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  I went straight at the Howler. He aimed. I jerked suddenly upward and dropped slowly, like a wounded bird, like a slow, loopy volleyball, over the hedge to the far side.

  The Howler ripped through the hedge, smelling victory.

  He ripped through and clawed at the air.

  The Iskoort were crazy not to put guardrails around the edges of their platforms.

  But it was a kind of crazy I could get to like.

  105 The Howler fell. Fell, clawing the air, screaming in rage and frustration. Miles above the ground. He had a long way to fall.

  And then it hit me. Now was the time.

  I was in the right place and in the right morph.

  Down he fell, quickly achieving maximum falling velocity. Which in the gravity of the Iskoort world, as it turned out, was less than two hundred miles an hour.

  106

  Down, down, down.

  The Howler was facedown, yelling and grabbing air. Helpless.

  I flew straight down, flapping hard, helping gravity work. The Howler was right below me, oblivious.

  He had other things on his mind.

  I folded my wings back, brought my talons forward, and latched on to his leg. If he felt my sharp talons, he didn't show it.

  I looked past him at the ground so far below. How long would it take us to fall? Long enough? No way to know. Had to try.

  I began to demorph. We were falling at the same speed now, the Howler and I. I tried to hold

  107 on to him as my talons became fingers, as my body grew and grew almost as large as his. I tried to hold on to that half-cooled lava skin. But my talons slipped as the claws became fingernails. I lost my grip.

  I grabbed again with a stubby hand and an arm eight inches long. Missed. We fell. My eyes lost their falcon focus. I could no longer see every detail of the ground far below me. It was a blur. It made it seem further away. A small comfort.

  Human, I fell, my face just inches from the Howler's left leg. He had stopped clawing the air. He was no longer moving. He had a long time to contemplate his fate. I didn't feel sorry for him. Maybe I should have. Maybe Cassie would have.

  But this Howler, or one just like him, had burned her wing off. Had shot Marco. At least one of the others. Maybe all of them by now.

  I wanted him to have a nice, long time to think about that as he fell.

  I grabbed, this time with human fingers.

  He swiveled suddenly, turned his body all the way around, and stared down at me, his blank blue eyes wide with shock.

  He reached for his Dracon beam. I snatched it first and threw it away. It fell, twirling beside us, five feet away and a million miles out of reach.

  108 I knew what was coming next. But the Howler didn't. He started his howl, the first notes ear-splitting, brain-numbing.

  KEEEE -

  But he was too late. I had begun to acquire him. And he felt the torpor, the lethargy that creatures usually feel when acquired. He stared, eyes full of hate, unable to raise his deadly howl.

  While I kept my grip on him, while I drained his DNA into me, I used my free hand to strip away his weapons. One by one. They made a small arsenal falling around us.

  I pushed away. The air caught me and spun me end over end. I windmilled my arms, trying to stabilize, but it was a foolish instinct. I calmed down and began to morph.

  The ground was close now. Close, so close. It was as if at the end we were moving faster and faster, as if the last half of the fall took only a tenth as long as the first half.

  Fear distorts reality. Reality was plenty distorted.

  I tumbled wildly, seeing the ground sweep by beneath me one minute, then the Howler above me. My shove had set him tumbling, too. It was all that saved me, because he began to howl.

  KEEEEEEEEEEE-row!

  But the blasts of sound only hit me glancing

  109 blows as we spun like a pair of suicidal sky divers.

  I felt the itchiness of feathers growing from my skin.

  The ground, so close!

  Hard beak pushed out from my lips.

  The ground! Rushing up now. Grim, scruffy trees and drifting, ground-hugging fog.

  My arms were shriveling, the bones thinning, hollowing.

  Too late!

  KEEEEEEEEEEE-row!

  A thousand feet!

  Five hundred!

  One hundred feet!

  Treetops rising around me!

  I opened my wings. I felt them fill and strain, the muscles almost tearing with the effort.

  The Howler fell away from me.

  «Tell the Big Red Eye that Jake says "hi,"» I said.

  My wings filled and I flew at impossible speed across the treetops.

  110

  I could see why the Iskoort had built their Dr. Seuss towers. The surface of the planet was a reeking, swampy mess of a place. I gained altitude to get above the sulfur smell, but then had to rest.

  My falcon body was revived by remorphing, but it was a several-mile ascent to get back to where I'd left the others. And how was I ever going to find that level? The structure of the Iskoort city was unimaginably complex.

  Flying outside of it, I could see just what an awesome structure it was. Nothing ever built on Earth even came close. The pyramids would not have made the footing for the smallest pillar at

  111 the base of this thing. The World Trade Center and the Sears Tower were Tinkertoys.

  The Iskoort may have been the most obnoxious species in the galaxy, but they could definitely build.

  What would I find when I did manage to retrace my fall? Had Cassie demorphed? Had she survived? Was Marco still alive? Ax, Tobias, Rachel?

  They'd been hopelessly outgunned. Part of me expected to find that the score would be one Howler, and all five of my friends. I pictured finding their crumpled bodies. The images drained the strength from my muscles.

  I had to get back. But I couldn't stand thinking about what I'd find. I couldn't live without them. Couldn't.

  I felt a surge of anger at Erek. Marco was right: What right did Erek have to cling to his nonviolence in a universe where the Howlers annihilated entire species on orders from an evil force? How do you stand on the sidelines when evil is running amok?

  Erek was the only one of us who could fight a Howler and win. He had the power. He alone had the power. We'd freed him for one hour from his peaceful programming. The result had been terrifying. He had annihilated a Yeerk force that would have destroyed us all.

  ill

  112 Yes, the Pemalites had created him and all his kind to be peaceful. To be physically incapable of violence. And it was irrational of me to be angry. But with Cassie and Rachel and maybe everyone dead and me alone, I didn't care.

  The Pemalites were fools. They'd been wiped out by the Howlers while their incredibly powerful androids had stood by and done nothing.

  The Pemalites had not reprogrammed the Chee. Idiots! The Chee could have saved them. The Chee could have been turned loose to destroy the Howlers the way the Howlers destroyed everyone else. And then . . .

  And then, when the Chee had destroyed the Howlers, what would they do next? What do you do with a species devoted to war? What do you do, once you've created an awesome weapon and turned it loose?

  The Pemalites would have had to be sure they could rein in the Chee. They would have had to be sure they could control them. Turn them off.

  Just as Crayak would need a way to control the Howlers.

  The Howlers weren't androids, so how did Crayak ensure that they would never get out of control? And since their job was to murder and murder and murder without pity, what would Crayak even think "out of control" would mean?

  113 Out of control for a Howler would be not killing.

  An out-of-control Howler would be a Howler who felt remorse. Pity. Kindness. That would be intolerable to Crayak.

  I laughed bitterly. Nice speculation. But my friends were probably all dead. And I was alone. And all I could hope for now was to live long en
ough to get home again.

  «Jake! Is that you, or some other peregrine falcon?»

  «Tobias!»

  «Yeah. I've been looking for you.»

  «You're alive!»

  «Same back at you, fearless leader,» he said with a laugh. «We figured you were done for. Ax saw you go over the side with that Howler.»

  «Is everyone ... is anyone . . .»

  Tobias sounded less ebullient. «We're all still there, but it wasn't pretty. Cassie, Rachel, and Marco all got nailed pretty bad. But they all managed to demorph. Erek caught up with us and created a hologram of Iskoort. Cassie said you told her the Howlers couldn't attack Iskoort. Guess that's why they didn't howl.»

  «But everyone's okay?» I pressed, unable to fully believe it.

  Tobias laughed. «Yeah, big Jake, everyone's alive. Anyway, we got everyone inside the

  114 hologram and the Howlers seemed stumped. But I guess they figured out we weren't really Iskoort, so it was okay to attack. By then we were assorted bugs crawling around the trees. Guide found us another place. Wait till you see. How about your Howler?»

  «It's not teams of seven anymore. It's seven to six now,» I said.

  Fortunately, Tobias had kept track of where he was. He easily led the way back to a level three stories down from where we'd been.

  This level was different than any we'd seen thus far. It seemed to be an industrial district. The separation from the floor above was several hundred feet. The predominating colors were gray and brown. And the factories, if that's what they were, looked as drab and windowless and shabby as any factories on Earth.

  Here, as we flew above them, we met a new variation on the Iskoort. These had longer, stronger arms, more massive shoulders, and their eyes were hooded with thick, retractable lids.

  There were very few out and about. Those I saw, though, seemed boisterously happy and oblivious to the grimness around them. But their whining diaphragms were so loud that a small group of them whining together could make you long for earplugs.

  We circled around a few times, looking for

  115 Howlers. But they were not in sight. We landed. I demorphed and went inside.

  I thought I was past the emotion. I thought I was over that feeling of hollowness I'd felt, imagining them all gone. But then there they were.

  Rachel scowling. Marco looking down at the floor, withdrawn. Ax off by himself, still no doubt blaming himself. Erek with his hologram turned off, an unemotional android face.

  And Cassie.

  «Prince Jake!» Ax cried, the first to see me.

  Cassie was on her feet and running toward me, and I was running to her, and I wasn't past any emotion, I was exploding with emotion.

  Cassie jumped into my arms and I wrapped her up tight and before I knew it I was kissing her on her lips and she was kissing me back.

  "It's about time," Rachel grumbled.

  116

  At least Cassie and I provided Marco with material. It took him precisely three seconds after I parted from Cassie, embarrassed and amazed.

  He held out his arms to me and said, "What, no kiss for me?"

  I would not have believed I could feel like a dork in the middle of all the other feelings I was dealing with, and in the middle of an abject disaster of a battle, but I guess embarrassment and awkwardness are always with us.

  "No?" Marco said, looking puzzled. "I guess I'll have to turn to Rachel." He went for her, arms out, lips puckered.

  "Gee, Marco, what do you think the odds are

  117 I'll kiss you? Slim, none, or I'll-break-both-your-arms?"

  I looked around at our latest home. It was a large open space, maybe three stories high, about the size of a basketball court. Crammed into that gloomy cube were an amazing array of machines. Some like giant jackhammers, some like steel octopi, others weirdly like merry-go-rounds with elaborate, sharp-edged tools instead of brightly colored horses.

  Nothing was working. There was dust everywhere.

  "Abandoned factory?" I asked Guide.

  «Not abandoned. The Worker Guild refuses to come back to work here until the Superstition and Magic Guild certifies that the place is free of the spirits of fictional characters.»

  I sighed. I hesitated. I shot a look at Marco.

  "Oh, you'll want to hear this," he said.

  "What are the spirits of fictional characters?"

  Guide whined in what I took to be a humorous way. «The simple folk believe that fictional characters are at least partly real and thus have spirits who wander the city, infesting buildings and engaging in various destructive behaviors.»

  "Fictional characters," I said. "Okay."

  «So naturally, the Superstition and Magic Guild must be called upon to control this problem.

  118 But the Worker Guild cannot agree on a fair price, so . . .»

  "Makes perfect sense," I said.

  "In a loony bin," Rachel said.

  We all fell silent for a while. The rush of being reunited was wearing off. We were remembering reality.

  «Jake says it's seven to six now,» Tobias said.

  "Swell," Marco muttered. "Make it seven to two and I'd still bet on them."

  There was muttered agreement.

  "I have a new morph," I said.

  «Yeah?» Tobias asked.

  "Yeah. On the way ... on the way down, I acquired the Howler. It's not enough, but it may give us an edge. If we have an overall plan."

  "Do you have a plan?" Erek asked.

  I considered. Did I? I had bits and pieces. Guesses. Speculation. Intuitions.

  I shrugged. "Yeah. I guess I do."

  Marco grinned. "Kiss him again, Cassie. It seems to help."

  They all waited expectantly. I bowed my head and tried to bring together all that I had learned about the Howlers. I felt like I had a bunch of jigsaw pieces and no picture to work from.

  "Okay, jump in if you have anything to add. I could be totally wrong. One: The Howlers must have some kind of collective memory. The memories

  119 Erek absorbed were of events going back thousands of years and covering dozens of invasions. No biological creature lives that long. And we know the Howlers are biological because I acquired one. So somehow, the Howlers are designed to share a single memory. What these seven Howlers ... six ... learn here will be conveyed to all the rest of the species. That way all battle experience is available to all warriors."

  Rachel nodded. "No wonder they never lose."

  "Yeah, but that brings up something else. See, no one wins all the time. Not for thousands of years. It's not possible. Muhammad AN lost. Michael Jordan lost. No one wins every time."

  "But the Howler memories I absorbed show no memory of defeat," Erek pointed out.

  "Yeah. Exactly," I said. "Exactly. Guide?"

  «Yes?»

  "When you view memories - I mean in the normal way, not like Erek did for us, turning it into a hologram - how is it done?"

  Guide emitted a low diaphragm whine and said, «There is a small device that attaches to the head. It ties in directly to brain waves and plays the memories as if you yourself were recalling them.»

  "And these memory headsets work on all species?"

  «We are visited by many species,» Guide

  120 said. «The headsets have always worked. Although not all species choose to indulges

  "I'm guessing the Howlers don't indulge," Cassie said.

  Guide spread his hands and increased the grating noise from his diaphragm. «We have only ever seen this one group of Howlers. They sold their memories to pay for what they needed here, but they did not choose to buy any other memories^

  I nodded. "Good. Good. Okay. Now we need a volunteer for an extremely dangerous mission. We're going to need a rabbit to draw the hounds to us." I shot a look at Rachel and slowly shook my head no. Her mouth was already open to volunteer. She closed it and looked puzzled.

  «l will take on this mission,» Ax said from across the room.

  Rachel m
ade a little half-smile and nodded imperceptibly.

  "Swell," Marco said impatiently. "So Ax is going to get himself killed and we all agree the Howlers don't like to buy memories to watch on their VCRs. How does any of this let us take out these six Howlers?"

  "We don't take out the six Howlers," I said. "Crayak does."

  121

  The place we were in was all wrong for the trap. We needed Iskoort around us. We had to make the rules of engagement work for us. I explained it to Guide. He wanted to get paid more. We were running up a big bill, and we might well get killed before we could sell him our valuable memories.

  "Don't worry," I said. "That's the next thing we do: make a complete copy of our memories."

  «l still feel I should be able to harvest an arm, at the least. Perhaps some minor internal organs

  "Not more hair?"

  «l have the hair,» he said. «The point is to

  122 possess what is absolutely unique. No one has a human body part or organ.»

  "Yeah, and it's going to stay that way," I said. "You can have Marco's hair."

  "Say what?"

  «A stalk eye from the Andalite?»

  "No. No body parts. We had a deal."

  «What if you should be killed?» Guide asked, lowering his whine to an annoying whimper.

  "You want our bodies?" I demanded, shocked, despite the fact that I had bigger problems to worry about. "If you were doing organ transplants to save lives, yeah, but just so you can stick us in big pickle jars and charge admission to see the human freaks? I don't think so."

  "I have something to sell," Erek said. "I will create a schematic of my holographic technology. You can build your own emitters."

  This was apparently such a bonanza that Guide stopped whining for several seconds. He barely managed to say, «Deal!»

  Marco rolled his eyes. "You know, Guide is going to own this planet by the time he's done."

  Guide led us to a different level. This time we went up. And this time we took an elevator.

  "Elevators! You have elevators?" Marco raged. "We're traipsing up and down stairs and you have elevators?"

  «The elevators are much less scenic,» Guide

  123 said. «What value are memories of the inside of an elevator?»

  We emerged several floors above the one where we'd first appeared. It was just what I needed: narrow walkways between tall residential buildings with shops on the ground level. Iskoort crammed everywhere. Iskoort mostly of a new type: Shopper Iskoort.