How to deal with kii-rajas
Finding the Jijfku ship was easy enough. It was enormous. Reaching it was harder. The storm made it difficult for Carali to fly, and as Cava'ara's atmosphere was thin his heavy kafit body almost fell to the ground as soon as the winds released their grip for the slightest moment. And around the ship itself, black arrowhead fighters were engaged in the deadly dance of battle, and blue energy beams where everywhere.
Even after reaching the ship (and being surprised he'd managed it) it took him a while to find an entrance. The one he finally found had been left open by someone earlier.
That sent off every warning bell he had in his mind. A door left open? Very suspicious. But he slipped inside and hurriedly demorphed, feeling much better once he had his tail-blade back.
He was in a corridor, and there were two directions to choose from. At the end of each there were two new corridors to choose from.
Finding anything or anyone would be difficult, he knew, remembering the sheer size of the ship with a slight shudder. The Touched would take the entire ship before he had a chance to search a hundredth of it.
There was another way. He gathered up some willpower and sent out a thought-roar of Minalea!
The force of the call made him stagger, his mind blanching in protest, stunned. It took him a moment to recover, and another to realise that there had been no reply.
Out of thought-speech range, he thought angrily.
He needed to get deeper into the ship. He chose a direction on random and galloped off down the corridor. At the end he chose the path leading towards the middle of the ship.
After having taken a fourth turn, he gathered up his mind again and let out a second thought-roar.
His head rang like a bell. It took so much energy to roar like that… people had even been known to black out completely from the effort, and the blinding intensity of the roar itself was infamous for causing sharp headaches in anyone unlucky enough to be close by.
But Carali did not have the time or patience to arrange a mirror-wave call, and normal thought-speech did not have the reach of the roar. His choices were limited.
He needed a short while to collect himself before he continued, further into the ship, past four more turns. His hooves thundered against the steel floor.
The third call made him dizzy, sending him down to his knees. Whatever strength his thought-speech centres had held was gone, and now it was stealing energy from his senses of balance and orientation. He realised that another call would render him unconscious.
Fortunately, this time there was a reply; Carali, what's the matter, why are you roaring?
Carali was relieved to hear that the other aristh was in normal thought-speech range. He managed a staggering answer of; Touched. They'll take… the ship. We must leave.
Touched? questioned Minalea anxiously. Ka'an had explained about the Touched, the One… and their bond to the Yeerks.
Leave this ship, and quickly, rasped Carali, climbing back up on all fours. He followed his own advice, trotting off in the direction he had come from, almost stumbling over his own hooves in the procedure.
You sound tired, said Minalea, her voice now more distant.
A few thought-roars too many, replied Carali wearily. Nothing to worry about.
You'll manage out?
Of course.
Minalea's thought-speech voice was very faint, but Carali was sure he caught the words; I certainly hope so.
He frowned, going from a trot to a canter. He felt much better. Perhaps that was just his mind playing tricks on him to first let him get out alive and then feel horrible, but did that matter?
He felt fine.
Of course, when he turned a corner and came face to face with a dozen Touched, he did not feel so fine anymore.
His tail was up in attack at once, and before anyone could blink… before anyone could blink, his legs were swept out from under him by whipping horns, his tail was secured and held unmoving, and he was leaning his upper body on both arms, having just barely avoided falling flat on his face.
He looked up to meet the unnatural green-shining eyes of a Kelbrid Touched, and to hear that Kelbrid speak; "Andalite scum. Arrogant deal-breaker, pitiful liar, person-who-honours-no-borders. You are not welcome here. You are not meant to be here."
The back of the Kelbrid's hand, and the cold flat side of his wrist blade, struck at Carali's face.
The Andalite's entire head was snapped to the side, but he straightened again. The blow only succeeded in angering him, making him determined, awakening his pride and fuelling his hate.
At once another Kelbrid took the place of the first, and also the back of his hand swept at Carali's head. Carali refused to acknowledge the sharp pain and kept his shoulders squared and his upper back straight. But a third replaced the second, repeated the single blow, and then a fourth, a fifth, and so on.
Systematically but slowly the pride, the will to fight back and refuse to give in, was torn apart. Strike after strike, none of them hard, multiplied until the side of his head was numb down to his shoulder, and still the blows rained unrelenting.
He was unsure of how many had struck him – or how many times they had struck him each – when his arms gave up and refused to support his upper body, and his balance could no longer keep his back straight. He sagged down to the floor. None of the Kelbrid had hit hard enough to knock him out. They had not meant to; he knew that, and he longed for the bliss of unfeeling unconsciousness. A dream compared to this humiliation.
With his head now conveniently located at floor lever, the Touched resorted to kicking. They kicked harder than they had hit. Finally, as the side of the third giant claw struck his face, the aristh blacked out.
"Two more," announced Jeanne, looking up in the direction Tom was glaring. The beast started forwards, and the human went after at a quick jog. Tom had quickly gotten the picture of their task; find the enemy. Get rid of him.
Hunting. And it fitted the large kii-raja perfectly.
Melissa, still in her buffalo morph, followed, but she kept a safe distance to the beast.
It was Jeanne who realised that the two Tom had spotted were in fact Santorelli chasing a Yeerk; a rhino following a leopard. The rhino was tiring.
"Let's help," Jeanne decided, and set off on an intercept course to the rhino and the leopard.
Don't send Tom, Melissa warned. This one's mine… I'm sick of missing all the fun.
Jeanne snatched hold of Tom's ear and slowed down. Tom growled, but obeyed. Melissa, the cape buffalo, sped up and she must have called something to Santorelli, for the rhino dropped speed and turned to Jeanne. He trotted slowly towards her, tossing his head back. How's it going?
Jeanne shrugged. She saw Melissa disappear in amongst the trees with a certain degree of concern, but then shrugged it off. Melissa could call for help if she needed it. "Tom's been helpful – too helpful. Melissa got bored."
Not surprising, laughed Santorelli, coming to a stop at a wary distance from the kii-raja, who was glaring viciously at him with his head lowered and his formidable teeth bared in warning.
Jeanne made an attempt to step closer to the rhino – she didn't want to have to speak so loudly.
But Tom had other plans. He moved forwards to block her path, glancing accusingly up at her, before snarling at Santorelli.
"Out of my way, Tom," muttered Jeanne and tried to pass him.
Tom moved again to keep in front of her, despite Jeanne's grip on his ear, not for a moment taking his golden eyes off the rhino. He was growling so fiercely that the spikes on his back trembled.
"It's just Santorelli," said Jeanne, frowning.
You've got him under control, haven't you? Santorelli asked, sounding nervous.
Jeanne shook her head. For safety, she adjusted her hold on Tom's ear to keep him in place. "He doesn't listen to a word I say. He just follows me around, guarding me… because Rachel told him to. I don't even have anything to bribe him with!"
I think he's after fresh rhino, snorted Santorelli, pawing the ground and backing off.
"Don't be silly, he's just –" But Jeanne never finished the sentence, for the beast stopped her again from passing him. She frowned.
Tom saw the expression as he glanced up at her, but it didn't concern him much. The creature could think what she wanted to – he'd been told to guard her, and that's exactly what he was going to do. He didn't care what she thought of it.
But the creature was foolish, trying to pass him. It angered him – he'd shown her danger, and yet she didn't allow him to handle it, and even tried to get closer to it. Dumb creature – why didn't she understand?
He wanted his human. His human understood him. His human would have known what he was trying to say. His human… had told him to guard this creature, this other human.
He let out a whine, casting a short look at the human beside him, and then glaring at the other; the large, heavy creature. The others… both of them.
For there were two. One could be seen. The second was unseen, but very real, very much in control, and very obvious to Tom's acute sense of smell. Together, they presented a danger.
That, if anything, he knew, and he was very pleased with himself for knowing that. His human would approve.
But why didn't the creature understand? His human would have understood. His human would have understood, because… because he'd have shown her.
Show the creature? came the unbidden thought.
No. The creature was not his master, not his leader, not his beloved human. He only showed his human.
But his human had told him to keep the creature safe. For that, the creature needed to stop being foolish – needed to understand. For that, he needed to show what she could not see.
That struck a pleasant cord. Tom knew that, too, and knew it well. Yes; show what could not be seen.
But no. No no no. Only show his human. Only –
The large beast whined again, thoroughly unhappy. He wanted his human. His human understood him.
At first Minalea had thought that he was dead – dead, for how could he possibly be alive?
She was so relieved when she saw the slow, slight rise and fall of Carali's stomach that she forgot to protest as the Touched pushed her into a fighter, hurriedly. Normally, she would of course have resisted. A little, at least – it was a matter of principles. But not enough for them to decide she was more trouble than she was worth, and therefore kill her.
Minalea knew the border between resisting on principles and resisting "foolishly". Most Andalites would resist "foolishly", due to their pride. Minalea preferred to bide her time, wait for an opportunity, and then discreetly disappear.
Opportunities always appeared, sooner or later. Only in an emergency would Minalea cross the very fine line and resist "foolishly".
The situation suddenly turned into an emergency.
Minalea's stalks saw that Carali was being dragged towards another fighter from the one she had been shoved into.
Being a prisoner was not a good scenario, she knew. But at least she had not been alone. Carali had been there, too. He was not the best of company while unconscious, but he had been there. And now he was not. They were being separated.
Hold on one moment… she said to no-one in particular, dug her hooves into the fighter's ramp and began backing out of the fighter again. The other aristh was disappearing out of sight, and she did not like it.
The Kelbrid female in the fighter whipped her horns out, securing Minalea's front legs and yanking them forwards. Her hocks were attacked by the blunt side of a young Kelbrid's wrist blades. She fell heavily with a cry of protest, that ended as her belly slammed against the floor and all air was beaten out of her lungs. Before she could recover, the two Kelbrid had manoeuvred her further into the fighter, up by a wall.
Her hands and tail were already tied together by several loops of chains of thin but strong chains, and now a second chain tied her left arm to a handle on the wall.
The handle, unfortunately, was just high enough to make lying down impossible – it would disjoint her shoulder – and standing up just as impossible – her arm would be pulled too far down. Minalea ended up awkwardly balanced on her front knees.
Her knees were not made to take her weight like that. They would bruise. They would hurt. After only minutes, when the fighter began a speedy ascent into the skies, her poor knees were aching, protesting, and Minalea could do nothing for them.
And, now alone with a Touched and a Kelbrid child, she was very afraid.
Waiting in the hidden Phantom, away from the battle, the group of young Andalites were tense but bored – which is not a good combination. Ela'aki sat on a counter, looking most like a perched bird, saying nothing to the more and more restless arisths.
The Andalite cruiser had been turned off completely, to avoid detection. Therefore it did not notice the approaching Kelbrid fighter. Ela'aki – who was watching the skies above the trees through the windows – did. She leapt from the counter, to the floor, and pointed at the fighter to get the Andalites' attentions to it.
"Danger is over," she said simply. There was a strange tone of grumpiness in her voice, as if she had just missed a party.
Olana activated the cruiser and opened the door. The fighter had landed, and Ka'an came out, his horns whipping above his head. As soon as he could enter the Phantom he made a dismissing gesture at Ela'aki, who slammed one hand against her other shoulder, turned, and at once sped off.
Well? demanded Larynia.
"The ship is gone," Ka'an reported grimly. "There was, as always, too many of the Touched."
What about our friends? clarified Aralgo.
"They were not found. We did however find those I sent to bring back your friends. They had been thrown out of the ship as the Touched lifted it out of the atmosphere."
Dead? Estrid questioned quietly.
"That would be the term for their condition, yes," confirmed Ka'an with a short nod. For a fleeting moment his eyes grew even darker than their ordinary black, but then the expression was gone. "The Touched know it is unwise to carry along the dead in a ship. If the stench of rotting corpses begins to flow through a ship, it stays a very long time." He made a strange gesture; a combination of his left horn and left hand. "And it is bad luck to carry the dead from the planet where they died. The Ami'in-y'akka-y'Imar become very upset." At the Andalites' questioning glances he explained; "The Ami'in-y'akka-y'Imar are goddesses… a wise Kelbrid does not take their anger lightly."
Olana frowned, and Estrid looked mildly surprised to hear of Kelbrid gods or goddesses, but Aralgo – as usual – was not easily sidetracked. They have been taken prisoner?
"Kelbrid do not take non-Kelbrid prisoners –" began Ka'an darkly.
Then they are dead? whispered Olana, wide-eyed.
"They are –"
No, muttered Larynia. That's what he was just telling us… in a few extra words. If they were dead they would not have been kept in the ship – they would have been abandoned on the planet, and we would have found their bodies. But there were no Andalite bodies. She peered at the Kelbrid with her stalks. Or were there?
Then – tried Olana, but grew instantly quiet as Ka'an's horns whipped past in front of her face, a loud crack interrupting her.
"If I am allowed to finish," growled the Kelbrid impatiently. He glared at each of them in turn, and continued; "Very rarely do Kelbrid take prisoners – beyond pressing for information and providing a quick death. The Touched have never been known to take non-Kelbrid prisoners at all – not for themselves. They do, however, take prisoners for Yeerks."
Yeerks! cried Aralgo in alarm, his tail flying up.
We need to head for the Blade ship, Estrid said. Where is it?
"On Dina'amm, scientist," Ka'an supplied, but hesitantly. "It is very dangerous. I would prefer if you reconsidered."
What's there to reconsider? wondered Larynia snappishly. Our friends are there – the Yeerks are there. Anything we missed?
"Only the One. And two million Touched."
The bug fighters, standing in neat lines on the ground, just waiting to be attacked, did not keep that passivity for long.
Taxxons and Hork-Bajir, mixed in with humans, appeared and rushed towards the bugs in order to get them off the ground an in pursuit of the lone, small, but annoying, Kelbrid fighter that was attacking them.
Rachel patiently waited for each bug to hum into motion, and as soon as it left the ground she fired at its engines, causing it to crash – often into a nearby fighter. But the rate of rising bug fighters increased quickly, and finally there were simply too many of them. She turned and headed in amongst the trees – not heading towards the Rachel, of course.
Even Tobias, whose experience with fighter crafts was somewhat limited, could see that once in among the trees the bug fighters were chanceless.
It was the Tom and Jerry show of fighting crafts, with too many Toms. The Toms gave chase but the Jerry scored the hits.
Rachel and the Hawk were perfectly adapted for flitting in and out amongst the trees, swerving around and above and beneath the stems and branches. The bugs reminded Tobias of elephants with rocket roller-skates shoved into a glass-and-mirrors labyrinth; they didn't know where to go, and couldn't turn quickly enough to get there.
He hung tightly to his perch on Rachel's wrist as the small fighter sped through its break-neck manoeuvring.
Rachel, grinning savagely as she fired at the rear of another bug fighter, recognized his cramp-like grip. "What?" she said. "Don't you trust me?"
Of course I trust you. It's just that I also trust your ability to get too deep into a battle.
"The trees are doing all the work for me," shrugged Rachel – another bug had just been trapped in the mishmash of branches. "There's not much for me to do." She spun the fighter about, firing at a bug that had been at their tail, and momentum carried the Hawk in a loop and back facing the right direction.
Maybe we should head back to the others, said Tobias. We've done enough here.
"Spoilsport."
Besides, wasn't the distraction meant to be closer to the Blade ship?
"What, Jake gave you a meter stick and a distance?"
Not exactly. But we are getting a bit far away.
Rachel shrugged, but spun the Hawk around again, towards the Blade ship, and powered ahead. A bug fighter swerved out of the smaller craft's way and flew into a tree.
It took a few moments for the Yeerk fighters to turn. They were not as agile as the Kelbrid-designed Hawk. Kelbrid, living in trees, of course adapted their fighters for the same. By the time the Yeerk fighters took up the chase, the Hawk was skimming the tree line again. The bugs rose higher into the air in order to get a clear shot, but Rachel dove back into the cover of the trees and thereby forced the bugs to follow.
They came out from the trees by the bug fighter parking lot. A few parked bugs were incinerated, just for the fun of it. The Hawk sped on to the Blade ship itself, and used the larger ship as a shield to turn behind and fire back at the pursuers.
Is it just me, mused Tobias, or are there a lot fewer of them than there were before?
"I claim innocence."
You do, do you?
"It's not my fault they can't fly," scoffed the human Animorph.
No. But it's your fault they'll never have a chance to learn.
"Tragic," said Rachel nonchalantly. "Back to the others?"
That was the plan.
Rachel nodded, once, steering the Hawk about to disappear in amongst the trees again, before the bugs came around the Blade ship – and the sensor protection it offered – and saw where she was heading.
Then she pulled the Hawk to a sudden halt and let it hover. Rachel frowned, focusing on some information the fighter was transmitting to her.
What is it? Tobias wondered sharply.
But the blind Animorph was not listening. "Ky'y leth'art i'i…" she whispered, incredulous, and due to her tone it was not hard to understand the strange words; it can't be.
JaLa'an had, despite the dangerous life of a Kelbrid, never broken any bones. Now he was almost blinded by the shock of pain in his hands, and from his toes up to his knees. For a number of precious seconds he couldn't move, and found himself fighting an onslaught of complete paralysis.
Then he pushed the agony aside, as he had done so many times before, and forced himself to calmly list his injuries. His left wrist had snapped. His right hand was numb, the three fingers refusing to function. His right foot seemed unharmed, but the knee above had hit the ground and shattered. His left foot had one crushed toe, but was otherwise unharmed. The ache in his side announced broken ribs. The tendons in his shoulders complained, having been strained. His forehead was bleeding from hitting the ground.
He didn't even bother to count the scratches and bruises.
The gleaming green pupils of a Kelbrid Touched blinked above him, watching him. Other Touched stood all around.
JaLa'an needed to get up. He couldn't remain on the ground. He did not want to die lying on the ground. It was humiliating. Unacceptable. For a moment he wished for the primlar roots in his pack. Better to die a death of his own choosing. But the roots and the pack were in his fighter, and out of his reach.
He leaned onto his elbows, which hurt but worked normally, and shuffled in his left foot beneath him. His tail helped push him to his feet. He couldn't place any weight on his right leg – he knew that, but yet had to try. Had to know his limits, if it came to a battle.
He fell to the side as the leg instantly folded. A Touched grabbed his shoulder to steady him. He looked up in surprise, wondering if he should pull free – despite that he'd fall flat on his face if he did.
"Ka'ir-ya'aysh," muttered the Touched. Her hand reached up to brush past her shoulder in a quick bow. "We are Arnaha. You called?"
Now standing, JaLa'an could look around him. Those surrounding him were eying him curiously – and with envy, glancing constantly towards the white pupils of his eyes. (He wondered if they had noticed his injuries, but reached the conclusion that if they truly were Arnaha, and believers in the freedom of not being Touched, they would gladly take any injury if it came with white pupils.) Those outside that first ring formed two loose lines of defence, keeping other Touched out.
JaLa'an could hardly believe his eyes. But that quickly passed. Had he called for Arnaha? He almost smiled.
"I did," he said. Had he expected any reaction? No.
The Touched who had spoken flicked her tail in concern. "I am cer…" She frowned for a moment, trying to remember, and finished; "Cer TiKa'yl. We fight your battle this day, ka'ir-ya'aysh, but only for a short time. As soon as the Whole realises what is happening, our horns and blades will turn against you. You understand this?"
"Yes," said JaLa'an, swaying where he stood, thankful when TiKa'yl and another Touched helped steady him.
"Then tell us your purpose, quickly, and we shall see it done."
JaLa'an shortly explained their goal of finding Ni'ilu, to repay a favour, and murmurs spread through the circle of green-pupilled Kelbrid. But TiKa'yl snapped a few harsh words and the group came to order, quickly and effectively, as good Kelbrid should.
"Can you walk?" asked the cer y'yhan then.
"If I must. If I can't, I shall crawl."
"You are in no state for battle. You should return to your fighter and head back where you came from… Cava'ara, I suppose?"
"Correct. And my friend?"
"She is being aided by others from Arnaha, and the children. Her own child is safe from the Priests."
JaLa'an believed the Touched's words. First of all, he had no choice. Second, and more important, Kelbrid seldom dishonoured themselves by speaking untruths.
Not trusting themselves, Arnaha sent JaLa'an back to his fighter escorted by two Kelbrid youngsters. The two did not stay long; they disappeared up into the trees, heading for their parents' fighters.
The One will lose many potential Chosen this day, thought JaLa'an, grimly pleased. He sat outside his fighter, having decided to wait for Sira'aki. But he soon shuffled closer to the craft, opening the hatch and dragging himself painfully inside. He reached for his pack – using his horns – and yanked it closer. It took him time to open it. He had one functional thumb, but no working fingers. Horns were not made for detail work, and neither were wrist blades.
Finally he fished out the folded cloth, and spread the contents – tangles of thin, dry, brownish-grey roots – on the fighter's floor. Thin roots, primlar, now easily accessible for when or if he would need them. But he also dug up small, purple leaves, which he put in his mouth, chewed and swallowed. Pha'ara, against the pain. Finally he retrieved the fighter's remote control and laid it beside him, ready to flick the switch when that time came.
He sat back, leaned against the familiar fighter's wall, watching the outside through the still-open hatch and the large window.
JaLa'an was not sure how long he waited when KEdi'ir appeared in the hatch. The child had landed there after leaping from a tree above. He had landed leaned to his left; his right leg was injured.
"Alive?" he said, not commenting the primlar or the remote control.
JaLa'an nodded. "And you?"
"All three of us," announced KEdi'ir happily. "Ni'ilu, too."
"Good," said JaLa'an, nodding again, but otherwise not moving. "Go to Sira'aki. Get back to Cava'ara. Live well."
KEdi'ir hesitated, his gaze straying towards the primlar, and the fighter's remote control, some trace of understanding on his young face. "You are… not coming with us?"
JaLa'an raised his two broken hands. "I cannot fly a fighter," he said in a voice, almost like a whisper, except for the fact that Kelbrid did not whisper without reason. And now, there was no reason. "Go to your mother, KEdi'ir. Now."
KEdi'ir went.
You can't be serious, said Aralgo.
Can and am, replied Larynia. If that's where Carali and Minalea are, we're heading to Dina'amm.
There are Yeerks there. I don't like them. I've had enough of them to last a lifetime already. In fact, he added, a thought striking him, and he pointed at his head; See this? I like this just the way it is. That is, Yeerk-free, and still attached to my shoulders.
What about Carali's head, and Minalea's? asked Estrid lowly, and Aralgo grew silent. Still, continued the scientist, main eyes on Aralgo but stalks swivelling in a questioning manner to Larynia. Dina'amm…
Two million Touched, Aralgo reminded them.
Fewer, if they get in our way, said Larynia dismissingly.
The One is there, too, Olana pointed out.
Another reason to go, Estrid said, determined. The One has Aximili.
Aralgo frowned at her. As far as I see it, he began, the One is someone to keep away from, no matter who he's keeping prisoner. At least if there's only the four of us. Besides, you told me he was two-dimensional, untouchable. How are we supposed to do any good – for anyone except the One, that is?
Not two-dimensional, muttered Estrid, gaze off in the distance, lost in thoughts. My estimate would be seven.
Seven? Larynia questioned sharply.
Could be seventeen.
Why not two? complained Aralgo with a grimace. I liked two. Nice, uncomplicated low number.
A two-dimensional creature could never control a three-dimensional one, Estrid explained. Judging from which dimensions he has shown, and that he trapped Aximili… and what Ka'an told us about his ability to keep the Touched in control… my optimistic estimate is seven dimensions.
Optimistic? echoed Larynia dryly.
The more dimensions, the more powerful. The next alternative is seventeen dimensions. After that, twenty-three. Take your pick.
How did you figure all that out? Olana wondered.
Estrid sighed. I applied a certain branch of partometaphysics and Nomili's Principles to some interesting, theoretical n-dimensional equations. All of it strictly taphulicytric, of course.
Larynia and Olana both blinked, blank looks on their faces, while Aralgo scoffed loudly. Nomili! That old fool? Has anyone ever taken him truly seriously?
Unfortunately not, said the scientist.
He studies the Ellimist Phenomena, laughed Aralgo in explanation to the other two arisths. He claims to be able to prove and explain the Ellimist's existence through numbers.
Imaginary numbers, corrected Estrid, sounding bored. Obviously she had encountered scepticism concerning this specific line of study before. The square root of negative one, to name a simple example. And as far as I can tell, most of Nomili's studies are well-founded.
In what? Lunacy?
Plintconarythmics. Advanced plintconarythmics.
Now, Aralgo looked blank. Then turned defensive. And what, exactly, would you know of that?
I'm a scientist, Aralgo, Estrid reminded him.
What is your area of study? Don't tell me plintconarythmics. That's not possible. That would make you –
A genius, Estrid supplied.
Something like that, yes, the aristh agreed, now frowning.
But it's not plintconarythmics. I use plinconarythmics as a basis. Somewhere to start. Like you learn addition in order to advance to multiplication and powers of.
Then what do you study? asked Olana lowly.
Quantum viruses. Programmable viruses – viruses programmed in these dimensions and others. But they tend to flux. Nomili's Principles, Aralgo, can help predict and control them.
And you think they could be applied to the One, predict and control him? Larynia questioned. And free my cousin?
I hope they will help us free Aximili. But control the One? Not likely. The viruses are controllable because they can be adapted, from one generation to the next. We can't do that with the One.
Aralgo sighed heavily, resigned, and said; So due to doubtable theories of a half-mad philosopher-mathematician called Nomili we are going to a planet filled with angry Touched, horrid Yeerks, and a multi-dimensional Ellimist-copy?
Ellimist-copy? echoed Olana.
It's already a bad scenario, so why not?
We're going to help out friends, Estrid clarified. All three of them, if we can.
If Ka'an lets us, Olana added.
Three sets of questioning stalks swivelled towards her.
Well, she continued, tugging nervously at a stalk, he didn't seem to like the idea. He might stop us from leaving.
Why would he do that? Larynia scoffed.
"Because we do not sent children to war alone," Ka'an's voice came from the doorway. He had a nasty habit of appearing when he was least expected. All stalks turned towards him instead.
We are not children, Larynia informed him.
"No matter. You are not leaving Cava'ara so foolishly." He leaned his ears out in an expression the Andalites still could not decipher. "Whether or not you are youngsters I cannot tell – I'm no Andalite – but you're being impulsive. Rush to Dina'amm and trust to luck?"
Do you have a better idea? asked Aralgo lowly.
"Bring someone who knows Dina'amm – and the Touched."
Who?
"I shall follow you myself," Ka'an told them. Then grimaced. "Few here are fond enough of Andalites to be willing to help you. I am not fond of Andalites. I offer my help only because of Rachel. She has taken the Andalite side in this Yeerk-Andalite war, which I know little of except for what she's told me. But she has fought with me and mine for long. It is time to repay the favour."
We don't need a guide, Aralgo said. Both military training and Andalite pride protested violently against the idea.
"Then you are staying here."
Make us, growled Larynia.
"If that is your wish," sighed the Kelbrid.
Estrid slowly crossed her arms over her chest and gave Ka'an a long, studying look. If you want your people to stop us leaving, you'll have to give them that order – before we take off.
"Yes."
You can't do that if we simply knock you out and take off.
"Threats are futile."
We are four to one.
"Yes. Poor you."
Estrid shook her head, slowly. Ka'an recognized the gesture and his ears twitched in question. Ka'an, said the scientist slowly. You can't keep us here against our will. It's not right.
"You chose right over your life, scientist? Alone on Dina'amm, you all –"
But the Animorphs are there, Aralgo pointed out.
"With people who know the Touched, and Dina'amm." He flicked his tail. "For all this talk, you've forgotten one thing."
What? asked Estrid.
"How do you plan to even find Dina'amm without a guide?"
The arisths and Estrid exchanged stalk-glances, the frown on one's face mirrored on the next's.
Hate to say it, Olana murmured, again tugging at a stalk. But he's right.
"What's with him, anyway?" Jeanne asked no-one in particular. Tom was still positioned between her and the rhino that was Santorelli, teeth bared in obvious warning. But the hold on his ear kept him back… not because he'd worry about a torn ear, but because he had long ago understood that a hold on his ear was meant to restrain him.
I don't know, said Santorelli nervously, still carefully keeping back. But I don't like it. Make him lie down – or make him go away. Even better.
Jeanne tried the first alternative. She sat down, tugged at Tom's ear and slapped the ground in front of his front paws encouragingly. Tom, though, didn't move. He whined, glancing at Jeanne and licking his nose, and then resumed his glaring.
"I can't figure why he's –" began Jeanne, but then suddenly her face grew expressionless, like someone listening to private thought-speech. Then she, too, glared at the rhino, sudden understanding dawning on her face. "So that's why. No wonder you want me to sent Tom off, Santorelli. You've gone and gotten infested."
The rhino tossed his head back in protest. Infested! Who – me? Why –
"Tom told me," Jeanne continued, scratching the beast's head affectionately. "Such a nice kii-raja. Good kii-raja." Then she looked up at Santorelli again. "You make one move in the wrong direction, and I'll let go of his ear. If I do, you're history."
So would your friend be, growled Santorelli – no, the Yeerk – in reply.
Jeanne shrugged. "Not necessarily. Point is, you're coming with me, nice and easy, back to the others."
The Yeerk actually laughed. No. No, I don't think so. See, there's one tiny detail that you seem to have forgotten.
"And what's that?" demanded Jeanne.
Yaysh.
Which, of course, was exactly what Tom had been waiting for. He tore free from Jeanne's grip and set off at once, giving the human no more than the quickest of glances as he passed her – only enough to make sure he didn't barrel right into her.
Jeanne called out, spun around and even ran a step or two after him, trying to catch hold of his tail, but she slowed to a stop when she realised how useless it was. She turned back towards Santorelli, slowly, already tensing for an attack she knew would come.
She watched the rhino lower his head, all while hearing him laugh in thought-speech at how easily he had made the kii-raja abandon her.
Jeanne took a deep breath to calm herself. It didn't help much; for just then, the rhino charged.
"Pas bien."
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Author's Note;
This chapter's been lying almost-finished on my computer for about two weeks. Now it's up – as you've probably noticed.
Kelbrid picture can be found here: www.livejournal.com/talkpost.bml?journal=stormfairy&itemid=32383
It probably doesn't look like whatever picture someone who's reading this story has in their head, but it's the picture of Kelbrid I've had in my head. It's how I've intended to describe them. Tell me if I've failed miserably.
That was all.