The Arrival Page 6
Arbat drew his shredder, twisted the power setting, and said,
I did not know whom to obey, what to do. But Gonrod did not countermand the order.
I grabbed the disc. It was the size of a human coin. I threw it with a quick flick of my wrist. It flew over Arbat’s shoulder.
Arbat followed it with his stalk eyes, aimed, fired over his shoulder. The disc flamed.
It was not an impossible shot. I might have made it. With practice. But it was an impressive shot nevertheless.
Aloth nodded.
Aloth handed me a shredder and began carefully checking his own with the slow, practiced ease of a person who had done this many times before.
Arbat said.
she protested hotly.
Gonrod whirled on her.
There was a stunned pause.
It was Arbat who had exploded.
Estrid recoiled slightly. Trembled. But obeyed.
I watched Estrid carefully. She was listening to some private thought-speak from Arbat. She was angry. And something else … scared?
Gonrod may have been a failure as a commander, but he was a genuinely great pilot. He laid the ship down to a perfect hover not six inches from the roof of the main building. Had the ship been visible it would have made quite a bizarre sight, a large metal ovoid shape resting like some nesting bird atop the Community Center.
We descended the steep ramp to the gravel roof. The jump to the ground would be easy enough.
It was risky to attack in our own Andalite forms. But it was the only way we could get to the building with our shredders. And there was a military purity about attacking as the Andalite warriors we were.
Aloth and Arbat galloped swiftly to the south face and leaped over the parapet of the roof. Gonrod and I ran at right angles to them. I leaped, landed easily on the grass below.
Two human-Controllers were on guard.
“Anda —”
Tseeewww! Tseeewww!
They slumped.
Gonrod jerked his head, indicating that I should follow him. I could hear Visser Three. He was in human morph. His powerful voice boomed through the facility.
We made our way up thickly carpeted steps to the second floor.
Tseeew! Tseeew!
Two more human-Controllers dropped before they could so much as yell.
I began to wonder if we might, just might, manage to do this thing.
The central meeting room was two stories high with a second-floor balcony surrounding it on four sides.
A human-Controller heard us. Turned.
Fwapp!
I hit him, knocked him to his knees, and hit him again to make sure he stayed down for a while.
We looked down from the balcony. Visser Three was on a stage, at the podium. No doubt the podium was shielded, armored. But the upper third of the visser’s human morph was in plain view.
I could kill him. I could. Should.
But I felt relieved knowing that Arbat had taken the honor of the first shot. Relieved that I did not have to take aim, squeeze the shot, watch the visser’s head flame.
Across the room, on the balcony nearest Visser Three, just above him to his right, I saw three human-Controllers drop. One. Two. The third spun and raised his weapon. And down he went.
Impossible not to feel pride mixed with the fear. Within seconds this gaggle of Andalite rejects had penetrated the Yeerk security. All without an alarm being raised.
But now Visser Three was demorphing. This was a meeting of the Inner Sharing. Controllers all. There were none of the vague, simple fools who clustered in the swimming pool, the game room, the playground, and thought that this organization would give them a sense of belonging they lacked.
These were not the “wanna-be’s,” as Marco would call them. These were the hard-core.
Visser Three stood there now, an Andalite-Controller. The Andalite-Controller.
And Arbat was within twenty feet. An easy shot. A clear shot. He could kill the Abomination.
And his brother.
I knew suddenly, with the clarity that sometimes comes from moments of great stress, that Arbat would miss.
I lifted my shredder and took careful aim.
Tseeewww!
Shredder fire streaked past Visser Three’s head.
Arbat had fired.
He’d blown a hole in the curtains gathered on the far side of the stage.
An easy shot.
A miss.
Aloth fired.
Tseeew!
Too late! The visser was down, whipped around behind the podium.
Still in my view. Still in my sights.
Had to fire. He’d murdered Elfangor.
Had to fire.
Aloth fired again. The podium sizzled and jumped with electrical discharge.
Had to …
Reinforcements coming. Two Hork-Bajir burst in through a side door. Why were the human-Controllers not firing?
Of course. They were disarmed. The paranoid leader could not stand up there and address a meeting hall full of armed men, Controllers or not.
Gonrod fired.
The visser’s back was seared by the beam.
I fired. Did not even know I had, did not realize I had made the decision.
I felt the warmth of the weapon in my hand.
Saw the beam incinerate the stage floor where Visser Three had been just seconds before.
Miss!
No, not a miss. I had waited too long. I had let the moment pass.
The visser was morphing something small. A part of me, a far-off, rational part of me noted that the visser had begun at last to learn that sometimes bigger was not better.
Hork-Bajir bodyguards closed in around the podium. Screaming human-Controllers poured out of the meeting room, emptying it in seconds.
But the meeting room did not stay empty for long. Five doors around the room opened, and in charged a battalion of Hork-Bajir.
Gonrod let out a gasp. A battalion of Hork-Bajir is terrifying to behold.
The Hork-Bajir spotted me and Gonrod on the balcony almost immediately. With surprising agility, they formed a pyramid. Other Hork-Bajir scrambled up to the balcony using their comrades’ various blades and horns as steps.
Tseeewww! Tseeewww! Tseeewww! Tseeewww! Tseeewww!
Gonrod fired wildly. In panic. His shots were doing damage, but not enough.
And me? I stood frozen.
Four Hork-Bajir propelled themselves over the balcony railing.
Tseeewww! Tseeewww! Tseeewww! Tseeewww!
Four Hork-Bajir dropped with neatly placed holes through their chests. The bodies fell heavily. Gonrod must have shot. I turned my eye stalk to look. But he was no longer with me.
Aloth! He had come running around the balcony.
Arbat? Where was he? And where was Gonrod?
I snapped out of my trance. Side by side Aloth and I ran down the balcony and hurdled over the side. I landed badly, sprawled amidst chairs. I scrambled up. Nothing broken.
Tseeew! Tseeew!
Above!
Two Hork-Bajir dropping down onto Aloth.
Tseeew!
I fired and hit one in the arm. The other fell hard. I used my tail and dropped him.
Aloth gave me a curt nod. Then,
We ran, out through one of the doors. Out into a corridor. Arbat was there. He was firing methodically from left to right, forcing back the Hork-Bajir.
Aloth and I began to fire into the mass of the enemy. Arbat fell back to join us. The Hork-Bajir were taking cover in doorways.
Aloth looked to the left, momentarily diverting his eye stalks.
Hork-Bajir, behind us!
I spun.
I fired. The Hork-Bajir fell. Then I advanced. Wading in and strafing as I had seen Arbat do.
My tail snapped and whistled as it sliced the hands of a Hork-Bajir who attempted to grab my arm. Other Hork-Bajir drew back in alarm.
Aloth was hurt. Badly. But he could survive. All he needed was room so he could get up. And out.
The Hork-Bajir began to retreat.
With one eye stalk I watched Aloth climb to his feet.
Tseeewww!
Aloth sank to the floor. He was dead. Shot cleanly through the head.
By Arbat.
An accident?
No. Impossible!
Aloth was dead. Gonrod probably as well. Arbat was in charge.
Murderer!
My mind reeled. What could I do? The Hork-Bajir were massing for a new charge.
I retreated.
Ran. Ran with my brain replaying it again and again. Arbat had shot Aloth!
Out. Into the air of Earth.
Estrid called tersely from the ship.
The cloaked ship shimmered and appeared, hovering above the playground. Two children and their parents would have a story to tell that no one would believe.
I leaped for the ramp, Arbat right beside me.
The cloak came down.
The ship powered up and away.
When we reached the command deck, I drew in my breath. Gonrod was already on board. Working frantically at the controls, Estrid beside him.
he said.
Gonrod yanked a lever. The ship made a sharp vertical ascent. Gonrod’s voice was defensive.
Retreated? Gonrod had run like a coward!
I shook. With anger. Fear. And with confusion.
Arbat had had two opportunities to kill Visser Three. He had failed in both instances. And he had killed the officer who had been ordered to kill the visser if he did not.
What was going on here? What possible motive could he have for sabotaging his own unit’s mission?
Estrid spoke to me.
He turned both eye stalks in my direction.
Arbat’s answer was laced with menace.
Gonrod’s voice quivered with indignation.
Arbat assured him.
It was a masterpiece of understatement. The Apex Level of Andalite Intelligence pretty much ran the War Council.
Gonrod did not argue. Estrid remained impassive. She took neither side, but of course, in practical effect, that made her Arbat’s ally.
Gonrod landed the ship back at The Gardens. We all agreed that we needed rest. All we could possibly have agreed on at that particular moment.
I went to my quarters. Moments later I was off the ship and in the air.
I needed computer skills well beyond my own. It is one thing to penetrate human computer security — if you can even call it security — it was a different thing altogether to abrogate Apex Level Security measures.
I returned to the ship an hour later. In time for my own watch on deck.
I told him.
He seemed far away. Distracted. But he acknowledged me and returned the ritual reply.
Gonrod left the deck.
I took a deep breath. Entered myself in the computer as the officer on duty. Then I said,
The panel of monitors before me shimmered. And out of the image stepped a thing that seemed to be made of steel and ivory. A machine whose form vaguely suggested that of an Earth canine.
The android met my gaze, then shimmered again. Where the android had stood was now a man who called himself Mr. King.
Mr. King. The Chee. Android.
“The Chee owe you,” he said simply. “Now, let’s see about this security system.”
He switched off his familiar appearance and reverted to his true form.
“It’s a question of energy demand,” he said. “I can stay ‘human’ and do it slow, or I can divert all energy to the job and get it done faster.”
He pressed a finger into one of the console ports and his joints whirred and clicked. “Here it comes.”
I saw the computer screen light up.
The screen began to blink. Counters appeared. Images scrolled past in a blur.
“Here we go. We’re in. Who are we looking for?”
There was a brief pause. Then Aloth’s name and record appeared. He was already listed as “Killed in Action.”
/> A pause.
“He was killed in action in some system called Rakkam Garoo,” Mr. King said. “A ship called Ralek River. The ship was destroyed.”
Pause.
“Same story. Identical.”
Pause.
The android turned his canid face to me. “You have a bunch of unlucky friends. This one was also killed aboard the Ralek River.”
“Is that it?”
Pause.
“No record.”
“Says, ‘No record of personnel by that name.’ ”
This time the pause was longer.
“Nope,” Mr. King said. “Nothing.”
I was feeling sick. Scared. Impossible. It was all impossible.
A tired old ship sent on a vital mission staffed by misfits who were already listed as dead.
My hearts began a dull, sickening thud.
The Andalite War Council did not expect this ship to return. The Andalite War Council did not want this ship to return.
This ship was on a suicide mission.
I thanked Mr. King for his assistance and then left the command deck in search of some answers.
I took the drop shaft to the third tier, moving slowly and cautiously. I passed Aloth’s empty quarters. Gonrod’s door was closed. So was Estrid’s, but I knocked softly.
No answer.
I pressed my ear against the door to see if I could hear her stirring. I heard nothing. At least nothing from inside Estrid’s room.
A vibration in the wall. Sound conducted by the metal tubing that reinforced the seams of the ship.
I heard the clink of plex against plex. The faint rattle of metal. And then, the sound of hooves.
The sound was traveling up from the second tier. The tier that was supposed to be sealed off. The lab.
I stepped back into the shaft and off at the second tier. The hallway was dark.
I stepped forward and felt the creepy crawly sensation of passing through a force field.
It was easy to figure out what the force field contained. My stomach turned. It smelled like death on this floor. Sour. Putrid. The rot of diseased flesh. The force field kept the stench from permeating the ship.