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There are no more five-person meetings at the Swan household. They're a circle: Bella-Andi-Robin-Ethan-Trouble-Bella again. They meet in twos, threes, pass around information, get it all down in Bella's cipher in Bella's notebooks. They have a list of members of the Sharing, mostly procured by Ethan and to a lesser extent Trouble, but no safe way to learn if these people's behavior has changed; they have seen no more aliens, observed no more disintegrations, caught no one ducking into anything that is an alien hideout.
The twins try to behave normally with their father or his pod person, whichever the person who calls them is, for a value of "normally" that involves adamantly continuing to want nothing to do with the Sharing.
And sometimes crying and refusing to tell Renée what's wrong.
School proceeds. No one's grades see more than a minor downturn as a result of all the alien business.
Andi and Robin play music. Andi's getting pretty good on the drums, although her teacher moves away and she has to hunt up another one, who she sticks with for four lessons before deciding to go self-taught.
Bella tightens up her cipher. It began as a letter substitution and since then has evolved to include plenty of personal shorthand - she turns the ratio of shorthand to straightforward letters up as far as she can and still read the thing herself. She abbreviates, she leaves out spaces, she names things in roundabout ways, she refers to things many notebooks ago that she can find easily that anyone else could spend hours hunting for, if she has to record names she finds ways to describe the spelling without ever placing all of the characters in sequence. Maybe the aliens have super-cryptanalysis and super-OCR and can eat her notebooks in one bite and know everything they know; but maybe not, and maybe if she's careful enough she'll look like she's writing her paranoid diary and not like she's taking notes on the quiet invasion.
Trouble comes over a lot. He stays over a lot. Renée has a quiet conversation about him with Bella, in which Bella is vague, pretends ignorance, suggests that maybe he just likes it here, maybe his folks are allergic to gluten and won't eat his baked goods? Renée leaves it alone.
May begins.
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morphbox
<You have seen the Hork-Bajir. They are the Yeerks' shock troops. The Taxxons are the long creatures with the numerous legs; they are almost exclusively voluntary Controllers, motivated by promises of food. Always hungry, often cannibals. Excellent reflexes.>
Last of all, an Andalite steps out of the ship.
morphbox
<That is the only Andalite who has ever been taken alive by the Yeerks. The only Andalite-Controller. Visser Three.>
Visser Three paces slowly toward the injured Andalite, arms at his sides, tail relaxed, all four eyes focused on his fallen enemy.
<Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, if I am not mistaken. An honour to meet you,> he says mockingly. His silent voice is very distinct from the Andalite's. There is no doubt as to who is speaking.
<Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, if I am not mistaken. An honour to meet you,> he says mockingly. His silent voice is very distinct from the Andalite's. There is no doubt as to who is speaking.
morphbox
<He cannot hear me. I am directing my thoughts privately to you,> the dying Andalite - apparently, Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul - says. <He is broadcasting his for all to hear. This is a great victory for him.>
He doesn't answer Visser Three.
He doesn't answer Visser Three.
<Your Dome ship has been destroyed, Prince Elfangor,> the Visser continues. <I watched it burn as it fell into the atmosphere of this world.>
<They will be too late,> Visser Three says dismissively. <By the time they arrive, this world will be mine. My personal gift to the Council of Thirteen. The Yeerk Empire's greatest conquest. And then I'll be Visser One.>
morphbox
Elfangor says, <Why them? Why these humans, when you already have your Hork-Bajir, your Taxxons, your original Gedd hosts...?>
The question doesn't sound so much like he's curious as that he has chosen a question-shaped way to voice sorrow.
The question doesn't sound so much like he's curious as that he has chosen a question-shaped way to voice sorrow.
<Humans are many,> says Visser Three, stalking closer to Elfangor. <Many and weak. Billions of bodies, waiting in helpless ignorance for the Yeerks who will control them. We'll have to build a thousand new Yeerk pools just to infest them all. With this many hosts, we can spread throughout the universe. Unstoppable! Glorious!>
<I promise you this, Elfangor,> the Visser continues silkily. <When we have this planet, when we move against your homeworld with our fresh army of human-Controllers, I will personally hunt down your family. I will personally oversee the placement of my most faithful lieutenants in their heads. And I will require detailed reports on how their minds scream when they try and fail to resist.>
morphbox
Elfangor's tail flashes forward. The motion is almost too swift to see, but it's illuminated with a sudden light-flash from the tail of his ship, which fires at one of the small Yeerk fighters and obliterates it.
The Andalite-Controller vents a wordless howl of pain and rage as Elfangor's tail scores his shoulder; he twists away from the strike, but not quite fast enough.
<Fire!> he screams, presumably to his subordinates. <Burn his ship!>
Tight red beams from the big ship and the remaining fighter spear the Andalite's damaged craft, with that same familiar TSEEEWWWWW. It glows, then disintegrates slowly, leaving behind a yellow-white ghost for a few seconds. A wave of heat rolls over the surrounding area, not quite blistering by the time it reaches the hidden observers.
<Hold him for me,> Visser Three orders. Three of the Hork-Bajir scramble to obey, grabbing Elfangor's arms and tail and forcing him to the ground, one holding a wrist blade to his throat.
<Fire!> he screams, presumably to his subordinates. <Burn his ship!>
Tight red beams from the big ship and the remaining fighter spear the Andalite's damaged craft, with that same familiar TSEEEWWWWW. It glows, then disintegrates slowly, leaving behind a yellow-white ghost for a few seconds. A wave of heat rolls over the surrounding area, not quite blistering by the time it reaches the hidden observers.
<Hold him for me,> Visser Three orders. Three of the Hork-Bajir scramble to obey, grabbing Elfangor's arms and tail and forcing him to the ground, one holding a wrist blade to his throat.
morphbox
Elfangor is not in sufficiently good condition to resist.
<You must not interfere. He must not see you,> he tells the kids.
<You must not interfere. He must not see you,> he tells the kids.
And then the Visser begins to morph.
His head grows larger. His legs slide toward each other along his body, meet, and merge into two thick trunks. His delicate arms sprout into vast curling tentacles. His mouthless face splits into a huge fanged grin. He grows taller and taller, twelve feet, then twenty.
He emits a roar that shakes the ground and rattles the skeletal buildings around them.
One of his long thick tentacles wraps around Elfangor's neck and hoists him casually out of the grip of the three Hork-Bajir.
His head grows larger. His legs slide toward each other along his body, meet, and merge into two thick trunks. His delicate arms sprout into vast curling tentacles. His mouthless face splits into a huge fanged grin. He grows taller and taller, twelve feet, then twenty.
He emits a roar that shakes the ground and rattles the skeletal buildings around them.
One of his long thick tentacles wraps around Elfangor's neck and hoists him casually out of the grip of the three Hork-Bajir.
morphbox
Elfangor cannot restrain a generally-broadcast cry of pain, or fear, or despair - but his tail never stills once it's freed; he slashes at the monster that Visser Three has turned into.
It's about as effective as slashing at an unfriendly hippopotamus with a spring-loaded thumbtack. The morphed visser doesn't even react, just hauls Elfangor up over his head, opens his mouth, and lets go.
His massive jaws snap shut.
The Andalite prince goes crunch.
His massive jaws snap shut.
The Andalite prince goes crunch.
The original pair of Taxxons scuttle toward the visser, followed by a few more from the ship. The reason soon becomes clear: Visser Three is a messy eater. Stray pieces fall from his mouth, to be gobbled up by the ravenous worms with a whole new series of horrible sounds.
This goes on for a while. The Hork-Bajir make rhythmic huffing sounds that might be a form of applause; from the axe-blade ship there drifts a very human sound of laughter.
This goes on for a while. The Hork-Bajir make rhythmic huffing sounds that might be a form of applause; from the axe-blade ship there drifts a very human sound of laughter.
pandion
The twins are holding each other's hands so tightly their knuckles are white.
<Ah,> sighs the visser, <nothing like a good Antarean Bogg morph for... taking a bite out of your enemies.>
He gives one last swallow. A ropy, glistening tongue dislodges a finger from between his teeth; a Taxxon lunges for it as it falls and gulps it out of midair. Then Visser Three demorphs. His stalk eyes sweep the area, still lit by one red spotlight, but he seems to detect nothing out of the ordinary.
<Back to the ship,> he orders. His subordinates follow him as he boards, Taxxons first, then Hork-Bajir. One Hork-Bajir lingers in the doorway; then it closes, and the ship lifts off and soars away, trailing its one remaining fighter.
All that remains are a few splatters of dark blood, its colour indeterminate in the dim light, and a small patch of gravel warped by the heat of the Andalite's ship disintegrating directly on top of it. Only the point where the front end contacted the ground is marred in this way.
He gives one last swallow. A ropy, glistening tongue dislodges a finger from between his teeth; a Taxxon lunges for it as it falls and gulps it out of midair. Then Visser Three demorphs. His stalk eyes sweep the area, still lit by one red spotlight, but he seems to detect nothing out of the ordinary.
<Back to the ship,> he orders. His subordinates follow him as he boards, Taxxons first, then Hork-Bajir. One Hork-Bajir lingers in the doorway; then it closes, and the ship lifts off and soars away, trailing its one remaining fighter.
All that remains are a few splatters of dark blood, its colour indeterminate in the dim light, and a small patch of gravel warped by the heat of the Andalite's ship disintegrating directly on top of it. Only the point where the front end contacted the ground is marred in this way.
pandion
"Let's get the hell out of here," whispers one of the Andis.
"Let's," agrees the other.
pandion
One Andi waves him over.
The other tucks the blue box into the same bag as her notebook, first.
The other tucks the blue box into the same bag as her notebook, first.