Chapter 4
The fallen Yeerks were dragged to Point of Action 1, where Fruyt ensured they would remain immobile by injecting them with a long-lasting general anesthetic. The rest of the team worked to secure the entrances to the space, blocking off the smaller of the doors and placing alert sentries on the larger, which would lead through to the main bulk of the facility. I landed on Jake's shoulder, allowing my wings a break, and watched the group in operation. Unscathed and brimming with adrenaline, the focus shifted to the next stage hurriedly.
"The area is secure," Arkv reported dutifully to the contemplative Surote.
"Then we move," he insisted. "We're done in here."
Arkv nodded and started calling to his troops. Everybody was ordered to the main door, where the sentries dropped back into the re-grouping formation. The more experienced members looked somewhat more confident, but Arkv took our lot aside for a few extra words of motivation.
He stood between the other aliens and us, just a little shorter than Jake. "That was a typical exercise. It may get busier from this point onwards, but the same principles apply: Follow my orders, keep your focus, and don't be the hero. We get all that right, and we celebrate with Trih fruit tonight."
"Understood," Jake said. "But I'm going to get some of us into battlemorph. Back-up."
Arkv narrowed his slanted yellow eyes, distorted by the thin veil of water around his head. "Back-up…" he repeated.
"I don't want to take chances," Jake explained. "I'm concerned about an ambush, and I want us to be better prepared. We need stronger bodies, more capable."
The request received little more reaction from Arkv. He stared for a short while and then turned to begin the operation. It wasn't a no.
Jake took his place as the centerpiece. "Two of us will morph now. Sarge and Mendy. Everybody else, stick close-by and be prepared for an order to go full battlemorph. On that cue, everybody morphs."
Santorelli and Menderash handed their weapons and ammo over before stepping back to commence morphing. Their choices were obvious: Santorelli would use the brutish, powerful ox, and Menderash would utilize his only battle-capable morph: the wolf.
Surote was making his last rounds, checking the troops for readiness. He came to us finally and gawked at the half-morphed members. His robotic eyes blinked and reluctantly accepted the action, but not without a word to Jake. "I don't see this as anything close to a necessity. For your own safety, it's fine, but you must remember why we're here."
Jake nodded, his hair brushing against my wing. "We remember."
"And you," he continued, focusing on me. "Good job earlier. You will continue to be our lookout, but we expect the space to be less accommodating from this point on. Be careful."
Fruyt took his place by the door control panel as everybody took their positions at either side, ready to embrace a fight lurking on the other side. Santorelli and Menderash waited at the back with the order to restrain themselves until the extra firepower was required.
"Now," Arkv grunted.
Fruyt pressed down on the panel. The door's movement began with an industrial hum and then a bang as the locks shot away, allowing the big metal surface to rise upwards steadily. We kept ourselves out of the way as it sent its roars down the narrow, round tunnel where the potential enemies waited for the invasion. All eyes focused on Arkv, prepared for his signal with itchy fingers massaging triggers. When the big door slammed to a halt, and he was satisfied, a flick of his stumpy tail gave us our cue. The first four of the team swiveled to face down the tunnel, whose walls reflected a gorgeous gold from the single line of lighting that ran down the center of the rounded ceiling. They maintained their ready postures as they slowly and quietly stepped forward into the unknown depths. The rest of us followed in a zigzag formation, keeping down and close to the sides. The sound barrier, though effective, restricted communication and had been put away, so we had to be careful with sound.
Santorelli couldn't be quiet. Jake realized the error when big clunky hoofsteps bombarded our ears. "Sarge!" he whispered. "Stay back here. Be ready for our call!"
((Got it, boss!)) he replied with false enthusiasm. He never enjoyed being left out of a scrap.
The tunnel was long and straight, which definitely didn't suit our needs. The tunnel's exit was clearly visible, and it opened to a brightened area filled with the noise of operational machinery. There were voices, distinctly alien but some of which were eerily familiar. Arkv, front and center, kept our pace down, but I could see his conflict even from the shadows of Jake's shoulder. He knew that our position was a weak one. When a Hork-Bajir walked casually past the end of the tunnel, he brought us to a complete stop. He knelt, turned, and whispered over to Kv-Aret-Cukku Et.
Et made a quick adjustment to his weapon and took from its underside a small rounded projectile. He placed it delicately into his gun's loader and reloaded, sending the shell to the barrel. Then he took aim and fired. The sound was little more than a click from where we sat, but his target – a glass surface that stared back at us from the far end of the busy room – cracked hauntingly, white crooked spider legs cascading outwards. There were yells and barks, and a cluster of Yeerks in various bodies jogged over with concern. All attention was away from the tunnel, and we received the signal to move. Faster.
Arkv and Et arrived at the end of the tunnel and simultaneously looked around the corners. They signaled no Yeerks, meaning that the seven workers investigating the mysteriously cracked surface were all we faced. They were clumped together, and that was about as good as it could get. With that realization, Arkv gave the sudden signal.
I leaped from Jake's shoulder as he raised his body to run. The whole formation, bar Menderash, lurched forward to occupy the noisy industrial room. I zoomed through what remained of the tunnel and then straight up to the ceiling, probably ten meters from the floor. I wasn't going to go unseen this time.
The Yeerks were dumbfounded to see our platoon charging in. They yelled and screamed, but none did anything other than flail about in sudden panic: a Hork-Bajir, three Gedds, two Pject, and a Naharan. One potential threat, but thankfully the Hork-Bajir was the first darted, just as the others decided it best to disperse and look for any means of defense.
I had little to report, really. The team quickly began to take down the small, unarmed Yeerk group. It was interesting to see that Surote's people held back, and in fact, I only saw the Brou'gn stun the Hork-Bajir. The rest was left to us Animorphs as if we had been given a chance to practice.
The Gedds were the slowest but also the most aggressive. One charged directly for Marco but was impeded by its natural lop-sided gait. Marco took his time to aim, eye down the barrel of his gun, and delivered a dart to the left arm. The Gedd stumbled, groaned, and collapsed in a clumsy heap. One of the other Gedds was quick to locate a piece of metal piping but was darted in the back of the neck by Jake before it could turn around to threaten.
Disorientated and panicked, they were dropping in mere seconds. The Naharan – a bipedal rat-like alien with three lengthy tails and a toothless mouth – attempted to climb a wall to safety, the reason for which was unclear. When Marco finally shot it after two misses, the fall back to the ground was enough for it to bounce another four feet into the air. Surote chastised Marco bluntly for his poor aim.
The final Gedd and the Pject made a run for an exit to the far right. Jake was somewhat more accurate than Marco, with one miss and a hit to bring the Gedd crashing to the ground. The beetle-looking alien with eerily Human arms - called a Pject by Surote - was gaining ground, though, and Marco missed his latest attempt. The Pject was outrunning them, speeding for the next tunnel that would descend further into the base and possible reinforcement.
I had an opportunity to help. I was faster than an overgrown, clumsy beetle, and I could cut off its course in no time. I bent my wings and aimed for the perfect swerve. I was going to spook it in a new direction.
I caught the air and approached at an inward angle. I saw the tiny black face of the Pject, gasping as it expended its limited energy. It came closer, at such high speeds.
The Pject looked up to see me, hurtling like a missile directly at him. He turned on spindly legs and headed back the way he came. I'd diverted his path as intended and sent him right back into paralysis gunfire.
With the job done, I had to drain momentum and come to a steady stop. It used to be so easy…
An ache spread over my wings, and it flushed into my back. Not pain, just a twinge, an indication that something just wasn't quite right. I stuttered in the air and almost tumbled into the floor. With luck, I managed to keep airborne, but I couldn't rise. I simply couldn't!
The wall ahead of me beckoned like a massive black hammer to come down on my fragile head. I gave up on turning upwards. It was hopeless. I twisted sideways and violently changed direction. With that change went the preponderance of momentum, and I was able to inelegantly bounce onto the floor and eventually bring myself to a halt.
Thankfully, nothing came of it. But it worried me.
The Pject had been dealt with, despite my issue. It had gone unnoticed. Arkv sent sentries to guard the doors when we knew the job was done, and Surote rushed over to the unconscious, fallen Naharan.
He glanced over the body, and Fruyt caught up to join him. Then Surote turned to stare directly at Marco, who was wiping a thin layer of sweat from his forehead, brought on by the excess heat and the surge of adrenalin. Surote made a strange, minutely distorted robotic squeal, and his head jerked to the side. His left arm twitched.
It was like the tiniest malfunction. It was bizarre.
"This Naharan has broken her leg!" Surote growled once he'd stopped jolting. "Take your time with your shots, and such injuries may not occur!"
Marco was so tempted to roll his eyes and shrug it off. I could tell. Instead, he said, "Sorry, my bad," and left it at that. He'd seen so much worse than broken legs before. He'd had his own guts ripped from his torso on multiple occasions. He'd torn enemies in half and cracked skulls like they were monkey nut casings. A broken leg was a minor inconvenience in his mind.
Nevertheless, Surote was irritated by the host's injury and insisted that Fruyt apply first aid before moving deeper into the station. Once he knew that the Naharan was being cared for, Santorelli and Menderash had arrived, and the doors leading to our area had been temporarily blocked, he addressed us.
"Not perfect," he started. "But that's to be expected. We held back there for your benefit, and you got the job done well. I believe you are capable of continuing this mission without our restraints. Just remember what we have told you. Things are bound to get busier further inside."
"They didn't have any weapons," Jake said. "Or guards. They aren't prepared for this at all."
"That's not to say we should let ourselves grow complacent," Surote replied.
"Of course not."
Meanwhile, Menderash, still in his wolf body, had been assessing our new location, which prompted me to do the same. There was a lot more machinery and a section at one end dotted with great metal silos. Pipes sprang all over the ceiling, carrying with them a consistent humming of pressurized gas and steam. A conveyor belt transporting piles of rubble churned happily from one end of the room to the other, with workstations delegated lonely positions along each side. It fed into a bulky contraption at the end of the line, the fate of the broken rock left without detail. Elsewhere was the large glass pane we had cracked to cause a distraction. It was part of the piping system, and the glass guarded an empty, reinforced chamber within. There were two small entry ports to the chamber, with a busy control panel at each.
((I've never seen a mining system like this,)) Menderash concluded curiously to Surote. ((Not in Yeerk hands.))
Surote looked over to the great glass chamber, following Menderash's stare. Then he invited us silently to walk closer. But not too close.
He placed a lifeless hand up to the origin of the crack, where the round bullet had burst. He felt the air, twisted his wrist joints. "It's an Ooguui system. An unusual one, but nothing unfamiliar," he summarised nonchalantly. "Do not come any closer to this chamber. The gases inside are incredibly toxic. Poison. It is leaking, but just barely. The air here shall swallow it."
Nobody was willing to test the theory for themselves, so we happily stayed back. I retook my perch back on Jake's shoulder and adjusted my recovering muscles. They still didn't feel right.
"What are these things?"
It was Marco's voice. Past Jake's hair, I could see him at one of the control panels. He was holding a small capsule of some kind. White and inoffensive. There was a whole container of them joined to the toxic gas chamber.
"Put that down!" Surote huffed. "Do you Humans always have to touch before asking?"
Marco dropped the capsule back down and raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright! Just curious is all…"
Surote marched on over, clearly growing ever more annoyed with Marco's nature. "These are compressed air capsules used for chamber clearance. Exposure to acid causes the air inside to burst outwards at high pressure and clear toxins. They are incredibly dangerous. As with most equipment here."
He reached out a hand and tapped the back of a finger against one of the pipes leading to the chamber. By his finger was a symbol: Two red, barbed tentacles encircling one another. It didn't take a genius to glean what kind of stuff was in there.
"Do not break one of these pipes," Surote warned. "I won't be bringing your body home if you do."