And no wonder. The wall was lined with casket vaults. Empty now, but still redolent with the hideous odor of death.
I picked up my hooves, careful to make no sound as I made my way toward the source of the faint noises.
The smells of death receded and were replaced by the smell of decontaminant. I stopped outside a door. Yes, she was in there.
I slid the door open manually to minimize noise.
Estrid stood at a lab table, pouring the contents of one plex vial into another. She dropped the first vial into a steaming container of decontaminant and carefully began to place a cap on the second vial.
She saw me. Jerked in surprise. The vial slipped from her hand.
Her terror galvanized me. I dove forward, my back legs skidding on the floor. I fell heavily but reached out my hands and caught the vial.
Estrid groaned and her knees buckled. She sank down. Held a trembling hand out to me.
Her expression hardened.
I rolled to my feet, still holding the vial.
I began to open the vial.
I held it out of reach. I said.
Her eyes flickered.
I am ashamed to say that my first feeling was one of embarrassment. That a female, one that had never even attended the academy, had very nearly beaten me in one-on-one combat.
she explained.
My embarrassment was not alleviated.
Ajaht-Litsom-Esth! I could not help laughing. Ajaht-Litsom-Esth is the highest-scoring exhibition tail fighter on the Andalite planet.
I was astounded.
The eyes on her face flashed with anger.
Now her eyes shone.
She nodded.
She nodded.
I shivered with revulsion. Germ warfare.
Her eye stalks drooped.
Now it was all clear. Crystal clear.
Gonrod and Aloth were dupes. This mission was about Arbat and Estrid. Gonrod was an expendable pilot. Aloth? A thug.
The War Council sent them to Earth with the understanding that their mission was to assassinate Visser Three.
The reality was that Estrid and Arbat were here on a genocidal errand for which no one on the War Council was willing to take official responsibility. Not after the disaster on the Hork-Bajir planet.
In fact, the War Council might know nothing of this mission at all. Was Arbat a renegade?
No wonder Arbat had not wanted Visser Three assassinated. Had Aloth successfully killed him, Gonrod would have been forced to report “mission accomplished” over the secure communication channels.
Even if Arbat could have kept Gonrod from reporting back, the news of Visser Three’s death would have traveled swiftly enough.
A War Council that either needed to deny, or did not even know of a mission to Earth, would have found an announcement of success a bit of an embarrassment.
Then the deeper truth struck me.
Estrid met my gaze. If she was ashamed she hid it well.
I wanted to deny it. Wanted her to deny it. An immoral, illegal, despicable mission, and I was a necessary part of it all. I was a pawn in a terrifying replay of the crimes on the Hork-Bajir world.
Alloran, the Andalite who later became the host body of Visser Three, had directed the use of biologicals to exterminate the Hork-Bajir.
Better dead than hosts and weapons of the Yeerks.
How many Hork-Bajir had died, no one knew. Enough survived to supply shock troops to the Yeerks.
It was a crime that seared the conscience of all Andalites. It was an evil so profound that we would never be free of its taint.
And now, again? Again?
&nbs
p; Arbat stood in the doorway, holding a shredder on us.
Arbat answered.
I said,
That caught Arbat by surprise.
Estrid focused her main eyes on Arbat.
Arbat glared at us both, but then his face softened when he looked at Estrid.
He pressed a button. A control panel slid from the wall. Arbat quickly programmed it.
Bright green streaks shot from floor to ceiling, creating bars. A laser cage around the two of us.
Arbat took the vial from the counter.
To my surprise his old, world-weary eyes shone with emotion.
I would have liked to tail-whip him. None of this was about the Yeerks, the humans, or even the Andalites. It was about what he saw as his duty. His right. The self-pity of the murderer.
He shook his head.
Arbat turned and galloped from the lab.
Estrid tried to follow.
ZZZZZZZ!
The green laser bars erupted in a shower of sparks when Estrid made contact. She was knocked to the floor.
I leaned down.
I helped her to her feet.
She took my hands.
Her stalk eyes whipped around in amazement.
I nodded.
Marco walked calmly into view. “Hey, Ax-man. You’re looking slightly trapped.”
Marco made a sweeping gesture encompassing the lab. “We’re here. The place is crawling with Animorphs. Literally.”
In various places human forms were growing up out of tiny points. Flea morph. Fly morph. Roach morph.
Cassie and Rachel and Prince Jake.
One morphing mass emerged as a bird rather than a human.
Tobias ruffled his wings.
“Go, Tobias, stay on him,” Prince Jake said.
Tobias flew out of the room and caught the breeze of the drop shaft.
Estrid looked at me, half amazed, half angry.
I shook my head.
“Yeah,” Marco said. “Besides, we humans make a mean cinnamon bun.”
I laughed.
We flew to the Community Center. It would be Arbat’s most likely path into the Yeerk pool. But, unfortunately, it was only an educated guess. Tobias had been unable to follow him. Arbat, ever the intelligence professional, had morphed to human and entered a train station.
Whether he had emerged, or in what shape, we could not tell.
However we were soon certain of which way he had gone.
It was very late at night but the Yeerks still kept up a guard. We found the first human-Controller lying sprawled by the trash. Another slumped in the doorway. A third lay facedown in the hallway.
My human friends were in battle morph. Estrid and I had demorphed to Andalite. Tobias was somewhere outside, flying above, watching. No doubt berating himself unnecessarily for having lost Arbat.
We walked softly through the dark and empty Community Center. Maybe Arbat had eliminated all Yeerk security. Maybe not.
I looked at the door. There was a lock. But it had been broken.
Marco pushed the door open. A dark and seemingly endless staircase yawned before us.
Cassie said,
Cassie’s wolf morph is possessed of incredibly acute hearing and sense of smell.
We ran down the stairs. Level after level. Tiger pads and bear paws and Andalite hooves all rushing, tripping, rushing again.
As we descended, the sounds of the Yeerk pool — the screams, the cries, the rumble of equipment, became loud enough for Andalite senses to hear.
Estrid said,
Down. Faster and faster. Down.
Suddenly I slipped. Fell. Rolled down several steps.
The smell was awful. Part of the staircase was wet with slimy pool water. Gore. Chunks of flesh, piles of quivering entrails. Evidence of a recent Taxxon feeding frenzy.
I jumped up, wiped the gore from my flanks. I tried not to think of it. Tried to focus on what mattered. Arbat had to be stopped. No time to think of the filth, no time to imagine the horror …
Ahead the stairs emerged from the ground into the vast openness of the Yeerk pool complex. After this point we would be visible to anyon
e looking up from below.
I began to morph to human. Estrid did the same. The Yeerk pool complex would contain humans, Hork-Bajir, Gedds, and Taxxons. But only humans would be expected to come down this particular stairway at this time of night.
“What natural weapons do these humans’ bodies have?” Estrid asked.
“Unless you’ve eaten a lot of beans, none,” Marco said.
“Keep your heads down, don’t make eye contact,” Jake instructed. “We don’t want to be ID’d. Don’t move fast or seem to be looking around. Now, go!”
We walked down the stairs again. On only two legs.
We could see the pool now. Hork-Bajir and human guards stood watch as other Hork-Bajir and human-Controllers filed down the two steel piers that traversed the main part of the leaden pool. Each pier was lined with locking collars.
As guards supervised, the Controllers kneeled down and placed their necks in metal collars.
When the collars snapped into place, a small gray slug crawled out of the Controller’s ear and fell into the dank pool with a soft plop!
The hosts were then momentarily free. Free at least to control their own mouths and eyes. They could cry. They did. They could beg. They did that, too.
“This is obscene,” Estrid whispered fiercely.
“Pretend to be unconcerned,” I said.
“Spread out,” Prince Jake muttered as we merged with a group of human-Controllers.
Estrid and I stayed close, but drifted from the others. Human-Controllers everywhere. Some jocular as they hooked up with Yeerk friends. Most just businesslike. They were here to feed, not socialize.
Faces everywhere. Hundreds. Which was Arbat? Impossible to say. Impossible to guess where he would be in this …
No. Not impossible. He would pursue his mission as swiftly as possible. He would deliver the virus into the pool.
The pier. Of course.
But how to spot him? He would look human. Would be human. Just like all these human-Controllers.
No. Not like them. The Controllers all had access to human experience, human knowledge. A human morph is only instinct. Harder to control, harder to understand easily. As I knew from experience.
The Arrival Page 7