The Attack

by K. A. Applegate

  The argument hit home with Rachel. "Fair enough."

  have you chosen? a huge voice asked.

  I sighed. "Yeah, but can you give us a few days to -"

  «Strangers! Strangers! Sell me your memories, strangers! Sell them to me, I beg of you.»

  I was staring into a face not even a mother could love.

  "Howler?" I asked shakily.

  no, iskoort, the Ellimist said. your families

  WILL NOT KNOW YOU HAVE GONE. BUT IF YOU DIE ...

  He let that hang. He didn't have to explain further.

  "When does this fight start?" I cried, recoiling from the Iskoort face thrusting toward me.

  IT HAS BEGUN.

  33

  ?Who invented this place, Dr. Seuss?" Marco demanded.

  We were miles in the air. Miles from the ground, which we could see just over the edge of the platform. The platform with no railing, no warning. The platform that just stopped suddenly.

  Below us was a twisting, leaning, propped-up-on-gigantic-support-beams structure of other platforms. Floors, I guess, all stuck here and there, sticking far out and not so far.

  Above us was more of the same, till you'd swear the monstrous construction would reach the moon, assuming the Iskoort had a moon.

  34 All of this was built of brilliantly colored blocks or bricks or segments.

  Imagine that someone starts with all the Legos in the world. Add in all the Duplos and cheap bargain Duplos and let some humongous kid assemble them all into a tower a hundred miles tall.

  Assume that no sensible adult ever becomes involved, except to come along occasionally and wedge in what looks like crutches the size of skyscrapers.

  The floors could have been five feet apart, five hundred feet apart, or five miles apart. It was like no one figured it out till they built it.

  I jumped back from the edge, feeling my stomach lurch and my heart stop. I had to push the Iskoort away to get safe, but I wasn't worried about politeness. I was trying not to take a fall that would last a couple of hours.

  "Back up!" I yelled.

  But now a whole gaggle of Iskoort were rushing us, honking with the diaphragm in their bellies and yammering in thought-speak, pushing us, shoving us by sheer mad exuberance toward the edge.

  "Rachel!" Cassie cried.

  I spun left just in time to see Rachel wind-milling, her heels back over the edge of the platform.

  35 "No!" I yelled as she lost the fight and toppled backward.

  I caught a blur of movement. When the blur stopped it was Erek, his hand holding Rachel by the arm as if she weighed no more than a candy bar.

  Erek pulled her back up onto the platform.

  "Did I mention I've always wanted you along on this mission, Erek?" Rachel said shakily. "Get back, you stupid jerks!"

  This was directed at the press of a dozen Iskoort, all yammering incessantly.

  «l will buy your memories!»

  «Come visit my execution parlor!»

  «Give me your clothing and I will give you credit!»

  «Here! Eat this larva! Let it gestate and we'll split the proceeds between your heirs!»

  «You stink horribly! I will cleanse you!»

  And to Ax: «Become my partner and we will sell your fur as a gachak poison!»

  "What is this, Planet of the Salesmen?" Marco demanded. "Back off! All of you, back off!"

  "Man, I thought there were a lot of salespeople at Nordstrom's, but this is nuts. I'll take care of this. I know how to get rid of pushy salespeople." Rachel stepped out front, hands on her

  36 hips. "We're just here to use the bathroom. Can you tell me where the ladies' room is?"

  The Iskoort stared, goggle-eyed. Several of them wandered away. The others continued staring at us, waiting to see if we'd loosen up and do some business.

  I looked at Cassie and we both sighed at the same time.

  "Now what?" she wondered. "What do we do? Stand around till someone tries to kill us?"

  I looked around, trying to get a grip on this bizarre place. There was no making sense of the structure itself. Our floor was a roomy one. At least a hundred feet separated our floor from the floor above. Back from the edge the small buildings began. They looked like clusters of igloos: blue and gold and white and green and red. Some were jumbled into piles several layers tall. Others were freestanding.

  The Iskoort themselves came and went, in and out of the colored igloos, up and down the twisted, arched stairways connecting floors. They all looked busy. All in a hurry.

  They were not the most frightening-looking race we'd ever encountered, but they were definitely not even slightly human.

  They had heads like vultures, thrust forward on long necks. The necks protruded from shoulders that were a sort of oval platform, flat across.

  37 From the shoulders dropped two arms, one on each side, each arm jointed three times, ending in a hand made up of one very long, tentacle-like finger, and two smaller, hooked, sharp-clawed fingers.

  They walked in a way that made it seem they were crawling on their knees. Backward. Not that they went backward. They went forward. They had two thick legs, maybe two and a half feet long. Then came what looked like knees, followed by calves that extended forward, lying flat against the ground. Those ended in feet, each with a single long prehensile toe and two smaller claws jutting from the sides of thick pads.

  Their midsection was bare of clothing and looked weirdly like an accordion - an accordion made of veined, pink flesh. It moved, wheezing out a sort of running commentary on their thought-speak.

  It was the sound of a whine. A grating, annoying whine that rose or fell, depending, evidently, on how excited or mad or agitated they were.

  "The Nanny," Cassie observed.

  "The what?"

  "That sound. It sounds like Fran Drescher, the woman who plays the lead in The Nanny. No offense to her."

  «l don't think Fran's probably around here to overhear you being rude,» Tobias pointed out.

  38 Iskoort faces were, like I said, not attractive. They were roughly triangular with the point toward the top, which left no room for a pair of eyes to fit. So their eyes, pink as a rabbit's, were stuck on short stalks. They had mouths, but didn't use them to communicate. They pretty much stayed shut, opening only every few minutes to suck in air and reveal a fat, blue tongue and tiny, blue-tinged teeth.

  Rachel said, "You know how you meet some people and right away, before they even say anything, before you have any idea what they're like, you don't like them? I mean, on sight you can't stand them? And it's not that they're ugly or anything, it's just something about them that sets you off?"

  "No," Cassie said. "At least, I didn't know. Now I do."

  A new assault team of Iskoort was quick-crawling toward us, heads thrust forward, eyes goggling.

  «Forgive us, strangers!» the leader of this crowd said. «We did not expect off-worlders today. Welcome to the City of Beauty! Do you require a guide? Do you wish to sell your memories, or perhaps any unnecessary body parts?»

  His diaphragm whined as he thought-spoke, a low, grating sound that rose and fell like a bagpipe blown by a man with too little wind.

  39 I sighed. I was on the verge of suggesting that Rachel morph to grizzly bear and get rid of them, but Cassie said, "You know, if they're serious about a guide . . ."

  "Yeah, you're right," I said, but I wasn't enthusiastic. "Um, well, we could use a guide. You know, to show us around. Show us where to stay."

  «And what will you pay?» the Iskoort demanded, to the sound of eager whining.

  "Well ... we don't exactly have any money," I said.

  «l will give you an excellent guide. My own grub! In exchange for her hair.»

  He pointed one of his wormy tentacle fingers at Rachel. Or, more precisely, at her hair.

  40

  The negotiation was not pretty.

  The Iskoort wanted to shave Rachel's head. She explained very calmly that she would remove his head and
use it for a soccer ball before that ever happened.

  In the end, Rachel lost six inches of blond hair. What was left came to just below her ears.

  "You know, it looks good," Cassie said.

  "This from the girl who buys all her clothes from L.L. Bean," Rachel grumbled.

  But the truth was, it did look good. Possibly because Erek did the cutting. "I used to cut Catherine the Great's hair," he explained, sounding apologetic, like it was embarrassing to admit

  41 that he'd been alive since Moses was wandering around in the desert.

  In exchange, we got Guide. That was his name: Guide. His full name was Guide, Grub of Skin-seller, brother of Memory Wholesaler.

  He was a young Iskoort. Which did not make him any less annoying. The first thing he did was try to improve the deal by getting Ax to let him have the last foot and a half of his tail.

  Ax said no.

  Marco said, "You know what? You jerk us around, Guide, and Ax will give you the last foot and a half of his tail."

  Guide understood the threat. He became easier to deal with after that. He only asked for memories, clothing, hair, and various body parts every hour or so, rather than constantly.

  "One question, right up front: Have you seen any other off-world strangers?" I asked him.

  «0ff-worlders? Of course! The City of Beauty is temporary home to many, many off-worlders.»

  "Probably drawn here by the charm of the residents," Cassie said dryly.

  It made me smile. I thought Cassie could like anyone. Evidently, even she had limits.

  «We're looking for members of a species called Howlers,» Tobias said.

  Guide's chest whined in a lower key. His

  42 mouth gaped open. «This species is not known to me.»

  I nodded and looked down at the bright red floor under my feet. "Don't lie to us, Guide. Have you ever met an Andalite before?"

  Guide shot a nervous glance at Ax. «No.»

  "Well, Andalites have the power to mind-meld with people. They can look right inside their thoughts and know if they're lying, and if you are lying, they make your head explode."

  No one cracked a smile. Although Marco had to struggle.

  «Now Ax is a Vulcan?» Tobias asked me in private thought-speak.

  Guide's whine rose and fell. It probably meant something, but I didn't know what. Then, «Howlers? Did you say Howlers? There may be one or two Howlers around.»

  "Try seven," I said. "Where are they? And do you know why they're here?"

  «They come to trade, like all who visit our world. They trade memories for boda salts. Howler memories are very valuables

  "What's this memory stuff?" Cassie asked. "You guys keep talking about buying memories. What's that all about?"

  Guide looked surprised. I think. «You have never seen a memory show? Then that must be

  43 our first stop! It is the greatest of entertainments^

  "Obviously, you don't get the Super Bowl here," Marco said.

  "We always suspected the Howlers might have collective memory," Erek said. He surprised me. He'd been so quiet I'd practically forgotten he was with us. "The Howlers may pass memory along, generation to generation."

  «Yes, yes,» Guide agreed. «This is why they command such a price. Their memories are long and very clear.»

  I was feeling frustrated. We weren't getting anywhere. We'd just dropped in on this planet and so far we knew nothing. The Howlers could be watching us, ready to attack at any moment.

  "Guide, have you seen these Howler memories?" Cassie asked him.

  He laughed. «No. Not me. I am a Trader, a probationary member of the Guild of Traders. I am not interested in violence and killing and slaughter. No, it is the members of the Criminal Guild and the Warmaker Guild who buy Howler memories.»

  I was getting that nervous, jumpy feeling I get when I feel like I'm being delayed from doing something vital. I felt we were wasting our time talking to the Iskoort.

  44 "We aren't here to write a paper on the Iskoort," I said, more rudely than I'd intended. "We're here to take down the seven Howlers so we can go home."

  Cassie looked a little hurt. But in a very calm voice she said, "It just seemed to me that if we have to have a battle, we'd be better off if we knew where we were and what was going on."

  She was right, of course. But the edginess I felt wouldn't let me admit it. "We need a place. A base of operations. We can't just stand out here in the open."

  «Then come, follow me!» Guide said. «l know the right place.»

  He started off, moving in his weird backward crawling way, whining from his chest the whole way. We went down a set of steps, something the Iskoort did literally backward, but with surprising agility and speed.

  We came out on a new level, mostly dark blue, and utterly different from the previous level. Here we saw none of the igloos, only a vast field of small cylinders, maybe two feet tall.

  «Energy storage,» Guide explained, and led us down another stairway, this one much longer. We stuck rigidly to the center of the stairs - from the top it was perhaps a half-mile drop to the mustard-colored floor below. Only Tobias was

  45 comfortable, flying around and beneath the stairway.

  I suppose Erek felt safe enough, too. It was hard to imagine the android ever missing a step. This level, this mustard-yellow level, was teeming with Iskoort, moving slowly along narrow avenues between open-front buildings.

  It was easy to recognize what this level was.

  "It's the mall," Rachel said. "A bazaar."

  «Yes, this is the level seventy-eight marketplace^ Guide confirmed. «We must move quickly here.»

  "What? No shopping?" Rachel, of course.

  We reached the floor and were instantly surrounded by jabbering, poking, pushing, whining Iskoort, all desperate to buy whatever we had and sell us whatever we didn't.

  "I see what you mean by moving quickly, Guide," I said.

  «What? No, no, not for these honest Traders. But this market is a favorite gathering place for members of the Warmaker Guild.»

  I had about three seconds to think what? before something slammed me violently to the floor.

  46

  I was down, flat on my back, a weight on my chest. A bony head, stubby horns protruding from the top, was just above mine.

  "Howlers!" I yelled.

  I twisted and tried to roll away. But the bony-headed creature wouldn't let me go. He slammed his head down at me. I jerked my head to the side, hard. The blunt horns struck the floor.

  I did something I haven't had to do much, despite being in more battles than I can remember: I drew back my fist and punched.

  I caught the Howler in his gaping mouth. He jerked back. I drew my legs up, thighs against my chest, and I kicked.

  Thump!

  47 I caught the Howler flat in his chest diaphragm. He fell back, flailing but unbalanced. I was up in a flash.

  My friends were all under attack. No one had had time to morph. Tobias was ripping at the short stalk eyes of a Howler. I saw Ax snap his tail and remove an arm that had been around Cassie's throat.

  Rachel kicked another in a place that humans don't like to have kicked. One of the Howlers was flailing away at Erek, head-butting him and having no effect as Erek stood there calmly.

  Rachel was halfway into her grizzly bear morph and already growling with a voice that was still mostly her own.

  Something was not right. Not right at all. We weren't even morphed and we were beating these guys. And Erek was way too calm. Then it occurred to me. I had kicked my guy in his diaphragm. His whining, Iskoort diaphragm.

  "Erek! Are these Howlers?"

  "No. Of course not," he said calmly.

  Our assailants backed up. There were five of them. One looked bleakly at the stub of his arm. The others gaped at us and whined through their chests.

  They were Iskoort. Not like Guide, at least not exactly. The bodies were mostly the same, but the heads and hands were different. Their headsr />
  48 were wider at the top, with the two little nubs of horn. Their hands were less delicate, the claws larger than the tentacle. Their legs were flexed, not as flat, allowing them to move faster, in leaps, not crawls.

  «These are Iskoort of the Warmaker Guild,» Guide said, like he was introducing a bunch of guys from a different school. «This is why we must hurry. They don't like off-worlders.»

  «They're going to like us a lot less if they try that again!» Rachel said.

  "Let's get out of here," I said. "Rachel? Stay in morph. Ax, you stay ready, too. That should be enough to handle these guys."

  We were attacked twice more by two different gangs of Warmaker Iskoort before we could reach the next stairway. They were easy enough to deal with, but I still managed to get bruised up. And by the time we were safely out of the marketplace, Rachel said what we were all starting to feel.

  "Just tell me this: Why, exactly, does the Ellimist want to save these guys? I'm starting to think maybe Crayak is on the right track."

  We headed down the stairway, finally starting to laugh at the bizarre experience with the War-maker Iskoort. Feeling relaxed and a little cocky after so easily beating the local tough guys.

  49 The stairway we were on was wider, though still without rails, but we were getting used to that. It was wider to make room for two-way traffic, and several Iskoort, many like Guide, but others subtly different, passed us by.

  The next level was maybe two hundred feet down. Guide was out front. I was laughing at some joke Marco made.

  "Howler!" Erek yelled.

  "Yeah, right," Marco said. But he looked. And I looked.

  "Erek," I said as calmly as I could, "are you joking?"

  His projected face was white. I wondered how much of projecting an emotion was automatic with him after so long as a human.

  "I am not joking, Jake," he said. "That is a Howler."

  50

  The Howler was moving up the stairway. We were moving down. We froze. The Howler kept coming.

  He was not huge. Smaller than a Hork-Bajir. As big as a large man. He walked on two bowed legs with a swinging, almost comic gait. He had two arms, longer than his legs. The hands were almost human, five fingers and an opposable thumb. But from the wrists projected a sort of second hand, a claw that could be lowered to cover the back of the hand, or kept up out of the way. This claw had four hooked, steel-tipped claws.