Here it is - the continuation of "The Fear"!

CHAPTER 4

	I ran about a mile and a half with her on my back before her grip slipped and
she fell.  It had been loosening every once in a while, only to tighten even
more, but this time she slid completely off.  She cried out as she hit the
ground.  “Impudent filth!” she shouted at me as I slowed to a stop.  Then she
shook her head.  “No, that was my fault,” she told herself, her voice low.  “I
couldn’t hang on anymore.  My shoulder hurts too bad.”
	I approached warily; she looked up at me again, but didn’t raise her hand to
ask to be lifted back up.  I offered my hand anyway; she merely shook her
head.  “No, Andalite, no further assistance today,” she said tiredly.  “Except
maybe medical.”  She craned her neck to look at her shoulder, touched it
gingerly with her right fingertips, and cringed, gasping.  “Oh, that’s going
to leave a scar.  If what I got on my head is this bad... well, maybe I should
worry more about the hair growing back than what I lost of it.”  Then she
sighed, closing her eyes.  “Thanks, Udrak.  And thank you, Andalite.”  She
reopened her eyes, and cocked her head to the side a little.  “You have a
name?  Something we can call you besides ‘Andalite’?  It’d be kind of silly to
call you that when the others arrive.  After all, they wouldn’t make you watch
over me for a day or so without attention to my wounds - would they?”  There
was a touch of fear in the last two words.  Then her voice turned malicious.
“I mean, she is too valuable to you Andalites alive - you wouldn’t let her die
of maltreation, would you?  I know some of you are ruthless enough to, but
that can’t be the way, now.  Not after Aftran’s promise.”
	<You know of that?>  I felt my hearts stop beating.  Aftran was the name of a
Yeerk Cassie had made a truce with; Cassie trapped herself in a catapillar
morph, and in return Aftran let the girl she controlled go.  Fortunately,
Cassie was saved by the fact that the catapillar cocooned itself, and, through
natural morphing, turned into a butterfly and in that way renewed her time
limit, so that she was able to escape.  She later learned that Aftran had kept
her promise, too.
	“Aftran is a friend of ours,” she said.  “At least, she is until I starve to
death.”  She set her jaw, then began pulling debris from her shoulder wound,
hissing softly each time.  Then she turned back to me.  “She was more fearful
of being caught, though - too afraid to do as I do.  I told her she was a
fool.  I suppose she wasn’t, considering I was caught.”  She chuckled
humorlessly.  “Dear Aftran did know what she was squeaking about, didn’t she?”
Then her tone changed again, to a strange mix of condolences and chidings.
“You did what was right, Ude.  That’s what matters.”  She shook her head,
then, and the voice was a strange mix of the two creatures I was beginning to
see this girl as - the patient but harshly bitter tone of the strange Yeerk,
and the determined one of the human who didn’t want to lose him.  That fact
turned my blood cold.  Bad enough to save a Controller - but a voluntary one?
I forced myself to remain calm, not to be blinded by my disgust.  “We still
don’t know your name, Andalite.”
	<My name is Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill.>
	“Elfangor was your brother, no?”  She smiled faintly, but her voice was harsh
with sarcasm.  “Yes, I see a bit of resemblance in the eyes.  The hate, the
disgust.  Yes, he would be proud to know you follow in his footsteps,
protecting the humans from the Yeerk plague.  Stop it, Udrak!”  The last
statement was a snarl.  Then she sighed heavily, and began to gingerly feel
her head wound for the debris that had fallen in it, and remove the leaves and
such as best she could without seeing them.  Her voice turned apologetic.  “I
am sorry, Andalite.  Yeerks have their propoganda, same as you.  Of course,
the best propoganda is your own, you know.  What better way to hate the enemy
than to see how much they hate you?”  I didn’t know what to say to
that.  “Ude wasn’t tricked by it.”  Her voice changed then; became harsher,
more stern, and slightly sarcastic.  “At least, I like to think I wasn’t.  I
was... recruited.  Only they used the word ‘requested’.  But when the Council
requests the slightest thing....”  She shuddered.  “They made public
spectacles of those that refused, made them look like traitors by showing the
propaganda right after the executions.  But all they did was...was... I... I
didn’t fall for it.”  A look of hatred crossed her face; her eyes looked
almost orange in that look.  It sent shivers down my spine.  “Most of those
‘traitors’ were my friends - my family.  They didn’t know of course - why
should they care?  Oh, who would mourn a bunch of traitors, of Andalite
sympathists, of... of... of anti-expansionists.  Oh, how they made that word a
curse.”  I looked up,
hoping to spot my friends flying to help me, but there was nothing.  This
Yeerk was making me very uncomfortable.  I didn’t like the hate-sound in their
voice, even if it was directed at my enemies.  She regarded me again, as if
reading my thoughts.  “Do you know how hard it is to hate your own kind, Mr.
Isthill?” she asked me.
	I thought of my own conception of my people; a race with every right to be
proud of our accomplishments, but still capable of making mistakes, of letting
our pride get in the way of our judgement.  <No.  Not hate.  Disagree with,
perhaps, but not hate.>
	“You’re very lucky then.  It’s like swallowing - or, in your case, absorbing
- broken glass.”  I didn’t tell her that I had experience with mouths.  “It’s
like dying inside, to hate what you are.”  She looked away, then returned her
gaze.  The hate was gone, to be replaced by a drained expression.  “Udrak
doesn’t want to hurt anyone,” the girl said.  “He never did.  But he was too
afraid to face the consequences of telling anyone.  So he went along with it -
and hated every moment of it.  He hated every Yeerk in the entire galaxy.  He
hated the Andalites, yes, but he hated his own people more - Seerow had been
right to help.”
	Then her voice changed again, to the bitter sarcasm of the Yeerk.  “But the
Yeerks he gave the technology to wanted more.  They wanted to travel the
stars, to find better hosts than the simple Gedds.  And what were wrong with
Gedds?  Nothing.  But Andalites looked so much more... impressive.  The
thought of inhabiting such a creature as that.. nothing else mattered.  If
Seerow had just kept to himself, or given his ‘gifts’ to a small pool, of
hostless Yeerks - they might have escaped the Council forever, started a small
colony of Yeerks with voluntary, partial-Controllers somewhere.  Did you know
that Yeerks are able to infest comatose  hosts?”  The bitter sarcasm eased out
of her voice, draining it of everything but defeat.  “We can live their lives
for them, if there isn’t any life left anymore; sometimes we can even revive
them, find what corner they’ve locked themselves into.  All we - all I wanted
was a chance to see, to hold, to walk.  My friends and I - we would agree to
share an equal bond with their hosts, just for that chance.  That one,
small chance....”  She lifted her head, turning it slightly to the side.
“Someone’s coming!” she hissed.
	I listened; yes, there were footsteps.  Many footsteps.
	<Ax!  We’re back.  Sorry it took so long; the others had to make a pit stop
to remorph - it took too long.  They’ve remorphed now, because we don’t know
how long we have to be here.  One hour, fifty-eight minutes to go.>  I watched
as Tobias landed on a branch close by.  He turned his hawk’s glare on the
girl.  <Who are you?> he demanded sharply.  <And don’t give me any crap.  I
want your real name.>
	She smiled.  I think she was amused by Tobias’ impolite tone, but I had no
idea why.  There was discomfort in her expression, too; I believe it was
because she had not seen Tobias, and did not know where the voice was coming
from.  “Which one of us?” she asked.  “We have two real names.  Well - we did,
at least.  We are Udrak Casey Eight-Eight-Eight Sarah of the Rel Driak pool.”
	<Yeah, right, Udrak Eight-Eight-Eight of the Rel Driak pool.  ‘Casey-Sarah’
doesn’t exist.>
	“Oh, but she does,” the Controller replied patiently.  “Udrak isn’t what you
think,” she continued, in what I recognized as the girl’s tone, not Udrak’s.
“He isn’t a slaver.  He’s... well, he’s different.  I’m not fully a
Controller.”
	<Not fully a Controller?> a skeptical voice echoed.  <Really.>  I focused my
gaze on Marco, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed over his chest and
looking as human as a large gorilla can, in such a condition.  His heavy,
muzzled face did not look the slightest bit convinced.  The tree creaked when
he leaned against it.
	She had been sitting down with her legs stretched out in front of her; at the
sound of Marco’s thought-speak and the creaking tree, she rolled over, tucking
her legs in, so that she was kneeling.  Once she was was facing the ground she
pushed herself slightly backwards so that she was in a crouch.  All this took
less than a second; she had very quick reflexes.  In one second, she had gone
from a restful position to one in which she could easily move from harm’s way.
“What do you want?” she snapped, before her eyes widened, and she sighed.
“We’re no use to you if you give me a fatal heart attack, Andalite,” she told
him, turning up one side of her face in an odd half-smile.
	<Those of us who have come have chosen to speak to you in Earth morphs,>
Marco continued.  <Our scout wasn’t sure if you were a Controller or not, so
we chose to use morphes we acquired from certain local specimens that you
would have no trouble understanding can kill you very easily.>
	“Why don’t you want us to see what you look like?  Andalites can kill us just
as easily as overgrown chimps can.  It’d be a lot cleaner that way, too.”
	Marco looked a little confused for a moment, but only a moment.  I don’t
think she caught it.  <If Visser Three knows who we are, we could be in
danger.  You might have been able to identify us.>
	She stared at him - just stared.  Then she shrugged her right shoulder.
“Whatever.  You Andalites are weird anyway.”  I glared at her, but she wasn’t
looking at me.  I thought I saw the corner of Marco’s mouth twitch, as if he
wanted to laugh at the comment but didn’t dare.  “As I’ve told two of you
already, we are two creatures - Udrak Eight-Eight-Eight of the Rel Driak pool,
and Casey-Sarah - but the differential between the two is blurred; we often
agree and speak as one.  Humans usually call us Kelly.  I’d appreciate if you
called us Udrak or Sarah - depending on who you want to answer.”
	<Do you think we would trust you to let her answer?> Marco snapped.
	“No,” she answered in a calm, dangerous voice.  “No, you Andalites- Udrak!”
The voice was now drained, as if she was more interested in going to sleep
than anything else. “Let me handle this, okay?  You’re worn out.  You’re
hungry.  I know you’re hurting more than I am.  Relax - I can do this.  They
won’t listen to you anyway.”  Marco appeared to be as disturbed by her
speaking to herself as I was, but it was more difficult to tell his expression
from the gorilla’s heavy face.  “There’s only one way they’ll believe I’m not
you.  No!  It’s too dangerous.  They might hurt you.  They can’t hurt you.
Don’t make me force my way out, Sarah.  It’s too dangerous!  I won’t let them
hurt you because of me.  Not after all this time, when they... when they are
hope for you.”  She stopped speaking then, just stared straight ahead, with a
strange expression, like a mixture of surprise and fear.
	<Oh, so you’re willing to put yourself in danger for your host?> Marco
sneered.  <That’s rich.>  Then he directed his thought-speech to me.  <Ax,
buddy, you know we love you, man, but... what, exactly, were you thinking?
This is ridiculous.>
	I waited for a Udrak to make a reply to Marco’s taunt, but- nothing.  I
looked at the expression more closely, and was surprised to see that it hadn’t
changed at all.  She just stared, straight ahead, as if looking at something
so frightening and impossible it had rendered her immobile.
	<Why were you running from the others?> Tobias demanded, but he, too,
received no answer.  <Udrak!>  Still, nothing.
	There was a rustling in the bushes slightly to Marco’s left, and Cassie
peered out from underneath it.  At least, I hoped the wolf’s muzzle belonged
to Cassie.  <There you are!> I heard her say.  She slunk out from beneath the
bush.  <Over here.>  At that, Prince Jake and Rachel appeared, from either
side of the bush.  Prince Jake looked impressive in his tiger morph, like
living liquid metal encased in ornage-and-black fur.  Rachel was more
impressive simply in size and power, in her grizzly bear morth.
	<Have you found out anything?> Prince Jake asked me.  Cassie crept closer to
the girl, her eyes fastened on her wounds, but she waited to see what Prince
Jake would say.  Still, I knew that she wanted to help.  That is part of who
Cassie is.
	 I answered him, avoiding using his name.  For once, he did not tell me not
to call him “prince”; I guessed he realized that I was letting the girl hear
me.  <This creature confuses me.  At times it seems to be a Yeerk talking, at
others it is very convincing in sounding as if the human child has some
control.  Sometimes, it is almost as if both are  speaking with one voice.
She has referred to herself as ‘we’ many times.>
	He looked at Tobias.  <Tobias?>
	<Ax is right,> Tobias replied, keeping his reply from the girl.  <It’s creepy
listening to it.  Then a moment ago she just froze up.>  Suddenly he jerked as
if he’d been hit, and spread his wings in a fear reaction.  <Oh!  Oh!  Look!>
he cried out.  <Look!>
	The others focused their singular pairs of eyes on the girl; I focused all
four of mine on her, startled by Tobias’ panic.  I saw that she had moved her
right hand, cupping it around her ear.
	<Oh my God....>  Cassie whispered to no one in particular.

...more coming...