Or of 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 its 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.
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 this ball 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 sported two thin, weak-looking arms.
Like an Andalite. Like Ax.
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.
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 stopped 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.
The inspector made a sound that could have been a laugh. High and trilling. A sound that sent chills up my temporarily human spine.
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.
“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.”
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.”
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?”
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?”
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 inevitab
le. 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 …”
“And Rachel’s also saying she wants to be in charge, right?” Marco. “I mean, that’s 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 not this kind of thing. Not rapid-fire attacks.”
“Tobias?” I said. “How about you?”
“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 tilted 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.
“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.”
“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?”
Tobias said.
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.”
“Crap.”
I threw myself onto my back and folded my arms across my chest.
Sleep was just not going to happen. My mind was too busy whirling, racing. Thinking about the strangest things.
Not about the first attack we’d planned, on the local Yeerk-controlled TV station.
But about how last month in English class we studied a few Greek tragedies. Like Oedipus Rex. Written by a guy with an equally unpronounceable name.
That’s where I first heard the word “hubris.”
Hubris is like a disease. It means excessive pride. Over-the-top self-confidence. The belief that you can do anything you want, better than anyone else. Because you know best. Because you’re special.
Because you’re you.
The problem is, hubris usually results in some extremely nasty payback. Like being so horrified when you learn that something you did was really, really wrong that you pluck out your own eyes. It kind of scared me, reading about those heroes and warriors and kings.
It also kind of reassured me. Made me feel like I was part of a special club, one that’s been around for a long time. An exclusive club. A club for people like me who know they can do great things and do them. And then get punished for doing them.
“Ugh.”
I sat up and shoved the pillows behind my back. If I couldn’t sleep I wasn’t going to just lie there staring at the ceiling.
Maybe I would read. Or listen to the radio.
Why was I thinking about this stuff now anyway?
Because suddenly, I was the leader of our little band of soldiers. That’s why.
And Jake had told me often enough that the leader can be as scared or full of doubt as any of his followers. He just isn’t allowed to show it.
Under any circumstances.
No matter how horrible things get.
That’s the deal. People want their leaders to be larger than life. Perfect. Not subject to human frailty and weaknesses. Gods.
“People want their leaders to act the way they wish they could act themselves,” Jake always said. Totally confident. Completely brave. Not afraid. Never confused. Never worried.
Trouble was, I was confused. And majorly worried.
Being the leader is mostly about other people.
Being the kind of hero I was born to be — the kind of hero I’d discovered myself to be since this war started — was a lot about me.
I was smart enough to have figured that out. So I was worried. Suddenly and out of the blue. Worried I’d do something on this mission that would seriously backfire on one of my friends. Worried I’d be responsible for doing something so wrong I’d want to pluck out my own eyes, like that poor old Greek from the story.
It bothered me. Made me mad. I couldn’t afford to worry. And I definitely couldn’t afford to show it. I was the hero, the warrior, the king! The doer of great deeds! Right?
And in order to do the great things, in order to win wars and build cities, or whatever, you’ve got to have pride and confidence. You’ve got to be just a little bit arrogant. Sometimes a lot arrogant. Pride and confidence and arrogance equal courage. At least it was that way for me.
If we — we heroes and warriors and kings — didn’t do the grisly but necessary stuff, the insanely brave stuff, who would?
“Nobody, that’s who,” I said to the sliver of moon peeping through the open curtains.
So it’s a trap. An inevitability. You are who you are. Character is plot. Character is destiny.
TAP TAP TAP.
I swung out of bed and went to the window.
“Hey,” I said, raising it to let Tobias walk in to perch on my desk. “What took you so long?”
“Tobias?” I interrupted. “Do you think we’re doing the right thing? Rapid strikes I mean? Make the inspector think we’re all over the visser’s butt? That we’re stronger than we really are? It’s a good strategy, right?”
Tobias fixed me with his intense hawk stare.
“So, you think I’m right,” I pressed. “That I’m the one for the job. I’m the one, right?”
Nothing.
It mattered very, very much what Tobias thought. I knew he was my friend. I knew he loved me. I knew that much.
But tonight, more than usual, it mattered that he believed in me.
“I mean, you were going to vote for me, right?” I said quickly. “And Cassie …”
ing if we’re going to meet the others before the morning news.>
For a minute I didn’t say anything. Then I yanked my favorite old ratty nightgown off over my head and stood in the center of the moonlit room, shivering in my morphing suit.
“Fine. Let’s do it.”
“You know, before I started hanging with you people, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as sunrise. No, I mean it. I knew the sun set. And when I woke up each morning it was back in the sky. But the actual rising part …”
“Marco.”
“I’m shutting up,” he said, yawning and crouching.
We were in the alley behind the WKVT TV studio. First stop on our planned rampage. On our mission to convince the inspector that the Andalite bandits were all over the visser’s butt, like white on rice.
Another mission that had us meddling in Yeerk politics.
I fought off a dark flash of doubt. Shot a look at Tobias. Did he not trust me? Shouldn’t matter. Maybe that’s what he was telling me: It shouldn’t matter what he thought.
“Battle morphs,” I said.
Marco stood. “Hold up, General Patton. How about step one, first?”
I scowled. “Am I the leader here?”
“Infiltration. None of us has ever been inside this place, right? We check it out in some small morph, get the layout, then if it looks safe, we do battle morphs.”
I shook my head. “No. Not a good idea. That means we’d have to go human inside. Too risky.”
“Unless we did flies. Something small, at least. Went in, scoped out the place, bailed, demorphed, remorphed to battle morphs, and went back in,” Cassie said.
“Why don’t we just put off the mission until, say, next week?” I said nastily.
Cassie looked ticked off but I didn’t care. “Ax, you’re with me on this, right?”
“Okay, battle morphs. We go in hard and fast. Create havoc. Wreck the place. But try not to hurt anyone, okay?”
Marco sighed and began his morph to gorilla. “Uh-huh.”
I began to morph to grizzly bear. And as I grew, larger, stronger, more dangerous, the doubts seemed to shrivel away. Marco was always dubious. Big deal. Forget Marco. And Tobias was … forget him, too. I was right.
The Weakness Page 2