.
Fortunately, by then translation was at a hundred percent and Menderash and the Kelbrid pilot – which by then had admitted to carry the name So'otar – could talk more freely. But So'otar was still uninterested in talking. He replied curtly and sharply when spoken to, but otherwise kept silent. Even though his tone of voice – although alien – was a bit hostile his manner and way of addressing his two passengers was faultless.
Menderash had – under Marco's careful instruction – dragged a bit of information about the Kelbrid out of the pilot.
Marco's response to it all was this; "And I thought you Andalites were a honour-loving bunch." (Menderash's response to that was a sharp glare. But he did admit that his people had a certain… fondness… of honour-binding. Not that there was anything wrong with that, he was quick to add.)
So'otar might not have been too fond of humans, but he hated the Yeerks with a fury almost worthy of an Andalite. Menderash and he found a common interest there, and after it was revealed that Marco had about the same opinion on the matter So'otar was suddenly more open against the two.
When asked why, he said one thing that Menderash smiled about when he translated it into; "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."
By the time even Menderash agreed that an entire day – 24 hours – had passed, Marco was in an extremely lousy mood. On top of that, he was hungry, and thirsty. He was complaining, in very colourful terms, about how Jake and Jeanne had "stolen" the part of the pack containing their food and drink.
Even Menderash was getting uneasy when the fighter – together with the rest of the fleet of fighters – finally left Z-space and returned to normal space.
Half an hour after that a small, green-blue planet came into view, near a gigantic, red-gold sun.
"Cava'ara," So'otar said and smiled. Kelbrid smile by widening the slits on their cheeks and leaning their ears outwards. The expression had been a mystery until Menderash had asked about it.
"Is that your home?" Menderash wondered at Marco's command.
"No," So'otar replied. "We Kelbrid have no home. We lost our home before we even got Z-space travel, to a species who enjoyed blowing up planets. They were called the Jijfku – past tense, because we have since then hunted down and destroyed them. But maybe it is for the best. No home planet means no home planet in need of defending."
"And Cava'ara?" Menderash was, unavoidably, absorbing all So'otar said like a sponge.
"One of our many colonies."
Menderash had more questions, but So'otar ignored them. He had begun talking to the other pilots over the communications – another piece of machinery that fascinated Menderash. The Kelbrid systems were unique – nothing like the Andalite or Yeerk systems.
Finally the armada of fighters descended to Cava'ara's surface, and landed neatly in a giant clearing. So'otar shut his fighter down and ordered Menderash and Marco to follow when he exited.
Packs heaved up on their backs, they did so and soon met Santorelli and Tobias and the pilot of their fighter. Tobias was in human morph in order to be able to help Santorelli carry the pack. Jeanne and Jake joined them not long after. Then Ka'an appeared and after making sure the six were okay led them towards a nearby tree.
Although, 'tree' was probably an understatement. The trunk was about as thick as a normal tree was tall. There was no trace of branches, leaves, or twigs. And the top was a giant-sized bowl – large enough to land a Dome ship on, as Menderash put it.
Ka'an showed them a rope ladder leading to the top and asked if they wanted help with their heavy packs. The group kept the most important objects with themselves and handed the rest over to a duo of Kelbrid who quickly loaded up and disappeared nimbly up the trunk, using the giant claws on their feet and the blades on their wrists to climb. Jake couldn't help but notice that – while somewhat humanoid in movement on the ground – a Kelbrid in a tree moved with the grace and ease of a large cat.
"Humans," Jeanne muttered.
"And why do you say that this time?" Santorelli asked.
"See how they climb? These Kelbrid wouldn't need a ladder even if both hands were tied behind their backs. And, besides, the ladder is a human invention."
With that, they began climbing up the ladder, debating Jeanne's theories along the way. But by the time they reached the top of a tree, not one of them was interested in talking. Their arms and legs and shoulders were aching, they were all out of breath, and the thin air at the top didn't make things much better.
"Next time, I'm using my Hork-Bajir morph," Marco panted.
Ka'an was waiting with their packs. He listened when Marco spoke but didn't understand. He ignored it and said; "Leave your things. Come."
Menderash translated, Jake considered it for a brief moment and then agreed.
Ka'an led them down into the tree's bowl. At the bottom was something very much like a village. Everything was built in a material that shone like metal, but had cracked like dry clay and felt like soft rubber. The "houses" were cylinders or cones, and the entrances were simply semi-circular holes near the floor. Kelbrid faces watched them curiously as they passed, mostly from inside the houses, while the braver came up and exchanged a few words with Ka'an.
Ka'an finally stopped at a house – a tall cylinder – and motioned for them to enter. Then made a few excuses and hurried off on his own business.
Marco glared sharply at Jake.
"What?" Jake wondered.
"If this is some type of trap, oh Great Fearless Leader, I'm just going to say it once and for all; it's all your fault!!"
"Thank you, Marco, for that brilliant insight," Jeanne sighed. "But I don't seem to remember you doing much to try and stop it."
"Spoilsport."
"Yes. I guess I am."
"Are we going to enter this house-thing or not?" Jake demanded. "In my Fearless Greatness or whatever it was, I call for a vote. Hear, hear, all complainers."
Marco muttered something, shrugged, and climbed in through the door-hole. Tobias followed, with Santorelli and Jeanne closely behind. Menderash hurried after and Jake came in last.
The main room was a small circle. There were four doorways, probably leading to other rooms. But instead of the entrance these were bigger, almost rectangular, wide and tall enough for walking through upright. Big rugs of cloth-like material hung over them and hid what was behind.
The group looked around, unsure of what to do, until one of the rugs moved aside and a human woman entered the room.
Tall. Blond. Very beautiful.
Santorelli, Jeanne and Menderash simply watched, curious but cautious. Maybe seeing something familiar but not really sure what it was. Jake, Marco and especially Tobias were suddenly deadly pale and wide-eyed.
She brushed a hair out of her face and smiled a perfect smile.
"They told me you were coming," she said, spreading her hands a bit wide. Her face was a bit tense. Her eyes a bit wet. "And here you are."
Jake swallowed and blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
It was, typically, Marco who blurted it out; "Rachel?"
"Yep," Rachel snapped. "Someone tied up your eyes, Marco? Of course it's me."
Marco nodded slowly. Pulled a hand through his short hair and glanced at Jake.
Silence. No-one had moved as much as half a centimeter since Rachel had appeared. But while the six of them were staring at her, she had not yet looked at any of them. Her eyes stared into space.
"Tobias?" Rachel said then, softly. "I know you're there. Say something. Please."
Tobias didn't move. Aside from trembling. "You… you're dead," he said weakly.
"I know," Rachel replied.
Tobias nodded, slowly. Tears were rolling down his cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his hand. "All these… all these years. All the pain… all the loneliness… and you've been alive all along."
"I'm sorry," Rachel whispered. "I've missed you too, Tobias, I…"
"No." he took a step forwards. Shook his head. "Don't. Don't say anything." He quickly covered the remaining distance to where she stood. He stopped half a meter from her for a few moments, indecisive, maybe even afraid.
Then he raised his hands and grabbed a gentle hold of her face. Tried a wavering smile as she didn't disappear as she always had in his dreams, and nightmares. He leaned down and kissed her on her lips, blinking away a new set of tears. He looked into her eyes and tried to find her gaze. But her eyes continued staring emptily.
"Rachel," he said, voice thick with emotions. His thumbs were stroking her cheeks. "Rachel, look at me."
Rachel let out a sob. Her eyes flickered downwards.
"What is it?"
"I can't."
"Why not?"
Her hands were slowly lifted and found his arms. Followed them, over his shoulders, up the sides of his neck to his face. She smiled and stroked a tear she found away from the corner of his mouth.
"I'm blind, Tobias."