Chapter 11

Moments later, my friends, Erek and Sub-Visser Thirteen and myself were cruising down the corridors of the Yeerk pool complex in what I can only describe as a most unsafe mode of transportation.

What humans refer to as a 'car', and large one at that.

The Sub-Visser was at the wheel, driving most carelessly at unsafe velocities down a very confined space, with Erek to her left, and the rest of us in the back.

"SKREEE!"

Splat.

(I believe we have just driven over a number of Taxxons,) I said gingerly, trying very hard to control my stomachs.

Sub-Visser Thirteen cackled and put her foot down on the accelerator. Hard.

I jerked backward as the vehicle increased speed, narrowly missing a running phalanx of Hork-Bajir.

(I will never understand the human predilection to pilot vehicles at unsafe velocities,) I said worriedly.

The Sub-Visser called back over the roar of the engine. "There is nothing wrong with going host-happy now and again," she said heartily.

We turned sharply round a corner, passing a sign that said 'spaceport' in Galard, the universal language used by the Yeerks to enable communication between various host species.

"According to the biofilters," Erek said, "we are gaining on Visser Three. He's really making a run for it."

(Most likely because he heard your announcement, Sub-Visser,) I chided.

"The thrill is in the chase, Andalite," she said with another excited laugh. "You will get your revenge, don't worry. It is in my best interests to help you, after all."

"Yeah, it is," Rachel said. "'Cause if you don't give us the Visser, I'll kill you."

Our vehicle turned another corner somewhat harshly, and Cassie fell into my side, as did Prince Jake. Humans have terrible balance.

"STOP!" came an angry Hork-Bajir voice.

Rather than stopping, which is what I expected her to do, the Sub-Visser accelerated even more, and ran the Hork-Bajir down. He screamed as five tonnes of car crunched over him, and then was silent.

"That was murder!" Cassie screamed.

"No, it was someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time," Rachel corrected.

"Exactly," the Sub-Visser agreed.

Cassie said nothing, but I could tell by her expression she was disgusted.

After another minute of reckless driving, the Sub-Visser brought the car to a halt at a corner, and motioned for us to get out of the back. We did so.

Around the corner, I could hear Hork-Bajir and human voices talking anxiously. Lots of them.

"I shall clear a path to the spaceport," the Sub-Visser said huskily. "You must go inside and prepare an ambush for Visser Three when the doors open." Then, the Yeerk swaggered about the corner and began howling orders.

"Why are you morons standing around here?" Sub-Visser Thirteen shrieked. "Visser Three is heading for the pool!"

Several Hork-Bajir voices chattered excitedly, but one human voice rose out above the rest.

Chapman.

"Sub-Visser Thirteen, we have orders to guard the spaceport," Chapman insisted.

"Orders from whom?" the Sub-Visser growled.

"The Council of Thirteen." Chapman whimpered.

I heard the sound of human flesh striking more human flesh, and Chapman yelled out in pain.

"And what if Visser Three destroys the Pool? How will you explain THAT to the Council?" the Sub-Visser screamed.

"But ―"

"SILENCE!" the Sub-Visser roared. "Take this gaggle of idiots with you to the pool and apprehend the Visser, now!"

Chapman did not choose to reply, but I soon heard the unmistakable clatter of clawed Hork-Bajir feet on the steel floor all around us.

The sound soon dimmed.

"You may enter the spaceport," the Sub-Visser said quietly. "Enter the Blade ship and position yourselves appropriately."

My friends and I crawled out of the Sub-Visser's vehicle awkwardly, and as my five human companions walked through the large door behind her, the Sub-Visser stopped me.

(What is it?) I asked impatiently.

"There is something I must ask you, comrade Andalite," the Sub-Visser said, with an expression of absolute seriousness.

(I have ears,) I replied. (I shall hear.)

"If I should be killed by Visser Three, please do not let my hosts' body remain here. She is a voluntary host, and I wish for this body to be interred according to human funeral rites."

I was surprised by the sincerity in the Sub-Visser's voice, but I could not ignore such a honourable request, and certainly not from a woman.

(You have my word, Sub-Visser,) I said.

The Sub-Visser smiled, and inclined her head respectfully. "Now go," she said, returning to her imperious tone of voice.

I knew why. Prince Jake was standing behind me, In Hork-Bajir morph.

(Come on, Ax. We've got an ambush to lay,) he said pryingly.

I walked with Prince Jake into the Yeerk spaceport, and saw four other Hork-Bajir standing in a line just at the rear of Visser Three's Blade ship, which sat docked along a wall, with two Bug fighters along its flanks.

(I shall check the inside of the Blade ship,) I announced.

I walked up to the back of the ship, and a ramp extended down and outwards from the rear of the craft, and a small door opened up above it.

I felt a finger tap my shoulder.

(I'm coming too,) Marco said. (Don't know what kind of booby-traps the Visser's got in there.)

I nodded, and walked up the ramp into the ship with Marco beside me, while Rachel and Prince Jake, Cassie and Tobias positioned themselves on either side of the door to the spaceport.

Suddenly, the door to the ship closed behind Marco and I, sealing shut with a hiss of compressed air.

(Now that doesn't quite seem right,) Marco said warily, walking past me towards the door that led to the storeroom on the Blade ship.

(It is standard on Yeerk ships for doors to close behind entrants,) I said. (They fear assassination so much that such paranoia is common practise.)

Marco walked through the door in his clumsy Hork-Bajir morph, the door slid shut behind him, and as I moved toward it myself, I heard him scream.

(Marco!) I yelled, hurrying forward.

The door opened, and Marco was in the doorway.

He was not alone.

(If you make an aggressive move, I will sever this one's head from his shoulders,) said a voice.

I froze, because as Marco walked forward, there was a blade at his throat. An Andalite tail blade, and I knew whom it belonged to.

Because there, holding his blade to my friend's throat, and threatening me in his terribly familiar voice, was the iniquitous, infamous War-Prince, Alloran-Semitur-Corrass.