17 At the end of games

- - -

Cassie had no time to register where the bullet hit before she had started morphing by pure reflex. That was what saved her. The bullet had pierced the side of her lung, barely passing her heart, but going straight through a number of blood vessels on its way as if they were not even there. Her lungs would have filled with blood and killed her in minutes – if she had not been morphable.

As it was, she made her internal organs morph first and let the rest follow. She gave little thought to what she morphed, but ended up as an osprey.

Only when her eyes – now raptor-sharp – came back into focus did she notice the chaos around her. Three soldiers were standing shoulder-to-shoulder around her, protecting her, eyes alert, constantly scanning their surrounding like an Andalite's stalks, weapons drawn and half-raised, ready to be aimed and fired. Another was on his knees next to her, demanding in an authorial and remarkably calm voice to know if she was okay.

Cassie was a bit touchy from the shock of being shot, which was combined with suppressed anxiousness about facing that large an audience – alone, this time. So she snapped at the soldier in thought-speech that of course she was okay, she'd morphed, hadn't she?!

Then she brusquely told them all to get out of her way and lifted from the ground. She was relieved to get rid of the wound, and be back in an functional body, and the real danger was probably passed. But someone had shot at her. And hit her, too.

She wasn't planning on letting them get away and try again later.

The crowd under her roared with approval as she grimly flapped her way up over it. Fists were raised in greeting and she heard a group of people chanting her name, over and over. They were all urging her on. Urging her to get back at whoever had fired the gun.

She ignored them and scanned the audience for where the shot had come from. Every eye was on her. Every voice was raised in a shout. If the would-be murderer was smart, he or she would be in the audience, doing the same.

Then again, if the shot had been fired from the audience, the people around would have noticed it and probably overpowered the assassin in rage before there was half a chance to get away. She was pretty sure not many would allow the attempted murder of an Animorph to go unpunished.

Cold logic led her to the edge of the crowd. Her osprey eyes found the one person not focusing his eyes on her, not roaring in approval, not urging her to find the guilty party and strike back.

He was a middle-aged man, brown haired, wearing a leather jacket he held closed with an almost cramp-like grip. His eyes were pasted on Cassie as if with glue, but if he thought he could hide the worry – the fear – in them he was wrong.

There was a slight bulge under the jacket; probably where the gun was hidden.

Cassie knew hanging around was never a good idea. She swooped down lower, slowly, and, suddenly, turned her beak downwards and dove with a fierce raptor cry.

The man's face went instantly white. He fumbled inside his jacket for his gun, already pulling away, already sneaking away from the crowd.

Cassie's talons caught his face before his hand caught the gun. He let out a scream, his hands flew up to ward her off, but he lost his balance and fell.

The crowd had cleared an area around them, as if it was a ring for fighting, and somehow the press had already reached them and was busy snapping photos.

Cassie landed, began demorphing, and even before she was fully human she began the morph to wolf. The assassin was on the ground, panic in his eyes, trying to aim his gun. But her face was already wolf, and she snatched the gun out of his hand with a snap of her jaws. She dropped the gun behind her and landed on his chest, snarling, and sat down heavily, bared teeth, fur bristling, telling him to keep still.

In thought-speech, she summoned security. They arrived, took over the prisoner, and she demorphed. When she was done she studied him closer, where he was held by two grim-faced soldiers, and asked; "Who are you? And why did you try to shoot me?"

"I'm a voluntary," he spat back. "Voluntary Controller. And you ruined my life! I had it all; and all thanks to the Yeerks! You'll be dead, Animorph! I'm only warning you! There are others! They'll come after you, as I did! You'll be dead! You'll –"

The crowd roared in anger, but Cassie raised her hands to ask for silence and they hushed at each other. It took a few minutes to get total quiet. Except for the prisoner's mad screaming.

"You'll be dead!" he shrieked. "You heard me?! We'll see you defeated! We'll –"

Cassie turned her back to him, having heard what she wanted to hear, seeing no need to listen to his mad ravings. The audience started roaring again, crying for blood. She made her way through the crowd, pushed passed the press, ignoring their questions, ignoring the cameras that flashed mercilessly in her face.

- - -

All Jake and his group, once the three fighters had been hidden, could look forward to was a long, boring walk. Although a more correct word would be 'run'. The Kelbrid set a high pace already from the start and intended to stick to it. Tom kept up without a problem, and Rachel showed that spending so much time with the aliens had worked wonders on her endurance. Tobias flew, or rode on someone's back or shoulder, and had no problems either. But the remainder of the group had not morphed – for some reason that later seemed very insignificant and had to do with having to figure out how to carry the packs – and very quickly got very exhausted.

By the time Jake realised how fast and far the Kelbrid actually planned for them to go, he, Marco, Santorelli, and Jeanne were all so tired that even though morphing might avoid them to get more tired it did little good. They would still start out exhausted.

He ordered halt, threw the pack (that he could have sworn had gone at least ten kilos heavier since that morning) down on the ground and sank down against a tree, breathing hard.

And loudly. JaLa'an sent him a sharp glance.

"It's bad to stop halfway," Jeanne commented sensibly. "we should keep going."

"We're going to stop soon, like it or not," Marco panted. "Either it's now, or it's when someone collapses."

Menderash – who had ended up last – stumbled in to join the group and it was clear that only his Andalite stubbornness held him up. When he saw that the others were resting her almost fell down to his knees and closed his eyes, hiding an exhausted expression in shaking hands. He was used to being human by then, but it was the first time he had run further than a couple of steps, and his new body was badly out of shape.

"Tired?" Rachel guessed, herself still standing. The only human still standing. Except Jeanne, beside Rachel… although she was leaning on Tom, so it didn't count.

"No, we can't wait for the thousand metre dash," Marco snapped sarcastically. "Of course we're tired. We've been running for, how long? Ten hours?"

"Three hours and forty-two minutes," Menderash corrected.

"Shut up, Andalite."

Menderash glared up. "If only you learned to count I would not have to correct your mistakes, human."

"You still don't. In fact, if you do, I'll –"

"Hush!" Jake barked. Menderash and Marco's voices had been gradually rising. JaLa'an's ears were circling on their stalks, searching for sounds. When the Kelbrid relaxed again Jake let out a sigh of relief. "Don't forget where we are," he ordered. "And don't forget what we're here to do."

"You should have morphed instead of staying human," Rachel stated. "Keeping pace with Kelbrid isn't easy."

"Oh, great, now you tell us," Santorelli said, rolling his eyes.

"We need a break," Jake said. "Or we won't get another kilometre. We need to relax. Then we'll morph."

"Why couldn't we have morphed from the start?" Marco whined.

"We didn't know how fast we'd be going, and once we began running there was no pause to stop and morph."

"You could have asked," Rachel said.

Jake nodded. "Yes. We could. But we didn't. Now how about that break?"

Rachel exchanged a few words with Sira'aki and JaLa'an, and Menderash listened intently. But he sighed heavily and shook his head sadly.

"We have to continue as soon as possible," Rachel said. "But it's best to take a break while we've already stopped – and it's time for lunch, anyhow. After that we'll continue at a walk before we start running again. This time, though, I suggest you morph. We need to be halfway by morning, and we need to speed up to do that."

"How about being halfway by tomorrow morning instead?" Marco suggested cheerfully.

"Funny. Very funny."

- - -

Arayah's disobedient fingers squeezed tighter around the trigger, oblivious to the battle raging in her mind.

«Arayah!» Arifur cried, shocked. «What are you doing?!»

«I'm sorry,» she managed, before the One's part of her resumed control and the dracon fired.

FWAP!

The dracon was smacked to the side and hit a control board, just behind Arifur's head. The thin, automatic force field protected it from being hit – an ingenious design, even though it was Yeerk – but the dracon energy made the force field shake, and sent sparks flying in all directions, but the three warriors all pulled away in time to avoid being burnt.

FWAP!

The dracon flew out of Arayah's hand. She spun around, her own tail raised, but was met with a blade that came to a quivering halt at her throat.

Rafatal, the owner of the blade, was pale and meagre, barely standing as it was, but he had come in just the right moment and had had just enough energy to stop her from firing. Now, though, his energy seemed drained.

Arayah let out a blood-chilling cry and attacked.

Normally, attacking when you had a tail-blade at your throat meant a certain death. But Rafatal was too… soft-hearted, some would say… to actually cut her throat. She was still a friend, a fellow warrior, and his mind had not yet registered her more recent actions. Instead his blade flew up to parry her violent swipe.

Langur and Arifur had regained mobility and rushed up to help Rafatal. The three – of which Rafatal was little help any more – outfought their fellow warrior and pushed her back into a corner.

But the furious, mad attacking did not stop. Not until Arifur slammed the flat of his blade at the side of her head and she fell, unconscious.

Jakari finished the demorph and looked down at Arayah, not sure if his strongest emotion was surprise or disgust. «I'll go get some shackles,» he said lowly. «Before she wakes up.» He left the bridge.

Rafatal was leaning heavily against a wall, but still trying not to make it too obvious how tired he was, how weak the poison had left him. «I have clearly missed something here,» he said conversationally. «Why, in the name of the Council, did she aim a dracon at you? What did you do to her to push her that far?»

Arifur sighed. «Nothing.»

«She's been acting strange since we left the Blade ship,» Langur continued. «Not at all her usual self. Almost as if she wanted to run away and hide.»

«Left the Blade ship?» Rafatal blinked, confused. «By the way, where are we?»

Langur and Arifur explained it, or at least what they understood of it, to him in short terms before Jakari returned with a set of shackles. Since they each had carried a set themselves for so long, fitting them on Arayah was no problem. They left her in the corner, shackled, but set up a force field around her to make sure she did not escape.

- - -

Cassie tried to disappear as soon as possible. She left security to handle the prisoner, and left other officials to admire the three ships.

They were magnificent things, those ships, she had to admit. But their designs and especially their names had caused some debate; each country wanted to contribute to the design, and be mentioned or related to in the name.

The Earth Council had finally come to a more or less acceptable solution; name the ships after things in nature… things Earth but not human. Possibly things from old myths and legends. Give them names without specifying a language for the name to be spoken in. The Captains – that had been chosen with great care before the ships were even built – were given suggestions and chose the final name themselves.

When Cassie finally got away from the centre of attention it was thanks to a Captain. Ashley Brown knew exactly what she wanted and how to get it, but still recognized Cassie's increasingly desperate look and led her away, fending off the press with a couple of colourful comments about the consequences if they didn't disappear – quickly.

"Thank you," Cassie said, exasperated, glad to finally be rid of them. "Those guys are worse on my tail than any Yeerk ever was."

Ashley flashed a smile. They were walking near the main hangar, where the ships were, towards a park-like area where the crew probably spent their free time. "They've been haunting me since I got this assignment. You get used to it."

"I don't," Cassie stated. "Never will." She sank down on a bench to rest. She had not had a moment's peace since the gun went off, and she needed to think things through.

The Captain shrugged. She peered at the Animorph, who now had buried her tired face in her hands. "Not only the press and former controllers are hunting you, I see. What else?"

Cassie looked up.

"Not that it's any of my business…" Ashley continued smoothly. "Forget I asked."

"No, no… it's not a secret. It's about the Hork-Bajir, as usual."

"I thought that poacher had been caught."

Cassie nodded. "Two days ago, actually." While she had been on vacation, the poachers had – somehow – known. The good part was that they had slackened their security, unaware of Jake's morphers who kept all eyes open. "But he's not the last one."

"Do you know who he is?"

"Some former voluntary Controller," Cassie replied. She shivered. "Like today. A fanatical. More a ritual killer than a poacher or a kidnapper. But where there's one, there are many. That poaching … it's not a one-man job." She sighed. "We'll have them all locked up firmly before any more killings – or kidnappings – take place. I hope."

"If both were voluntary Controllers… maybe there's a connection."

"Maybe there is. But in that case, I don't see it. They've had thousands of chances of neatly murdering me back at the valley. Make it look like an accident. Why here? Why now? Why risk all this attention? I think there's some sort of organisation somewhere, but most likely, this one's a defector."

Ashley nodded thoughtfully. "Whoever it is, they're not making themselves popular." She checked her watch, and then turned her gaze back to Cassie. "What else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what else is bothering you?"

Cassie allowed herself a smile. During the war she had been the one to 'see' people. Understand them. Here she found herself being 'seen', although Ashley's method was a lot more pushy than her own. Fortunately, Cassie did not really mind.

"I was just thinking… the others – other Animorphs I mean – they're out there. In space." She looked up towards the stars, as if she – by some miracle – would be able to see them. "I was reminded of it by the ships. I had this weird thought… I thought… maybe I'd join them."

"You're lonely," Ashley said. She asked no further questions about the Animorphs' disappearances.

But Cassie shook her head. "No, not really. I have my family, friends… the Hork-Bajir… and Ronnie, of course. No, I'm not…"

"And lying to yourself."

Cassie stood up, angered.

"You bury yourself in your work at the valley to hide it," the Captain continued.

"I'm not lonely. I just… I mean, I wish…"

"You wish you were with them instead of here."

Cassie shook her head fiercely, prepared a reply, but it never came over her lips. Instead, she gave up and nodded, sitting back down.

Ashley smiled. "If you want space, I have a ship heading out in a week or so. If you want to tag along, well… it would be an honour to have an Animorph aboard."

"Well, thank you, but no," Cassie said. "I've got enough trouble leaving the valley for a day. I couldn't just take off, abandoning Toby and the others like that."

Ashley nodded, showing she understood. "I would probably feel the same way," she said. "In fact, I know I would."

"If you meet them… or someone else does… could you send a message?"

"Of course. What message?"

Cassie hesitated, bit her lip, but then said; "Tell them I wish I'd gone with them. Tell them I miss them… I want them to come home as soon as possible."

"You got it." Ashley started back towards the main hangar, but stopped and turned around after only a few steps. "Cassie. If you change your mind about the space trip… just call. I'll arrange it. If you want to keep it hushed, that can be arranged, too."

Cassie nodded gratefully and Ashley left for the hangar without another word.

- - -

When Larynia leapt out of the Phantom she had a shredder in her hand and her tail cocked proudly behind her. Carali followed, and after him Minalea.

Minalea was the only one without a shredder. But she solved that problem quickly by snatching Larynia's.

«Hey!» Larynia protested, making a grab for the weapon. «That was mine.»

«And a lot of good you'd do with it,» Minalea chuckled. «Everyone knows you're useless with a shredder. You couldn't hit a Dome ship in tail range! You stick to your tail, and let me use the shredder.»

Larynia glared at her, tail twitching, but knew she was right. She pranced a few steps, stalks constantly swivelling.

Carali dug a hoof into the grass, hungry enough not to care if it was poisonous or not. The taste of the grass was sweet, and somehow that fit perfectly with its bright pastel colours.

«So, Larynia, what exactly are we supposed to do?» Minalea asked, curiously looking around.

«Check for habitation, make sure the area is safe. Let's go.»

The three left the Phantom behind, in the safe hands of Olana and Estrid, and searched the vicinity of it. They had landed in a small clearing in an enormous forest, hoping that eventual inhabitants of the planet would not be forest dwellers.

The Andalite fondness of open spaces was protesting very strongly against the enormous trees that grew only meters apart, effectively blocking the view in all directions. Not knowing what was behind the next tree made their necks tingle.

They kept their stalks circling – for what good it did – and their main eyes aimed at the ground, searching for clues of inhabitation.

There were none. No footprints, no broken twigs, no crushed leaves, no imprints in the soft forest floor at all except the ones after their own hooves.

But if they had been taller, or had raptor vision and had followed the massive stems upwards, they would have seen the curious cuts in the thick bark, located in more or less regular patterns, far above their heads. If they had thought about it further, they would have remembered that climbing Hork-Bajir left similar patterns on their trees.

But they returned to the Phantom without seeing any of that. They had located food and water, and took turns to guard the cruiser while the others left in pairs to graze and drink.

At night (with Olana's announcement that they would be able to leave by the next sundown) they locked the doors to their craft, turned on the force field around it and went to sleep.

With sentries, of course. Olana volunteered for the first half of the night, saying she needed to do some extra work on the engine, and after that she had to program a few safety precautions into the computer. Carali had agreed to take second, but as it turned out Olana was too busy working to notice when half the night had gone, and Carali's own internal clock failed to wake him.

When he awoke he was still standing where he had fallen asleep; at the back of the bridge, with the rest of them. Being on a potentially hostile planet made them all want to be on the bridge and ready to burst into action if they were needed. So while Olana worked, outside and inside the craft, and Aralgo slept peacefully in his quarters, Estrid, Carali, Minalea and Larynia had slept not-so-peacefully at the back of the bridge.

Carali found Olana at a control station, the slight sag in her shoulders announcing that she had fallen asleep at her work. That would have alarmed him if he had been more awake, and it would have made any Prince or warrior furious beyond belief – despite the fact that Olana had barely slept since they had fled from the Daybreak, more than two days earlier.

Minalea and Estrid were still asleep, but there was no sign of Larynia. The force field outside was taken down, and the door to the Phantom was wide open. He grabbed a shredder from a table – just in case – and exited the craft on cautious hooves.

Thoughtless of Larynia to just leave like that, he thought, beginning to look around outside. He set in among the trees and when the broad stems cut off sight beyond meters in any direction he nervously quickened his pace – he could no longer see the Phantom.

He was busy imagining one after another horrible creature jumping out to meet him – and cursing his vivid imagination – when something did come out from behind a tree and leapt at him.

It hit his side just as his tail went up to meet it. But by the time he could strike they were both on the ground and rolling, trying to regain control over their momentum, trying to get back up before the other did.

Carali scrambled up only to realise he had lost the shredder. His stalks searched the spaces between the trees around him for his attacker and the shredder. He found neither.

A quick estimate told him he was too far away to be able to call for help from the Phantom. Out of thought-speech range by far. And he was alone.

Where was Larynia? Stupid thing to do, really, start searching there woods for her. She could just have gone down to her quarters. The door could have been left open earlier by Olana. He had never even considered that possibility. He started back towards the cruiser at a speedy trot.

When he came around the next tree he found his shredder. Actually, it was hard to miss.

It was aimed straight at him.

He felt the colour drain from his face.

A silvery thought-speech laugh came at him, surprising him enough to make him jump. Only then did he realise who was holding the shredder – Minalea. And she was laughing so hard that the weapon shook in her grip.

«That wasn't funny, Minalea!» Carali snapped sharply.

«I think it was hilarious!» Minalea giggled, turning the shredder in her hand and holding it out for him to take back.

Carali snatched it and fought down the urge to aim it at her. If he did that, he might pull the trigger – and not by mistake. «You almost scared me half to death!»

«Thank you.»

«It was not meant as a compliment.»

«I didn't say it was. What are you doing here? Except being attacked by me, I mean.» she giggled again. «You never even saw me coming, did you?»

«You were asleep when I left the Phantom,» he pointed out indignantly.

«Incorrect. You thought I was asleep. There's a difference.»

Carali sighed, rolling his stalks. «I don't have time for this. I was looking for Larynia.»

«Oh, you were, were you?» Minalea teased, eyes twinkling. Then grew serious. Or at least as serious as she ever would. «Larynia's fine. She's out practicing. Tail-practicing. Disturb her and your head will be chopped off.» She let out an overly dramatic sigh. «And that would be such a shame.»

Carali ignored that. «Do you know where? We shouldn't be running around alone here.»

«Look who's thought-speaking. Yeah, I know where. Follow me. If you can!»

She spun around on a hind hoof took off at a wild gallop, leaving Carali no choice but to follow. She had a good head start and the trees effectively blocked his view, so he had to rely on the short glimpses of blue among the grey-green stems.

Then the glimpses stopped. Carali did the same, looking around. He continued past the next tree, but did not see Minalea anywhere. He saw nothing but the unchanging walls of grey-green trees all around him.

He was just about to call for her, (that irresponsible, not-fit-to-be-anything-other-than-locked-up-least-of-all-a-warrior, wicked little aristh), when another shadow flew at him. He was again pushed off his hooves, fell hard to the ground and pain raked across his back and side like knives before he had time to even think about bringing up his tail.

The shadow disappeared in among the trees before he got a good look at it. Carali stumbled up again. He cursed Minalea's strange sense of humour… then held up his hand to confirm that the shredder again was gone.

In an instant he had stopped cursing and just stared at his hand, eyes wide. Blood from several cuts adorned it in an easily recognizable pattern.

His stalks swivelled to look at his back, and was surprised at the sight of more blood, slithering down his sides. Aside from that first, sharp pain, his back was numb and unfeeling. What alarmed him the most was what he saw beneath the blood: long, parallel scratches.

No Andalite left scratches like that. No Andalite left teeth-marks, like those on his hand. Whoever – whatever – had attacked him, it had not been Minalea.

This time, he realised with a shiver, it was not a game.