Chapter Fourteen

Kareis 924

<Okay, that was interesting.>

Julie was, as she usually did when nothing interesting was going on and she had run out of things to ponder on, asking questions.

<First thing's first, who was that Hork-Bajir?>

I sighed. <That was Seblin 648. He's an . . . acquaintance of mine.> For some reason she wondered why my thought had faltered briefly, which it had done for no particular reason, and started this wild train of thought that maybe it had held some hidden significance, that maybe I had known him more intimately.

<Don't be ridiculous,> I snarled, suddenly angry at her. <For one thing . . .> I stopped, realizing how ridiculous I was being. <Anyway, I knew him. He's not Tuvar, despite what you thought. If I remember correctly, Tuvar's back in a Gedd host now. Supposedly a change of assignment, though they've spoken otherwise,> I continued, trying to drop a hint about what Tuvar was doing so she would figure it out for herself and I wouldn't have to go into an explanation. However it passed swiftly and effectively over her head.

<So what was this "group," or order or whatever for? Why did he think it was so important he had to tell me --- me, not you?>

I sighed again, this time with her --my-- my actual body, letting out a sudden burst of accumulated air from the lungs. I suddenly became aware again of my outward surroundings, the living room where I was sitting on the couch, near Julie's mother. I had thought it better to "spend some time" with her since she might be alarmed with me immediately going up to the bedroom as soon as I got home, then leaving for a meeting at The Sharing -- Jiran and I explained that it was a special meeting about the upcoming girls' sleepover.

We were watching the TV, the exact show I couldn't remember, only that it was something that Julie and her mother had ever been able to agree on. Actually, it was something that I rummaged through Julie's brain (the "likes-dislikes" section, of course) and her own commenting on one of their mother's shows that she would have been able to sit through if she had to. Julie's TV shows were Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The X-Files, Xena, and Futurama, and her mothers were ER, A&E Biographies and just about anything on the old movie channels; and never the twain would meet. But it was like going to a stupid movie for the sake of a friend -- or in my case, Sharing recruitments. Considering the things done in the past, it wasn't too painful a compromise.

"Mom," I said to her, trying to make normal, mother-daughter conversation. "How was work today?"

She looked at me a little strangely, turning her head in a slow, deliberate way done so often on X-Files that I half expected her to say in a somewhat surprised voice, "You're not human, are you?" Thankfully, she said nothing for a while. Then, "Fine. Just normal business." Taking the initiative, she continued, "How was school today?"

"Fine." What else was there to say?

<Say something,> Julie insisted. <Go on about something that happened at school.>

I made an emotional objection, but she simply said <If you don't, she'll think I've been getting distant and everything, and wonder what you've been doing when you go to The Sharing.> And it was true. I hated that.

<All right.> I put on a concerned face. "Well, there is this one guy named Terrance, and he . . ." I went chatting on for about five minutes, throwing in a bunch of filler words, sounding like Julie did when she was a little agitated about the whole situation, which involved a three fictional people and the school's vice-principal Chapman. If anything ever possessed Julie's mother to slip that incident into a conversation -- assuming there was a chance for her to have to discuss something with him -- he would certainly have his hands full. I had never liked Iniss 226 much, anyway.

Julie was grinning -- mentally, that is. I felt the muscles that pulled up the corners of the mouth twitching; I had been tempted to grin myself, thinking of Iniss struggling to answer an indignant human woman, and Julie's mother could be a very imposing figure when she wanted to be, wondering why he had made such a comment in front of students.

The conversation went on, until after a periodical glance at the clock, I realized that it was approaching to 8:00. I couldn't afford to be late. "Okay, mom," I said, with a fake resignation touched with real urgency. "I have to go now," and sat up from the couch. Jiran was already at the doorway, waiting to chauffeur me around again.

On impulse I reached down and hugged her, surprising myself and Julie. I reasoned with myself that it was a normal thing to do in such a situation, but Julie wasn't exactly a "hugging person," and always felt startled whenever I would do something like that.

"Bye, mom." I stood up and picked up my bag, which I had left on the couch. For some reason I had the urge to look back at her, something prompted by Julie, who I think was afraid that she might not see her again for a long time.

<We're just going to make a quick rendezvous with the "Andalites,"> I reassured her, <not go on a space mission.>

Julie was indignant. <We're just going to make a quick rendezvous,> she mimicked sarcastically, <to go meet a group of people who can turn into vicious animals, one of whom doesn't need to because he can decapitate us in his own natural body, the very association of which will make every Yeerk on Earth go after you, so if they don't kill us we can get killed "the nice way" by Visser Three.>

That thought had occurred to me several, several times, but as even running into the Andalites was almost a miracle that I couldn't afford to pass up, there was nothing to do about it but put my dread aside -- and be prepared in case worse came to worse.

Jiran wordlessly got into the car and waited for me to get in, too. He started it up and he drove off, us not exchanging a single word on the entire way.

********

Soon I was all alone, walking on the field. Now I approached my unseen target not with the hopeful expectation I had before, of just maybe, if luck and the correction of my planning were on my side, I might get a chance of seeing the Andalites. Now the flitting fantasies of actually meeting them, talking to them, making a deal like maybe none of us has ever had the opportunity to make before, had become instead the grim realities of confronting a harsh enemy warrior and his human allies -- or were they servants, underlings? -- a pack of vicious animals that could kill me in an instant if Andalite speed and blade were not sufficient.

I had my bag, as usual, with the proper supplies such as weapons and communicators, but I kept my little Dracon beam concealed on my person; looped into one of the side belt loops of my jeans and hidden by a large overshirt. If they asked me to drop the bag, that still would not leave me unarmed. Thinking of safety and being armed, I looked quickly over my shoulder to make sure Jiran drove away. The car stood there for a few moments, but after a while it pulled away and drove off. I hated to see it go. My only means of transportation, without it I would have to walk a long way back to the house.

I would have loved to tell Jiran to wait for me right at the parking lot as I spent some time at my "top-secret assignment" -- it would probably be all talk and wouldn't take all that long -- and then I could return, make up a few minor details to slip, and I'd have both a quick ride home and Jiran not so dying to know what I was up to that he would go asking his authorities about me. But I couldn't take the chance that he might take the opportunity to investigate me: just a short walk, far out of my sight, and a pair of ordinary human binoculars- attached with a camera if needed. It was not until I saw the car drive a long way down the winding highway that ran down to the part of the town where the house we lived in was, connected by just a little back road. There weren't any roads behind the forest, so there wasn't any way he could drive back around and sneak through there.

I walked closer and closer, getting more and more tense. So when a hawk shrieked overhead, I was so startled I practically jumped off the ground.

<So you have come,> a voice said. Somehow it didn't sound like the Andalite, even though the voice and the slight arrogance in the tone was matched perfectly. Maybe there was another Andalite I hadn't seen. Or maybe for the humans, after working with them for so long, it had rubbed off.

"Yes," I said, trying to sound somewhat in control. "I'm prepared to make a deal so we can arrange for ships --" but I was cut off by a large bird dropping four feet away from my feet.

<Don't move,> another voice said, this one more like the Andalite probably sounded. <I am going to demorph now. After I'm done, we can resume this . . . conversation.>

"Don't move?" I asked incredulously. I knew they just wanted me to stay there while the Andalite demorphed, but what kind of fighters were they if they just left me, a potential enemy who they ought to know was armed, there to sit there while the Andalite made a proverbial sitting duck of himself and none of the others were in any position to attack me, being in bird morph?

<Look up,> one voice, extremely different from any of the others I had heard, informed me. <To your left.> I did so and got another shock to see a very large tiger resting on a certain large tree branch. He was in a position so he could easily leap right on me before I had a chance to react.

"Okay, okay," I said, holding up my hands. It wasn't too much longer until the former bird was looking very Andalite. Most of his feathers had melted away, and he had regained most of his size and the shape reminiscent of a mythical centaur. However his stalk eyes had not emerged yet, and his arms were mostly merged with the still fully-formed wings. Somehow it looked very familiar, but I couldn't place it. Something that came from Julie -- it was more an abstract concept than anything she had seen.

Then he emerged, fully formed. He was now standing very close to me, and his tail, ending in that scythelike blade I knew so well, rose, arched in the presence of an enemy, I guess an automatic gesture for them. But in response to instincts of my own, I slowly edged back, walking backwards and moving in a mix of crouching back and holding up my arm, which was what Julie wanted to do to protect herself from any potential blows he might give to show he meant business, but standing a little straighter and trying to look less vulnerable than I felt. And I had to conceal my fear.

I was afraid. How I was afraid.

Maybe it seems totally irrational to you. Or maybe you are Yeerk, too, and you understand. You know we hate Andalites, but it's not just that. Or maybe it is. Maybe that's why we hate them so much; because we are so afraid of them. Yes, it is weakness to admit fear, at least that is what we are taught. But the Andalites are a part of what we are taught, too. From the first things we are told upon formation at birth, to the first bits of basic training, what the older ones say. They tell of our race, they tell of traditions. They praise our race, saying that we have a place among the stars, that we deserve to take for ourselves, this galaxy and the universe beyond, and crown it with our great Empire.

But they also speak of the Andalites. They speak of them like the humans used to speak of demons and the devil, somehow responsible for every troubling or wrong or unpleasant thing in the universe, and if we could only get rid of them or put them in their place everything would be right. To the very young mind it is positively terrifying, to think of them harassing our people. When we grow a little older we learn of their powers, of their technological prowess that far excels ours, their morphing and their weapons, their massive Dome ships that carry pieces of their fabulous homeworld, as if to mock us, and everything controlled simply by their thoughts. And later we learn of warfare, of the strategies executed by Andalite princes, of their ground-fighting techniques and of their anatomy, including their deadly tailblade, the image of terror for all of us.

All the other things, things that the elders have taught, have fallen away with experience and time. Over the years, I realized that we were not the supreme race, we were ,at the most optimistic, simply equals with hundreds, thousands of other species all around us. We don't have the right to impose our rule or control on anyone else. We must act as individuals instead of pieces of a greater whole. All members of a race are not alike any more than are members of a scouter troop. In the end, I had discarded every maxim and precept that I have been taught. Except for one. Because that fear, that fear of the Andalites that is now part of our race's heritage, survives all prejudice, all governments, all philosophy. In the end, that fear is the only reality.

And he was coming right at me.

So, naturally, I backed up a little. He didn't move any further.

<All right, Yeerk.> His voice was harsh, trying to be tough, even though from his size and apparent age he could be nothing more than an aristh. Yet there was also a hint of gentleness, maybe caused because I looked so vulnerable in my young human host. Or maybe he was attempting to be friendly because I had conveniently gone over to his side. Or maybe I was imagining it, and it was all an illusion of Julie's over-optimistic brain. <What do you want to talk over with us? And why would you be betraying your people by helping us?>

Suddenly I was filled with anger. No, control, I told myself. I couldn't let him see my anger. Or my fear. "I have not betrayed anyone," I said crisply. "I'm simply looking for an alliance, to stop the war. To help the Empire." Somehow this seemed familiar.

The Andalite stood, not speaking for a moment, thoughtful. <Who are you?> he asked after a while. <What is your name?>

Now I remembered it; Vorlon. I saw what he meant, though. He didn't want just any Yeerk waltzing up to their little group and making wild claims. "I am . . . ," then stopped. Why should I give him my name and designation? Or even my human identity, for that matter? At least not now. "I am Stratigen Officer Four and sub-chief of Earth Intelligence." Or at least, I had been, and was very close to being now. I didn't know if I'd ever regain those titles, but I had still earned them. And if that didn't impress them . . ."Visser Nine."

<Hmph,> Julie said, until then silent. She was mostly just observing the whole thing going on, without offering a commentary. But she was a little concerned about this. <What if they find out you're lying?>

<That won't matter,> I replied with false confidence. I really had no idea what they would do. <By the time they discover the line between "is" and "was," we'll be allies -- it would be foolish to dispose of a trusted ally just because their rank is different that you thought it was. Assuming I'm not already gone and in space, anyway.>

I think the "Andalites" were impressed. Though the humans were still in their animal forms, probably hoping that I somehow didn't know about them. But the Andalite's main eyes widened, and for a moment all four of his eyes were staring at me. The animals showed their reaction in various ways, and I swear the gorilla had dropped his jaw in a very human gesture of surprise. <Visser Nine?> One of them said that, I wasn't sure if it was the gorilla or not, though. Thought-speak appears directly in the mind, so it's impossible to pinpoint any direction it came from.

"Yes," was all I replied to that.

But I could tell they were tense. One of them was an owl and he watched me with eerie eyes that glowed in the bare light of the lightpost nearby so that the often-occupied field was not in darkness at night. There was the red-tailed hawk . . . I hoped I was wrong in my assumption that he was prepared to swoop down and tear my eyes out. The tiger was in an overhead branch, the gorilla was standing down behind the Andalite, and, lurking in the shadows the trees was a dark shape, in itself not threatening except for its large size, conjuring up images of stuffed animals and teddy bears, but in its movements there was a visible strength, the strength needed to tear me apart without much exertion, an anger I felt directed at me, so dark and feral I couldn't resist shuddering. This was, of course, completely ignoring the Andalite standing in front of me. How ironic it would be if he killed me, an ally, someone working toward a common cause whom he had just met, instead of Visser Three who I had plotted against and feared death from all my life.

<Let us proceed,> the Andalite said, breaking my train of thought which had been growing rather morbid. <You have given us your rank and position in the Yeerk military. However, this is not necessarily proof of your motivation to help us. On the contrary, it would be a perfect motive for you to use and betray us. You would be perfect at manipulating us into the desired position, and the reward you would receive for capturing a band of renegade Andalites could, in with your present status, push you all the way to the top.>

I had mixed emotions about this. For one thing, I was a little glad they were skeptical, because I was mainly counting on them to be resourceful and smart -- they had always been before, to get out of the situations Visser Three and his people often had them in. But then, why would they be "giving me ideas," (the prospect which he had just mentioned had tempted me several times) unless he really thought I was about to shoot them all the moment their eyes were averted? I might have to take a little while to earn their trust before they would work with me. Maybe if I told them my motives, everything I was planning, about the small group who held allegiance to me, waiting for me to set a plan in motion . . .

"That is true," I conceded. I grappled with the thought of confirming to them that I knew who they really were, could turn them in quite easily, but then they might have killed me out of fear. I could have them all taken on the way home from school or in some of their homes, made into hosts of our highest-ranking officers. One of them could be my host, too . . . except when I thought of that, I had Julie to consider, and I was reminded of my real mission. "However it would defeat my purpose. I want to stop this war." There was sudden silence and something like a thought-speak gasp. If they were shocked, it was only to be expected. They had all probably been filled with Andalite propaganda about how all Yeerks were power-hungry control freaks who just wanted to conquer, to take over, to infest . . . They would think that the last thing any Yeerk in her right mind would want to do was stop the campaign to gain control of the planets and peoples who had evaded us for so long. Maybe it was.

My motive. They had to have a motive for me to do such a thing. "I ---" I hesitated for a moment. They would not know the real significance of my words, but I was loudly declaring to them and the world something very -- very personal. "I want to stop the killing. I want to stop the conquest of helpless species."

All of them stirred a little at that. It probably struck as deep chords within them as it had for me. Maybe they had loved ones who had been taken as hosts --- I had recognized Jake, who looked a lot like his brother Tom. I had known of him back when he was host to Temrash 116. Who inhabited him now, I didn't know, but he and any others would be able to see through the facades of always being busy and going to The Sharing three times a week  Maybe they had known one of the people who had been killed whose death we had been forced to cover up. Maybe they had contact with other of the species we'd taken. There was at least a small band of free Hork-Bajir that were somehow living in the wilderness, probably in the mountains. We had never been able to exactly locate them, but I knew they were out there. Maybe they had strong feelings about the strange, simple people they had rescued from captivity.

One of the animals seemed the most moved by this in particular --- the owl. It rose up and fluttered its wings, and when a "voice" spoke next, I knew that was the source. <You want peace,> it said. It was not a question, not a skeptical inquiry, just a pure statement. There were many emotions in that statement; relief, happiness, and satisfaction, as if it was a personal victory for it that I wasn't some war-monger like so many of my kindred . . . I looked from face to face of the strange creatures. Maybe there was some personal, private matter going on between them on that matter. That would be the only reason the owl-person would put such passion into those simple words.

"Yes," I replied. "I want peace. And for it . . ." I almost laughed at what I had been about to say. "For peace I will fight to the death." Ironic, but it was often the truth. Often the only thing that could bring peace was a little more war.

<So you are part of the Yeerk Peace Movement?> another voice said. This shocked me all over again, just when I was getting into the right state of mind, just as I was getting calm and prepared for serious talk. Yeerk Peace Movement? Were they referring to an organization? Were there others who were working for peace?

Not wanting to say "No" for fear of getting killed in an instant, I had to carefully word my reply. "Although I am working for that purpose, I have never heard of them. I had not been informed of a movement for peace besides myself and my allies in our own hidden mission."

They were quiet again, their heads moving frequently, so I knew they were having a thought-speak conversation, probably an argument among themselves. They had probably met up with this "Yeerk Peace Movement" in the past, and were allies. Ah, it made sense. Not too long ago Visser Three had, for some reason, decided to interrogate a relatively insignificant person named Aftran 942. She had once worked to provide money for us at UniBank, once one of our target corporations, but the operation had fallen through. She was demoted and given some extremely insignificant job, and I never heard anything about her again until it was discovered she had been staying in the pool for several months, letting her former host go free. She refused to give a reason why, and was held captive in the pool until the Visser could interrogate her.

However, she was rescued by an Andalite, evasively morphing as always --- and now I knew why -- and managed to fly off with her. Aftran, who had for some reason decided not to take a host anymore, must have been a part of that peace movement. And the Andalite rescued her to keep her from revealing their secrets. What had happened to her? Had they rescued her from Visser Three's clutches only to let her shrivel and starve and die? And would the same thing happen to me? No, I reassured myself. After the work on Earth was over, my allies on the pool ship would send a shuttle down for me, and up there I would be given a new, voluntary host. Julie, with a little stealth on her part, could go free.

<So you're working for peace, yet you've never heard of the Peace Movement?> one of them said, not without sarcasm.

"That's right," I said, not daring to hesitate, as I had become increasingly aware of the Andalite prepared to decapitate me. "If there was such a movement -- and although there is some evidence that might point toward that idea, there is no way to prove it -- it is obviously a, uh, 'secret society,' if you will, a faction only talked about among mutual members and closely guarded, so much that it's existence would evade even the agents working directly under the Empire's head, of which I was once a part." It is not a good idea to mention politics and inner workings to enemies, especially not Andalites who can take people's forms and go around as them with the right information. I gave away as little as I could.

The Andalite looked thoughtful. There was more evidence of a thought-speak conversation, including the Andalite himself directing a stalk eye toward his morphed, human companions.

"This Peace Movement," I added, "besides the one I and my comrades had formed, is something I had not expected. It could be an asset to our cause. If I and my . . . team, most of whom are in space right now, were to join with the Peace Movement, whom I'm guessing are based on Earth, we could also help your own, uh, Andalite forces."

Julie's thoughts were disapproving. <You sound like ....> she trailed off. <I don't know. Kind of like you're thinking aloud. Scheming about something. You don't sound like anyone I'd trust, anyway.>

I was about to snap at her, but the Andalite and the morphed creatures before me seemed to share her sentiments.

<It sounds highly suspicious to me,> one of them commented. <What reason do we have to trust you?>

<They don't,> Julie said. <Tell them that. Tell them that they only have your word to go on, but you'll earn their trust any way you can.> In some sardonic corner of her mind, she added to herself, It sounds like the sappy kind of thing kid heroes would go for.

But I didn't have to depend just on their gullibility. I had a threat. "Well, um ...."

<Be direct.>

Easy said . . ."The truth is, well, I know you're not Andalites." I could feel the shock.

<And what makes you think that?> the only Andalite there, the one in front of me, asked sharply.

"I've seen you demorph. You must have known that. Why else would you let me meet up with you again and put yourself at risk this way, unless you knew that there was an even greater risk if you didn't comply?" They were silent.

"I could turn you all in, and it would be easy for you all to be captured. I know all your human identities." The Andalite's main eyes, the ones looking at me, were getting wider by the second, but he did nothing more to react. "I could get promoted. However, I won't. You have no choice but to trust me. If you kill me to keep from telling my superiors, you not only loose a valuable chance that could help end the war you fight, but I could always notify the others who you are, so you can be taken by them, instead." It was a big risk . . .

<What if I eliminated you now?> the Andalite asked in his most arrogant voice, worthy of Visser Three.

"Then you would also probably die," I replied without hesitation. I had kept my hands at my sides, but while I was talking I had been slowly drawing out the Dracon beam that had been attached to my belt loop. It was now, though still held close to me, prepared to shoot the Andalite straight in the gut. "You could kill me right now, but I doubt that you'd be able to avoid getting shot in the process." I held the Dracon a little further out so he could clearly see it, though not so much that he could knock it away from me. "It's set on the level to disintegrate large creatures, by the way."

<Would you like to gamble on that?> the Andalite asked in a cold and deadly thought voice as I could feel him tense up, preparing to strike me down.

I do not know what I have to thank for living through that. It could have been my own calm determination, not wavering as I held the Dracon beam at him just as readily as he held his tail, secure in the knowledge that even if he was able to strike me before I had a chance to fire, the impulse action of my finger on the "fire" button combined with the force of that massive piece of muscle and the closest thing to steel growing from a natural, living being would surely kill him so quickly that he would not have enough time to triumph over my death. But maybe it was something else. Maybe it was Julie, sitting quietly, thinking to nothing and everything, All right, if I die . . .totally accepting her death before it happened. Or maybe it was something more simple, a base factor in the mind that really had nothing to do with either of us, something with feral intelligence that blindly wanted to live yet knew that if I flinched, if I loosened the grip on the gun, it would be the end.

We stared at each other, the two of us, no, three. The creature in front of me, looking to the human-connected parts of me like something evolved from ancient forgotten memory, to my utmost Yeerk parts like terrifying anathema, two sworn enemies staring each other down. Then there was another, unwillingly dragged into the planetary and personal struggle, serving as little more than eyes and a mouth and a form to accomplish my purposes. Yet, even though she only knew half of the story it was like she knew, thinking in rapid contemplations that preceded the slitting of the neck that (she hoped) her death was not pointless, not a killing on sight of one alien of another he hated, but something significant, something that would go down in some unspoken annul of history even as she looked through her own eyes but with my gaze, and thought that at least her end would be such a beautiful creature, and that her death could be somewhat ceremonial, somewhat dignified in its way.

These were my own premordem thoughts. All of my life, all the hope and planning, all ended. I had wasted it. I was stupid to take such a risk, to put my life on the line for a chance -- and not too good of one -- to making an alliance to help a group that would probably end up getting me killed, anyway.

It was the only way.

No! There is always another way!

Stay hidden and wait for things to get better, that's what.

Caution, separation, it so quickly degrades into apathy. I cannot go on that path, not ever again.

But I have to live!

I will. I will . . .somehow . . .

Hah. Self-deceiver. Maybe ---

No. I'll go out with thoughts of nobility, no point in regret anymore, ever.

And that was the last moment before my mind cleared for the final blow.

It never came.

There had been, I realized, an unusual amount of silence between the time the Andalite had put himself in that very slightly different pose I had learned to recognize as strike pose, and the present moment. Was something delaying him. Slowly, taking forever my eyes -- my borrowed,stolen, eyes -- reached upward to see the various animals. The humans in morph. The secret that could be my life or my death. The owl had its gaze on me. Being a barn owl, it had small black/brown eyes, not feirce eyes like on the red-tailed hawk. But I felt the presence of line of sight, of visual and mental scrutiny fixed on my person, looking me over like something picked up from the trash, making the decicion whether to keep or throw away . . .

Finally, after what seemed like centures, the Andalite spoke. <Very well,> he said. He even said it a little heavily, as if he did not want to say it. Maybe . . . it seemed bizarre, but maybe he was subordinate to at least some of the humans.

<All right,> he reiterated. <We'll see what we can work out. We will trust you . . . for now.>

Both of us heaved a sigh of releif as we began discussing matters. Inside I was overjoyed. After all that I had done in vain, all that I had almost died for, it was finally happening. Just being there talking about it was an enormous step in that direction.

Peace.

Chapter Thirteen | Chapter Fifteen--coming soon
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