Chapter 12

(You heard me, Yeerk!) Alloran barked. (Move, and I'll kill this one!)

The War-Prince's tail blade danced around Marco's throat, and despite the nearly blank features of a Hork-Bajir, it was apparent that he was terrified, and for good reason.

I had spoken to Alloran, or rather, a genetically engineered copy of Alloran less than an hour before, and the real one appeared to be displaying the same unstable behaviour. The only change seemed to be that the insanity had shifted from evil to paranoia.

(I am not a Yeerk, War-Prince Alloran,) I said calmingly, willing that somehow my friends would enter the Blade ship and help me. (I am Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, brother of Elfangor.)

This Alloran recognised the name as well. But instead of being angry, he trembled and grew pale.

(Elfangor is dead,) Alloran said, with a terrible finality to his words. (He's dead.)

(Yes, he is,) I confirmed. (He died in battle, as any Andalite would hope to.)

(I killed him,) Alloran whispered. (I…killed your brother.)

It was true, in a sick, twisted way; Alloran-Semitur-Corrass was my brothers' murderer. But that was not what he needed to hear.

(No, Visser Three slew Elfangor in cold blood,) I said as soothingly as I could, but nothing could hide the raw emotion in my voice. (You are not responsible, War-Prince.)

Alloran trembled even more when I spoke Visser Three's name, and I wondered how exactly the War-Prince was conscious, with Marco at blade-point.

I soon found my answer.

Directly behind Alloran and Marco, just through the door, there was a long cylinder frosted over with ice; what could only be a Yeerk stasis chamber. The glass front had been smashed from the inside.

Alloran pressed his tail blade up against Marco's throat, and drew a line across his larynx that seeped purple Hork-Bajir blood.

(You will get me off this planet, now!) Alloran hissed. (Or I will kill your comrade!)

(I cannot, War-Prince,) I replied with trepidation. (As you are no doubt aware, the Andalite fleet is not here, and I do not have a ship at my disposal. Why can you not use the Blade ship?) I asked. (Surely your DNA is accepted as a valid user ID.)

Alloran's face fell. (Visser Three had me removed from the manifest when he took his new host.)

(Umm, Ax?) Marco said worriedly. (I could use some help. This morph is strong, but this guy is way stronger. Try and get the cavalry to march in.)

By cavalry, Marco meant Prince Jake and the others. But I knew asking them to abandon their position would allow Visser Three to escape. I could do nothing except play to Alloran until Sub-Visser Thirteen informed me otherwise.

Alloran's eyes glared at me furiously, but before he could decapitate Marco, the Blade ship, and presumably the rest of the spaceport, shook violently, and the electrostatic whine of Dracon beams pierced the air.

The ship rocked again, and Marco smashed Alloran across the face, and slipped out from his lock, past his tail, and rolled to my side.

Alloran roared and leapt at us with his tail thrusting forward with great quickness, but thankfully, Marco was quicker. He threw himself forward into a roll, and kicked Alloran's front legs so that he fell clumsily forward onto the deck with a clang.

I pushed my blade to his head.

(Do not make me end you, Alloran-Semitur-Corrass,) I said forebodingly. (You are too great an ally.)

Marco got up and walked past us. He opened the door to the spaceport, and started backward.

(There's a firefight going on down there!) he shouted.

I could hear it. Dracon beams were firing manically through the spaceport, and Hork-Bajir screams echoed though the hollow halls with terrible harmony.

(It's the Visser!) Marco yelled. (He's mowing down the Hork-Bajir, heading right for us!)

(I suggest we abandon ship,) I said as calmly as possible.

(Seconded,) Marco said.

I looked at Alloran, who lay whimpering on the deck, his hands covering his eyes.

(Do not let him take me again,) he cried.

I leaned out of the half-open door into the cavernous hangar bay, and saw at least a hundred Hork-Bajir firing Dracon rifles at Visser Three's monstrous host body, who was tearing them apart like rag dolls, and moving slowly, but inexorably toward us.

"Keep fighting!" I heard someone cry. "Do not let him reach the Blade ship!"

It was Sub-Visser Thirteen, and four other Hork-Bajir, standing at the very back of the Hork-Bajir line close to a Yeerk ship of a design I had never seen before.

They were over a hundred metres away, there was no way they could get to me, or I to them.

(Marco, we must break through the Hork-Bajir lines to that ship,) I said, pointing at the ship the Sub-Visser was standing by, roaring her orders to the Hork-Bajir army.

(Do not leave me!) Alloran wailed. (Don't leave me for him to find, please!)

Marco ignored Alloran's pleading, but hauled the broken War-Prince to his feet, and gestured to the door.

(You're a war-type guy,) Marco said. (You lead the way.)

(I am no warrior,) Alloran said bitterly. (I am a puppet, and a murderer.)

(And you are an Andalite!) I screeched at Alloran. (You will behave like one! Do not shun yourself from responsibility, War-Prince Alloran.)

Alloran moved cautiously past Marco, and peered out of the door. He shuddered, but did not move.

I could hardly believe what I was seeing. Alloran-Semitur-Corrass had once been the most ruthless and respected warrior amongst our people, and it was apparent by his muscular physique and imposing presence that he was once a great fighter as well, but to see him trembling like a child after what Visser Three had made him endure, it was shameful.

Perhaps if I could help Alloran become what he had once been, I could absolve Elfangor of the sin of allowing him to be taken in the first place.

I would soon know, because Alloran bolted out of the door and landed gracefully on the concrete beneath. Marco and I followed, and were all soon overwhelmed by the acrid stench of Dracon fire mixed with burning concrete and Hork-Bajir viscera.

And through it all, Visser Three moved unhindered. His body was scarred and somewhat burned by Dracon fire, but he was seemingly fine. To watch him tearing through the Hork-Bajir in an uncontrollable rage was more than terrifying, and then, I saw something else.

As one Hork-Bajir, standing right in front of the Visser raised his weapon to fire, Visser Three vanished from sight.

The Hork-Bajir looked about confusedly, just as Visser Three ran forward faster than I could see clearly, and took off the Hork-Bajir's head with a well-aimed swipe of his tail.

I had seen Visser Three move that fast only once before, in the Sub-Visser's lab, but only now did I know how he did.

The Visser's host was part Garatron, which begged the question as to why he was moving to the Blade ship so slowly. The answer was simple. Visser Three loved to kill.

(Ax-man!)

Tobias shoved past other Hork-Bajir soldiers and ran to me as the rest marched on Visser Three, and I saw Marco and Alloran break into a run for the other ship.

(Jake's not all for it, but the Sub-Visser says we have to take off and try to stop Visser Three in space,) Tobias said with trepidation. (I'm sure you've already worked this out, but if an entire battalion of Hork-Bajir cant even slow him down, five animals and two Andalites aren't going to make a dent in his shiny new armour.)

(I agree,) I said bitterly. (Though I do not believe Visser Three's armour to be shimmering in any way.)

(It's an expression, Ax,) Tobias said with a grim laugh.

Then the two of us made a break for Sub-Visser Thirteen and the rest of our comrades. The Yeerk greeted us less than warmly.

"Could you have possibly come any slower!" the Sub-Visser roared. She threw her hands up in exasperation. "Your friends and Visser Three's useless former host are inside, I suggest you follow suit."