Sample Chapters

##37 The Weakness

WHOOOOOOOOSSH!

I climbed to my feet.

Tried to leap after it.

Where was it? There!

Only air!

THUUMPF!

I fell again.

WHOOOOOOOOSH!

<I can't even see it!> Cassie cried.

ZZIIIIISSSPP!

<See what?> Marco. <A-uumpfh!>

In seconds -- if that -- it had us herded into a trembling, panting, tangled cluster. Four incredibly fast, incredibly agile hunters, subdued.

The thing made me think of pulled taffy.

Or a cartoon depiction of speed.

You know, where the cartoon character's skin stretches as he strides faster and faster -- until his skeleton runs right out of his skin suit.

That's where this thing belonged. In a cartoon. Where the impossible is possible.

An impression. A flash. A blur.

A small whirlwind or tornado.

And then it stopped. Suddenly.

Came to a dead clean halt. No slowing down. Just -- stopped.

<What the. . . .>

It was a creature. Now I could see that clearly. Not a machine but flesh and blood.

A bizarre creature able to zip across the grass like a high-speed insect.

Like a bullet fired from a thirty-thirty. A hunting rifle.

Only about as tall as a gazelle.

Four lanky, skinny legs. A thin but strong looking tail, as long as its body, that flicked and twitched even when the creature's legs weren't moving.

A pigeon chest, high and rounded.

A head shaped like a custom-made aerodynamic bike racing helmet. Tight curved face, like half a smooth ball. Skull that swept back from the rim of the pall into a pointy triangle. Like an ice cream cone on its side. Except the cone was flattened.

But what really caught and held my attention was the fact that this thing was covered in blue fur.

And had no mouth.

And supported two thin, weak-looking arms.

Like an Andalite. Like Ax.

<Bail! Just go!> Tobias called frantically. <I'll distract it.>

But Tobias didn't have to distract it. The creature suddenly left us -- and appeared at the bedraggled visser's side. In the time it took to blink.

<Now!> I cried.

We ran, fear and the dregs of adrenaline helping the exhausted cheetahs to relative safety, scattered throughout the thick woods surrounding the valley.

We got away only because the creature had let us. I knew that.

And I didn't like it one bit. It made me angry. More annoying, it made me nervous.

Why had it let us get away?

We demorphed, on our way to our usual bird morphs for the trip home.

And we listened to the creature speak with Visser Three.

Thought-speak. Superfast.

The words became clear a beat after the creature had sopped speaking. A time delay between sound and meaning.

Kind of like when you talk on the phone to someone in Europe. Or any other continent, I guess.

<Apatheticdisplay,VisserThree.Youarechased downonaplanetyoushouldlongagohave conquered.Thiswillgoinmynotesyoucan besure.>

<You too failed to capture the Andalite bandits, Inspector,> the visser sneered. Loudly.

<Depriveyouofwhatisyourdutyand responsibility?Andmyenjoymentinwatching youfail?Finally,youwilladdressmeasCouncilor Thirteen,Visser.>

<You're not a member of the council, yet. Not until you have received a final approval,> the visser stated flatly.

The inspector made a sound that could have been a laugh. High and trilling. A sound that sent chills up my temporarily human spine.

<Ihavebeengivenaspecimenofournewestand mostcapablehostspecies.TheGaratron.Iwillnot failtobepromoted.>

Kneeling on the dark soil, my back bent, hair hanging down over my face, a twig imbedding itself into the skin of my right palm. A human palm.

Still feeling, strangely, some of the cheetah's exhaustion.

But it was too dangerous to delay. I took a deep breath and rushed right into the next morph.

In what seemed like seconds, I had brown-and-white feathers, massive wings, a hard, cruel beak.

I was a bald eagle.

<Everyone?> I called privately. <Take off, one at a time. I'll go last. Tobias first, Ax, Marco, Cassie. Meet back at the barn.>

<Rachel?> It was Tobias. <I'll wait for you.>

Another sample chapter:

<Councilor,> Ax said, his voice tight. <The inspector is a candidate member of the Council of Thirteen.>

"What's this guy doing here?" I said angrily. "He screwed up our plan."

Marco turned to look at Ax. "Did you know about these Garatrons?" he asked. "I mean, I know I'm not the only one who saw the similarities. Blue fur. Four legs. Arms."

Ax stiffened.

"Physical similarities don't necessarily mean there's a genetic relationship," Cassie pointed out. "Mammalian shrews and marsupial shrews. A lot alike, but not related. Could be the same thing with Andalites and Garatrons."

<The Yeerks have taken only one Andalite host body,> Ax said. <The inspector called the Garatrons the newest host species, implying the Yeerks have infested far more than one creature. Something the Andalites will never allow to happen.>

I paced before a cage full of chittering baby squirrels. Their mother had been killed.

"This is bad. The inspector outran one of the fastest, most agile animals on Earth. If we can't catch the Garatrons, we can't kill them."

<We're missing something here,> Tobias said. <I don't know about other Garatrons, but the inspector, the Yeerk, is very intelligent. That much was obvious. And he and the visser were antagonistic. That was clear, too. The inspector mentioned notes. I'm betting he's here to observe Visser Three. Make and submit a progress report on the invasion of Earth.>

I thought about what Tobias had said. It made sense. But what did it mean for us? And how could we exploit the visser's being under a microscope? Later on we could deal with the implications of yet another gifted Yeerk host species. Maybe when Jake came back.

And then I grinned. "This is so perfect. This is another opportunity."

Cassie looked up from the droppers of milk or something she was preparing for the squirrel babies. "To do...?"

"To discredit Visser Three. Embarrass him in front of the inspector. Show the inspector what an incredibly lousy job the visser's doing. Get him kicked off the job."

Marco raised his hand. "Wait up. And what happens when Visser Three is gone? Assuming, of course, we succeed. What if the council replaces him with someone far more dangerous?"

<Better the evil you know than the evil you don't know,> Tobias said quietly.

Cassie nodded. "Maybe. But I want to hear what Rachel has in mind."

"Simple," I said. "A kind of smear campaign. We strike hard and fast. Continuous pressure. Make it look like there's five hundred Andalite bandits fighting this war. We hit every known Controller in town. Every one in a position of power, anyway. And we hit in public places, wherever there's a Controller in charge. We want coverage. We want the inspector to know what's going on. And we do it now. We don't know how long the inspector is going to be here. We start today!"

"I say we wait," Marco said abruptly. "When's Jake getting back? Two, three days? We wait. I like the idea, Rachel, but this mission is potentially too dangerous to do without him."

"What's so dangerous?" I argued. "Boom boom boom. We hit, we get out. We hit again."

"Yeah, in totally open, public places." Marco shook his head. "You amaze me. How can you not see the risk in that? The chance that one of us will get left behind? That one of us will have to demorph in the middle of a supermarket bread aisle with a Yeerk-infested stock boy peeking around the hamburger roll display, waiting to drag us off to Visser Three?"

<Or not be able to demorph,> Tobias said, his voice forcedly arch and bright. <Or maybe be captured and tortured.>

I shot him a look. It pained me when he talked like that. He didn't do it often, but...

Tobias had been caught in morph, way back in the beginning. More recently, he'd been voluntarily captured, for the sake of the mission. Tortured, too. He'd sacrificed more than any of us for this stupid war. He had a right to deal with it all whatever way he could.

Still, it hurt me to see him reveal the damage that had been done to him. I have strong feelings for Tobias. The kind you can't help. The kind that seem inevitable. Like they were always there, even before you knew the person.

"I agree with Marco and Tobias," Cassie said, opening the door of the squirrels' cage. "It's a good idea. But for a fast series of relentless attacks we need someone calling the shots. And Jake does that better than anyone."

"Jake's not here," I grumbled.

"And look what's happening," Cassie went on, over her shoulder. "We're wasting time arguing. Without a leader, nothing gets done."

"My point exactly," I said. "So let's choose a temporary leader. Look, we're agreed we can't go into a mission arguing over who's in charge and when. So..."

<But are we agreed we should go ahead? If someone acts as leader?> Tobias said. <Ax?>

<I must decline to contribute my opinion. And I must decline to participate in the choosing of a leader to substitute for my prince. This is a matter for you humans to decide.>

<I'm not denying the danger,> Tobias said slowly. <But like Rachel said, we've got a solid opportunity. The risks are big. But I'm not sure we're free to say no.>

"And Rachel's also saying she wants to be in charge, right?" Marco. "I mean, that¹s what this is really all about, right?"

I bit back an angry response. If I wanted to lead I had to control myself, first. "No. That's not what I'm saying." I turned to Cassie. "I don't care who's in charge. Cassie can be in charge."

Cassie fitted a dropper into a little squirrel mouth. "No thanks. Brain surgery? Okay. Secret rescue missions to the Yeerk pool? When I have to. But this kind of thing? Not rapid-fire attacks."

"Tobias?" I said. "How about you?"

<No. I'm no one's leader.>

"Much as I hate to admit anyone is superior to me," Marco sighed, "I'd have to say that in terms of intelligence, Ax is our man."

Ax titled his head back almost as if he were posing for a photo shoot.

"But," Marco went on, "and no offense, Ax-man, this job is going to require pretty intimate contact with humans. With, uh, society. And let's face it, you still don't accept Earth hours as your own hours. And your favorite TV shows are 'These Messages.' Not good."

Ax looked offended. <I will abide by whatever decision the-->

"So who's left?" I challenged. "You?"

"Possibly."

"Not likely. I'm the one who does hard and fast. And relentless."

"And reckless," Marco shot back.

"While you want to sit around and think every stupid little step to death," I spat. "You've got a Hamlet complex, Marco."

"Yeah and there's a method to my madness. Which is more than I can say about your finer moments."

<Who or what is this Hamlet complex?> Ax asked.

"I'll explain later," Cassie said quickly. "Look, if we're going to have a leader until Jake gets back, we're going to have to choose that leader in the democratic way. We are a team, right?"

<A vote,> Tobias said. <It's the only way.>

Marco snorted. "Beautiful. Let's see. We've got Rachel's best friend and her bird-friend and Ax isn't voting...forget it, man. I'm out."

Marco turned to me and bowed. "Congratulations, your highness. Your wish is my command."

Visser

My name is Edriss-Five-Six-Two, of the Sulp Niar Pool.
I will begin this story at a time in my career when I controlled a Hork-Bajir host body and held the rank of Sub-Visser Four-hundred-nine. My area of specialization was intelligence. Current assignment? Target acquisition.

I was part of a team that analyzed data from a wide variety of sources. Data that would, we hoped, lead us to what we all longed for so desperately: a Class-Five subject race.

I was young. Young to be a sub-visser, but already impatient to be more. And this job was surely not the path to greater things.

I was third in command at Olgin base, a dusty, irrelevant backwater of bare-bones buildings on the day-night line of a moon we'd actually purchased from the Skrit-Na.

As the Council knows, the Skrit Na are useless as hosts, and not terribly threatening as foes. But there was no point in starting unprofitable wars, so rather than seize the base, we bought it. The price? A captured Andalite drone ship.

Cheap. And still we overpaid.

Olgin base was good for only one thing: Its Zero-space transit point made it convenient for quick data transmission from the widespread elements of the fleet, and from our two main planets: the Taxxon home world, and the Hork-Bajir home world.

Our own planet was then, as now, surrounded by orbiting Andalite warships. The day would come when we would retake our world and the pools that spawned us. But not yet. The Andalites were still too strong for us to risk a head-to-head, all-out conflict.

Before we could face the Andalites we needed a more numerous, more agile, more adaptable host. Gedds were clumsy and weak, with senses that were distorting and unreliable. The Taxxons were allies more than true hosts, and in any event, not even the most strong-willed Yeerk could control the insane, cannibalistic hunger of a Taxxon.

The Hork-Bajir had done well for us. They were naturally strong and dangerous. Clumsy for detail work, but the other strengths compensated.

As the Council knows, the problem with the Hork-Bajir was that there simply weren't enough of them. The Andalites, those moral paragons, had exterminated most of the Hork-Bajir race rather than let it fall into our hands.

We had thousands of Hork-Bajir. We needed millions of hosts. My task -- which seemed futile at the time -- was to find those hosts.

Anyone at Olgin base with the slightest influence, the most tenuous connection to a highly placed officer, managed to get reassigned. Yeerks were leaving all the time. And replacements, poor, unwanted trash for the most part, were being sent to us.

One of my duties was to indoctrinate the new recruits. I started as they de-shipped. The ship berths were not a pleasant environment. Cargo was constantly in motion, by puller and pusher, by strap, and even carried on the backs of Gedds.

"There are five classes of alien," I said, eyeing the dozen Gedds, Hork-Bajir, and Taxxons lined up before me. "Who can name the five?"

Several started to answer, but I held up my hand, indicating they should remain silent.

"I should say . . . who can name them if I mention that the mangling of a single word, or the misstatement of a single fact will result in your being fed to Taxxons?"

This was my little joke, of course. It is nearly impossible to get a coherent sentence out of a Gedd mouth. And flatly impossible with a Taxxon who can, at best, hiss and sputter in its own language. Meaning no disrespect to the Council members who hold Taxxon hosts.

Hork-Bajir are the best communicators, of course, despite their brains' innate quirk of confusing various languages.

No one laughed at my joke. Good. They were beginning to understand: I was the boss. They were mine to dispose of as I saw fit.

"There are five classes of alien," I continued. "Class One: those physically unfit for infestation -- the Skrit Na being a good example because of their annoying need to phase. Class Two: those who can be infested but that suffer from serious physical drawbacks -- such as the Taxxons and our own Gedds. Class Three: those that can be infested, suffer from no physical debility, but exist in only small numbers and cannot be quickly bred." I used my hand to indicate my own Hork-Bajir body.

"Four: those that would be excellent targets for infestation but that are, for now at least, too formidable to challenge. Can anyone name an example?"

Dead silence. They all knew the example, of course. But they were afraid that saying it out loud might constitute treason.

"Oh, come, come now," I prodded. "We all know who we mean: our former mentors and present-day tormentors, the Andalites."

Nervous glances. Like maybe I'd crossed the line myself.

"And then, there are Class Five aliens: Aliens who are right for infestation, exist in large numbers, and do not have the power to resist us. That, my fellow Yeerks, is our mission here. To find the real, live example of Class Five."

"If theyrrrr even rrrr-exist." It was one of the Gedds.

I stepped close. "Your name?"

"Rrr-Kilgam-Thrrrrree Rrr-Two-Nine."

Quick as lightning I struck. My wrist blade swept up and across. The Gedd's throat gushed blue blood. The body collapsed instantly. He clutched feebly at his throat.

I was glad it was a Gedd. If it had been a Hork-Bajir I couldn't have wasted the host body, even as a lesson.

Kilgam-Three-Two-Nine tried to crawl out of the Gedd's ear. He made it halfway before the host body died.

They say it's very, very difficult to get out of a dead host before death reaches you as well. Very difficult.

I reached down and with my sharp Hork-Bajir claws I widened the ear canal. I picked up Kilgam and handed him to one of he Hork-Bajir.

"Better take him to the Pool," I said.

"But . . . But, Sub-Visser, I . . . I don't know where it is, we just arrived at this base!"

So I led the way to the Pool. I had made my point: Their lives were mine, never mind the new regulations against killing subordinates. If they displeased me, they would die, law or no law. But I was not unreasonable. As I had the power to kill, so I had the power to give life.

That's the subtlety so many Yeerks miss. Threats are very useful. But for the more subtle, and thus complete control over your subordinates, you need the helping hand as well as the killing blade.

I had given the same speech, the same demonstration of seriousness a dozen times. I'd never failed to instill a sense of duty in my charges.

And yet, it was all pointless. We were searching for something that might not exist. And something that, in any event, would not be found by we poor, abandoned nonentities on a base the Empire had forgotten.

I was feeling rather self-pitying as I led this latest collection of half-wits to the pool, when I was interrupted by a rushing Hork-Bajir. It was my adjutant, Methit-Five-Seven-Two.

"Sub-Visser! Sub-Visser!"

"Yes, Methit?"

"A report. Just in. One of our people, a sub-visser stationed on the Taxxon planet, has just forwarded a report of a new species." Methit caught his breath.

"And?" I prodded.

"And he claims . . . the report is, that it's Class Five."

I felt my Hork-Bajir hearts jump. "Probably a false alarm," I said blandly. "What is this species called?"

"Humans, Sub-Visser. They are called humans. And . . . and the report claims that they may exist in large numbers. Not millions. Billions."

#36 The Mutation

It was after school the next day and we were in Cassie's barn. Where only hours earlier a mutated Hork-Bajir lay dying.

"We have to go after the Sea Blade, period," Rachel said angrily. "We can't let the Yeerks get hold of the Pemalite ship. Or Pemalite technology."

"A plan would be nice," Marco said.

<We don't know enough to make any plans,> Tobias argued from his usual perch and lookout in the rafters.

Tobias is a nothlit. Someone who stayed in morph for longer than the two hour limit. Now he's a red-tailed hawk first, all other creatures second.

Rachel gives him a hard time about staying hawk and not going back to being a regular human boy twenty-four seven. But the explanation is there if you want to see it. If Tobias gives up his ability to morph by trapping himself in human form, he's out of the fight. And he can't walk away from this war. He can't - or won't - abandon us.

Tobias is Elfangor's son. Long story. Weird story.

<Yes, though we can make use of the additional information we received from Toby's spies this morning,> Ax pointed out.

Right after dawn I'd sent Ax and Tobias to the secret community the free Hork-Bajir had established. Their information was sketchy. Hork-Bajir, with the exception of Toby, are not the brightest species around. It's a little like asking a four-year-old to describe a movie.

But we'd also tapped into the Chee network. The Chee are a whole different story. Androids are very good at description. The Chee didn't know much, but what they knew was different. They had seen different pieces of the puzzle.

"What do we know? That's the question," Marco said.

I nodded at Ax. "Ax-Man? Give us a rundown."

<We know very little. We can extrapolate and guess a bit more,> Ax said.

I smiled. "So include the guesses and the extrapolation."

<The Sea Blade is a new type of vessel. It can travel in the air and in the water. Most spacecraft can travel under water for a short distance, and with limited effect. But in order for the Yeerks to travel to Earth's deepest oceans they would need something radically different,> Ax said. <It seems likely that both in the air, and in the water, this vessel will be able to cloak itself from normal human sensors.>

"It would have to," Marco interjected. "Too many subs out there in the deep, blue sea. There are still sensors all over the ocean floor from the cold war."

<Exactly,> Ax agreed.

"Echolocation?" Cassie suggested.

"Echolocation is a lot like what they call 'active sonar,'" Marco said. "You bounce sound waves off an object and listen to the echoes. But subs don't use active sonar, usually, because if you're 'pinging' someone with active sonar, they can hear you. Subs usually stick with passive listening."

"Marco, are you just pulling all this out of the air? How do you know all this?" Rachel demanded.

"Tom Clancy"

I nodded. "Tom Clancy. The Hunt for Red October."

"You should read something besides Glamour, Rachel."

"So would echolocation work, or not?" Cassie demanded.

We all looked at Ax. <Maybe. Maybe not. But it is all we have to work with.>

Cassie chewed her lip. "I'm thinking giant squid, if we're going real deep. Or dolphins or whales," Cassie said.

<The Chee have revealed the location of the Pemalite ship to us. It is deep, but not terribly deep. However, it is in an area designated as a Navy firing range. There are large numbers of exploded...and unexploded...weapons. Humans would be unlikely to frequent the area.>

Tobias said, <Why don't the Chee just get to the Pemalite ship and move it before the Yeerks show up?>

"The Yeerks will just keep looking," I said. "The Chee can't get into a game of hide-and- seek. Sooner or later they'd lose. And if the Pemalite ship is moving it's easier to detect."

"We have to sink the Sea Blade," Cassie said quietly. "We have to sink it, destroy it. Make them regret ever thinking about invading the ocean."

I shot her a look. It wasn't like Cassie to be bloodthirsty.

She met my gaze, unflinching. "What they did to the Hork-Bajir was evil," she said. "Over the line. Way over the line. We need to teach them a lesson."

I nodded. I understood her feelings. But this mission couldn't be about feelings.

Marco said what I was thinking. "Hey, we don't teach lessons. And we don't do revenge. Besides, everything the Yeerks do is over the line. We stop them. That's what we do."

Cassie looked unconvinced. Rachel was smirking in cocky agreement with Cassie. Rachel liked the idea of delivering a harsh lesson. I expected that from Rachel. But from Cassie it worried me.

There were problems here for me, as the leader of this bunch of tired, stressed-out misfits. Tobias hated going into the water. Marco wasn't convinced it was necessary. Cassie was taking it all personally.

Rachel and Ax were their usual selves. I sighed. Fairly typical: At any given point, on any given mission, maybe half the team was going to be difficult in one way or another. Including me, of course. Maybe especially me.

"Echolocation," Cassie mused. "We've all got dolphin morphs."

<Rachel and I have sperm whale morphs,> Tobias reminded us.

"And we all do giant squid," Rachel said.

"Not sure we want to deal with those guys again," Marco mumbled. "Creepy."

"Whales are good. We need a morph we can control. Something intelligent. That can dive deep and do some serious damage to the Sea Blade," I said. "But let's face it. The chances of another sperm whale beaching itself just for the rest of us to acquire are pretty slim."

"Of course!" Cassie snapped her fingers. "There's an orca -- a killer whale -- at The Gardens' SeaTown. They're calling him Swoosh."

"Swoosh?" Marco repeated incredulously. "Who names these animals?"

Cassie looked embarrassed. "Nike. They sponsored the exhibit. So they got to name the whale."

"Okay," I said. "We need to get going. A) I contact the Chee and alert them to be ready to take our places. B) we carry out round-the-clock surveillance on the vicinity of the Yeerk pool. Try and spot any sign of this Sea Blade launching. C) we acquire the killer whale."

"Easy" Marco mocked. "ABC. Just don't mention, D) we chase a super sub into the ocean, and E) try to destroy it before, F) they reach an alien spacecraft in the middle of, G) a bunch of unexploded bombs and shells that may get set off when the Yeerks try to, H) fry us with their Dracon beams."

Rachel laughed and gave Marco a playful shove. "You're always so negative. Look on the bright side: Maybe the unexploded shells will, I) blow up the Yeerks, not us."

Cassie wasn't joining in the graveyard humor. "Fifty Hork-Bajir subjected to horrible medical experiments," she said. "That's what this is about."

#35 The Proposal

I haven't decided what I'm going to do when or if I survive this war and actually become an adult. But one thing I know for sure. I won't involve working in a restaurant.

As an Animorph, I've done lots of disgusting things. Heck, I've been lots of disgusting things. But I can tell you, nothing I've done before quite compared to emptying that pig bucket.

It only took a few minutes. But they were the grossest few minutes of my life. Shovels full of chicken bones, half-eaten hamburgers, slime-covered macaroni. All mushed together to make a cold stem more aromatic than a fly's wildest imaginings.

Oh yes. The life of a superhero is a glamorous one.

When I was finished, I raced back into the kitchen from the garbage alley. Waiters and waitresses surrounded the salad station. I squeezed through the throng, looking for the roach-infested tomato-less salad.

Gone! It was gone!

"Hey," I cried to the salad guy. "What happened to William Roger Tennant's salad?"

He shrugged. "Gone."

"Did you tell the waiter the salad was for Tennant?"

"He can take the tomatoes off if he doesn't like them."

"Aaahhh!"

<Marco?> Jake called out from far away. <Is that you carrying us now?>

I squirmed through the crowd and bolted for the banquet room. Burst through the swimming door. Searched the banquet room for William Roger Tennant.

About twenty round tables covered with white cloths were arranged around the room. And at those tables sat people in tuxedos and fancy dresses and an unusually large number of over-dressed girls my own age or younger.

That would be the Hanson fans.

Against the wall, to the left of the swinging kitchen doors, was a long, rectangular table, raised a few feet off the floor and covered with a long white tablecloth. The dais. Where the guests of honor sat. In the middle of the dais was the podium, from where William Roger Tennant would make his acceptance speech.

<Okay, Marco,> Jake said. <We’re being set down now. We’ll just have to hope we’re where we need to be.>

I sprinted up the few steps of the raised platform. Three guests sat on each side of the podium. William Roger Tennant was seated to the immediate left of the podium. The podium blocked my view of his salad.

The three Hanson kids were to the right of the podium. I sidled up behind them, grinning and trying to look like I was supposed to be there.

<Marco,> Jake called out. <We’re moving out.>

I reached Tennant just in time to see him lean over to the person on his left and say, "These tomatoes look delicious!"

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!"

The scream came from behind me.

<Uh, that doesn’t sound like Tennant,> Tobias said.

<It sounds like Zac!>

I spun around. Zac Hanson had fallen backward in his chair. His two brothers leaped to his aid.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!?Zac screamed, frantically brushing at the cockroaches in his lap.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" a girl in the audience screamed back.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" Zac yelled.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" cried a woman in a long red dress.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" Within seconds, the room was filled with the sounds of women screaming, chairs overturning, men yelling "Sssshhhh!"

<Run! Outta here!> Jake yelled. Five cockroaches sprung from Zac Hanson’s pants and fluttered toward the ground.

<Watch out for feet!> Cassie cried.

"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" women and girls screamed.

<That horrible noise!> Ax cried. <Even with this insect’s poor hearing I feel as if my head is going to explode!>

<It sounds just like a Hanson concert,> Tobias said.

A cockroach scurried by my foot. I snatched it.

<I have been captured!> Ax cried.

"It’s me, man. I’ve got you," I whispered.

Four roaches shot out of sight beneath the long tablecloth.

<Who’s here?> Jake asked. Rachel, Tobias, and Cassie all answered.

<Marco has me,> Ax said, crawling up my wrist.

<Ooookay> Jake replied. <That could have gone better. Guess it’s time for Plan B.>

<Some day when this is all over people will ask us about the war against the Yeerks,> Tobias said. <Let’s leave this part out.>

#34 The Prophecy

"And the next words out of Rachel's mouth will be . . ."
"I'll do it," Rachel said, giving Marco a self-mocking look.

"Bingo," Marco said.

"I don't consider myself worthy of the honor," Toby said, "but I, too will volunteer."

I kept quiet. The description fit Rachel and Toby. Not me.

We debated. We argued. Rachel for. Tobias for. Ax and Marco against. Jake listening, weighing, considering whether to once more put us all in harm's way.

Me? I just felt unsettled.

I knew how the debate would end. It was a chance to hurt the Yeerks. It was a chance to help the free Hork-Bajir. A no-brainer, morally or strategically. Except for the fact that, as Marco pointed out, it was insane.

We very seldom ended up refusing to do what was insane.

Quafijinivon asked if there was some more confined space nearby. The Hork-Bajir led us to a cave.

I shivered. I told myself it was because the cave was cold.

<I would like to ask a question,> Ax said. He turned all four of his eyes toward the Arn. <You claim that the receptacle will share space with the Ixcila of Aldrea until it is time for it to be returned to storage.>

"That is correct," Quafijinivon answered. His eyes were as bright as stars in the darkness.

<What if Aldrea does not wish to leave the receptacle after she helps us find the weapons?> Ax asked. <Is there some way to force her to do so?>

There was a long moment of silence. The kind of silence that feels as if it sucks half the oxygen out of the air.

"Aldrea must choose to release her hold on the receptacle," Quafijinivon said, not exactly answering the question Ax had asked.

Ax rolled one eye stalk toward Rachel and one toward Toby. We'd all agreed that Aldrea would be drawn to one of them . . . if the so-called Ceremony worked at all.

Rachel, because of her Rachelness. Toby because she was Aldrea's great-granddaughter and a Hork-Bajir seer.

<And if she doesn't chose to release her hold?> Ax prodded.

"We could probably sell the story rights to Lifetime for big bucks," Marco commented. "This is so television for women. Two strong, independent girls. One body."

Toby turned to Ax. "You only ask this because you don't trust Aldrea. As an Andalite you mistrust anyone who would choose to permanently become Hork-Bajir," she accused.

Toby's gifts didn't just make her more articulate than the other Hork-Bajir. They make her more insightful. More capable of drawing conclusions.

I wondered if she was right about Ax. The thought of an Andalite choosing to become Hork-Bajir had to be repellent to Ax. Almost sacrilegious. Andalites are not known for their humility.

But I understood Aldrea's choice. More than that, I admired it. I admired her.

Aldrea discovered that her own fellow Andalites had created a virus targeted to kill the Hork-Bajir. It was a cold-blooded, military-minded decision. The Andalites knew they would lose the Hork-Bajir planet. They knew that if the Hork-Bajir survived in large numbers they would be used as weapons for the Yeerks. And that with such troops the Yeerks would have a much-strengthened chance of conquering other planets throughout the galaxies.

The leader of the desperate Andalite forces on the planet made the call. Later it was disavowed by the Andalite people. Too late to stop what happened.

Sometimes, in war, even the "good guys" do awful things.

Once Aldrea learned of the virus, she was forced to choose between her own people and Dak Hamee, the Hork-Bajir seer she had come to love. She chose Dak. She stayed in Hork-Bajir morph until the change became permanent. Aldrea and Dak vowed to fight both the Yeerks and the Andalites. They died keeping this vow.

Ax shifted his weight from one hoof to the other. <I ask only because it is a logical question,> he finally said.

"I did not mean to sound suspicious of my Andalite friend," Toby said with no sincerity whatsoever.

<The Hork-Bajir have reason to be . . . hesitant . . . about trusting the Andalites,> Ax allowed.

Toby bowed her head graciously. Then she said, "I, too, want an answer, Arn."

Quafijinivon sighed. "If Aldrea does not choose to release her hold, there is no way to force her to do so," he confessed.

"I see. I trust my great-grandmother," Toby said firmly. "If she chooses me for this honor I will trust my freedom to her."

"Okay. Rachel? It's your call," Jake told her.

He clearly felt obligated to ask the question even though anyone who knows Rachel also knew what her answer would be.

"I still say let's do it," she said.

No surprise there. Rachel wouldn't have been Rachel if she'd said anything else.

Quafijinivon nodded. He reached into a small metallic pouch hanging from a cord around his neck and pulled out a small vial. The liquid inside glowed green.

"Isn't that what nuclear waste looks like?" Marco asked in a loud whisper.

"We gather to conduct the Atafalxical," Quafijinivon began. "The Ceremony of Rebirth is an occasion for both solemnity and joy, for grieving and celebration."

"Not to mention a severe case of the willies," Marco said under his breath.

If he was close enough I would have elbowed him. Not that it would have shut him up. Solemnity just isn't part of Marco's repertoire.

Quafijinivon continued with the ceremony as if he hadn't heard Marco. He pulled the stopper out of the vial and a wisp of vapor escaped. A moment later the inside of my nose started to burn, although I couldn't smell anything except the odor of damp cave.

"We call on Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan," Quafijinivon said. He reached into the pouch again. I squinted, trying to see what he'd removed. It looked like a small piece of metal.

It must have been some kind of catalyst, because the instant he dropped it into the vial, the liquid turned from green to a fluorescent scarlet. Its light washed over those closest to it.

Rachel's fair skin appeared to be have been drenched in blood. Toby's green flesh had darkened until it was almost black.

Quafijinivon added another piece of metal to the vial. "We call on Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan," he repeated.

"Paging Stephen King." Marco said quietly. "R.L. Stine calling Stephen King with a message from Ann Rice."

The liquid in the vial thickened. It began to contract and expand.

In and out.

In and out.

My heart began to beat to the same rhythm. I could feel it in my chest and in the base of my throat. I could feel it in my ears and in my fingertips.

"We call on Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan. We call on Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan."

Quafijinivon repeated the words again and again, stamping his feet as he cried them out.

"We call on Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan." His voice grew louder. His feet stamped so hard they sent a vibration through the rock floor of the cave.

The liquid in the vial contracted and expanded faster.

In and out. In and out. In and out.

My heartbeat matched the new rhythm.

"We. Call. On. Aldrea. Iskillion. Falan," Quafijinivon wailed.

"If I see one single zombie I am -"

The cave floor jerked under my feet. I stumbled forward and landed on my knees in front of the Arn.

"The receptacle has been chosen!" Quafijinivon shouted.

He reached out and put his hand on my head. "Will you accept the Ixcila of Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan?"

What? What? She chose me?

That couldn't be right.

"Will you accept the Ixcila?" Quafijinivon repeated, his voice echoing in the cave.

"No!" Jake snapped.

But there was only one answer I could give.

"Yes."