And even by the standards of aliens, the Arn was bizarre. He stood, surrounded by seven-foot-tall nightmares, watched by a deceptively peaceful-looking Andalite, a hawk, and a gaggle of badly dressed kids.
And he was still the strangest being there. And all the more strange to me because I could see, or felt I could see, a deep, unreachable sadness behind those glittering, unhuman eyes.
“These are humans,” the Arn said, nodding. “Yes. I spent a day waiting in orbit, learning your languages. You have many interesting languages but your biology is not at all remarkable, I’m afraid. Two arms, two legs, a most unstable platform. And entirely lacking in physical innovation: simple bilateral symmetry for the most part.”
“Yeah, nice to meet you, too,” Rachel said. “What are you up to, what do you want?”
“I am Arn.”
If the glittery-eyed creature was shocked at being addressed by a bird he didn’t show it.
“I am Quafijinivon,” he said. “The species you claim to know is no more. And I am the last of the Arn.”
“I have come to give the Hork-Bajir a chance for freedom and rebirth. And revenge against the Yeerks. I have a plan that will require your assistance.”
“Who’s going to give them a shot at revenge against you, Arn?” Rachel muttered.
“Ten bucks says whatever he has in mind ends up with us screaming and running,” Marco said.
Quafijinivon’s small red mouth pursed disapprovingly. “I have very little time, humans. No time at all for pleasantries. I will live for only four hundred and twelve more days, give or take a few hours, that is a biological fact.”
“Yes, well, an Andalite. Charming, as always.” He made a grimace that might have been a smile. “Recently I intercepted a Yeerk transmission and learned to my amazement that a free Hork-Bajir colony existed on Earth. I risked everything to steal a Yeerk ship, and have traveled a great distance to find —”
“Do the Yeerks know the location of the colony?” Jake interrupted.
“No,” Quafijinivon answered. “I found it myself. We Arn long ago developed technology to track our —”
“What exactly is this plan of yours?” Rachel demanded.
The Arn shot her a quelling look, clearly displeased to have been interrupted a second time. “My plan is to collect samples of the DNA of the free Hork-Bajir. With their permission,” he added quickly. “I would then use the DNA to create a new colony on my home planet.”
I could practically feel the disapproval coming off him. Tobias is probably closer to the Hork-Bajir than any of the rest of us. Toby Hamee is named after him. Toby for Tobias.
“To fight the Yeerks, yes,” Quafijinivon replied. “But not for me. To regain their planet. To regain what the Yeerks took from them.”
And from you, I thought. I’m usually pretty good at figuring out people’s motives. But I wasn’t sure what the Arn’s deal was yet. Was he trying to help the Hork-Bajir? Or was he just trying somehow to help himself?
Jake shook his head. “Even if the Hork-Bajir agreed, how would some small colony win a war against the Yeerks? No ships. No orbital weapons platforms. Not even handheld Dracon beams.”
“Yeah, the Yeerks have these cute little things called weapons,” Marco added.
“So would the Hork-Bajir,” Quafijinivon answered. “Before they lost their lives to the Yeerks, Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan and Dak Hamee stole an entire transport ship filled with handheld Dracon beams, as well as a good supply of very sophisticated explosives.”
I saw Jake and Marco exchange a look.
Marco shrugged. “No question that opening a new front against the Yeerks would be helpful. A guerilla war on the Hork-Bajir home world would pull Yeerk resources away from Earth, away from the Andalites.”
“This isn’t our fight,” I pointed out. I nodded toward Jara Hamee and Toby. “I think we’re just here to advise.”
Jake winced, realizing he’d been playing boss.
“I will do whatever I can to continue the work of Aldrea and Dak Hamee,” Toby said guardedly. “A DNA sample is little enough to ask.”
Aldrea and Dak were Toby’s great-grandparents. They were heroes to the Hork-Bajir because they had led the battle against the Yeerks. And lost their lives in the fight.
“I give, too,” Jara answered.
The other Hork-Bajir all chimed in. All agreeing to allow Quafijinivon to harvest their DNA, despite the fact that none of them besides Toby had any idea what DNA was.
Quafijinivon lowered his head. “I thank you,” he told them. “But that is only the beginning. There is one more thing I must ask before I can move forward with my plan.”
“Uh-oh,” Marco said in a loud stage whisper. “Here it comes.”
The Arn turned his weird eyes toward me and the other Animorphs. “Aldrea and Dak Hamee hid the weapons. I have been unable to recover them. We Arn are perhaps unequaled in our biological science. But we have no great technological skill.”
“No. That would be self-defeating. I have something rather more … unusual in mind.”
“I have in my possession the Ixcila of Aldrea-Iskillion-Falan.”
“Ixcila?” Jake repeated.
“Her stored persona,” Quafijinivon explained impatiently. “Her brain wave patterns. Her memories. Her personality. Her essence.”
His voice had started to sound quavery, and for the first time I realized that he was old and weak. It’s impossible to tell the age of an alien till you know what to look for.
“The Atafalxical must be performed. It is the only way to unlock the Ixcila. But the Ceremony of Rebirth will not succeed unless there is a strong receptacle mind available, a mind as strong as Aldrea’s own.”
Receptacle mind. The phrase repeated itself in my head until it became nothing more than a jumble of sounds. An echo that felt important but whose meaning I could not grasp.
I felt that something-crawling-up-your-neck sensation that warns of disaster approaching. The tornado is coming, Auntie Em.
“If all goes well, the Ixcila will move into the receptacle mind, and we will be able to communicate with Aldrea,” Quafijinivon continued. “She will be able to lead us to the weapons.”
“And what happens to the receptacle?” Jake asked.
“Oh, it will be undamaged, if that is what concerns you,” Quafijinivon answered. “The receptacle mind simply shares space with the Ixcila until the Ixcila is returned to storage.”
The Arn pulled in a wheezing breath. “Only one in four Ceremonies are actually completed. The appropriate receptacle mind is essential. Aldrea’s Ixcila will be attracted to someone most like she was. Someone strong, fierce, independent. Presumably female. Hork-Bajir or Andalite, most likely, but I suppose she might gravitate toward a human. If such a human female existed.”
“Oh, I think I know where one could be found,” Marco said.
“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 har
m’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.
Ax said. He turned all four of his eyes toward the Arn.
“That is correct,” Quafijinivon answered. His eyes were as bright as stars in the darkness.
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.
“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 made 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. he finally said.
“I did not mean to sound suspicious of my Andalite friend,” Toby said with no sincerity whatsoever.
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 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 Anne 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.”
I braced myself for … for what, I didn’t know.
I once had a Yeerk in my head. I know the sensation of another being invading me. I know the violation of having my most private memories exposed. I know the horror of losing control over my own arms and legs and mouth. But I felt none of these things now.
“She chose Cassie?” I heard Rachel mumble. “I feel so ten minutes ago.”
“May I speak to my great-grandmother now?” Toby asked eagerly. Her voice was filled with awe. She revealed none of Rachel’s bemused resentment.
I swallowed, then swallowed again. My throat felt as dry and scratchy as sandpaper. “I’m sorry, Toby. I don’t think the Ceremony
was —” I began. Then I realized something was different.
Have you ever been taking a test and totally blanked? You read a question. You know you know the answer. You know you memorized it when you were studying. But you can’t get to it. It’s like there’s a wall in your brain separating you from the information.
That’s how I felt now. And the wall was enormous. High and long and solid.
I was pretty sure Aldrea was on the other side of the wall. But nothing was getting through. I wasn’t picking up even a fragment of a thought or a hint of an emotion. The only thing I knew was that something, some force, some bundle of sensations, some object or person was sitting inside my mind.
It was as if she was behind me, or beside me, but turning my head I couldn’t see her. There but not visible. There nevertheless.
“Cassie, are you okay? What happened?” Jake asked calmly. Too calmly.
“Did the Ixcila take root?” Quafijinivon asked, his voice breaking. It was the first real emotion the Arn had shown. He wanted this to work. Needed it to work.
“Shhh,” I said. “Please, just shhh, all of you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want any outside stimulus right now.
“Aldrea?” I called aloud, softly, tentatively, feeling like an idiot talking to the dripping, dank cave walls.
No answer.
Aldrea! I repeated, this time silently, hoping she could hear my directed thought. If you’re there, please try to say something to me.
No answer.
She had to be totally disoriented. I wondered if she’d been able to experience anything while she was in storage. Did she have any idea she had been taken to a planet in a different galaxy? Had she been aware that the Ceremony was taking place? Did she realize she wasn’t in the vial now?
Did she know she was dead?
“Aldrea, if you can hear me, I want you to know that you’re safe,” I said.
“Safe as a dead person can be,” Marco said.
The Prophecy Page 2