Michelle
Efdram 58 turned the memory over in my mind like a well-polished stone as she walked me down the deinfestation pier. It was an obsession with her, as it had been with Edriss 907, though for different reasons.
«Cassie risked everything to come down here and save you,» Efdram murmured. «She is merciful. She is weak. Sooner or later, she will come to save you, and we will take her.»
«She won't, you fool,» I said. «You can see my memories. I told her not to risk herself for me.» I remembered the sharp burning edge as she held a Hork-Bajir wrist blade to my throat. «She'll do what she has to do.»
«Hmm,» said Efdram. «We shall see.» She knelt at the end of the pier and dropped into the Pool.
Three days. Three days under a Yeerk who hated me and everything I believed in. The host-breaker brought in to break the Peace Movement traitor. She hadn't broken me yet. But there were so many days yet to come, so many rane.
A Hork-Bajir warrior lifted me in one arm like a sack of groceries and carried me toward my new cage. I wondered who I would find there. I missed my old cagemates already. I missed Eva, my cagemate the one time Edriss 907 had fed on the Pool Ship, who had held me and talked with me about our brave, desperate children.
I was tossed into a cage with two Asian teenagers and a middle-aged white couple, who were huddled together whispering softly to each other. The teenage girl lay on the floor with her caracal dæmon draped over her like a blanket. He growled at me. The teenage boy, who held a colorful crab dæmon, smiled at me softly. "Hi. I'm TK." He ran a finger along the edge of the crab's shell. "This is Mona. Welcome to Cage Three, early tef-rane."
I drew Dashiell out from the inside pocket of my jacket and took a moment to breathe with him, his face against my forehead. "Mishi," I said. Walter called me that as a pet name sometimes. I missed hearing it. I put Dashiell down on my knee. "And Dash."
The girl on the floor stared up at me, hard. "You're the one who just got busted for being Peace Movement."
I nodded and petted Dashiell silently.
"You were an idiot to work with the traitors," the girl snarled. The caracal slunk off her chest and bared his fangs. "My mom was Peace Movement and they killed her. You have kids? Huh? You want 'em to end up like me?"
Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't say anything. What was there to say to an enslaved girl grieving her mother? I couldn't explain anything so it all made sense. There was no sense in any of it.
"That's Mary Chiang and Shengkai," TK said. "Don't be mean, Mary, this sucks for all of us."
Shengkai hissed. Mary spat, "I didn't say you could tell her my name."
TK ignored her. "Those two in the corner are Hedrick and Sally Chapman. It's best if you don't bother them."
Of course. I hadn't recognized the vice principal, all hunched up and red-faced with tears, but now I saw his dæmon, a gladiator in the paws of Sally's kangaroo rat dæmon.
Mona scuttled forward to get close to Dashiell on my knee and whispered to him, "Their daughter is one of the Peace Movement hosts who disappeared. Their Yeerks got demoted after that – they don't know what happened to her. I think they're just trying to hold it together."
My tongue stuck in my throat. Dashiell said, "My old Yeerk – the one who got starved for being Peace Movement – she was a Sub-Visser. I know something."
Mona's eyes stretched outward on their little stalks. "Well, maybe you should go tell them."
I swallowed thickly. Dashiell climbed up to my ear. "Wouldn't you want to know? If you were them?"
"Of course," I whispered. I just didn't know how to say it.
I walked over to their end of the cage, avoiding Mary and her dæmon on the floor. "Mr. and Mrs. Chapman?" I said gently.
They startled and looked up at me. "You," Sally said. "You're Cassie's mother."
I crouched down next to them. "Yes. But more importantly, I was a Sub-Visser's host. I saw high-security clearance records."
Hedrick clutched at his wife's arm. "Melissa. You know…?"
"Her file is still active. She's still listed as missing. They haven't found her." Their eyes lit up. "That doesn't mean she's… but they haven't caught her."
Sally gave a shivering sigh and leaned into Hedrick. Her dæmon clutched his like a little insect doll. "I know. I know. She might have died out there. But at least… at least they haven't taken her."
"And maybe," Hedrick whispered, "she's free." He looked up at me. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
Ax
The sick children from the hospital, the ones who called themselves the Campsite Rule, helped us. So did the free Taxxons. We did not tell anyone the truth of why we had a sudden urgent need to infiltrate a children's hospital.
It began with a midnight conversation between Cassie, Walter, and a disabled boy named James in the hidden park below Chee-bachu's human house.
It went on with a message from the Ralek River to the makeshift communications center in the Living Hive. Can you dig a tunnel to the attached coordinates?
Unnecessary, came what we would soon realize was a characteristically terse reply, with a detailed map of the sewers and other human-built tunnels of Santa Barbara attached. From there, it was a relatively simple matter to emerge from a sewer entrance near the hospital. We took the nurse-Controller entirely by surprise, and managed to get away with our objective while only damaging some medical equipment, which we could only hope was not critical to saving a child's life. We fled back into the sewers with our cargo, until we met a free Taxxon at the place where the sewer became an arm of the Living Hive.
We did not rescue the Campsite Rule children who had been left behind in the hospital, as James had asked us to do. The risk and their medical needs were too great.
All of these events led us to where we were now, in the damp, close air of the Living Hive, befouling my newly-returned Andalite senses.
Austere, the Taxxon who had transported us and our cargo here from the hospital, hissed in xyr language, and the translation collar around xyr neck spoke in flat Galard. "Eventually, you will have to conquer your fear and acquire Taxxon morphs. We are not your personal transport service, and we will not continue to serve at your convenience unless you help us in return." Xe deposited the payload on the muddy ground and disappeared back into the muck.
«Prince Jake,» I said wearily. «We will need to renegotiate terms with the Taxxon queen Judicial.»
"Don't worry about that right now," Prince Jake said, too gently, as Rachel hauled up the heavy case and balanced it with a steadying hand on her dæmon's glossy dark back. We trudged through the mud to the Ralek River, which after only a few days in the Living Hive was already streaked with a few faint reddish filaments of bioluminescent fungus amid the layer of grime. I placed my hand on the door panel and tried not to remember the last time we entered this ship.
But this time, when it opened, there was no reek of Hork-Bajir blood. It was entirely up to Andalite military regulation, for all it had only two fully living occupants, now, Arbat dead and Aloth in stasis for his crimes. Gonrod was nearby on a terminal. He swiveled a single stalk eye to look at us and said, «I sent her a message. The Pool is activated. She will be there.» His thought-speech was entirely blank of any emotion.
Up the drop shaft, to the second level of the ship. I could somehow feel that Tobias worried about me, though I did not look at him. The beginnings of a bond between us, perhaps, like Mertil and Gafinilan shared, but I was too numb with horror to consider it just then.
The makeshift Pool was in a converted laboratory space on the second level. I heard the hum of the activated Kandrona generator. As I stepped closer, I saw the Pool was filled with sludge.
Rachel hauled the briefcase from Abineng's back to the edge of the Pool. When she opened it, I could no longer disguise the truth of it to myself. It was not cargo, or a payload, or a briefcase. It was a portable Pool full of helpless captives whom we had abducted for medical experiments. The sight of their slug bodies roiling under the surface of the sludge disgusted me. It did not matter. They were slimy, parasitic, foul servants of an invading empire, sent to interrogate a group of disabled human children, and they were people who we were about to hand over to a monster.
Tobias landed next to Rachel on the edge of the Pool. He said to our prisoners, «I'm sorry.» Then Rachel tipped the Yeerks into the prison I had built for them. They fell into the sludge with a dull splash.
The door hissed open, and Estrid walked in. Without any interference from my conscious mind, my body attacked her. No finesse, no grace, nothing like the elegant hald-wurra she had executed on me in her quarters. Somewhere, someone was ordering me to stop. My body kept moving. I thought of the way Hork-Bajir fight, with their entire bodies, and roughly grabbed Estrid's wrists as I reared back and struck her with my front legs. She staggered off-balance, then restored her equilibrium, kicking right back at me. I was forced to let go of her wrists. In an instant she had her tail-blade at my throat. I froze.
«What will you do to them?» I demanded.
Estrid's main eyes narrowed. «I have a strain of the virus I hope might work. I will inject them with it and observe the results.»
Hope. Might. I was used to far more easy confidence from her. «And if it does not work?»
«It must work,» Estrid said, for a moment I saw utter desperation in her eyes. I wondered what she was so afraid of. «It must.»
«And if it does not?»
Estrid slumped and relaxed her blade away from my throat. «Then you find me new test subjects,» she said.
A chasm yawned open inside me. I brought my blade up to bear against hers in a lock, force meeting force. «How do you drink this poison?» It was an Andalite metaphor. The humans I knew spoke of thoughts occurring to them, while we Andalites consider thought a river, outside of ourselves, into which we can dip a hoof and drink. But some thought-rivers are poison, and it is death to an Andalite to drink from them.
«You slept through biology class, Aximili,» Estrid said coldly. «There is no such thing as poison. Everything has a fatal dose. Some are very small, others very large. If I give you an untested virus to unleash on this planet, these Yeerks may well die anyway.» She twisted free of my hold. «Now let me monitor my test subjects.»
I stepped back, numb and cold. Loren stared at me, gray-faced, clutching Jaxom to her chest.
Prince Jake looked at Loren and Tobias. "Take him home."
Loren. Tobias. My human family, who loved me but could not explain what to do when every river of Andalite thought ran black with poison, when they had once been clear.
Jake
Judicial, the leader and queen of the Taxxons, was really just way too big. Like fallen tree size, except all squiggly with lots of legs.
You are a general and she is the leader of a powerful allied army, Merlyse said, nipping at my ear. Close your eyes and imagine she's M from GoldenEye.
Screw it, I thought. I will. She won't know it's rude. I stood as close to Judicial as I could stand – twice the distance of my outstretched arm – at the edge of the well full of little Taxxon-tadpoles. I looked down into the well, not at her, and said, "I want to keep working with you. You're good allies to have. I can see that. Is there something we can do on our end? A gesture of goodwill or something?"
Merlyse watched Arbron over my shoulder as he translated for Judicial. She hissed back, and Merlyse said, She's M. Judi Dench. Respectable older lady. Who hisses for some reason. It's fine.
Arbron said, «Illim says you have infiltrators high in the Empire hierarchy. Can your allies bring another Living Hive from the Taxxon homeworld into Earth orbit?»
I looked down into the muddy water, rippling as the tadpole-things swam through it. "Maybe. I can ask, at least. But – why?"
«I can answer that on my own,» Arbron said. «Living Hives live in symbiosis with Taxxons. They need the burrowing action of Taxxons to turn and refresh the soil. The exodus of Taxxons off-world to join the Empire has been an ecological disaster for Living Hives. They are dying. We want to save Living Hives – and ourselves – by reuniting ourselves with our anchors, as you call it.»
"Do you think you can get more Taxxons to leave the Empire that way?" I said.
«Not on its own,» Arbron said. «Living Hives couldn't make their Taxxons stay back on the homeworld, and believe me, they tried. But without some surviving off-world Hives who understand what the Empire's done to us, what's going on out here – there might not be a home to go back to.»
I hunched my shoulders. I notice myself doing that sometimes – little birdlike gestures, like Merlyse, as if I were folding up my wings. "Tell me what you want to say in the message," I said, "and I'll pass it on to our contacts."
A long, hissed conversation between Arbron and Judicial. Then: «Judicial says sie is not sure if sie can trust you to do this. But sie's willing to take the risk. As long as none of your activities in the Hive endanger us – the Taxxons – we can keep working together.»
I went into four-eye and saw Arbron through Merlyse's eyes, over my own shoulder. Fearsome at first look, a mouth bristling with teeth, all those pincers, but I knew well how easily Taxxon flesh tore to teeth and claws. The Taxxons were fragile – and afraid. "We're at war. No one is safe. But we'll try not to land you in more danger because of us."
Ax
When we returned to Kref Magh, I heard the thought-speech crackle of my makeshift Andalite radio transceiver.
I ought to say "our" makeshift Andalite radio transceiver – I am not too proud to admit that Peter Chen and Mertil helped a great deal. We pooled our knowledge and used spare parts from the Ralek River to build a transceiver that could intercept Andalite frequencies within range. These days, there were Andalite frequencies within range of Earth. Even though we had not collected vital intelligence yet, that fact alone told us that the Andalite fleet was coming nearer.
I followed the thought-speech broadcast to its source: Mertil, standing on a rock at the edge of the ravine, holding the transceiver.
«You wanna go hang out with Mertil?» Tobias said.
«Yes,» I said. I hesitated. «I would like to go alone.»
A pause. «That's okay,» Loren said. «We'll find you later.»
I was grateful they did not push. I landed on the rock beside Mertil, and he flicked a stalk eye toward me. I demorphed, and listened as Mertil scanned the frequencies. It was mostly static, but sometimes –
«…we require a full inventory of weapons in need of repair aboard the Elfangor…»
«…morale among the troops is high. Scanners indicate that the Yeerk forces are concentrated around the Human homeworld, which means we can strike a decisive blow…»
«…we interview a warrior on the front lines of battle. Melenor-Ixtant-Frodlin, tell us about your great victory in the Anati…»
«…I thought I would be able to come home to you after all of the bloodshed in the Anati system, but instead we go on to another front of the war, which of course I cannot specify. Give all my love to Gawanaith and the children…»
When I was fully Andalite again, Mertil swept a stalk eye over me and said, «You saw her.»
I lowered my main eyes in acknowledgment. Mertil tuned the transceiver. It crackled and whined.
«…made a strong impression at the art exposition at the Crangar Memorial Fields, with an installation funded by noted patrons of the arts Forlay-Esgarrouth-Maheen and Noorlin-Sirinial-Cooraf, parents of…»
«What?» I cried. «Those are my parents! Mertil, tune into that frequency!»
Mertil adjusted the transceiver. Clusters of thought-speech concepts burst through the static: «…depicts the melancholy… loss… their younger son Aximili… open to the public until…» until the static finally swallowed it all.
«My parents are commissioning art about me,» I said, trying to comprehend it. «Why?»
«Perhaps because they miss you,» Mertil said gently, and kept on scanning the frequencies.
«…reverence for all that lives, my sacred trust…»
«…new representatives to the Electorate raised budget concerns about the requests for more funding to the shipyards… release of sealed records related to the Anati…»
And then – djafid. Beautiful djafid, a telepathic dawn rising over a barren field. It made me think of Firi Dria's pressed flowers, pale sunrise colors on snow. «Do you recognize the singer?» I asked Mertil.
He flicked his fingers no. We stood on the rock, stiff and awkward, but slowly relaxed as the djafid washed over us, that sweet hopeful light in a bleak landscape.
«That was Midnight Sun, from the western Ixilan. Next: a composition inspired by the morph dances of Ursha-Sollawit-Jibril.»
«The western Ixilan. That is Gafinilan's people,» Mertil said softly.
I turned my hand palm-up in recognition. I had remembered hearing that – Gafinilan had been the first Ixilan to qualify as a fighter pilot at the academy.
«The singer of that djafid was almost certainly tzeraf,» Mertil said, watching me. «What you would call a vecol. That is the Ixilan way. Not that the radio announcer was likely to have known that.»
I turned my hand in recognition again. I did not know what else to do. Mertil was a vecol. That did not mean quite the same thing to either of us as it did to the likes of Estrid. Vecol contains the thought-speech impression of a dying branch trimmed away for the health of the tree. When Mertil said it, it also had an echo of broken shackles. I did not yet know what I meant when I said it.
We did not recognize the next djafid on the radio, or the next. Finally, there was one I recognized, an ekphrasis of a cloud-artwork that had been popular before I left my world. My main eyes met Mertil's, and I saw the same strange ache there that gripped my own hearts. We had left – no, we had been stranded, abandoned – and our world had moved on without us.
Eva
I read the message again.
The new weapon is in its testing phase. We'll keep you updated on its progress.«Love that part,» Aftran commented. «Nice and foreboding. Who are they testing it on, anyway?»
"There is really no good answer to that question," I muttered, and read on.
Our main point here: we're in contact with a Taxxon resistance group, and they think you should order an inoculation of a Living Hive from the Taxxon homeworld to the Pool Ship. We agree that it's a good idea. I don't want to get into details here, but we've seen proof that it helps suppress the Taxxon Hunger. That means they can think more clearly, and they're not so dependent on the Empire for food. Their hrala is also tied up in it, like a dæmon. It even talks like a dæmon. Having a Living Hive on your ship could get the Taxxons on your side when the chips are down. I'm sure you can come up with an excuse for the brass about why you need to order one up, so I won't spitball any ideas here.«I'm still thinking about that one,» Aftran said. «Come back to me.»
Start thinking about how to get the weapon up there once it's done. That's all for now. I won't sign off. You know who I am.«Jake,» said Aftran.
I wrote back a two-word answer.
How infectious?«A cost-saving measure,» Aftran said.
I folded over and rested my head against the top of Mercurio's. I said, muffled into his head feathers, "A what?"
«You know how much we spend on fresh meat for Taxxons,» Aftran said. I didn't comment on her use of "we," because I was trying to work with her here. «If the Living Hive suppresses the Hunger, then it's a cost-saving measure. That's on everyone's minds right now, isn't it?»
It was. The Council of Thirteen had gone over our most recent budget with a fine-toothed comb. With the sudden human scrutiny on the Sharing's finances – I'd bet anything my old friend Celia Hernandez was involved, if I had any worldly possessions to gamble with – and the looming arrival of the Andalite fleet to this solar system, the Empire was trying to cut costs wherever it could. Taxxons were only voluntary hosts so long as they were consistently fed, and feeding all the Taxxons on and around Earth was not easy or cheap.
I pressed the button to summon my personal assistant, Trafit 1482. Their yellow lantern eyes were bleary as usual – they never let us see them stumble, but the rumor was that they slept in a cycle of catnaps so they would be always ready at a moment's notice for my summons. I'd feel sorry for the poor Gedd this Yeerk puppeted if I had any room in my emotional palette for pity for other hosts.
"I need an order sent out," I said. "Tell Visser Six on the Taxxon homeworld to send along an inoculation from a Living Hive with their next shipment. And set up a room with a tank for it. I get exclusive access to the room once it's arrived until I've decided it's ready."
Trafit 1482 startled, translucent eyelids snapping shut. "Visserrrrrr," they growled. Then they gestured over their tablet. "Visser Six issued an interdict against spreading the Living Hive," said the tablet in neutral Galard. "They say it makes the Taxxons homesick. Discontent."
I felt the nudge from Aftran that meant she was going to take over, and she snarled silkily, "Who cares if they miss their little mud holes? They're a hundred light-years from home. We have them now, there's nothing they can do about it, and we can't afford to spend half our host maintenance budget on meat! I have a tip from a source on the Taxxon homeworld that says Taxxons can be kept obedient on two-thirds of the feed allotment if they're exposed to Living Hive strains regularly. Send the order, and denounce Visser Six for an incompetent fool in your report to the Council if they disobey."
Trafit's gummy eyelids slowly slid back open. They bowed their head and said, "Visserrrrrr," and left.
I sighed, rubbed my face with the heels of my hands, and sat back down at my terminal. There was a new message from our remaining Chee contact with Earth. Just one word.
Very.Celia Hernandez – Encrypted Private Message
Celia Hernandez
If you're there, pass on my compliments to the Animorphs. The public outrage over the Sharing exposé is drawing the Attorney General's attention without me having to do anything except make encouraging noises on phone calls.
Celia Hernandez
Anyway, I wanted to give you the heads up on my next move. My public image is shot right now – everyone's saying I've gone paranoid because I won't leave my bunker. Even after the public assassination attempt and everything - the nerve! Anyway. I'm ordering two-week long military exercises out in the Mojave Desert, going regiment by regiment. That'll help me work out which ones I can trust, and if any of them say no, that's insubordination, and my conspiracy theories about subversives in the government start to sound a little less cuckoo.
Lourdes
Be careful. If you order them to cut themselves off from Kandrona, they might go rogue and turn on other units.
Celia Hernandez
I hate to say it, but at this point, that might be the best outcome. Then at least it'd be out in the open that something seriously hinky is going on.
Celia Hernandez
Got any new intel for me? I feel cut off at the knees down here in this stupid bunker.
Lourdes
I can't tell you everything, of course, because I don't know if you've been compromised or not. But I can tell you things that the Yeerks know anyway. Did the Animorphs tell you about the Andalites?
Celia Hernandez
No. Everything was kind of a big blur. All I know is there are Yeerks, they take over people's brains, they have space weapons, they want our planet.
Lourdes
The Andalites are the Yeerks' greatest enemies. They are the reason why the Animorphs can change into animals – that's an Andalite technology they acquired illicitly.
Celia Hernandez
Oh yeah, Loren mentioned something about it being alien tech. So, what about the Andalites?
Lourdes
The main part of their fleet is coming toward Earth. We don't know when they'll arrive.
Celia Hernandez
Okay. So we just have to hold out until the Andalites get here and mop them up?
Lourdes
Don't assume that the enemy of your enemy is your friend, Celia. The Andalites have already committed genocide in an attempt to slow the Yeerks down. So maybe start thinking of reasons why they shouldn't consider you acceptable collateral damage.
Celia Hernandez
Oh, great. Another damn thing to worry about. So, tell me more about these Andalites.
Lourdes
They are far more technologically advanced than humans and consider themselves the peacekeepers of the galaxy.
Celia Hernandez
Cool. Just what I needed. A bunch of Henry Kissinger-ass motherfuckers from space. You're just a little ray of sunshine, Lourdes.
Lourdes
Speaking of your problems with your military. Once you have a regiment you can trust, we could use some fresh supply. Do you think you might have access to some rations and medkits?
Celia Hernandez
Please. These bunkers out in the desert have enough nutritionally balanced bags of slop to survive a nuclear winter. You can have as much as you could ever want, as long as you can stomach it.
Melissa
"Slowly," I told Jordan. "Just raise your legs up… up…"
Tseycal watched from a safe distance as Jordan tried to raise herself up from her knees-on-elbows position into a real handstand, for about the tenth time since I started teaching Jordan gymnastics. She stretched up, up, wobbling just a little, but it looked like she just might make it –
«MORPHERS!» Tobias shouted from overhead in public thought-speech. Tseycal squeaked, and Jordan fell over. «I need all hands on deck! The Gold Bands are close to Kref Magh! Morphers, get wings! Everyone else, get ready for evac!»
Jordan picked up Tseycal and threw him into the air. "Stay safe," she choked out, then went running after her dæmon, back toward the human camp.
Ververet already had the merlin in mind. Feathers raced across my arms, and yellow scales crawled up my legs. Faster, faster, I thought. They need me out there.
"This isn't a patrol, you know," Ververet said, as my ribs bowed outward into the deep breast of a powerful flier. "We're going to have to fight the Gold Bands to keep them away from here. We're gonna have to do what Rachel taught us."
I would have gritted my teeth if I'd had teeth anymore. I didn't like it, but – Yeah, I get it. I've been paying attention.
Ververet disappeared, and didn't say anything else. I launched myself into the sky, the beautiful valley laid out below me. When did this become home? Ververet thought.
I don't know, I thought. But it is. And we have to protect it.
I saw the other raptors in the sky, and more rising to meet us. I followed the red-tailed hawk, north past the roar of the waterfall.
"You have to listen to us when you're in a battle," Rachel said. "Even if what we tell you sounds insane, don't ask questions, just do it."
"You mean listen to Jake," Julie said, "because he's the leader."
"Well, yeah," Rachel said, leaning back against Abineng. "Duh. But not just him. If Cassie tells you you have to demorph, you do it. If you're in the air, and Tobias tells you to look out, you duck. Cassie knows morphing. Tobias knows the sky. We all know what we're doing. We've been in this war for three years. We're vets. You four? You're fresh meat."
«There they are! Up ahead!» Tobias said. «Get below the canopy before they see our hrala!»
I hadn't seen them yet, but I took Tobias at his word and dove through a gap in the trees north of the valley. Human again, Ververet fluttering his wings against my chest as fast as my heartbeat. And then the black bear.
The black bear didn't want to fight. It wanted to climb a tree and find some nice fruit to eat. But instead I marched it toward the strange smells coming from further north.
"Most animals don't want to fight," Rachel said.
"Not even sable antelopes," Abineng said, "believe it or not."
"You'll do better if you can convince the animal mind why it should fight. If you've morphed a predator, tell it your enemy's prey. If you've morphed something territorial, tell it your enemy's an intruder on its turf. If you've morphed a herd or a pack animal, tell it your enemy's gonna hurt its family. Give the animal mind a reason to work with you."
"What if we morph Hork-Bajir?" Jamal said. "They're not animals."
Rachel shrugged. "Then all you have are the usual reasons to fight. Whatever they are."
I told the bear that the strange smells came from a predator invading its territory. A growl built in my chest. I crashed through the trees, faster than I could go as a human at a sprint.
And then there was the growl of a Hork-Bajir on the attack, an old female by the sound of her. A veteran of who knew how many battles, her blades notched.
I wonder what stories she's heard, Ververet said. I wonder what she's seen.
"What's the best way to disable a Hork-Bajir?" Walter said. "Can they be hamstrung, like an Earth animal?"
Abineng snorted and lowered his head to show the points of his horns. Rachel's mouth thinned. "You don't disable the enemy. You kill."
Ververet exploded from his perch on my forearm in a frenzy of pale wings. "But they're innocent!" I said. "The hosts haven't done anything!"
Rachel turned her burning blue eyes on me and shook her head. "Cassie tried that. She wanted to be merciful to the hosts. And then she found out what the Yeerks do to maimed hosts. They kill them, because they're not useful anymore." Abineng took half a step forward. "Trust me. Don't hesitate. Not even for a second. Aim for the kill and make it quick."
But this is different, Ververet said. Rachel hasn't lived with the free Hork-Bajir for a year. She doesn't see them the way we do. She doesn't understand. None of the Animorphs do; the war ate up their hearts. The free Hork-Bajir will save the disabled hosts. That's someone's mother, right there. If we just let her live, they'll do anything to save her.
So instead of leaping for the Gold Band's throat, I charged at her legs and bit, tearing at her hamstrings. She staggered, hobbled, and fell to her bladed knees in the leaf litter. I ran. The free Hork-Bajir would find her and help her. I hadn't become a monster like the Animorphs had. They had tortured my father; I was a better person than that.
TSEEEEWWWW!
I collapsed to the ground, stunned. My whole body went numb and tingly, as if I'd hit my funny bone everywhere. I heard the Hork-Bajir-Controller drag herself toward me by her arms. I had to demorph, remorph, get out of here. I focused on my human body.
Oh God, Verv. She must have had a Dracon beam. She's gonna kill me.
Ververet wept silently in my head. Okay. Okay. If we don't make it, Melissa – it's okay. We saved her. One of the Hork-Bajir will find her and bring her back to Kref Magh. It's worth it. It's worth it.
My human body came back to me, but slow, too slow. Darkness swam at the corners of the bear's dim vision. Hork-Bajir claws dug into my shoulder and pulled me backward. Next it would be her wrist blade at my throat. I'm sorry, Verv. I'm so sorry. I love you.
I demorphed as fast as I could and waited in dread for the blade, but it never came. The Hork-Bajir-Controller pressed the sides of our heads together in an intimate embrace. Why? Ververet thought, faintly. What is she doing?
And then there was something cold and slimy in my ear.
"NO! NOOOOOO!" I struggled with all my might, but all I could do was squirm around like a weak puppy in the Hork-Bajir's powerful grip. I tried to morph small, too small for the Yeerk to infest, but I wasn't done morphing off the bear. I saw Ververet in my line of sight and focused on him fiercely. The dark fur retracted into my skin, but still the Yeerk burrowed deeper into my ear. I clawed at my ear, pinched at the tail-tip of it, but it just came off like a piece of chewing gum in my fingernails.
Human, merlin, human, black bear, human. Too many morphs. I needed to be a beetle. I focused on the beetle I'd acquired from a dead log in the valley. Bluish-black, shiny, round. The Yeerk was in me. I sobbed until my tear ducts disappeared. And then I couldn't get any smaller. There was a terrible pressure in my head. My head was going to explode! The Yeerk was too big!
Then let's explode, Ververet said, grim and determined. Better that than let them take us.
I took a garbled breath through my half-formed lungs and focused on the beetle again. The headache grew impossibly painful, the world tearing apart at blood-black seams.
Then it stopped. The morph stopped. I couldn't move.
«There it is,» said the Yeerk. «Now isn't that interesting?»
The Yeerk found my thought-speech. Reached for it as easily as a tool neatly laid in a box. «The hidden valley is here!» It projected the image of its location from overhead in merlin morph, public thought-speech, for all the Gold Bands to see.
No, no, no! I cried. NOOOO!
But it was too late. I'd tried to save one Hork-Bajir, and instead, I'd doomed all of Kref Magh.
«What else do we have in here? Do you know how you've hidden your supply runs to this valley so thoroughly? Oh.» The image of the Chee sprang to mind, against my will, all bare chrome until the holograms flicked on. That terrible public thought-speech again: «The Animorphs are allied with super-advanced androids! Their technology is beyond our wildest imaginings! They are based here!» The image of Bachu's house and the basement under it, terribly clear.
No, no, you can't, they're pacifists, they can't defend themselves, I thought frantically, which made the Yeerk incandescent with glee.
«Oh, so many secrets in this head of yours… who are your traitorous Yeerk contacts? I know you have them. Aha!» Mr. Tidwell with me in the Chee basement, meeting with the Animorphs in disguise, his eyes and his fish dæmon watery and mild behind protective glass. «This is their mole within the Sharing!» the Yeerk broadcasted, along with the image. «Iniss 799!» Private, within my head: «Now, let's find out what move you're planning next in the war…»
Something appeared in my shattered, half-beetle vision. A grizzled old face – the Hork-Bajir I'd hamstrung. Her Yeerk was in me, and she was free. She'd hauled herself up to a seated position, looming over me. The Yeerk in my head startled. It had forgotten all about its former host. It searched for the image of the beetle in my mind. It was going to disappear as a beetle. It was going to get away!
Please, Ververet begged the Hork-Bajir, silently. Please kill me before the Yeerk gets away with me. I can't bear it. Please.
The Hork-Bajir spoke in her own language. I didn't speak much Hork-Bajir, but it was a phrase I had heard so many times, I knew it by heart. She said, "Free or dead." And she drove her blade down into my chest with a horrible exoskeletal crunch.
