Hello, hello! Here it is, the lovely chapter 9, in which our Andalites finally pluck up the nerve to land on Earth. And yes, at the end there are similarities to the first Animorphs. This is deliberate :) Also - in case anyone's wondering about the song lyrics. They're just another way for Jahar to express herself - they weren't around before because she hadn't met human music yet but they'll be there in future chapters. Try and work out who she applies them to :)
Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think!

Chapter 9

And goodness knows, the wicked's lives are lonely,

Goodness knows, the wicked die alone.

No One Mourns the Wicked – Wicked

We spent the equivalent of an Earth week in space, sheltering behind Earth's single moon. In that week Arbat, Kipsing and I familiarised ourselves with Earth culture, using the broadcasts streaming from the planet, shouting out to space. These humans were a very noisy race, and very unafraid of attracting attention, blasting their lives across the stars. Lortif and Medrar, the two arisths who had so bravely agreed to come with my son on this mad adventure, joined Farling in the training room, using Arbat's military programmes to improve their skills. After a hesitation, my daughter, Tirdellan, allowed me to persuade her to join them. Kipsing was also invited, but he declined, and it was clear that he viewed them as 'children', and placed himself with the 'adults' – Arbat and me.

Arbat offered little explanation for his presence on the Starwave, other than saying calmly that he had every right to be on his ship wherever she was, and after such a cool response I didn't probe further. In fact, Arbat and I didn't really talk, and we used the interfaces in our own private chambers to sort through the media blasting out from this new planet.

I liked human music immediately. It was simply astonishing, the range of sounds their mouths and 'vocal chords' could produce. Andalite music mainly consists of wordless melodies, as our thought speak just does not have the range of the human voice, and can not produce similar effects, such as the variation between a crooning 'ballad' and a rapid 'rap' (I assumed that was why it was called rap – because of its speed). Listening to 'songs', I was overwhelmed by how many of them expressed my emotions in ways I had not dreamed of, with the music adding to the power of the words. Surreptitiously, I began compiling songs which I liked, saving them to the main computer, and memorising 'lyrics' which particularly spoke to me.

Kipsing was particularly interested in human weaponry. He worked hard to distinguish between the falsehoods presented in the human media and the realities. I suppose the humans had realised that their broadcasts could be monitored, and so intermingled the truths of their culture with deliberate lies to mislead other races. It was certainly very confusing to listen to humans on the one hand praising compatriots for having travelled the short distance to their moon and back, and on the other to see a man named 'Captain Kirk' claiming to have explored the farthest reaches of space. Ultimately, they appeared to be limited to machinery which relied (in the most part) on actual chemical 'fuels' to run (a most dangerous situation), so any other types of technology could be discounted as fanciful. Kipsing, was however, fascinated by 'movies' which he found – detailed accounts of the adventures of a group of protagonists. On the seventh Earth day I entered his chambers to find him watching a 'movie' whose music was by now familiar – the story of the 'Mission Impossible'.

Haven't you observed that account before? He jumped to see me, and paused the 'movie'.

There are several different adventures in which the central protagonist participated on. I find it interesting to see the technology the humans use to deceive one another.

Interesting for an assassin? I asked, before I could stop myself, and cursed inwardly. He met my gaze steadily.

Yes. As an example, humans only have two eyes but they seem to rely on their vision most of all the senses. If someone looks like someone else they will usually believe it is the other person. They do not seem to be able to distinguish each other by smell or touch, or by any mental connection. It should make morphing a human and passing as one easier than it would be to pass as another Andalite. I leaned closer, fascinated.

So we should be able to pass as humans easily enough. Very useful. I paused, then dared myself to go further. May I ask, Kipsing, why you became an assassin? He smiled thinly.

Why choose a career associated with shame and social taint, you mean? Simple. Poverty. My family's lands have been eroded through debt and necessary loans for generations. My father barely owned enough land to stretch his legs on, but my mother married him for love. I smiled slightly, remembering Kalladin's fight with her parents over her desire to mate with an impoverished warrior. She had always known what she wanted, and usually got it too. Kipsing continued: Assassins are paid in land, a plot for every kill. It is a sound incentive for an Andalite motivated by need, rather than by desire for glory. Over the years I have amassed new territories for my family. I frowned.

A lot of new territory, Kipsing?

He laughed.

Enough for my mother to be well respected. Very few of our friends know the source of our new holdings. We have invented a mythical scientist uncle at the University of Advanced Scientific Theory. Do you know it?

Actually I do, I replied, surprised. Arbat works there at times. Kipsing pulled a face.

I suppose that deception will not work on him then.

Perhaps not.

I studied Kipsing with new interest. He seemed very like his mother. She had always had all four eyes fixed on getting what she wanted, whatever the means, and it seemed that this younger Andalite was very similar. I remembered her coercing me to come out in a storm once, to see some fire lilies, a very, very long time ago.

Later that day I met with Arbat in his quarters. They had originally been assigned to Medrar, but due to limited space, Arbat had commandeered them using his position as owner of the ship, and Medrar had been squeezed into a small set of quarters which already housed Lortif and, soon Farling too as Kipsing started requesting his own living space. This arrangement had led to mutinous mutterings between the arisths, who resented being at the bottom of the pecking order when they felt that this had been originally their adventure. It had taken all my tact with Farling to persuade my son to quell his friends' discontent.

Arbat glanced up from his computer when I entered, and closed the hologram which he was interacting with.

Jahar. It was half a greeting, half a statement of observation to the quarters of who I was.

Arbat. I shifted awkwardly, and then began. I need to talk to you, about the chain of command aboard this ship. His expression did not change. I felt uncomfortable, aware that society demanded that I show deference to a male my age. But this was my undertaking, and I did not wish to relinquish command. So far our inaction had meant that no conflict had arisen, but when we actually went down to Earth a clear leader would be required. I am aware that the Starwave is your ship, I continued. But I did not ask you to come on this journey, and it is my mission which has brought us to Earth.

An amused expression flitted across Arbat's intelligent face.

You want me to acknowledge you as... what is it a Hork Bajir would say? 'Hak Bhajeesh'. He smirked at the primitive expression, which translated approximately as 'male with biggest blades, who gathers most bark'. My hearts fluttered nervously, but I held my ground.

Yes, Arbat I do. His smug look was very aggravating. Will you? Arbat held his annoying expression, but then dipped his head formally, ironically.

But of course, Hak Bhajeesh.

I wanted nothing more than to tail swipe that superior expression off his face, but restrained myself and instead acknowledged his submission graciously.

Thank you. And then, I couldn't resist adding. Thank you very much, Gah Driguck. For those who don't know Hork Bajir, the term means 'small male whom I could eat alongside my bark and not notice'. It is a term of condescension, at least as far as Hork Bajir understand the concept. Arbat flashed me an exaggerated look of surprise.

Jahar remembers her Hork Bajir well.

Yes, I replied, as smug as he had been earlier. Jahar does. It was a small victory, but it made me feel more confident about the thought of dealing with this jilted fiancée of mine in the future.

I called a council as the Earth turned the large continents called 'North America' and 'South America' away from the sun it orbited, and the pinpricks of the artificial human lights flickered over the surface of these land masses in the dark. Standing in the centre of the main cockpit, with the others fanned out in a loose semi-circle in front of me, I surveyed my troops.

Farling and Tirdellan, my children. Tirdellan the only other female, and significantly different from the assembled males. Small, with fur that was more purple than blue, and a dancer's tail – elegant but lacking power. Farling, with a build which resembled his powerful father, Alloran. Lortif too was well built, even heavier than Farling, and coloured a deep blue with few tan patches. He stood beside Farling, the proximity of the two shorms reflecting their subconscious closeness to each other. Medrar was a little removed, and smaller than the other two arisths, gleaming with those silver tints to his fur, as if it was spun out of some metal. The sinews strained under his fur, and I was forced to admit that out of the three of them I'd want him beside me most in a tail-fight.

The assassin Kipsing was at the age where he looked young when he stood next to Arbat, but old when next to the other males. He was very lightly built, so much so that the similarity to Kalladin, his mother, was uncanny. I smiled inwardly. 'Kipsing' itself was almost the name of a female. It was just as well his fur was the brilliant blue so indicative of males, or, with his elegant face, he might have run the risk of being mistaken for Tirdellan's sister.

And finally, Arbat. It hurt to look at Arbat, so similar to Alloran that through a haze of lust I had once deceived myself too completely. He stood there with an air of great self-possession, as if there was more to his character than his body could hold, but it was bound up tightly, imprisoned through his own self-discipline in his mind. I highly doubted he would ever show me his true self again.

This was my army. These were my warriors. Six of them. Well, Jahar, you're doing well, since you thought you left the home planet with only four.

From what I had seen of the human broadcasts, I believe that when humans want to catch the attention of others they use their mouths to make some pre-emptive sound which has no meaning but draws the focus of others. Often it is 'um' or 'err'. Andalites can not do this. Instead they have to rely on their very presence to attract the attention of others. It was difficult for me to do this, as a female. Our society taught females the stance of the listener, not of the speaker, and the extra height Kipsing, Lortif and Arbat enjoyed over me did not assist me, but I had been studying Arbat over the past week, and I adopted a position he often took, thrusting my chest forwards a little and shifting my weight so that I almost felt unbalanced. Still, it seemed to work, and although I felt ridiculous, I had their eyes on me.

I had assumed the position of captain. So it was my job to have a plan.

I still didn't.

We'd come to that later.

I have decided that it is time for us to descend to Earth and each acquire at least one human morph. Using this we will familiarise ourselves with the immediate human infrastructure of our destination.

And then, what? Kipsing asked. I was startled by his insolence in speaking without invitation, but perhaps a career as a freelance assassin was not conducive to a reverence for authority.

With your permission, Hak Bhajeesh? Arbat asked privately. I winced at his expression, but allowed him to continue. After all, if he was being used by the Andalite command as an Apex Level Intelligence Advisor then planning was his job. I have been using the time we have had to monitor several societies, which humans sometimes refer to as 'cults', to find the Yeerks, Arbat said calmly. It seems reasonable to expect that since this is an undercover invasion, they will have formed some sort of exclusive group to lure humans in. Something which will allow meetings to take place and for humans to leave their normal lives for a period of time whilst their Yeerks feed without suspicion. There have been several candidates for this society – a group called the Masons, a group which practices 'Scientology', the 'Brownie and Guide' movement and several 'charities'. However, when the selection is narrowed through the application of a time limit for when it was begun (assuming the Yeerks have not taken over an existing faction on their arrival to Earth), this discounts most groups with an established history. Utilising our knowledge of the Yeerk location primarily within the country known as The Yoo-Ess-Ay, there is one prime candidate. His eyes closed in a satisfied half smile, and I knew he was pleased with himself. It is my belief that we must focus our attention on a group called 'The Sharing'. It offers a message of hope and community which appears to appeal to humans, but also one of exclusivity and future greatness. He snorted gently. A distinctly Yeerkish message.

I researched 'The Sharing' as you told me to, Medrar interjected, and I shot Arbat an angry look. He'd gone behind my back!

Remind me; who is Hak Bhajeesh? I asked him coldly in private thought speak. He shrugged.

Forgive a lowly Gah Driguck who only wanted to help. It will not happen again.

Medrar had crossed to the main computer, and as his fingers tapped across the main interface a hologram of the Earth appeared.

The Sharing is centred in this city, Medrar said, pointing at a flashing dot on the coast of the Yoo-Ess-Ay. His fingers danced. I have also discovered a very, very faint amount of trace fighter residue in this city. The hologram zoomed in, closer and closer until we were shown a dilapidated concrete area, with inactive machines which appeared to be modelled for construction purposes. This area is sprinkled with fighter residue. I have been analysing it. He looked up, and his main eyes were dull with... sadness? The fighter residue is specific to the fighters of the Dome Ship which was under the command of Captain Nerefir. The Dome ship which was reported lost by the aristh Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.

Silence. A fighter which had been destroyed on the Earth's surface? That was a familiar story. The spectre of Elfangor, murdered by my mate's body, hovered in front of me. Somehow I found the words.

If we find this aristh, this Aximili, we must consider the possibility of communicating with him. However we must not rely on him, but instead conduct our own investigations into The Sharing, once we have acquired human morphs. If Aximili is located no one is to approach him without my permission. Is this understood?

Yes, they understood. They understood that we had come to Earth without permission. They understood the risk of communicating with an aristh who was known to speak directly to the Andalite high command.

He could not be permitted to discover the illegality of our actions. He would not be permitted to get in my way. Alloran was more important.

I'm coming love, I'm coming.

Lortif! I called, with considerably more bravado than I really felt. How about taking us down to Earth? It was an expression humans often used. Lortif smiled and moved to the main computer.

Computer, fire main engines. I nodded to Arbat.

You're in charge of shielding us, Arbat.

How kind of you, Hak Bhajeesh, he mocked gently. But he moved to the main interface and brought up the extra shields which screened the fingerprint of the glowing engines. Farling inched forwards towards the weapons station. Arbat snorted. We won't need that, he said. My son hesitated, unsure, but then took hold of the main controls.

You never know.

We slid out from behind the moon, and pointed towards Earth. It was not a large planet, and Lortif circled it, tracing the moon's orbit. He halted us above the Yoo-Ess-Ay, and paused.

Medrar, sensors are picking up mad amounts of debris.

Human communications satellites, Medrar explained. There's a belt just outside the Earth's atmosphere which is thick with them. His fingers skipped over the computer's interface, and a wiggly red line came up on the visual screen. It pointed straight towards the Yoo-Ess-Ay, lying placidly beneath us. Medrar pointed at it. Follow this line and we won't hit anything.

We wouldn't hit anything anyway, Lortif said crossly, but he eased the Starwave forward gently, following the path Medrar had chosen for us.

It took less time than I had expected.

Down, down towards Earth! Our gentle descent took us past the satellites – hundreds of strange metal contraptions drifting around Earth. They were what the humans used to scream out to the universe, sending their media through the many miles of space.

Then down through the layers of the Earth's atmosphere, and through a thick blanket of grey clouds.

Down through darkness, towards the glimmering lights welcoming us.

Down, to an empty and abandoned area which held the empty shells of abandoned human 'houses'; their living spaces.

Boys and girls, welcome to Earth!

We touched down gently, and Lortif shut off the engines.

No trouble at all, he said somewhat proudly. Arbat smiled.

Excellent, young aristh. Lortif glowed.

As an accord, we all turned to the main doors. I felt trepidation catch at my hearts. Out there was a new world, a new planet, populated by a staggering number of these humans. Billions of them walking its surface.

And somewhere, my Alloran.

Sensors show the air quality is suitable for Andalites, Medrar reported. Although unusually high levels of carbon dioxide, nickel, aluminium... He continued for a good few minutes, reeling off a list of metals and noxious gases, before looking up with an aghast expression. Do they not realise that their air is poisonous?

Their industry seems to still be imperfect, I replied, remembering the images I had seen over the past week. Their reliance on chemical fuels is damaging.

I edged to the doors. As Captain it would be my responsibility to take the first steps on this new world.

With a gentle woosh the doors slid open.

Behind me I heard Medrar say: Wait! I'm picking up life readings!

And then...

"Holy crap it's a fricking alien!"

There appear to be four humans out here, I snapped at the others, accusingly.

Yes, Medrar replied apologetically. I did try to tell you.