Chapter Twelve

Kareis 924

It was a fairly short drive out to the park where the Sharing operation was being held. It was supposed to be a kind of fair. It was called Something-or-other "'Fest," I never bothered to check. There were all sorts of tent-booths set up for various activities. Some were closed, and I had a good idea of the various things that were happening there. No, not infestation, don't be ridiculous. We can't infest anyone outside of the pool; we can barely survive out of the Pool or a host, and not for long. But there were all kinds of . . . recruiting activities. That was the extent of what I was told, and I didn't question any further.

I got there the usual way, and bought some tickets for some of the activities. If anyone was watching for suspicious activity, it wouldn't do for some girl to arrive at the fair and then run straight to the back of it. So I tried hitting targets with a ball (Julie has very bad aim), looked at various arts and crafts that were being sold (Julie thought they were tacky just as much as I did but worked herself into a rage and almost gained control of the right hand when I commented on them), and I rode something called "The Kaleidoscope." Never, ever again. I could just see myself vomiting the pivotal moment when I had the Andalite bandits at Dracon point.

Julie was feeling uneasy about the whole thing. She felt uncomfortable going like this, alone on a solo mission that could decide the fate of her world, yet she couldn't do anything about it. In addition, she was annoyed at me for going on The Kaleidoscope and trying to decide if she were equally or more annoyed that she was missing the season finale of "The X-Files." She had loved that show long before she had the slightest clue that there might actually be an alien conspiracy going on, and she was glad that I had decided to continue her television routine for appearances with her mother. And I have to admit, it was kind of engrossing.

It was amazing to see what regular humans could produce even in ignorance, and it was almost like . . . what kind of metaphor would work? Maybe like Julie, a modern, middle-class American teenager with an only moderate appreciation for any outdated forms of culture and art, and much more than the average. It would be like her, seeing a movie with a simple, crude set, acted out by stumbling subhumans and spoken in a bizarre language, her only key to even understanding it was a device that served as an emotional and linguistic translator. For me, that was Julie's brain. I could see, though her, how for example, Mulder was feeling, the stunned amazement at seeing a seeming miracle occur, something that seemed like a bad "urban legend" from where I used to live and work. Yet somehow, it struck a chord somewhere. Some connection was made, startling similarities were drawn, and one came to the realization that some things were universal.

Then I had to shake those thoughts away, because they were simply distracting. I had a mission to fulfill. After eating some cotton candy and, not remembering how it brought on thirst, also bought a cup of lemonade, slowly and nonchalantly made my way to the far corner. There were the higher-ranking members of the Sharing. They seemed to blend in with the rest of the fairground setting, but if you knew it was there, there was a clear line drawn, separating their secrets from the scores of ignorant humans diverted by their simple amusement. I had a strong temptation to go and talk with the people there, tell them what I was going to do and ask for backup.

But that would have been supremely stupid. Not only would being in a group blow my cover to the Andalites, but whoever "helped" me would probably also capture the Andalites themselves -- turn them over to Visser Three, and take credit for it, too. So there I was, sneaking around the tents and stuff in the back, drawing out my Dracon beam from my innocent-looking shoulder pack. I walked slowly around for a while, as if I was just talking a walk to be alone by myself, but then I decided I'd better find someplace to stay still. I hid behind some shrubs and undergrowth, some of which were bushes taller than I was. I crouched in an almost sitting position, and waited there. And waited. And waited.

I was thinking that the Andalite bandits were about to come, when suddenly Julie felt something. It was nothing physical, nothing tangible, but it was a feeling nonetheless. Maybe a premonition, but I prefer to think that we felt their presence. Because when I looked up, there they were. The birds of prey.

They were very high up, so I couldn't see them very well. But Julie had known a thing or two about raptors. She saw the bald eagle there, two osprey, a . . . peregrine falcon. A northern harrier. They flew apart, yet together; in the same direction and with the same relative speed. I almost laughed. They were so obvious-- the only reason the others didn't know they were there was because they were too busy with other things to be looking at the sky. The birds descended lower, and I saw another one that removed all doubt. A red-tailed hawk. Many of those who had worked against the Earth Andalites told of a red-tailed hawk whose presence always foreshadowed sabotage or destruction. We had seen him so much, and in that same morph, and for more than two hours, that we were theorizing he was a nothlit -- the Andalite term for one of theirs who has exceeded the two-hour limit and is trapped. He is wont to attack Visser Three in his stalk eyes with his razor talons. Visser Three does not like him.
Thus, although he is my enemy, I like him a little.

I froze still in my hiding place, not daring to move. Those birds had excellent eyes; they would be flying away if I so much as heaved a breath. And with tension building within me and human physical reactions -- adrenaline coursing through my human veins --- it was very hard to keep from breathing heavily. But still I waited.

Finally, they descended on the ground, only about thirty feet from where I was. I was stunned. They were so close, they could hear me if I spoke. It would have to be loud enough for them to clearly hear me so I would not have to repeat, yet not so loud anyone nearby heard me. But before I could gather the courage to do so, their forms started quivering, their bird bodies seeming to melt. Of course. Since they could only stay in morph for so long, they were stopping to demorph into their native Andalite forms, then revert back to birds, or maybe change into something powerful, or even morph humans and mingle with the crowd. This was confirmed as they truly started to change-- humanoid heads forming from their bird ones, their wings changing into arms and hands. As I had predicted, the red-tailed hawk simply sat there, patiently waiting for the others. Yes, he was a nothlit. It must have been horrible for him, trapped as a bird. Loosing his old form, especially his tail, was probably not too helpful to his Andalite pride. Suddenly I realized that I ,too, knew what it was like to be trapped in such a body-- clumsy, useless, a house for the mind and nothing more.

But those thoughts, too, I would have to shake away. In this vulnerable state, in mid-morph, they could not do anything. I could walk right up to them, hold my Dracon at them, and when they emerged as Andalites they would find me holding death at their heads and have no choice but to listen to me. In fact, that was what I had planned to do, until I saw something that caused me to reel back in shock. The creatures coming out of the morphs were not Andalites. Well, one of them was, the Northern harrier. But all the rest? They were undeniably human.

<Oh, my God,> Julie gasped, using an expression which rested readily in her reserve of phrases, yet she didn't use it very often. Everything else blurred to wordlessness as she and I both looked on astonished as the birds turned into humans.  Humans.

See, morphing sounds like something magical, something out of human legend, but it has pretty clear rules and boundaries. Of course, there is the two-hour limit. After that, the Andalite is incapable of morphing. Then there is another which states that an Andalite can't go from one morph to another: for reasons we do not know right now, they have to return to their native form, then morph the other creature. So there was no way they could change straight from bird to human. And there had been speculation that there were humans among the Andalite bandits. We in Intelligence knew that, once before, the Andalites had given their morphing technology to a human, a human whose parents were taken suddenly and whose home was torn apart in the search for the Escafil device. Visser Three and others knew of this, but not very many. But we had never thought that they would be all human, except for a single Andalite -- and even he looked young, much smaller and more premature than Visser Three.

I watched them like this for what seemed only a few seconds, though I knew when I saw them completing their human forms that maybe minutes had passed. This was my chance. Clutching my Dracon just in case, I boldly stepped out of my hiding place. They all turned in shock and fear.

"Andalites," I said. I called them that partially because I knew nothing else to call them by, and also because I didn't want to use some address that said I know your secret, little humans. They had to trust me. "Andalites, look, I ha---"

They instantly scattered. The humans ran, the hawk flew up and screeched around me, and before I knew it the Andalite was standing in front of me with his blade at my throat. Julie mentally groaned.

<And I thought it was only Visser Three who was like that,> she complained.

<Drop the Dracon,> he said in a stern voice. <Yes, you can fire at me, but not before I have seriously injured your human host.>

Something in Julie stirred, like the way she did when she was being threatened by Visser Three. Something in her that wanted to stand up and show that she would not be intimidated, though she was obviously helpless and weak. But I let that come through, as well as my own emotions. A true Andalite was actually about to touch me. There was a sudden urge of violence, a desire to somehow strike out at him, the oppressor of my people. I may have to make allies of the Andalites, but there will never, ever, be any love between our kinds. I did drop the Dracon, though.

"If you kill me," I said softly, "You'll never hear what I have to say." If I just blurted out my proposition, he would consider it a desperate last try for my life and slash me or whatever he did to hapless human-Controllers.

His eyes narrowed. <Really.> One of this stalk eyes turned toward the hawk, and there was silence for a moment. I guess he was using private thought-speak. I knew what it was, of course, I just wasn't used to it since the Visser employed it so rarely. Then he focused his attention on me. <Very well.> He almost seemed weary. <Do you want Visser Three killed? Or are you willing to give away some Pool entrance in exchange for your life?>

I tried to keep my face still, but I knew that it had been made into a mask of fury, both at him and at my own people who had obviously encountered the Andalites before. They had actually done that? They had gone to the Andalites, and for the sake of their one life betrayed information and thus killed hundreds of their brothers? It made sense now. And this Andalite, little swaggering lord of the galaxy even though he was not yet fully grown, thought that I was one of them.

Well, I'd prove him wrong. If my plan worked, he'd probably get promoted because of me, and instead of dying scores of both our peoples would be saved. I looked at him and attempted to keep my expression neutral. "None of the above," I replied. Since he fought with humans, he would know a little of their terminology and conventions. "I came to find you, before they do," I said, gesturing with my eyes at a group of advanced members of the Sharing -- a good many of them sub-vissers -- were in an open tent not to far away. It would only take a flashing signal from my Dracon, which I believed I could retrieve now because the Andalite's guard had relaxed slightly.

That was all it would take, and all chaos would ensue. They would all be firing at them, and Hork-Bajir would come seemingly out of nowhere, armed with both their big Dracon arm-cannons and their vicious blades. The Andalite -- and the hawk and the humans -- would be captured and taken for interrogation by Visser Three. Of course, it would be easier to have them infested, but he would want to put them through the most suffering possible, until they broke down and gave in. And these were not trained warriors, made hard by the military code of the Andalites. These were just regular human youths, Julie's own age. I wasn't able to catch their faces, but one of them had looked uncommonly like Cassie.

But I resisted the temptation. "I have something to offer. See, not all of us want to carry on the war with your kind and attempt to conquer all the . . . take over everything. Some of us, seeing the cost and death toll, have suggested peace, but it was rejected by those such as Visser Three."

I thought I saw a shudder run through that strong-delicate Andalite who stood before me, his threat still held near my throat. <Do not speak that name,> he warned.

"Fine." I didn't have time to think of something proper or diplomatic to say. "But anyway, I and some others have formed together in a group working toward peace. To end the war, I and my associates would be willing to help you -- your fighters -- to sabotage the invasion plans and turn them away.

There was disbelief in his eyes. He probably saw this offer as a perfect opportunity to crush us down. Suddenly I had a vision, maybe because of what Julie was thinking, of he and his fellow Andalites gladly accepting our help, then turning around and stabbing us in the back, and annihilating all of us on Earth.

"You have to understand, though," I added quickly, "we will place conditions to this. One of which is that you must not interfere with our workings on Earth or our dealings with the humans. You must not take our lives. Our purpose is to stop the war, not to offer ourselves to be killed."

I am not good at reading Andalite expressions, but he looked intrigued, and maybe a little perplexed. <Very well,> he said again. <I will tell of this to my -- uncles.> There was only the faintest faltering in his voice. He spoke again, though it for some reason sounded slightly different. <We will consider your offer. Meet us at this same place tomorrow at about 8:00 p.m. Do not bring any weapons or companions. We will be watching you.>

I nodded, and quickly looked around to see if anyone nearby was looking in my direction. That was why I did not see the hawk that swooped down on me, landing hard on my shoulder and upsetting my balance enough to knock me down. He fluttered in my face and looked down on me with his cruel, sharp eyes, screeching as if he had snagged some prey. Julie screamed inside my mind but I stayed there, still and motionless as I could be, fearing a good stab from his talons or hooked beak which could put out my eyes or mutilate my face. Suddenly he flew up again, scratching my clothes as he did so. I looked up and saw that the Andalite was gone. In his place was a Northern harrier, and he, along with his other companion birds of prey flew up into the skies leaving me, a lone human-Controller, sitting on the ground, watching them ascend.

<Damn.> That was either me or Julie. I'm not sure which.

I slowly got to my feet and picked up the Dracon on the ground, brushing it off and putting it back in my bag. I didn't think I would need it for the remainder of that night.I walked around, pacing the length of the woods until it grew dark. My post was over. I made my way back to the entrance and met Jiran there. I think he had been in charge of an activity of some kind -- a leisure activity for the young human non-Controllers.

We were both quiet on the drive home. He had nothing to say as nothing extraordinary usually happens at things like that, and I wasn't going to trust him with my information about the Andalites. That would not only get him in good with Visser Three, it would also incriminate me -- open treason -- and give the Visser a good excuse to kill me.

I was glad to get home. When I went in the door, I was greeted by Julie's mother, who had been working on her computer in her little home office. I said hi, told her that I had had fun, then went upstairs. I was feeling too odd to just stay downstairs and watch TV or something. There were too many -- not emotions -- feelings then, confusion and triumph and dread and the feeling that I had betrayed my people just like those others alongside the one that I had helped to save them all.

I plopped down on Julie's bed and just lay there, prone, with my face buried in the pillow, hoping to fall asleep. Maybe I'd feel better in the morning. But Julie stirred and struggled to stay awake even though she couldn't even move the eyelids.

<Wake up,> she said. <I've still got stuff to do.>

<What are you talking about?> I said irritably. I was feeling so weary I didn't even look over her mind.

<My homework!> she insisted. <Remember, you've got English, literature and geometry. The teachers aren't going to let it go by anymore, and if my grades drop, everyone's sure to notice.> She didn't really care about that, it was her grades themselves she was concerned about. She wanted them to be high so that she could get into a good college. This was at the back of her mind, though why she would care about getting into a university when at best her country's educational system would be in shambles after we were done was beyond me. But she did have a point in the conspicuous factor.

<Ugh.> There was no way I could sit down and do that stuff after all that had happened tonight. But I did it nonetheless, though skimming and skipping over things more often than not. In literature Julie's class was doing a short unit on The Odyssey as a companion to The Iliad. It was in a condensed version, so Julie found it easier and would actually read it and think up answers to the questions about the passages. I was just skimming over to get the basic idea, but I came upon a passage that seemed kind of strange, especially since a moment before they had been talking about an old dog, which is a human pet:

You know how servants are: without a master
they have no will to labor, or to excel
For Zeus who views the wide world takes away
half the manhood of a man, that day
he goes into captivity and slavery.

<You see?>
<You see?>

It was strange, because we had both thought the same thing about the same passage. It was only one point about it, the thing in it that had caused us to be indignant at the other, that was different.

Chapter Eleven |   Chapter Thirteen -- Coming Soon
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