((I'm sorry,)) Esplin muttered half-heartedly.

Edriss said nothing.

((I need to focus. I need to be somewhere else. You can stay here...)) The quarters he had were arguably the most luxurious available for the visitors.

Esplin walked over to the computer, quickly but not frantically, and began typing at it.

"What are you doing?"

((Disabling access to my private files. I'll be able to access them from anywhere, but you can use this system as long as you're here.))

He strode to the door. ((Just until we're finished, you understand? I'll come back.))

"I understand," Edriss hollowly replied.

((Good.))

He left nervously, not quite sure whether it was the best way to clear his head, but showed no sign of indecision.

Edriss glanced at the computer he had been altering, then walked over and tested it. Everything seemed to work properly, which she had on some level expected. He would walk out on her, yes, but not maliciously. The holobroadcast window was still open; Elfangor's image still loomed above the place where Esplin had so recently stood.

She couldn't have expected anything more. Longer, maybe, but not so much longer that it would matter.

Perhaps she had achieved more than she expected? It was not her staleness that had driven them apart. She was still an enigma to him, still a mystery that he would always be too dull to truly understand. But he, on the other hand...she understood him well enough. Enough to be disappointed, regretful, bitter...but not surprised.

While his archived image hung lifelessly in the air, the real Prince Elfangor was all business. ((Excuse me, aristh.))

((Apologies, Prince!)) called the small Andalite, moving out of the way in the Dome Ship's hallway.

((Can you help me?))

((M-me?))

((Yes. I'd like you to find all the data you can about the Yeerk defense personnel. Not the weapons—we'll defeat whatever crude contraptions they have set up—but which Yeerks, specifically, are in charge.))

((How can I do that, sir?))

((Oh, I'm sure you'll come up with something.)) At the cadet's dubious gaze, Elfangor clarified, ((Data security has never stopped previous generations of arisths.))

Amused, the young Andalite took off on his mission.

Elfangor paced through the Dome ship's hallways. Perhaps the assignment had not been strictly moral, but no creatures in the galaxy were better at hacking than adolescents of any species.

Little of the data he could find would be useful, of course, but anything was better than nothing. Let others worry about the technical details; he had a feud to settle.

From what they could tell, Visser Three was facing some internal challenge that the summit was meant to resolve. He might well be too busy to defend the base firsthand. Then again, he might also be giving the ultimate decisions.

It all depended on how much control he, personally, was exercising. Too little, and perhaps the Andalites could take advantage of an inexperienced commander. Too much, and perhaps Elfangor could use the Visser's own strategies against him. They had fought each other time and again, each time more efficiently as they learned to predict what the other would do next.

But the aristh would have been just as effective on the homeworld as he would in space. Though they'd crossed the galaxy, there were just as many gaps in the Andalites' knowledge—though fewer each day.

While both adversaries had come close to destroying the other, neither could have a better opportunity than Elfangor had had, well before Visser Three was even a Visser. What would the galaxy be like had he been less enchanted by notions of honor? The speculation was futile, not something on which to waste time. Still, every now and then Elfangor couldn't help but wonder.

Edriss was similarly pensive. Essam had more than proven himself when they'd first landed on Earth, full of brilliant ideas and able to execute them. But could she have taken some more control, or at least started parallel plans to supplement his? Perhaps he wouldn't have changed so drastically. Maybe he'd—maybe they'd—still be in charge, and Visser Three no more than the arrogant Andalite-Controller they'd be called upon to silence once in a while.

Yet she felt too numb for sadness, as if she'd made the right decision without knowing it.

Later, Elfangor saw the aristh nervously walk towards the bridge. ((Prince Elfangor?)) he asked.

((Yes?))

((I-I have the data for you.))

((Wonderful.)) He followed the cadet back to his tiny quarters.

((This was all I found.)) The aristh indicated a document on his tiny computer. ((I sort of had to piece it together and get rid of the worst contradictions. I'm not positive this is all right, but it's the best I can do.))

((That's fine, thank you.)) Elfangor silently commanded the ship's computer to copy the files to his own. ((Well done.))

He walked away calmly, allowing the aristh to bask in the praise, and accessed the data from his own chambers. Nobody he'd ever heard of, though the aristh had gone to the trouble of digging up all publicly-accessible data on them. They seemed a fairly average crowd, though for every Yeerk shooting at him there were many more behind the scenes, and many more swimming in pools, urging on the invasions.

He had included the original data, not just the youth's synthesis, and was quickly glad he had. The "master list" that the aristh had produced was riddled with inaccuracies too subtle for him to spot, but glaring to Elfangor's keener mind. Until they got closer to the planet, there was nothing better to do than try and come to his own conclusions; finding some grand, overarching pattern was a noble goal for the young, but he knew better than that.

There would be an element of uncertainty to every battle, with factors outside any of their control. Still, under the circumstances, Elfangor felt hopeful as the fleet closed in on the Anati homeworld. In spite of the holes in their knowledge, he understood his nemesis as well as anyone did.

Almost anyone.