How cookies build fleets

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-note: the thought-speech symbols wouldn't cooperate, so I improvised, using # instead.

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Cassie's defiance against the Yeerks had surprised even herself. When she thought it over, she reached the conclusion that it felt as if – when any Animorphs were captive – someone among the prisoners needed to defy the Yeerks. It was a matter of principles, of facts that were subconsciously drilled in: the Animorphs did not easily accept defeat. In fact, they did not accept it at all.

The job of defiance had always belonged to the others, the brave ones; Aximili and Rachel, foremost. Aximili for his pride, and Rachel for her recklessness. But Aximili was missing, and Rachel was dead, and there was no-one there who could help Cassie except herself.

She had been put in a surprisingly spacious force field cage in the corner of an unfamiliar cavern. In the cavern's centre there was a small Yeerk pool, carved out of the rocky ground, and its stench spread easily on the somewhat moist air. Cassie's guess was that the cavern was a natural cave, taken into use as it was, with only minor modifications, by the Yeerks. Along one wall a series of rooms, quarters for all Cassie knew, had been build – barely more than plywood walls with plywood doors. A control station stood in a corner opposite from Cassie, in full view from her cage. Hers was the only cage in the area.

There was only minimal movement around the cavern. Cassie, guessing the time to be around midday, had spent her time so far huddled in the deeper end of her cage, her legs drawn to her chest, her arms enfolding them, and her chin on her knees. She was tired, although keeping awake under the present circumstances was not difficult. She refused to speak, or to even acknowledge people who tried to communicate with her. She glowered out over the cavern, and carefully monitored anything that went on. Since nothing seemed to be happening, it was a dull task. She had counted six human-Controllers, who went about their tasks in a bored manner. The light of their day seemed to be glancing over at her, in her cage, and savouring the sight. They came and went through the cavern and into the different rooms, passing the control station now and again. Some stopped by the pool, leaned down, dropping off or taking up Yeerks from and to their ears: they were all voluntary.

Not-quite-as-voluntary were the Hork-Bajir. Cassie recognized them as those who had disappeared from Yellowstone. Each, when forced by two other Hork-Bajir to kneel at the pool, was immediately infested by a spare Yeerk when their first one left to feed. There were more Hork-Bajir than humans.

Of course: the human-Controllers could parade about outside, should they wish to, and were they not on duty. The Hork-Bajir, on the other hand, had to remain hidden. There were surely more human-Controllers than those she saw. But what Hork-Bajir-Controllers there were, were the thirteen visible to her: the thirteen who had been taken from Yellowstone.

Midday passed and another hour or two dragged away. After that, another force field was suddenly erected outside her own cage. Between the two force fields a tray with food had been put; and suddenly the inner force field disappeared, leaving the tray within easy reach.

Cassie looked at the tray, feeling thirst burn in her throat, and a stir of insistent hunger in her stomach. But...

"I'm not eating that," she declared to Ythram, who stood just outside the cage, having put the tray down. Ythram was the same Yeerk who had spoken to her, threatened and taunted her, all the way from her house and to this cavern. He was also, he had explained, the leader of the Yeerks, as he was the only sub-Visser among them.

The Yeerk made his host shrug. "Then don't." He sent her a sharp look, almost accusative. His host's features were plain and dull, but he had mastered the art of transforming them to convey nothing but menace. "What, do you think we'd poison you? Drug you, or kill you?"

Cassie was silent. Ythram smiled suddenly; a mocking leer. "In that case, don't eat. If you don't, you'll turn as sluggish as any drug could cause you to be, and finally just as dead as any poison could make you. We'd win. Eat, or don't, we'd win. That is," he added dryly, "assuming we are trying to poison you."

"People can last several weeks, even months, without food," Cassie told him. "They don't feel so good, but they'll live."

"How about without water?" challenged Ythram, making a gesture towards the bottle of water that lay on the tray. Then he continued in a snarl; "No, Animorph, we won't drug you, or poison you. A shot from a dracon gives the same result, but quicker and cheaper. Now eat."

"No."

"You're being childish."

"I'm surprised you even recognise that concept, Yeerk."

Ythram's host's face was contorted with anger. "Remember what I told you, little Animorph. Cooperate, and we'll let you have some degree of freedom, as a gesture of goodwill. Resist, and you'll be infested. It's up to you. Now eat!"

Before Ythram turned away, he sent Cassie a glance, and she was surprised to see fear in his eyes.

Goodwill, yes, and she had wondered why. Now she knew.

It felt very good to realise that the Yeerks feared her – she reached for the tray, almost beginning to giggle.

-

Serfar-Arethan-Carnin was not on his first choice assignment. Being a celebrated War Prince and working closely to the Inner Circle of Apex Level, he had almost been shocked at his latest task. After considering it more closely, he had reluctantly agreed that yes, it was important, but that did not make him much happier about it.

That was why Serfar was annoyed even before he stepped out of the Andalite transport and took his first look around docking station five of the human warship, the PacificGriffin. He paid no heed as the pilot and the two warriors who were his escort unloaded his few things from the transport, and even less heed to the lowly human soldier who came up and made a quick salute.

"War Prince Serfar, I presume," said the soldier, preparing to say more, but Serfar silenced him with a sharp glare. He noted the paw-in-hand logo on the right shoulder of the soldier's soft-grey uniform, indicating a morphable.

He had been informed that the PacificGriffin had a crew totalling to six hundred; including the technicians, medics, mess staff, officers, and himself. Of them, one hundred and fifty were morphables, led by three officers, who took their orders directly from the Captain and were loyal to no-one and nothing except the ship. Concerning his assignment, he would have to keep his eye on those three officers.

Serfar decided to go directly to the point. The War Council – more importantly, Apex Level – had given him a task, and it was best to get on with it. Even if it was tedious.

#Where is the Captain? he asked. I was informed that I would meet the Captain here.#

"Our Captain is too busy to run errands such as welcoming you to our ship, sir," the morphable said calmly.

'Too busy'? He was an Apex Level War Prince! He deserved to be welcomed by someone ranking higher than this... this simple soldier. #Then the tactical officer? The first officer? Surely – #

"Pardon me, sir, but I have been ordered to take you directly to –"

#Hush, soldier!# Serfar snapped. #Very well. If they are not here you will have to fetch them. And hurry up – I do not have all day.#

The soldier remained where he was, and did not even alter his expression. He took a breath to speak again, but Serfar had already turned his back.

His things, packed in a small cubical container, were on the floor outside the transport he had arrived in. The pilot and the two warriors stood waiting for his dismissal. He gave it with a mental sigh, and the three trooped into the transport to wait for permission to launch.

Turning back around, Serfar saw the soldier still standing where he had been left.

"Sir, I have –"

#Stop this nonsense and fetch an officer!#

"Sir, you –"

#And it is not 'sir',# Serfar spat. #I am not a simple human officer, but an Andalite War Prince. You are to treat me as such.#

"War Prince Serfar," the soldier agreed, bowing his head slightly but then looking Serfar straight in the eye. "I have orders to bring you directly to the Captain's offices. You do not seem eager to go, but that is not my problem. You are to follow me there, now, and whether it is done freely or in chains is your choice."

Serfar stared at him, main eyes slowly narrowing. #Do your officers know that you use such language – threatening your superiors?#

"Pardon me, War Prince. But those were the Captain's own words – your irritation at not being 'properly welcomed' was foreseen. Shall we go, or will I need to fetch those chains?"

The two stared at each other for a few moments, testing who would give in first. Under the War Prince's sharp glare the soldier finally looked away, but it was only to say; "Ah, well. Then would you please wait here, War Prince, for the chains are heavy and it'll take some time to fetch them."

He glanced up at Serfar and successfully avoided to laugh at the ill-fit expression of defeat on the Andalite's stony face.

#Lead the way, soldier,# Serfar muttered. He was going to be forced to have a few harsh words with this so-called Captain.

As the soldier led him through the corridors of the PacificGriffin, he began to specify to himself exactly which words, each darker and harsher than the previous one. He was not going to let himself be treated this way. And it was – as the Inner Circle had said – just a matter of showing this human Captain who would truly be running the ship.

Greeted by a simple soldier! He was of Apex Level! They could at least have sent the first or tactical officer.

His tail inched upwards and his face grew darker and darker. But when they reached the first room of the Captain's offices – part of the Captain's quarters – he quickly got rid of the expression, lowered his tail and adapted a nonchalant but appropriately arrogant pose. There were two guards sitting by a table playing with rectangular pieces of paper with shapes on them; both morphables, who dropped the papers and stood up to watch him alertly as he passed.

The soldier stopped by a door and turned for a quick bow. "Here it is, War Prince. I advice you not to keep the Captain waiting."

Serfar stared angrily at the still-closed door, and then at the soldier, who made no move to open it. In fact, he had already turned away to join his friends.

Serfar was steaming with anger as he slammed a hand on the pad, thought open , and stepped in through the opening door.

The soldier made sure the door had closed behind the Andalite War-Prince and then barked a laugh.

"What?" one of the guards asked.

He grinned. "I'd have paid big money to see that one confront the Captain."

-

The Captain of the PacificGriffin, who went under the name of Ashley Brown, was not in her best mood as she waited for the Andalite. The War Council had sent him to be official "advisor" on her ship. The advisor was part of a compromise between the Earth Council and the War Council; it had been about who would be in charge of the ships, and the Andalites had not provided so much help in building them for free. (The settlement would not have worked so well if the War Council negotiators hadn't been bribed with chocolate chip cookies, but that was beside the point.)

The Earth Council officials that had briefed her about it had warned her and the other two Captains of these so-called "advisors". There was, of course, a concealed purpose of the entire affair; and it didn't take a genius to spot it. The advisor was there to not only advice the "inexperienced human crew" on their "first journey with an intergalactic warship", but also to make sure the ship followed eventual Andalite plans that the Andalites had – for some reason or other – refrained from informing their allies of. To make sure the ship kept in line, simply put; in the Andalite line.

Ashley was not going to play along. This was her ship; that meant she was in charge, not some non-human. Not some Andalite who probably didn't even understand why the crew needed chairs and tables in the mess hall – or a mess hall at all, for that matter.

When the Andalite finally arrived into her office, you could tell from his face that he had a sharp remark or two waiting to be said. But they kept waiting. He stopped a step inside the door, staring at the Captain with so much surprise that he obviously forgot what to say.

So much the better. "Something wrong?" Ashley wondered, eyebrows raised.

#Where is the Captain?# the Andalite replied.

Ashley kept her eyes from flashing. "You're looking at her," she said, voice carefully levelled.

#You are the Captain?#

"No, I'm the Captain's pet iguana. Do you want me to forward a message?" At the Andalite's thoroughly confused expression, she rolled her eyes and continued; "Yes, I am the Captain. Maybe you were expecting someone male... didn't you not read the crew introduction they sent you?" A note of razor appeared into her manner as she continued; "Or are there any problems?"

He blinked, but quickly collected himself and straightened. #No; none at all... Captain.#

She decided to overlook the sneer and hesitation about that last word. "Good. I'd ask you to sit, but you probably prefer to remain standing. Your name would be..." she glanced at her papers, tidily arranged on the desk she was sitting behind. "...there it is. Serfar-Arethan-Carnin, War Prince of Apex Level."

Serfar flicked his tail to confirm that. He seemed to have recovered from his speechlessness. #Correct, and as a War Prince – #

"Wait until I've finished," the Captain said sharply, sending him a glare. Then returned to looking at her papers. "You are stationed here as an advisor."

#Correct.#

"Do you know the details of your responsibilities as such?"

#To the letter.#

"Good," Ashley said, letting her voice grow sharper. "Have you then forgotten that it states clearly in paragraph nine of the Advisor Compromise that you are to follow my orders?!"

The Andalite blinked, but looked more annoyed than alarmed. #Concerning what?#

"Concerning that I sent for you two days ago and specifically told you come to this ship and report to my office within TEN hours. By now, it has been FIFTY-THREE hours – and twenty-four minutes. Do you know how to count, advisor?"

#Of course,# Serfar muttered. #But a certain – #

"I don't care if your own mother was caught by Yeerks and held for ransom," the Captain growled. "Such behaviour is unacceptable. I could have you on trial for mutiny for that. Understood?"

#Since I am not ordinarily part of this Fleet, what I do before I report for duty is my business and mine alone. You cannot accuse me of anything I've done before entering this room,# Serfar argued. And added with a sneer; #As a Captain you should know that.#

"Maybe so," Ashley agreed. "But you've come off to a bad start here. Showing up forty-three hours late the first thing you do is disrespecting me, this ship, the entire human armada, and the Earth Council itself. I'll be honest; I don't consider myself to need a baby-sitter; if I wasn't capable of leading this ship on my own, the Earth Council would never have appointed me. I accept your presence here, and will pay heed to your advice, but if you think you're going to boss me around; think again. You're not."

The Andalite's expression flickered to surprise and anger and back to nonchalance. #Of course not, Captain.#

"Good."

#Captain,# the advisor began. #According to paragraph – #

Ashley waved a hand to silence him and continued. "Paragraph eight says that the advisor lacks an official place in the ship's ranking. Your place is as my advisor, and you are unable to give direct orders to anyone on the ship. In the case of my absence, or death, the first officer takes over and you become his advisor instead. You are not in any way going to command anyone on this ship to do anything, least of all myself or the officers."

Serfar's tail was, by then, twitching.

Ashley sighed. "Of course," she said. "You are to be treated with the respect that comes with your ordinary rank, which means proper addressing, courteousness, and you can tell the soldiers to run simple errands." She glanced down at her papers again. "What else? Oh, yes. A soldier will show you to your quarters. There are two other Andalites on this ship – a technician, and a medic – and they'll show you on where you can graze, and make sure you have everything you need. Any questions?"

Serfar shook his head, a gesture he must have picked up from humans somewhere. It was growing more and more common for Andalites to nod and shake their heads. #No, Captain. It shall be as you command.#

"Good that we understand each other." She glanced up at him, watching his face carefully for any mood swings. "One more thing – just to avoid misunderstandings further on. As you probably have guessed, I am aware of the little plans you Andalites at Apex Level have for these human ships. Unfortunately for you, we Captains are going to harder pieces to play than you counted on us to be."

#Pieces, Captain?# Serfar wondered, putting on an innocent expression.

"Drop the charade. That's an order. Do you have instructions to... control... this ship, or not?"

Serfar regarded her, his eyes ad gaze purposefully chilled – too chilled. #Not officially, and I would not put it in those words,# he said finally. #The term used was to "guide". Which, I believe is – in its own way – a synonym for "advice".#

"Paragraph two mentions something about the advisor having a 'right to guide'," Ashley recalled, forehead wrinkled. "It is a bit unclear – although that is probably the point." She sighed again. "Anything else I should know?"

#Yes,# Serfar said, now visibly straining to keep his arrogance on a short leash. #The Advisor Compromise goes both ways. It also states that the Captain is obliged to listen to the advisor, unless – #

"I'll do so, I told you. I know the Compromise just as well as you do. All eleven paragraphs. If there's a loophole for you to crawl through and start giving orders somewhere –"

#My word will – however you fight it – weigh heavily with the decision-making on this ship, so I suggest you get used to listening to me,# Serfar snapped. #And let me finish my sentences, because I usually have important things to say. I am not a patient Andalite, and being constantly cut short tends to worsen my mood.#

Ashley gave a curt nod. "I will keep that in mind," she muttered coolly. "Again, any questions? If not, then you are dismissed."

#Captain, listen to me,# the advisor spat, now visibly angered, tail inching upwards. He probably thought that she would not notice, being unused to Andalites as she was – he was wrong.

Ashley flew to her feet. "Raise that tail against me a millimetre more – ever – and you'll regret it!" she growled.

Serfar lowered his tail, looking annoyed, but realising that she was right. He would have to keep himself in check; it would not do to threaten a Captain on his – her – own ship, human or not. Ashley slowly sank back into her seat, one eye on his tail and one glaring at his face. Amazing how humans could do that, when their eyes were so closely linked, and it was not the first time Serfar noticed it.

"What do you have to say?"

#According to paragraph twelve –#

"There are only eleven paragraphs."

Serfar let a gleeful smile peer forth through his eyes. #No; one was added at the last moment. Were you not informed? How... unfortunate. You may of course call the Earth Council and have them confirm it, if you wish.#

He waited to see if she would do so, even gestured towards the communications pad on the desk, but Ashley did not move. "Proceed."

A slight bow of stalks and the advisor did. #I am to keep a careful record of your every decision,# he said. #And I am able to take control. Should I find one of your decisions to be completely unacceptable, for some reason – for example inexperience or simple stupidity – I am at my full rights to relieve you of command, with immediate effect, and take your place.#

He smiled victoriously at her, and preformed a mocking bow. #We Andalites are not easy pieces to play, either, as you are about to find out.#

He turned and left the room. The door closed behind him with a soft thud – although a loud bang would have felt so much more appropriate.

Ashley stayed in her chair, hands gripping the armrests tightly. She counted silently to ten and back to zero to calm herself, and then reached for the communications pad.

"Yes, Captain?" the voice coming from it said.

"I want to speak to the Andalite medic, Ferili," Ashley said, and heard a slight click as the transmission was sent through.

"This is Ferili," said the medic, the network translating his thought-speech into a spoken voice.

"I have a question for you, Ferili," Ashley replied, her voice as pleasant as she could make it. "If I wanted to kick an Andalite male where it really hurts, where would I kick?"

-

"Are you sure about this?"

#Do you have a better idea?#

"Flea? Mosquito?"

#Tom would know I was there. He'd tell Rachel.#

"So instead..."

#Yep.#

Marco gave the hawk, who was seated on his lower arm, a long stare. "Should I go in there and tell him dinner is served, or do you think he'll figure that out for himself?"

#He'll probably figure it out on his own, yes,# Tobias sighed. #You're sure he's in here?#

"This is where Rachel threw him in. Can you think of anyone likely to move him?"

#Jeanne?#

"Not when he's in this mood, no."

#Oh, well. Here goes. Let me in.#

Marco opened the door, using the panel beside it. He held out his arm, and watched Tobias flap down to the floor. Two golden eyes watched from inside the room, silent and alert.

"Good luck. I'll get the desert when you're done."

#Thanks. I really appreciate it.# Tobias glared up at his friend, before turning and waddling ahead, as gracefully as his hawk body was capable of. His claws clicked against the steel floor, very softly. He was careful to make no hurried movements.

#The theory,# he said, mostly to himself, #is that I'm not a threat. To him. He'll know that. And since Rachel isn't nearby, I'm no threat to her, so perhaps he won't be so protective... and so aggressive. He'll just let me walk as I please.#

"Theory not taking into account that he's, hm, not been fed," Marco whispered – loudly, to Tobias's hawk ears.

#You know, Rachel usually has a point when she tells you to shut up,# Tobias snapped in reply. He had stopped, perhaps a meter or two from Tom's nose.

The hawk did not see well in the darkness, but some light from the corridor fell on the beast. He lay like a large dog, his front legs crossed on the floor, beneath his raised head, his ears pricked, his back legs sloppily spread out to the side and his long, Andalite-like tail lying in a perfect half-circle from his back end and around his back legs to beside his shoulder. He had fixated his golden eyes on Tobias. Now and again, his nose twitched. His ears, both aimed forwards, did not move. He breathed slowly, calmly.

But his golden gaze was fixated on the hawk.

#Hello there, Tom,# Tobias said carefully.

The beast's left ear turned, and then turned back to where it had begun.

#Just lie still, now,# Tobias nearly begged, as he advanced another step. #I just need a quick...#

Tom regarded him. He looked up past him, at Marco. His nose twitched, as if searching for something, and stopped when it found it and calmed down. He appeared bored. He rested his head on his front paws, and his eyes half-closed.

It was more than Tobias had hoped for. He waddled another step forwards, reached out...

The tip of his wing briefly touched the kii-raja's front paw. Tom's eyes slouched even more. His ears drooped.

Tobias felt the kii-raja DNA making its way into his bloodstream, like a shiver along his wing. He kept contact with the kii-raja, slowing the process as much as possible. He took a seat on Tom's neck, careful not to hurt the kii-raja with his claws, and careful to maintain contact with the beast.

#Now or never,# he muttered.

#Coming,# replied Marco, nervously, and a moment later large gorilla hands gripped the Tom around his ribcage and heaved him off the floor and onto a gorilla shoulder.

#Quickly, quickly,# urged Tobias. #I can't slow this much more, I have to let go...#

#He'll kill us both if you do.#

#Probably, yes.#

As quickly as Marco's gorilla morph could bring them there, they arrived at the least used room in the entire ship: the cleaning closet. Tom was hurriedly (but not ungently) placed on the floor – there was barely enough room – and as soon as Tobias had passed the door, Marco shut it.

#Hope he doesn't cause a racket,# Marco murmured. #You ready to try this?#

#As ready as I'll ever be. What's the time?#

#An hour to go. Then my shift ends, and it's time to wake everyone up to see Rachel off.#

#Perfect.#

Marco demorphed during the walk back to the room where Tom had been kept. He kept his teeth gritted, waiting for the sound of crashing or howling to break from the cleaning closet, but there was only silence. Tobias rode on his shoulder, but on reaching Tom's former prison, the hawk swept down to the floor.

Tobias searched for the new DNA within him, and found it easily. He focused on it, focused on Tom – how easy it was to recall and focus on the golden eyes, and the sharp teeth, which had been vividly imprinted into his memory. As he focused, he felt the changes begin. He grew. His feathers shrunk, turning into golden fur. His beak transformed into a muzzle and sharp teeth, and ears grew out of the sides of his head. His tail-feathers extended ridiculously before spinning together and forming a tail.

And then it was done. He sat back in his new body, waiting for the kii-raja mind to set in. It crept up on him, almost cautiously, and melded with his own: he neither welcomed nor dreaded it. Relieved that the mind had not overwhelmed him, he tested his new limbs.

He had morphed a cat once, a long time ago. His own, long lost cat: Dude. The kii-raja moved with the same fluid, slightly lazy manner; as if knowing that nothing could make him tired, but why push it? Tobias searched for details.

Surprisingly, the creature was well aware of both its capabilities and its limits. If it had known how to count, it would have been able to tell to the centimetre how high it was able to jump, or how far it could run at any given speed, and what its speed limit actually was. It was hard not to be surprised at the certain facts, and at how the kii-raja seemed able to analyse itself.

The kii-raja had a choice; extremely fast for a short period of time, or a lazy run, that could be kept up as long as necessary. He was unafraid, unworried, and not overwhelmed by hunger or other needs. He was in control of his surroundings; and perfectly aware of what those surroundings were.

He was, though, instinctively afraid of water, deep water, dark water, treacherous water. For in water lurked dangers – a remnant from the wild kii-rajas many years ago, back on the Kelbrid's long-gone planet, Tobias thought, remembering that Kelbrid were not fond of water either. He wondered what kind of monster could so frighten a beast that was so self-confident.

Self-confident or not, Tobias soon noted that the kii-raja was looking for a leader. The kii-raja needed someone to tell him what to do, or he would be confused, afraid and lost. Tobias suppressed that feeling – with a bit of effort – and explored his new senses.

The sense of hearing was excellent – Tobias was sure he would be able to hear if someone dropped a feather in the next room. The eyesight, though, was nothing to marvel about – especially not compared to his own hawk eyes. Not that great depth of vision, no good with details, probably no good at distances, either, and more interested in motion than shapes, but decent colours – although everything was slightly purple.

Is that what Rachel had lived with for the last year?

But that nose. It was not a sense of smell, really... Tobias found that the kii-raja "smelled" the way the living creatures around him were built. He smelled their DNA – there was no other explanation. And from it, he could at once draw up a picture of how the creature looked, its strengths and weaknesses, its speed and stamina and size, without having to see it. The kii-raja would evaluate the information, and at once know exactly how and if the creature – whatever it was – could be beaten. And the closer he came, the more details he could find.

Marco's form confused him, though. Marco was carrying his own DNA. But it was jumbled... mixed with other DNA:s. A morphable, was Tobias's calm analysis, but the pictures that the kii-raja mind drew up as it tried to sort it all out were not pretty.

It caused his lip to curl. He had to take a tight grip on his new morph to keep it calm. This creature in front of him was not natural. The creature should not exist.

And the error must be corrected.

When Tobias had managed to calm the kii-raja mind he thought over the fact that Tom seemed to have had nothing against morphables, even the first time he had come across them, in Rachel's house. But the instinct was clear: unnatural. Kill it.

The first explanation came to Tobias in a sigh of obviousness: Rachel was a morphable, too. But then Tobias remembered that Rachel had lost her morphing powers. She was unable to morph, no longer a morphable, and should no longer smell like a morphable.

Or should she? Did she?

He would find out soon enough. All he needed to do was go near her, and the strange kii-raja nose would surely paint her up as it had done the others.

"Hey, bird-boy? You okay in there?" Marco's voice wondered.

Tobias twitched his tail experimentally and glanced up towards Marco. Not really up, though – when he straightened, his nose was about the same level as Marco's jaw.

#Yeah,# Tobias said. #I'm fine.#

Marco glanced around nervously. The kii-raja noted that. The kii-raja noted the way he shifted his weight to another foot, noted the way his mouth opened as if to say something but then closed again... noted the way he turned his head towards the door, the foolish creature, and thereby bared his very vulnerable throat –

Tobias held his morph on a very tight leash. This was not Tom. Tom almost seemed docile when compared to the cold-blooded, observant killing-machine that was a true, instinctive kii-raja.

Of course. He had known he would be morphing a full-fledged kii-raja, acting on instinct and intelligence; not some tame beast, hand-fed from young age and used to seeing both Kelbrid and humans as something other than food. Used to taking the orders his mind pleaded for from what his instinct would have told him to hunt and eat. Mostly orders from Rachel – only orders from Rachel.

This kii-raja was still looking for someone to tell him what to do, yes; looking for another kii-raja. Any creature he encountered until he found that kii-raja was either unworthy of his attention, or dinner.

Including Rachel.

And if the kii-raja mind kept being so ultra-focused, so totally dedicated to his surroundings, the weaknesses of those around him and the numerous ways he could attack, kill, and eat them, then this was going to be harder than Tobias had thought.

"Tobias?" Marco said. "You look a little... brought down."

#You can tell?#

Marco nodded. "That beast Rachel has always looks like he's the king of the jungle. So did you, a moment ago. Now you don't. How's the morph?"

Tobias let out a bitter laugh. #Marco, let me put it this way: be glad kii-rajas aren't ambitious. For in that case, they'd be more than just kings.#

Confusion passed over Marco's face but was instantly gone. He shook his head. "Can't believe I'm actually helping you do this. I don't mind you going with Rachel, you know that, but –"

#But what?# Tobias wondered, more sharply that he had intended to. The kii-raja had detected a threat, however slim, in Marco's words – and did not like it. Again he had to hold his morph back. He felt his ears twitch, and there was a sudden itch in his claws.

Marco took a step away and held his hands up as if in defence. "Hey, don't get mad at me while you're in that morph. You know I don't like Tom, and I can't say I feel much better about you."

Tobias sat down. #Sorry. He's just a bit edgy. He keeps...#

"What?"

#He keeps pointing out details. Weaknesses. Like when you turned your head, just now, and your throat was bared, I could barely to keep him back.#

Marco's hand went immediately to his throat as if to protect it.

#Now your side,# Tobias observed. #Completely unprotected. Do you know how many vital organs you have there? I'd just have to get up, dive in, snap my teeth shut and – #

"Tobias!" Marco complained. "Don't. Do. That."

Tobias realised what he had been saying and grabbed a tighter hold of the kii-raja mind. He ignored the expectant tingle in his teeth. #Sorry. Do you understand what I mean? This thing is...#

"What?" Marco asked nervously, wondering what part of him was attracting the kii-raja's attention this time.

#Kii-raja, it means 'the one who chases', doesn't it? That's exactly what this is. The perfect hunter.#

-

It was a strange, and strangely eventless morning. Marco left Tobias waiting in Tom's room. Tobias claimed that he could smell everyone on the ship as the door opened, and the scent was fresh. He could tell that Tom had been in that very room a short time before, but could also tell in what direction and roughly how far away the kii-raja was at the time. He could sense morphables in the direction of the sleeping quarters, and he could sense traces of them from where they had passed down the corridor. He could sense Santorelli, and something which must have been the Yeerk, up on the bridge.

Marco walked about feeling uneasy. He could tell that Jake, too, felt uneasy – the one most at ease must have been Rachel. She purposefully ate her breakfast, fetched the kii-raja in the room where she had left Tom, curtly said her farewells, and with a businesslike manner made her way to her fighter.

She closed tossed her pack inside, motioned her kii-raja in, and turned to her cousin. "I'll meet you on Cava'ara in a few days. I won't have any troubles finding you if you wait there."

"Take care," Jeanne said.

Rachel nodded, backed into her fighter, and closed the door.

The remaining group retreated from the docking station, and Rachel launched her fighter and was gone.

The same moment as her fighter parted from the Rachel, a cry of despair rose from deeper into the ship.

Marco's spine froze to ice, for he knew that it came from the cleaning closet.

There was a crash, and the sound of clawed paws frantically rushing over steel floors.

Tom burst into the other end of the corridor, a shadow of gold, and in a blur he had burst past the group and threw himself wildly at the first of the two doors where the Hawk had been docked.

No-one had any time to move, and at first, nothing happened: for a moment, there was not a single sound heard. But then, as Tom's considerable weight multiplied with his considerable acceleration, turning into considerable force, his considerably sharp claws gained hold of the door, punctured it... and suddenly there came the horrible wailing of metal being torn.

In his attempts to get to his human, the beast was ripping his way right through the wall – and if no-one stopped him he would continue to tear his way right out into open space.

-

-

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Author's Note:

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There. That's what happens when you separate a kii-raja from his master. They tend to go sort of... desperate.

Hahaha.

So... what could possibly happen next?

That, dear readers, is for me to know and you to fret about.

Or, more correctly, for you to fret about and me to figure out. Hm.

Like last time, this is not proof-read, but it's finished... and the next one will take time, since I have no time. I'm only home weekends nowadays. I take a buss to work on Sunday afternoons, and return home midnight on Fridays. Between then it's busy, busy, busy, and while I'm home I mostly sleep. So proof-reading will have to step down if any more of this is going to appear at all.