Chapter 19

We bundled hurriedly through the office's circular door, not caring much for politeness towards the newly-emptied room. We closed it firmly behind us; anything to delay any security that might be trailing behind us. The office was a silent, stark comparison to the hectic scene we'd just arrived from.

Jake was barking orders, a schematic diagram lying limp but open in his spare left hand. He clutched our location firmly between his fingers and tilted the paper so we could at least receive a cursory glance. Through this office, down the corridor until we reach the fifth door on the left side of the passageway. Through that, up the steps and to the furthest door. Once we're through that, follow the passageway to the end. Sarge, you'll knock down the watertight door. Nobody is to show aggression to anybody that passes unless they try to stop us.

With the words resolutely glued to our adrenaline-buzzed brains, the rush to our location began. The time limit Menderash had alerted us to had surely fallen into Jake's plan to flood the base, but he had mentioned nothing about an escape plan and showed no signs of attempting to do so. The dreadful sense that we were now risking our lives for Surote's justice war was never more potent in my mind. I came so close to voicing my dissent, my belief that we were jumping into freezing water to rescue a lost cause. A corpse. Despite it all, my mouth remained tightly sealed, lips sewn with years of tradition.

I didn't like the corridor. The light trails of blood I had left behind- a blend of violet and crimson - were breadcrumbs to the witch's cottage. But we passed that figurative dwelling, the fifth door on the left being further down, deeper into the mysterious tunnels of the Kelbrid hive. The gradient, however, took us up a very steady slope, up and up, following the curvature of the mountains. The door was illuminated brightly by yet another flashing orange alarm. The blaring sounds had ceased a while ago, but the lights continued. The panic wasn't over, and they would have quickly concluded the truth. With luck, our disguises would see us through a little longer.

The door provided little resistance, and we were into passageway number two. Not too long. In fact, we could see the far end emblazoned in light.

And on the door that beckoned us, a blackened Kelbrid silhouette drifted, twisted its body in alarm to our steady charge. He came towards us, stamping out of the shadows, showing off the three golden stars that medalled his silky scarf. He would have seen us clearly, wielding our weapons and heading away from the crime scene. He would have seen my face and that of my doppelganger, Tobias.

"Nween!" he screeched, aiming an accusatory fist at us. He stopped his advance but posed stubbornly in the center of the passageway. "Ing talla!"

No weapons. No guards. Nothing but a loud voice and determination.

He knows my face! I blurted. He'll try to stop us!

And Santorelli sneezed a laugh. This weed? What a fuckin' joke!

He increased his pace, heavy Kelbrid feet pounding the metal floor, and he made a quick five-meter gap between himself and the rest of us, hands resting cozily on the underside of his laser.

"Ing talla!" the Kelbrid officer repeated, unfettered. That was when he reached behind his back to a hidden holster on a thin, purple belt. He turned his body sideways, shoulder defiantly facing us, and raised a strong arm. A shimmering, silver handheld weapon introduced itself.

Not that it would stop the bullish Santorelli, who would charge headfirst into an active volcano if it meant he could withhold the right to sing The Star-Spangled Banner. That didn't mean that he was stupid, though. In fact, this was precisely the sort of thing he'd trained for. He held his line straight and steady, ignoring every order to halt that the officer could manage. Safe in the knowledge that his demands were being ignored, the Kelbrid officer twitched his weapon threateningly.

Unfortunately, he was trained, too. He waited, waited, waited… Santorelli was meters away, his time to dodge dwindling exponentially.

The zap of his weapon spiraled down the tunnel, but Santorelli had judged it perfectly. He'd seen through the eyes and into the cunning mind of the enemy. He had already ducked to the side, bouncing against the wall and rebounding. The green blast of the weapon fire shot over our heads and dissolved against the sloping ceiling not far behind us.

With a deft swing, Santorelli brought the barrel of his laser around to connect with a crunch against the stunned Kebrid's head. He crumpled to the wall, eyes fluttering before he was put temporarily out of action. The Army Ranger-turned-Animorph punched at the air and hollered a victorious cheer, slowing his pace as we leaped over the downed body to catch up. I was last in the running order, allowing myself just those tiny extra milliseconds to reach down and tear the scarf from around his neck. I swung the fabric to wrap it loosely around my own. Jake acknowledged my change of attire, saving any confusion.

One passage and three panicked Kelbrid workmen later, we finally reached the watertight door. We must have climbed thirty meters, and the surface couldn't have been far over our heads. Warning signs in a language I couldn't understand sat like bandages on the walls, illuminated by dedicated lights and brightly colored to attract the right kind of attention. Symbols of water, of struggling stick-Kelbrids in flooding rooms. Just what we were looking for.

Sarge, Jake said. He needn't have said anything more.

We could have easily undone the clips on the watertight door and walked through. But that would be missing the point. We wanted that watertight door gone. Santorelli began to change, soggy purple Kelbrid fur lengthening, becoming scruffy, dry, and brown. His hips twisted and deformed, altering with his spine to conspire in forcing him onto all fours, but the limbs that fell were hefty and powerful, and they arrived at the ground with a frightening boom.

We cordoned him off with an outfacing circle, weapons at the ready. Tobias took Santorelli's laser once the Ranger had dropped it to the side. He slung it over his back and I could see the strain from the weight of two weapons in his stance.

The scrape of angry ox hoofs skittered from the walls and ceiling panels, echoing down the halls. His hind end shuffled backward in preparation. He was going for a run-up - a long one.

Door looks pretty thick, he said. Lasers gonna help, boss?

Won't be as quick, he answered matter-of-factly.

Roger that.

He scraped a hoof again, staring down the cowering door from twenty meters away. Enough room to build momentum and also enough room to knock himself clean out. Not that he cared.

He reared up and then charged. Hooves clattered the metal floor with a psychotic rhythm, powering the huffing beast forward with incredible, intimidating force. We stepped back a few meters, bracing ourselves to discover whatever was sturdier: Raging ox or thick steel door.

There was only going to be one winner. An ox with Santorelli's kamikaze demeanor wouldn't be stopped by anything. The door remained intact, but weak hinges cruelly tore down its pride, and the sheer force of an ox head barrelling into the surface at full speed caused the surrounding walls to crack and buckle. Santorelli was visibly dazed, and he stumbled clumsily backward, but he had ultimately succeeded. The door was motionless for a moment, but slowly, at first, it started to topple, and it hit the deck with a bang not even half as looking our way