Chapter 29

(Running won't do any good,) Marco said heavily to me. (They've got us like fish in a barrel.)

Anger was flowing through me. I was mad at everything – mad at the Yeerks for starting all of this, mad at Erek for being able to get us into this deathtrap but not get us out. Mad at myself for failing when people needed me most. Mostly mad at myself. (We might as well go down swinging,) I said.

(Don't be stupid,) Marco said, sounding depressed. (They'll pop fifty rounds into each of us before we can take two steps.)

(Well what, then?) I demanded as Visser Three finished demorphing. (You want to surrender?)

(It doesn't matter,) he replied flatly. (Everybody is going to be dead in a short amount of time. For the record, though, I'd rather die full of holes than let one of those dirty, thieving bastards into my head. Charge of the Light Brigade?) he tried one last joke, the last one he'd probably ever make. Light Brigade – right. A gorilla and a Hork-bajir.

Then, wonderfully, magically, beautifully, Marco had an idea. I would have kissed him. He held the case up in front of his chest and addressed Visser Three directly. (I wonder what those high-powered human projectile weapons would do to these beautiful carbonite formations,) he said as if he didn't have a care in the world. God, he even sounded like a haughty Andalite. Even used the Andalite word for diamond.

Visser Three realized what he was saying and froze. (Do not open fire!) he practically screamed at his men. (The Andalites have managed to extract our prize from the vault already.) As he said this, his eyes narrowed. (Or...have they?) He studied Marco hard. (Perhaps the Andalite has learned the human art of "bluffing." Did you really succeed in taking the diamonds from the vault?)

(Well, Visser, since you asked so nicely…) Marco popped the latch to the case and opened it, briefly showing the controllers the contents. The synthetic diamonds glittered under the fluorescents. He snapped the case closed and said, (Your move, Yeerk.)

Visser Three hesitated for a moment. He smiled with his eyes and began to morph.

(Bad idea, Visser,) I warned. (Your tail is the only usable weapon you have right now. Once it's gone, we can kill you and leave. Your men will be powerless to stop us.) I don't know what I was trying to accomplish, but all I knew was that right now, we had a thin advantage. Visser Three obviously meant to change that with whatever morph he was shifting into.

Visser Three ignored me and gave orders to his men. (Do not let them escape with that case. Shoot if you must, but know that I will kill whoever so much as grazes that case.) The Visser was in mid-morph, a helpless ball of shifting shape.

(Now or never,) I said tensely to Marco. (If you've got an idea to get us out of this, it's now or never.)

(I got an idea,) he confirmed, but he didn't sound very happy about it. (But you're not going to like it.)

Visser Three was starting to raise his main mass off of the linoleum floor on glass-like, spidery legs. I didn't know what he was morphing into, I just knew I didn't want to be around when he finished it. (I don't care! If you're going to do something, do it!)

(Well, all right,) he said. (Get behind me and stay there.) Without waiting for me to answer, he lifted the case in front of him like a shield and charged at the controllers. He let out a scream that was pure gorilla – Hoo-HOOOAR! I followed right behind him.

Nobody shot. They were more scared of Visser Three than they were of losing the case, apparently. Marco hit the line of controllers, bowling over half of them. Then, without a shot being fired, we were past them and moving toward the front of the building.

(Fire! Fire! Fire!) Visser Three screamed. We were about two feet from rounding the corner and getting out of their gunsights when they opened up.

I don't know how many times I was hit in the second before we got around the corner, but it was a lot. It all happened so fast. One second I was fine, the next I was numb and leaking from everywhere. Marco was hit, too. I clearly saw a bullet nearly tear his right arm off at the elbow.

The arm that was holding the case.

No longer able to hold on, Marco dropped it as he skidded around the corner to safety. He slid in a mixture of the Hork-bajir's blood and his own dark red gorilla's blood. Once around the corner, crying in pain, he reached back for the case.

(You idiot!) I moaned through the pain. (Are you delusional? We want them to have it!)

Another short burst of gunfire rang out, and Marco pulled back a half of a hand. (I know. And now they think we were willing to die for it. Let's go,) he grunted. He tried to get up to move, but fell back down. He was losing an alarming amount of blood at a sickening speed.

I'd taken at least as many bullets as he had, but Hork-bajir are a well-built species. My wounds were already clotting over, preventing a fatal loss of blood. Careful not to cut him, I grabbed a massive leg and started pulling him to safety.

The Yeerks weren't chasing us. They had gotten what they came for, and they figured that we'd all be dead soon enough anyway, I guess. They were more right than they knew. Marco was starting to babble the incoherent sorts of things a person says when they're dying. I could feel myself weakening, as well. I didn't have the strength to pull him any farther.

(Demorph!) I said desperately.

(Can't risk it,) he gasped. Then, in the same breath, he said, (Chapman will give us detention for a month if he finds out about us.) For once, he wasn't joking. He was dying.

I started forward with some half-witted idea that I was going for help, but I fell down, too. My legs wouldn't do what my brain told them to. Besides, what help?

There was no help.